{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_45242/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_45242","id":"gutenberg_45242","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/45242","summary":null,"tags":["Ballads, English -- England -- Texts","Category: British Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Poetry"],"text":"POPULAR BRITISH BALLADS\n\nANCIENT AND MODERN\n\nBy Various\n\nChosen and  edited by R. Brimley Johnson\n\nIllustrated  By W. C. Cooke\n\nIn Four Volumes\n\nVolume II\n\n1894\n\n[Illustration: 0036]\n\n\n\n\nTHOMAS THE RHYMER\n\n\n|True Thomas lay o'er yon grassy bank;\n\n     And he beheld a lady gay;\n\nA lady that was brisk and bold,\n\n     Come riding o'er the ferny brae.\n\n\n\nHer shirt was o' the grass-green silk,\n\n     Her mantle o' the velvet fine;\n\nAt ilka tett of her horse's mane,\n\n     Hung fifty silver bells and nine.\n\n\n\nTrue Thomas, he took off his hat,\n\n     And bowed him low down till his knee:\n\n\"All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven!\n\n     For your peer on earth I never did see.\"\n\n\n\n\"O no, O no, True Thomas,\" she says,\n\n     \"That name does not belong to me;\n\nI am but the Queen of fair Elfland,\n\n     And I am come here for to visit thee.\n\n\n\n(_tett_, tuft.)\n\n\"Harp and carp, Thomas,\" she said;\n\n     \"Harp and carp along wi' me;\n\nAnd if ye dare to kiss my lips,\n\n     Sure of your body I will be.\"--\n\n[Illustration: 0037]\n\n\"Betide me weal, betide me woe,\n\n     That weird shall never daunton me.\"\n\nSyne he has kissed her rosy lips,\n\n     All underneath the Eildon Tree.\n\n\n\n\"But ye maun go wi' me, now, Thomas;\n\n     True Thomas, ye maun go wi' me;\n\nFor ye maun serve me seven years,\n\n     Thro' weal or woe as may chance to be,\"\n\n\n\n(_Harp and carp_, chat.)\n\nShe turned about her milk-white steed;\n\n     And took true Thomas up behind:\n\nAnd aye, whene'er her bridle rang,\n\n     The steed flew swifter than the wind.\n\nFor forty days and forty nights\n\n     He wade thro' red blude to the knee,\n\nAnd he saw neither sun nor moon,\n\n     But heard the roaring of the sea.\n\n[Illustration: 0038]\n\nO they rade on, and farther on;\n\n     Until they came to a garden green,\n\n\"Light down, light down, ye lady free,\n\n     Some of that fruit let me pull to thee.\"\n\n\n\n\"O no, O no, True Thomas.\" she says;\n\n     \"That fruit maun not be touched by thee,\n\nFor a' the plagues that are in hell\n\n     Light on the fruit of this country.\n\n\n\n\"But I have a loaf here in my lap,\n\n     Likewise a bottle of claret wine,\n\nAnd now ere we go farther on,\n\n     We'll rest a while and ye may dine.\"\n\n\n\nWhen he had eaten and drunk his fill--\n\n     \"Lay down your head upon my knee,\"\n\nThe lady said, \"ere we climb yon hill,\n\n     And I will shew you ferlies three.\n\n\n\n\"O see not ye yon narrow road,\n\n     So thick beset with thorns and briars?\n\nThat is the path of righteousness,\n\n     Though after it but few enquires.\n\n\n\n\"And see ye not that braid braid road,\n\n     That lies across that lily leven?\n\nThat is the path of wickedness,\n\n     Though some call it the road to heaven.\n\n\n\n\"And see not ye that bonny road,\n\n     That winds about the ferny brae?\n\nThat is the road to fair Elfiand,\n\n     Where you and I this night maun gae.\n\n\n\n\"But, Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue,\n\n     Whatever ye may hear or see;\n\nFor, gin ae word you should chance to speak,\n\n     Ye'll ne'er get back to your ain country.\"\n\n(_ferlies_, marvels. _leven_, lawn.)\n\nHe has gotten a coat of the even cloth,\n\n     And a pair of shoes of velvet green;\n\nAnd till seven years were gane and past,\n\n     True Thomas on earth was never seen.\n\n\n\nTHE BONNY HIND\n\nO may she comes, and may she goes,\n\n     Down by yon gardens green,\n\nAnd there she spied a gallant squire\n\n     As squire had ever been.\n\n\n\nAnd may she comes, and may she goes,\n\n     Down by yon hollin tree,\n\nAnd there she spied a brisk young squire,\n\n     And a brisk young squire was he.\n\n\n\n\"Give me your green mantle, fair maid,\n\n     Give me your maidenhead;\n\nGif ye winna gie me your green mantle,\n\n     Give me your maidenhead!\n\n\n\nHe has ta'en her by the milk-white hand,\n\n     And softly laid her down,\n\nAnd when he's lifted her up again\n\n     Given her a silver kaim.\n\n\n\n(_even,_  fine.)\n\n\"Perhaps there may be bairns, kind sir,\n\n     Perhaps there may be nane;\n\nBut if you be a courtier,\n\n     You'll tell to me your name.\"\n\n\n\n\"I am nae courtier, fair maid,\n\n     But new come frae the sea;\n\nI am nae courtier, fair maid,\n\n     But when I courteth thee.\n\n\n\n\"They call me Jack when I'm abroad,\n\n     Sometimes they call me John;\n\nBut when I'm in my father's bower\n\n     Jock Randal is my name.\"\n\n\n\n\"Ye lee, ye lee, ye bonny lad;\n\n     Sae loud's I hear ye lee!\n\nFor I'm Lord Randal's yae daughter,\n\n     He has nae mair nor me.\"\n\n\n\n\"Ye lee, ye lee, ye bonny may,\n\n     Sae loud's I hear ye lee!\n\nFor I'm Lord Randal's yae yae son,\n\n     Just now come o'er the sea.\"\n\n\n\nShe's putten her hand down by her spare,\n\n     And out she's ta en a knife,\n\nAnd she has put'nt in her heart's bluid,\n\n     And ta'en away her life.\n\n\n\n(_spare_, pocket.)\n\nAnd hes ta en up his bonny sister,\n\n     With the big tear in his een,\n\nAnd he has buried his bonny sister\n\n     Among the hollins green.\n\n\n\nAnd syne hes hied him o'er the dale,\n\n     His father dear to see:\n\n\"Sing O and O for my bonny hind,\n\n     Beneath yon hollin tree!\"\n\n\"What needs you care for your bonny hind?\n\n     For it you needna care;\n\n\n\nThere's aught score hinds in yonder park,\n\n     And five score hinds to spare.\n\n\"Four score of them are siller-shod,\n\n     Of those ye may get three;\"\n\n\"But O and O for my bonny hind,\n\n     Beneath yon hollin tree!\"\n\n\n\n\"What needs you care for your bonny hind?\n\n     For it you needna care;\n\nTake you the best, give me the worst,\n\n     Since plenty is to spare.\"\n\n\n\n\"I carena for your hinds, my Lord,\n\n     I carena for your fee;\n\nBut O and O for my bonny hind,\n\n     Beneath the hollin tree!\"\n\n\n\n(_aught_, eight.0\n\n\"O were ye at your sisters bower,\n\n     Your sister fair to see,\n\nYe'll think na mair o' your bonny hind,\n\n     Beneath the hollin tree.\"\n\n\n\n\nKING HENRY\n\n[Illustration: 0043]\n\n\n|Lat never a man a wooing wend,\n\n     That lacketh thing\u00e9s three;\n\nA routh o' gold, an open heart,\n\n     And fu' o' courtesy.\n\n\n\nAs this was seen o' King Henry,\n\n     For he lay burd-alane;\n\nAnd he has ta'en him to a haunted hunt's ha',\n\n     Was seven miles frae a town.\n\n\n\n(_routh_, plenty. _burd-alane_, alone, without a _burd_ or maiden.)\n\nhunt's ha', hunting-lodge.\n\nHe's chas'd the dun deer thro' the wood,\n\n     And the roe down by the den,\n\nTill the fattest buck in a' the herd\n\n     King Henry he has slain.\n\n\n\nHe's ta'en him to his hunting ha',\n\n     For to make bierly cheer;\n\nWhen loud the wind was heard to sound,\n\n     And an earthquake rocked the floor.\n\n\n\nAnd darkness covered a' the hall\n\n     Where they sat at their meat;\n\nThe gray dogs, youling, left their food\n\n     And crept to Henry's feet.\n\n\n\nAnd louder howled the rising wind,\n\n     And burst the fastened door;\n\nAnd in there came a grisly ghost,\n\n     Stood stamping on the floor.\n\n\n\nHer head hit the roof-tree o' the house,\n\n     Her middle ye mot weel span;--\n\nEach frightened huntsman fled the ha';\n\n     And left the king alone.\"\n\n\n\nHer teeth was a' like tether stakes,\n\n     Her nose like club or mell;\n\nAnd I ken naething she 'pear'd to be,\n\n     But the fiend that wons in hell.\n\n\n\n(_bierly_, proper. _mell_, mallet. _wons_, dwells.)\n\n\"Some meat, some meat, ye King Henry;\n\n     Some meat ye gie to me.\"\n\n\"And what meats in this house, Lady?\n\n     That ye're nae welcome tae?\"\n\n\"O ye's gae kill your berry-brown steed,\n\n     And serve him up to me.\"\n\n\n\nO when he slew his berry-brown steed,\n\n     Wow but his heart was sair!\n\nShe ate him a' up, skin and bane,\n\nLeft naething but hide and hair.\n\n\n\n\"Mair meat, mair meat, ye King Henry,\n\n     Mair meat ye gie to me.\"\n\n\"And what meats in this house, Lady?\n\n     That yere nae welcome tae?\"\n\n\"O ye do kill your good grey-hounds,\n\n     And ye bring them a to me.\"\n\n\n\nO when he slew his good grey hounds,\n\n     Wow but his heart was sair!\n\nShe ate them a' up, ane by ane,\n\nLeft naething but hide and hair.\n\n\n\n\"Mair meat, mair meat, ye King Henry,\n\n     Mair meat ye bring to me.\"\n\n\"And what meat's in this house, Lady?\n\n     That I hae left to gie?\"\n\n\"O ye do fell your gay gosshawks,\n\n     And ye bring them a' to me.\"\n\n\n\nO when he felled his gay gosshawks,\n\n     Wow but his heart was sair!\n\nShe ate them a' up, bane by bane,\n\n     Left naething but feathers bare.\n\n\n\n\"Some drink, some drink, now, King Henry;\n\n     Some drink ye bring to me.\"\n\n\"O what drink's in this house, Lady,\n\n     That ye're nae welcome tae?\"\n\n\"O ye sew up your horse's hide,\n\n     And bring in a drink to me.\"\n\n\n\nAnd he's sewed up the bloody hide,\n\nAnd put in a pipe o' wine;\n\nShe drank it a' up at ae draught,\n\nLeft na ae drap therein.\n\n\n\n\"A bed, a bed, now, King Henry,\n\n     A bed ye mak to me.\"\n\n\"And what's the bed i' this house, Lady,\n\n     That ye're nae welcome tae?\"\n\n\"O ye maun pu' the green heather,\n\nAnd mak a bed to me.\"\n\n\n\nAnd pu'd has he the heather green,\n\n     And made to her a bed;\n\nAnd up he's ta en his gay mantle,\n\n     And o'er it has he spread.\n\n\n\n\"Now swear, now swear, ye King Henry,\n\n     To take me for your bride,\"\n\n\"O God forbid,\" says King Henry,\n\n'\"That ever the like betide;\n\nThat ever the fiend that wons in hell,\n\n     Should streak down by my side.\"\n\n\n\nWhen day was come, and night was gane,\n\n     And the sun shone thro' the ha,\n\nThe fairest lady that ever was seen\n\n     Lay atween him and the wa'.\n\n\n\n\"O weel is me!\" says King Henry;\n\n     \"How lang'll this last wi' me?\"\n\nAnd out and spake that lady fair,--\n\n     \"E en till the day you die.\n\n\n\n\"For I was witched to a ghastly shape,\n\n     All by my stepdame's skill,\n\nTill I should meet wi' a curteous knight,\n\n     Would gie me a' my will.\"\n\n\n\n(_streak_, stretch, lie.)\n\n\n\n\nWILLY'S  LADY\n\n[0048]\n\n\n|Willy's ta en him oer the faem,\n\nHes wooed a wife, and brought her hame;\n\nHes wooed her for her yellow hair,\n\nBut his mother wrought her mickle care;\n\nAnd mickle dolour gar'd her dree,\n\nFor lighter she can never be;\n\nBut in her bower she sits wi' pain,\n\nAnd Willy mourns oer her in vain.\n\n\n\nAnd to his mother he has gane,\n\nThat vile rank witch, o' vilest kind!\n\nHe says--\"My lady has a cup,\n\nWi' gowd and silver set about;\n\nThis goodly gift shall be your ain,\n\nAnd let her be lighter o' her young bairn.\"--\n\n\n\n(_faem,_ sea. _dree,_ suffer.)\n\n\"Of her young bairn she's ne'er be lighter,\n\nNor in her bower to shine the brighter:\n\nBut she shall die, and turn to clay,\n\nAnd you shall wed another may.\"--\n\n\n\n\"Another may I'll never wed,\n\nAnother may I'll ne'er bring hame:\"--\n\nBut, sighing, says that weary wight--\n\n\"I wish my life were at an end!\"\n\n\n\n\"Yet do ye unto your mother again,\n\nThat vile rank witch, o' vilest kind!\n\nAnd say, your lady has a steed,\n\nThe like o' him's no in the land o' Leed.\n\n\"For he is golden shod before,\n\nAnd he is golden shod behind;\n\nAt ilka tett of that horse's mane,\n\nThere's a golden chess, and a bell to ring.\n\nThis goodly gift shall be your ain,\n\nAnd let me be lighter o' my young bairn.\"--\n\n\n\n\"Of her young bairn she's ne'er be lighter,\n\nNor in her bower to shine the brighter;\n\nBut she shall die, and turn to clay,\n\nAnd ye shall wed another may.\"--\n\n\n\n\"Another may I'll never wed,\n\nAnother may I'll ne'er bring hame:\"--\n\n(_tett_, tuft.)\n\nWilly's Lady\n\n15\n\nBut, sighing, said that weary wight--\n\n\"I wish my life were at an end!\"--\n\n\n\n\"Yet do ye unto your mother again,\n\nThat vile rank witch, o' vilest kind!\n\nAnd say your lady has a girdle,\n\nIt's of red gowd unto the middle;\n\n\"And aye, at every siller hem\n\nHang fifty siller bells and ten;\n\nThat goodly gift [shall] be her ain,\n\nAnd let me be lighter o' my young bairn.\"--\n\n\n\n\"Of her young bairn she's ne'er be lighter,\n\nNor in her bower to shine the brighter;\n\nFor she shall die, and turn to clay,\n\nAnd you shall wed another may.\"--\n\n\n\n\"Another may I'll never wed,\n\nAnother may I'll ne'er bring hame:\"--\n\nBut, sighing, said that weary wight--\n\n\"I wish my days were at an end!\"--\n\n\n\nThen out and spake the Billy Blind,\n\n(He spake aye in good time:)\n\n\"Ye do ye to the market-place,\n\nAnd there ye buy a loaf of wax;\n\nYe shape it bairn and bairnly like,\n\nAnd in it twa glassen een ye put;\n\n\"And bid her come to your boy's christening,\n\nThen notice weel what she shall do;\n\nAnd do you stand a little forbye,\n\nAnd listen weel what she shall say.\"\n\n\n\n[He did him to the market-place,\n\nAnd there he bought a loaf o' wax;\n\nHe shaped it bairn and bairnly like,\n\nAnd in twa glazen een he pat;\n\nHe did him till his mother then,\n\nAnd bade her to his boy's christening;\n\nAnd he did stand a little forbye,\n\nAnd noticed well what she did say.\n\n\n\n\"O wha has loosed the nine witch knots,\n\nThat was amang that lady's locks?\n\nAnd wha's ta'en out the kaims o' care,\n\nThat hang amang that lady's hair?\n\n\"And wha's ta'en down the bush o' woodbine,\n\nThat hung between her bower and mine?\n\nAnd wha has kill'd the master kid,\n\nThat ran beneath that lady's bed?\n\nAnd wha has loosed her left foot shee,\n\nAnd letten that lady lighter be?\"\n\n\n\nO, Willy's loosed the nine witch knots,\n\nThat was amang that lady's locks;\n\nAnd Willy's ta'en out the kaims o' care,\n\nThat hang amang that lady's hair;\n\n(_shee_, shoe.)\n\nThe D\u00e6mon Lover ss'\n\n17\n\nAnd Willy's ta'en down the bush o' woodbine,\n\nHung atween her bower and thine\n\nAnd Willy has kill'd the master kid,\n\nThat ran beneath that lady's bed;\n\n\n\nAnd Willy has loosed her left foot shee,\n\nAnd letten his lady lighter be;\n\nAnd now he's gotten a bonny young son,\n\nAnd mickle grace be him upon.\n\n\n\n\nTHE D\u00c6MON LOVER\n\n[[Illustration: 9052]\n\n\n|O where have you been, my long, long love,\n\n     This long seven years and more?\"--\n\n\"O I'm come to seek my former vows\n\n     Ye granted me before.\"--\n\n\n\n\"O hold your tongue of your former vows,\n\n     For they will breed sad strife;\n\nO hold your tongue of your former vows,\n\n     For I am become a wife.\"\n\n\n\nHe turn'd him right and round about,\n\n     And the tear blinded his ee;\n\n\"I wad never hae trodden on Irish ground,\n\n     If it had not been for thee.\n\n\n\n\"I might hae had a king's daughter,\n\n     Far, far beyond the sea;\n\nI might have had a king's daughter,\n\n     Had it not been for love o' thee.\"--\n\n\n\n\"If ye might have had a king's daughter,\n\nYoursel' ye had to blame;\n\nYe might have taken the king's daughter,\n\n     For ye kenned that I was nane.\"--\n\n\n\n[\"O false are the vows of womankind,\n\n     But fair is their false bodie;\n\nI never wad hae trodden on Irish ground,\n\n     Had it not been for love o' thee.\"--]\n\n\n\n\"If I was to leave my husband dear,\n\n     And my two babes also,\n\nO what have you to take me to,\n\n     If with you I should go?\"--\n\n\"I hae seven ships upon the sea,\n\n     The eighth brought me to land;\n\nWith four-and-twenty bold mariners,\n\n     And music on every hand.\"\n\n\n\nShe has taken up her two little babes,\n\n     Kiss'd them baith cheek and chin;\n\n\"O fair ye weel, my ain two babes,\n\n     For I'll never see you again.\"\n\n\n\nShe set her foot upon the ship,\n\n     No mariners could she behold;\n\nBut the sails were o' the taffety,\n\n     And the masts o' the beaten gold.\n\n\n\nShe had not sail'd a league, a league,\n\n     A league but barely three,\n\nWhen dismal grew his countenance,\n\n     And drumlie grew his ee.\n\n\n\n[The masts that were like the beaten gold,\n\nBent not on the heaving seas;\n\nBut the sails, that were o' the taffety,\n\nFill'd not in the east land-breeze.--]\n\n\n\nThey had not sailed a league, a league,\n\n     A league but barely three,\n\nUntil she espied his cloven foot,\n\n     And she wept right bitterly.\n\n\n\n\"O hold your tongue of your weeping,\" says he,\n\n     \"Of your weeping now let me be;\n\nI will show you how the lilies grow\n\n     On the banks of Italy.\"--\n\n\n\n(_drumlie_, gloomy.)\n\n\"O what hills are yon, yon pleasant hills,\n\n     That the sun shines sweetly on?\"--\n\n\"O yon are the hills of heaven,\" he said,\n\n     \"Where you will never win.\"--\n\n\n\n\"O whaten a mountain is yon,\" she said,\n\n     \"All so dreary wi' frost and snow?\"--\n\n\"O yon is the mountain of hell,\" he cried,\n\n     \"Where you and I will go.\"\n\n\n\n[And aye when she turn'd her round about,\n\n     Aye taller he seem'd for to be;\n\nUntil that the tops o' that gallant ship\n\n     Nae taller were than he.\n\n\n\nThe clouds grew dark, and the wind grew loud,\n\n     And the levin fill'd her ee;\n\nAnd waesome wail'd the snaw-white sprites\n\n     Upon the gurlie sea.]\n\n\n\nHe strack the tap-mast wi' his hand,\n\n     The fore-mast wi' his knee;\n\nAnd he brake that gallant ship in twain,\n\n     And sank her in the sea.\n\n\n\n(_levin_, lightning. _gurlie_, stormy.)\n\n\n\n\nTHE WIFE OF USHER'S WELL\n\n[Illustration: 9056]\n\n\n|There lived a wife at Usher's Well,\n\nAnd a wealthy wife was she,\n\nShe had three stout and stalwart sons,\n\nAnd sent them o'er the sea.\n\n\n\nThey hadna been a week from her,\n\n     A week but barely ane,\n\nWhen word came to the carline wife,\n\n     That her three sons were gane.\n\n\n\nThey hadna been a week from her,\n\n     A week but barely three,\n\nWhen word came to the carline wife,\n\n     That her sons she'd never see.\n\n\n\n\"I wish the wind may never cease,\n\n     Nor fishes in the flood,\n\nTill my three sons come hame to me.\n\n     In earthly flesh and blood.\"--\n\n\n\nIt fell about the Martinmas,\n\n     When nights are lang and mirk,\n\nThe carline wife's three sons came home,\n\n     And their hats were o' the birk.\n\n\n\nIt neither grew in syke nor ditch,\n\n     Nor yet in ony sheugh;\n\nBut at the gates o' Paradise,\n\n     That birk grew fair eneugh.\n\n\n\n\"Blow up the fire, my maidens!\n\n     Bring water from the well!\n\nFor a my house shall feast this night,\n\n     Since my three sons are well.\"--\n\n\n\nAnd she has made to them a bed,\n\n     She's made it large and wide;\n\nAnd she's ta'en heir mantle her about,\n\n     Sat down at the bed-side.\n\n\n\nUp then crew the red red cock,\n\n     And up and crew the gray;\n\nThe eldest to the youngest said,\n\n     \"'Tis time we were away.\"--\n\n\n\n(_syke_, marsh, _sheugh_, furrow.)\n\nThe cock he hadna craw'd but once,\n\n     And clapp'd his wings at a',\n\nWhen the youngest to the eldest said,\n\n     \"Brother, we must awa'--\n\n\n\n\"The cock doth craw, the day doth daw,\n\n     The channerin' worm doth chide;\n\nGin we be missed out o' our place,\n\n     A sair pain we maun bide.\n\n\n\n\"Fare ye weel, my mother dear!\n\n     Fare weel to barn and byre!\n\nAnd fare ye weel, the bonny lass,\n\n     That kindles my mothers fire.\"\n\n\n\n(_channerin'_, fretting.)\n\n\n\n\nCLERK SAUNDERS\n\n[Illustration: 9059]\n\n\n|Clerk Saunders and may Margaret,\n\n     Walked ower yon gravelled green;\n\nAnd sad and heavy was the love\n\n     I wot it fell this twa between.\n\n\n\n\"A bed, a bed,\" Clerk Saunders said,\n\n     \"A bed, a bed for you and me!\"--\n\n\"Fie na, fie na,\" the lady said,\n\n     \"Until the day we married be;\n\n\n\n\"For in it will come my seven brothers,\n\n     And a their torches burning bright;\n\nThey'll say--' We hae but ae sister,\n\n     And here her lying wi' a knight! '\"--\n\n\n\n\"Yell take the sword from my scabbard,\n\n     And lowly, lowly lift the gin;\n\nAnd you may swear, and your oath to save,\n\n     Ye never let Clerk Saunders in.\n\n\n\n\"Yell take a napkin in your hand,\n\n     And yell tie up baith your een;\n\nAnd you may swear, and your oath to save,\n\n     Ye saw na Sandy since late yestreen.\"\n\n\n\n--\"Ye'll take me in your arm\u00e9s twa,\n\n     Yell carry me ben into your bed,\n\nAnd ye may swear, and your oath to save,\n\n     That in your bower-floor I ne'er tread.\"\n\n\n\nShe has ta en the sword frae his scabbard,\n\n     And lowly, lowly lifted the gin;\n\nShe was to swear, her oath to save,\n\n     She never let Clerk Saunders in.\n\n\n\nShe has ta'en a napkin in her hand,\n\n     And she tied up baith her een;\n\nShe was to swear, her oath to save,\n\n     She saw na him since late yestreen.\n\n\n\n(_gin,_ latch.)\n\n[Illustration: 9061]\n\nShe ta'en him in her arm\u00e9s twa\n\nAnd carried him ben into her bed j\n\nShe was to swear her oath to save\n\nHe never on her bower-floor tread.\n\n\n\nIn and came her seven brothers,\n\n     And all their torches burning bright;\n\nSays they, \"We hae but ae sister,\n\n     And see there her lying wi' a knight!\"\n\n\n\nOut and speaks the first o' them,\n\n     \"I wot that they hae been lovers dear!\"\n\nOut and speaks the next o' them,\n\n     \"They hae been in love this many a year!\"\n\n\n\nOut and speaks the third o' them,\n\n     \"It were great sin this twa to twain!\"\n\nOut and speaks the fourth of them,\n\n     \"It were a sin to kill a sleeping man!\"\n\n\n\nOut and speaks the fifth of them,\n\n     \"I wot they'll ne'er be twained by me\";\n\nOut and speaks the sixth of them,\n\n     \"We'll tak our leave and gae our way.\"\n\n\n\nOut and speaks the seventh o' them,\n\n     \"Altho' there were no man but me;\n\n\n\n     I bear the brand I'll gar him dee.\"\n\n\n\nOut he has ta'en a bright long brand,\n\n     And he has striped it through the straw,\n\nAnd through and through Clerk Saunders' body\n\n     I wot he has gared cold iron gae.\n\n\n\n(_gar_, make.)\n\nSaunders he started, and Margaret she lept\n\n     Into his arms where she lay;\n\nAnd well and wellsome was the night\n\n     I wot it was between those twa.\n\n\n\nAnd they lay still and sleeped sound,\n\n     Until the day began to daw;\n\nAnd kindly to him she did say,\n\n     \"It is time, true love, you were awa'.\"\n\n\n\nThey lay still, and sleeped sound,\n\n     Until the sun began to sheen;\n\nShe looked atween her and the wa,\n\n     And dull and drowsy was his een.\n\n\n\nShe thought it had been a loathsome sweat,\n\n     I wot it had fallen these twa between;\n\nBut it was the blood of his fair body,\n\n     I wot his life-days were na lang.\n\n\n\nO Saunders, I'll do for your sake\n\n     What other ladies would na thole;\n\nWhen seven years is come and gone,\n\n     There's ne'er a shoe go on my sole.\n\n\n\nO Saunders, I'll do for your sake\n\n     What other ladies would think mair;\n\nWhen seven years is come and gone,\n\n     There's ne'er a comb go in my hair.\n\n\n\nO Saunders, I'll do for your sake\n\n     What other ladies would think lack;\n\n(_thole_, endure. _lack_, loss.)\n\nWhen seven long years is come and gone,\n\n     I'll wear nought but dowie black.\n\n\n\nThe bells gaed clinking through the town,\n\n     To carry the dead corpse to the clay,\n\nAn sighing says her may Margaret,\n\n     I wot I bide a doleful day.\n\n\n\nIn and came her father dear,\n\n     Stout stepping on the floor.\n\n*****\n\n\"Hold your tongue, my daughter dear,\n\n     Let all your mourning a'be;\n\nI'll carry the dead corpse to the clay,\n\n     And I'll came back and comfort thee.\"\n\n\n\n\"Comfort well your seven sons,\n\n     For comforted will I never be:\n\nI ween 'twas neither lord nor loon\n\n     That was in bower last night wi' me.\"--\n\n\n\n(_dowie_, sad.)\n\n[Illustration: 0064]\n\n\n\n\nLORD DONALD\n\n\n\n|O where hae ye been a' day, Lord Donald, my son?\n\nO where hae ye been a' day, my jolly young man?\"\n\n\"I've been awa courtin':--mither, mak my bed sune,\n\nFor I'm sick at the heart, and I fain would lie doun.\"\n\n\n\n\"What wad ye hae for your supper, Lord Donald, my son?\n\nWhat wad ye hae for your supper, my jolly young man?\"\n\n \"I've gotten my supper:--mither, mak my bed sune,\n\nFor I'm sick at the heart, and I fain would lie doun.\"\n\n\n\n\"What did ye get for your supper, Lord Donald, my son?\n\nWhat did ye get for your supper, my jolly young man?\"\n\n\"A dish of sma' fishes:--mither, mak my bed sune,\n\nFor I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.\"\n\n\"Where gat ye the fishes, Lord Donald, my son?\n\nWhere gat ye the fishes, my jolly young man? ''\n\n\"In my fathers black ditches:--mither, mak my bed sune,\n\nFor I'm sick at the heart, and I fain would lie doun.\"\n\n\n\n\"What like were your fishes, Lord Donald, my son?\n\nWhat like were your fishes, my jolly young man?\"\n\n \"Black backs and speckl'd bellies:--mither, mak my bed sune,\n\nFor I'm sick at the heart, and I fain would lie doun.\"\n\n[Illustration: 0066]\n\n\"O I fear ye are poison'd, Lord Donald, my son!\n\nO I fear ye are poison'd, my jolly young man!\"\n\n \"O yes! I am poison'd:--mither, mak my bed sune,\n\nFor I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.\"\n\n\n\n\"What will ye leave to your father, Lord Donald, my son?\n\nWhat will ye leave to your father, my jolly young man?\"\n\n\"Baith my houses and land:--mither, mak my bed sune,\n\nFor I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.\"\n\n\n\n\"What will ye leave to your brither, Lord Donald, my son?\n\nWhat will ye leave to your brither, my jolly young man?\"\n\n\"My horse and the saddle:--mither, mak my bed sune,\n\nFor I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.\"\n\n\n\n\"What will ye leave to your sister, Lord Donald, my son?\n\nWhat will ye leave to your sister, my jolly young man?\"\n\n\"Baith my gold box and rings mither, mak my bed sune,\n\nFor I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.\"\n\n\n\n\"What will ye leave to your true-love, Lord Donald, my son?\n\nWhat will ye leave to your true-love, my jolly young man?\"\n\n\"The tow and the halter, for to hang on yon tree,\n\nAnd lat her hang there for the poisoning o' me.\"\n\n\n\n(_tozu_, rope.)\n\n\n\n\nFINE FLOWERS IN THE VALLEY\n\n[Illustration: 9068]\n\n\n|She sat down below a thorn,\n\n     _Fine flowers in the valley;_\n\nAnd there she has her sweet babe born,\n\n     _And the green leaves they grow rarely._\n\n\"Smile na sae sweet, my bonnie babe,\n\n     _Fine flowers in the valley,_\n\nAnd ye smile sae sweet, ye'll smile me dead,\"\n\n     _And the green leaves they grow rarely._\n\n\n\nShe's ta'en out her little penknife,\n\n     _Fine flowers in the valley,_\n\nAnd twinn'd the sweet babe o' its life,\n\n     _And the green leaves they grow rarely._\n\n\n\nShe's howket a grave by the light o' the moon,\n\n     _Fine flowers in the valley,_\n\nAnd there she's buried her sweet babe in,\n\n     _And the green leaves they grow rarely._\n\n\n\nAs she was going to the church,\n\n     _Fine flowers in the valley,_\n\nShe saw a sweet babe in the porch,\n\n     _And the green leaves they grow rarely._\n\n\n\n\"O sweet babe, and thou were mine,\n\n     _Fine flowers in the valley,_\n\nI wad clead thee in the silk so fine,\"\n\n     _And the green leaves they grow rarely._\n\n\n\n\"O mother dear, when I was thine,\n\n     _Fine flowers in the valley,_\n\nYe did na prove to me sae kind,\"\n\n     _And the green leaves they grow rarely._\n\n(_howket,_ digged. _clead_, clad.)\n\n\n\n\nYOUNG  HUNTING\n\n\"O Lady, rock never your young son,\n\n     One hour longer for me;\n\nFor I have a sweetheart in Garlicks Wells,\n\n     I love thrice better than thee.\n\n\n\n\"The very soles of my love's feet\n\n     Is whiter than thy face:\"\n\n \"But, nevertheless, now, Young Hunting,\n\n     Ye'll stay with me a' night?\"\n\n\n\nShe has birled in him, Young Hunting,\n\n     The good ale and the beer;\n\nTill he was as love-drunken\n\n     As any wild-wood steer.\n\n\n\nShe has birled in him, Young Hunting,\n\n     The good ale and the wine:\n\nTill he was as love-drunken\n\n     As any wild-wood swine.\n\n\n\nUp she has ta'en him, Young Hunting,\n\n     And she has had him to her bed.\n\n*****\n\nAnd she has minded her of a little penknife,\n\n     That hangs low down by her gare,\n\n(_birled in_, poured out drink for.  _gare_, skirt.)\n\nAnd she has gi'en him, Young Hunting,\n\n     A deep wound and a sair.\n\n\n\nOut and spake the bonny bird\n\n     That flew abune her head;\n\n\"Lady! keep weel your green clothing\n\n     Frae that good lords blood.\"--\n\n\n\n\"O better I'll keep my green clothing\n\n     Frae that good lord's blood,\n\nNor thou can keep thy flattering tongue,\n\n     That flatters in thy head.\"\n\n\n\n\"Light down, light down, my bonny bird,\n\n     Light down upon my hand;\n\n\n\n*****\n\n\"O siller, O siller shall be thy hire,\n\n     An' goud shall be thy fee,\n\nAn' every month into the year\n\n     Thy cage shall changed be.\"\n\n\n\n\"I winna light down, I shanna light down,\n\n     I winna light on thy hand;\n\nFull soon, soon wad ye do to me\n\n     As ye done to Young Hunting.\"\n\n\n\nShe has booted and spurred him, Young Hunting,\n\n     As he been ga'en to ride,\n\nA hunting-horn about his neck\n\n     An' the sharp sword by his side.\n\n\n\nAnd she has had him to yon water,\n\n     For a' man calls it Clyde.\n\n\n\n*****\n\nThe deepest pot intill it all\n\n     She has putten Young Hunting in;\n\nA green turf upon his breast,\n\n     To hold that good lord down.\n\n\n\nIt fell once upon a day\n\n     The king was going to ride,\n\nAnd he sent for him, Young Hunting,\n\n     To ride on his right side.\n\n\n\nShe has turned her right and round about,\n\n     She swear now by the corn,\n\n\"I saw na thy son, Young Hunting,\n\n     Since yesterday at morn.\"\n\n\n\nShe has turned her right and round about,\n\n     She swear now by the moon,\n\n\"I saw na thy son, Young Hunting,\n\n     Since yesterday at noon.\n\n\n\n\"It fears me sair in Clydes water,\n\n     That he is drown'd therein.\"--\n\nO they hae sent for the kings duckers\n\n     To duck for Young Hunting.\n\n\n\nThey ducked in at the [tae] water-bank,\n\n     They ducked out at the other;\n\n(_pot_, hole.)\n\n\"We'll duck nae mair for Young Hunting\n\n     Although he were our brother.\"\n\n\n\nOut and spake the bonny bird\n\n     That flew abune their heads.\n\n\n\n*****\n\n\"O he's na drowned in Clyde's water,\n\n'He is slain and put therein;\n\nThe lady that lives in yon castle\n\n     Slew him and put him in.\n\n\n\n\"Leave off your ducking on the day,\n\n     And duck upon the night;\n\nWherever that sackless knight lies slain,\n\n     The candles will shine bright.\"--\n\n\n\nThey left off their ducking on the day,\n\n     And duck'd upon the night;\n\nAnd where that sackless knight lay slain,\n\n     The candles shone full bright.\n\n\n\nThe deepest pot intill it a',\n\n     They got Young Hunting in;\n\nA green turf upon his breast,\n\n     To hold that gude lord down.\n\n\n\nO they ha sent off men to the wood\n\n     To hew down both thorn and fern,\n\nThat they might get a great bonfire\n\n     To burn that lady in.\n\n\n\n(_sackless_, guiltless.)\n\nThe Twa Corbies\n\n\"Put na the wite on me,\" she said,\n\n     \"It was [my] may Catherine:\"\n\nWhen they had taen her, may Catherine,\n\n     In the bonfire set her in.\n\n\n\nIt wadna take upon her cheeks,\n\n     Nor take upon her chin;\n\nNor yet upon her yellow hair,\n\n     To heal the deadly sin.\n\n\n\nOut they ta en her, may Catherine,\n\n     And they put that lady in;\n\nO it took upon her cheek, her cheek,\n\n     An it took upon her chin;\n\nAn it took upon her fair body--\n\nShe burn'd like [holly-green].\n\n\n\n[Illustration: 0074]\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWA CORBIES\n\n\n|As I was walking all alane,\n\nI heard twa corbies making a mane;\n\nThe tane unto the t'other say,\n\n\"Where sall we gang and dine to-day?\"--\n\n\n\n(_wite_, blame,)\n\n\"In behint yon auld fail dyke,\n\nI wot there lies a new-slain knight;\n\nAnd naebody kens that he lies there,\n\nBut his hawk, his hound, and lady fair.\n\n\n\n\"His hound is to the hunting gane,\n\nHis hawk, to fetch the wild-fowl hame,\n\nHis lady's ta'en another mate,\n\nSo we may mak our dinner sweet.\n\n\n\n\"Ye'll sit on his white hals-bane,\n\nAnd I'll pick out his bonny blue een:\n\nWi' ae lock o' his gowden hair,\n\nWe'll theek our nest when it grows bare.\n\n\n\n\"Mony a one for him makes mane,\n\nBut nane sail ken where he is gane:\n\nO'er his white banes, when they are bare,\n\nThe wind sail blaw for evermair.\"--\n\n\n\n\nTHE DOWIE DENS O' YARROW\n\n\n|Late at e'en, drinking the wine,\n\n     Or early in the morning,\n\nThey set a combat them between,\n\n     To fight it in the dawning.\n\n\n\n(_fail dyke_, wall of sods. _hals-bane_, neck-bone. _theek_, thatch.)\n\n\"O stay at hame, my noble lord,\n\n     O stay at hame, my marrow!\n\nMy cruel brother will you betray\n\n     On the dowie houms of Yarrow.\n\n\n\n\"O fare ye weel, my lady gay!\n\n     O fare ye weel, my Sarah!\n\nFor I maun gae, though I ne'er return\n\n     Frae the dowie banks o' Yarrow.\"\n\n\n\n[Illustration: 0076]\n\nShe kiss'd his cheek, she kaim'd his hair,\n\n     As she had done before, O;\n\nShe belted on his noble brand,\n\n     And he's away to Yarrow.\n\n\n\nO he's gane up yon high, high hill,\n\n     I wot he gaed wi' sorrow,\n\nAn' in a den spied nine arm'd men,\n\n     I' the dowie houms of Yarrow.\n\n\n\n(_marrow_,  mate. _houms_,  marshes. _dowie_, gloomy.)\n\n\"O are ye come to drink the wine,\n\n     As ye hae doon before, oh?\n\nOr are ye come to wield the brand,\n\n     On the bonny banks of Yarrow?\"--\n\n\n\n\"I am no come to drink the wine,\n\n     As I hae doon before, oh,\n\nBut I am come to wield the brand,\n\n     On the dowie houms of Yarrow.\"\n\n\n\n[Illustration: 0077]\n\nFour he hurt, and five he slew,\n\n     On the dowie houms of Yarrow,\n\nTill that stubborn knight came him behind,\n\n     And ran his body thorough.\n\n\n\n\"Gae hame, gae hame, good-brother John,\n\n     And tell your sister Sarah,\n\nTo come and lift her noble lord;\n\n     Who's sleepin sound on Yarrow.\"--\n\n\n\n\"Yestreen I dream'd a dolefu' dream;\n\n     I kenn'd there wad be sorrow!\n\nI dream'd I pu'd the heather green,\n\n     On the dowie banks o' Yarrow.\"\n\n\n\nShe gaed up yon high, high hill--\n\n     I wot she gaed wi' sorrow--\n\nAn' in a den spied nine dead men,\n\n     On the dowie houms of Yarrow.\n\n\n\nShe kissed his cheek, she kaim'd his hair,\n\n     As oft she did before, O;\n\nShe drank the red blood frae him ran,\n\n     On the dowie houms of Yarrow.\n\n\n\n\"O haud your tongue, my daughter dear!\n\n     For what needs a ' this sorrow;\n\nI'll wed ye on a better lord,\n\n     Than him you lost on Yarrow.\"--\n\n\n\n\"O haud your tongue, my father dear!\n\n     And dinna grieve your Sarah;\n\nA better lord was never born\n\n     Than him I lost on Yarrow.\n\n\n\n\"Take hame your ousen, take hame your kye,\n\n     For they hae bred our sorrow;\n\nI wish that they had a' gane mad\n\n     When they came first to Yarrow.\"\n\n\n\n\nGR\u00c6ME AND BEWICK\n\n[Illustration: 9079]\n\n\n|Gude Lord Gr\u00e6me is to Carlisle gane,\n\n     Sir Robert Bewick there met he,\n\nAnd arm in arm to the wine they did go,\n\n     And they drank till they were baith merry.\n\n\n\nGude Lord Gr\u00e6me has ta en up the cup,\n\n     \"Sir Robert Bewick, and heres to thee!\n\nAnd here's to our twa sons at hame!\n\n     For they like us best in our ain country.\"--\n\n\n\n\"O were your son a lad like mine,\n\n     And learn'd some books that he could read,\n\nThey might hae been twa brethren bold,\n\n     And they might hae bragged the Border side.\n\n\n\n(_bragged_, defied.)\n\n\"But your son's a lad, and he is but bad,\n\n     And billy to my son he canna be;\"\n\n\n\n*****\n\n\"[I] sent him to the schools, and he wadna learn;\n\n     [I] bought him books, and he wadna read;\n\nBut my blessing shall he never earn,\n\n     Till I see how his arm can defend his head.\"--\n\n\n\nGude Lord Gr\u00e6me has a reckoning call'd,\n\n     A reckoning then called he;\n\nAnd he paid a crown, and it went roun',\n\n     It was all for the gude wine and free.\n\n\n\nAnd he has to the stable gane,\n\n     Where there stood thirty steeds and three;\n\nHe's ta'en his ain horse amang them a',\n\n     And hame he rade sae manfully.\n\n\n\n\"Welcome, my auld father!\" said Christie Graeme,\n\n     \"But where sae lang frae hame were ye?\"--\n\n\"It's I hae been at Carlisle town,\n\n     And a baffled man by thee I be.\n\n\n\n\"I hae been at Carlisle town,\n\n     Where Sir Robert Bewick he met me;\n\nHe says yere a lad, and ye are but bad,\n\n     And billy to his son ye canna be.\n\n\n\n\"I sent ye to the schools, and ye wadna learn;\n\n     I bought ye books, and ye wadna read;\n\nTherefore my blessing ye shall never earn,\n\n     Till I see with Bewick thou save my head.\"\n\n\n\n\"Now, God forbid, my auld father,\n\n     That ever sic a thing should be!\n\nBilly Bewick was my master, and I was his scholar,\n\n     And aye sae weel as he learned me.\"\n\n\n\n\"O hold thy tongue, thou limmer loon,\n\n     And of thy talking let me be!\n\nIf thou does na end me this quarrel soon,\n\n     There is my glove, I'll fight wi' thee.\"\n\n\n\nThen Christie Gr\u00e6me he stooped low\n\n     Unto the ground, you shall understand;--\n\n\"O father, put on your glove again,\n\n     The wind has blown it from your hand?\"\n\n\n\nWhat's that thou says, thou limmer loon?\n\n     How dares thou stand to speak to me?\n\nIf thou do not end this quarrel soon,\n\n     There's my right hand thou shalt fight with me.\"--\n\n\n\nThen Christie Graeme's to his chamber gane,\n\n     To consider weel what then should be;\n\nWhether he should fight with his auld father,\n\n     Or with his billy Bewick, he.\n\n\n\n(_limmer_, rascal.)\n\nGr\u00e6me and Bewick ss' 47\n\n\"If I should kill my billy dear,\n\n     God's blessing I shall never win;\n\nBut if I strike at my auld father,\n\n     I think 'twould be a mortal sin.\n\n\n\n\"But if I kill my billy dear,\n\n     It is God's will, so let it be;\n\nBut I make a vow, ere I gang frae hame,\n\n     That I shall be the next man's die.\"--\n\n\n\nThen he's put on's back a gude auld jack,\n\n     And on his head a cap of steel,\n\nAnd sword and buckler by his side;\n\n     O gin he did not become them weel!\n\n\n\nWe'll leave off talking of Christie Gr\u00e6me,\n\n     And talk of him again belive;\n\nAnd we will talk of bonny Bewick,\n\n     Where he was teaching his scholars five.\n\n\n\nWhen he had taught them well to fence,\n\n     And handle swords without any doubt,\n\nHe took his sword under his arm,\n\n     And he walk'd his father's close about.\n\n\n\nHe look'd atween him and the sun,\n\n     And a' to see what there might be,\n\nTill he spied a man in armour bright,\n\n     Was riding that way most hastily.\n\n\n\n(_jacky_ coat of mail. _belive,_ soon.)\n\n\"O wha is yon, that came this way,\n\n     Sae hastily that hither came?\n\nI think it be my brother dear,\n\n     I think it be young Christie Gr\u00e6me.\n\n\n\n\"Yere welcome here, my billy dear,\n\n     And thrice ye're welcome unto me! \"--\n\n\"But I'm wae to say, I've seen the day,\n\n     When I am come to fight wi' thee.\n\n\n\n\"My fathers gane to Carlisle town,\n\n     Wi' your father Bewick there met he:\n\nHe says I'm a lad, and I am but bad,\n\n     And a baffled man I trow I be.\n\n\n\n\"He sent me to schools, and I wadna learn;\n\n     He gae me books, and I wadna read;\n\nSae my father's blessing I'll never earn,\n\n     Till he see how my arm can guard my head.\"\n\n\n\n\"O God forbid, my billy dear,\n\n     That ever such a thing should be!\n\nWe'll take three men on either side,\n\n     And see if we can our fathers agree.\"\n\n\n\n\"O hold thy tongue, now, billy Bewick,\n\n     And of thy talking let me be!\n\nBut if thou'rt a man, as I'm sure thou art,\n\n     Come o'er the dyke, and fight wi' me.\"\n\n\n\n\"But I hae nae harness, billy, on my back,\n\n     As weel I see there is on thine.\"--\n\n\"But as little harness as is on thy back,\n\n     As little, billy, shall be on mine.\"--\n\n\n\nThen he's thrown off his coat o' mail,\n\n     His cap of steel away flung he;\n\nHe stuck his spear into the ground,\n\n     And he tied his horse unto a tree.\n\n\n\nThen Bewick has thrown off his cloak,\n\n     And's psalter-book frae's hand flung he;\n\nHe laid his hand upon the dyke,\n\n     And ower he lap most manfully.\n\n\n\nO they hae fought for twa lang hours;\n\n     When twa lang hours were come and gane,\n\nThe sweat drapp'd fast frae off them baith,\n\n     But a drap of blude could not be seen.\n\n\n\nTill Gr\u00e6me gae Bewick an awkward stroke,\n\n     Ane awkward stroke strucken sickerly;\n\nHe has hit him under the left breast,\n\n     And dead-wounded to the ground fell he.\n\n\n\n\"Rise up, rise up, now, billy dear,\n\n     Arise and speak three words to me!\n\nWhether thou's gotten thy deadly wound,\n\n     Or if God and good leeching may succour thee?\"\n\n\n\n(_sickerly_, surely.)\n\n\"O horse, O horse, now, billy Gr\u00e6me,\n\n     And get thee far from hence with speed;\n\nAnd get thee out of this country,\n\n     That none may know who has done the deed.\"--\n\n\n\n\"O I have slain thee, billy Bewick,\n\n     If this be true thou tellest to me;\n\nBut I made a vow, ere I came frae hame,\n\n     That aye the next man I wad be.\"\n\n\n\nHe has pitch'd his sword in a moodie-hill,\n\n     And he has leap'd twenty lang feet and three,\n\nAnd on his ain sword's point he lap,\n\n     And dead upon the ground fell he.\n\n\n\n'Twas then came up Sir Robert Bewick,\n\n     And his brave son alive saw he;\n\n\"Rise up, rise up, my son,\" he said,\n\n     \"For I think ye hae gotten the victorie.\"\n\n\n\n\"O hold your tongue, my father dear,\n\n     Of your prideful talking let me be!\n\nYe might hae drunken your wine in peace,\n\n     And let me and my billy be.\n\n\n\n\"Gae dig a grave, baith wide and deep,\n\n     And a grave to hold baith him and me;\n\nBut lay Christie Gr\u00e6me on the sunny side,\n\n     For I'm sure he won the victorie.\"\n\n\n\n(_moodie-hill_, mole-hill.)\n\n\"Alack! a wae!\" auld Bewick cried,\n\n     \"Alack! was I not much to blame?\n\nI'm sure I've lost the liveliest lad\n\n     That e'er was born unto my name.\"\n\n\n\n\"Alack! a wae!\" quo' gude Lord Gr\u00e6me,\n\n     \"Im sure I hae lost the deeper lack!\n\nI durst hae ridden the Border through,\n\n     Had Christie Gr\u00e6me been at my back.\n\n\n\n\"Had I been led through Liddesdale,\n\n     And thirty horsemen guarding me,\n\nAnd Christie Gr\u00e6me been at my back,\n\n     Sae soon as he had set me free!\n\n\n\n\"I've lost my hopes, I've lost my joy,\n\nI've lost the key but and the lock;\n\nI durst hae ridden the world round,\n\nHad Christie Gr\u00e6me been at my back.\"\n\n\n\n$$THE LAMENT OF THE BORDER WIDOW\n\n\n|My love he built me a bonny bower,\n\nAnd clad it a wi' lily flower,\n\nA brawer bower ye ne er did see\n\nThan my true love he built for me.\n\n\n\n(_lack,_ loss.)\n\nThere came a man, by middle day,\n\nHe spied his sport, and went away;\n\nAnd brought the King that very night,\n\nWho brake my bower, and slew my knight.\n\n\n\nHe slew my knight, to me sae dear;\n\nHe slew my knight, and poin'd his gear;\n\nMy servants all for life did flee,\n\nAnd left me in extremity.\n\n\n\nI sew'd his sheet, making my mane;\n\nI watch'd the corpse, myself alane;\n\nI watch'd his body, night and day;\n\nNo living creature came that way.\n\n\n\nI took his body on my back,\n\nAnd whiles I gaed, and whiles I sat;\n\nI digg'd a grave, and laid him in,\n\nAnd happ'd him with the sod sae green.\n\n\n\nBut think na ye my heart was sair,\n\nWhen I laid the mould on his yellow hair;\n\nO think na ye my heart was wae,\n\nWhen I turn'd about, away to gae?\n\n\n\nNae living man I'll love again,\n\nSince that my lovely knight is slain;\n\nWi' ae lock of his yellow hair\n\nI'll chain my heart for ever mair.\n\n\n\n(_poind,_ seized. _happed,_ covered.)\n\n\n\n\nFAIR ANNIE\n\n[Illustration: 9088]\n\n\n|It's narrow, narrow, make your bed,\n\n     And learn to lie your lane;\n\nFor I'm gaun o'er the sea, Fair Annie,\n\n     A braw bride to bring hame.\n\n\n\nWi' her I will get gowd and gear;\n\nWi' you I ne er got nane.\n\n\"But wha will bake my bridal bread,\n\n     Or brew my bridal ale?\n\nAnd wha will welcome my brisk bride,\n\n     That I bring o er the dale?\"--\n\n\n\n\"It's I will bake your bridal bread,\n\n     And brew your bridal ale;\n\nAnd I will welcome your brisk bride,\n\n     That you bring oer the dale.\"--\n\n\n\n\"But she that welcomes my brisk bride\n\n     Maun gang like maiden fair;\n\nShe maun lace on her robe sae jimp,\n\n     And braid her yellow hair.\"--\n\n\n\n\"But how can I gang maiden-like,\n\n     When maiden I am nane?\n\nHave I not born seven sons to thee,\n\n     And am with child again?\"--\n\n\n\nShe's ta'en her young son in her arms,\n\n     Another in her hand;\n\nAnd she's up to the highest tower,\n\n     To see him come to land.\n\n\n\n\"Come up, come up, my eldest son,\n\n     And look o'er yon sea-strand,\n\nAnd see your father's new-come bride,\n\n     Before she come to land.\"--\n\n\n\n\"Come down, come down, my mother dear,\n\n     Come frae the castle wa'!\n\nI fear, if langer ye stand there,\n\n     Ye'll let yoursel' down fa.\"--\n\n\n\n(_jimp_,  slim.)\n\nAnd she gaed down, and farther down,\n\n     Her love's ship for to see;\n\nAnd the topmast and the mainmast\n\n     Shone like the silver free.\n\n\n\nAnd she's gane down, and farther down,\n\n     The bride's ship to behold;\n\nAnd the topmast and the mainmast\n\n     They shone just like the gold.\n\n\n\nShe's ta'en her seven sons in her hand;\n\n     I wot she didna fail!\n\nShe met Lord Thomas and his bride,\n\n     As they came o'er the dale.\n\n\n\n\"You re welcome to your house, Lord Thomas,\n\n     You're welcome to your land;\n\nYou're welcome with your fair lady,\n\n     That you lead by the hand.\n\n\n\n\"You're welcome to your ha's, lady,\n\n     You're welcome to your bowers;\n\nYou're welcome to your hame, lady,\n\n     For a' that's here is yours.\"--\n\n\n\n\"I thank thee, Annie; I thank thee, Annie;\n\n     Sae dearly as I thank thee;\n\nYou're the likest to my sister Annie,\n\n     That ever I did see.\n\n\n\n(_free,_ precious.)\n\n\"There came a knight out o er the sea,\n\n     And steal'd my sister away;\n\nThe shame scoup in his company,\n\n     And land where er he gae!\"--\n\n\n\nShe hang ae napkin at the door,\n\n     Another in the ha';\n\nAnd a' to wipe the trickling tears,\n\n     Sae fast as they did fa'.\n\n\n\nAnd aye she served the lang tables\n\n     With white bread and with wine;\n\nAnd aye she drank the wan water,\n\n     To had her colour fine.\n\n\n\nAnd aye she served the lang tables,\n\n     With white bread and with brown;\n\nAnd ay she turned her round about,\n\n     Sae fast the tears fell down.\n\n\n\nAnd hes ta en down the silk napkin,\n\n     Hung on a silver pin;\n\nAnd aye he wipes the tear trickling\n\n     Adown her cheek and chin.\n\n\n\nAnd aye he turn'd him round about,\n\n     And smiled amang his men,\n\nSays--\"Like ye best the old lady,\n\n     Or her that's new come hame?\"--\n\n\n\n(_scaup_,  go. _had_,  hold, keep.)\n\nWhen bells were rung, and mass was sung,\n\n     And a' men bound to bed,\n\nLord Thomas and his new-come bride,\n\n     To their chamber they were gaed.\n\n\n\nAnnie made her bed a little for bye,\n\n     To hear what they might say;\n\n\"And ever alas!\" fair Annie cried,\n\n     \"That I should see this day!\n\n\n\n\"Gin my seven sons were seven young rats,\n\n     Running on the castle wa',\n\nAnd I were a grey cat mysel',\n\n     I soon would worry them a'.\n\n\n\n\"Gin my seven sons were seven young hares,\n\n     Running o er yon lily lea,\n\nAnd I were a greyhound mysel',\n\n     Soon worried they a' should be.\"--\n\n\n\nAnd wae and sad fair Annie sat,\n\n     And dreary was her sang;\n\nAnd ever, as she sobb'd and grat,\n\n     \"Wae to the man that did the wrang!\"--\n\n\n\n\"My gown is on,\" said the new-come bride,\n\n     \"My shoes are on my feet,\n\nAnd I will to fair Annies chamber,\n\n     And see what gars her greet.----\n\n\n\n(_forbye_, on one side. _grat_, wept.  _gars_, makes.)\n\n\"What ails ye, what ails ye, Fair Annie,\n\n     That ye make sic a moan?\n\nHas your wine barrels cast the girds,\n\n     Or is your white bread gone?\n\n\n\n\"O wha was't was your father, Annie,\n\n     Or wha was't was your mother?\n\nAnd had you ony sister, Annie,\n\n     Or had you ony brother?\"--\n\n\n\n\"The Earl of Wemyss was my father,\n\n     The Countess of Wemyss my mother;\n\nAnd a ' the folk about the house,\n\n     To me were sister and brother.\"--\n\n\n\n\"If the Earl of Wemyss was your father,\n\n     I wot sae was he mine;\n\nAnd it shall not be for lack o' gowd,\n\n     That ye your love sall tyne.\n\n\n\n\"For I have seven ships o' mine ain,\n\n     A' loaded to the brim;\n\nAnd I will gie them a' to thee,\n\n     Wi' four to thine eldest son.\n\n\n\nBut thanks to a the powers in heaven\n\n     That I gae maiden hame!\"\n\n(_tyne_, lose.)\n\n[Illustration: 0093]\n\n\n\n\nTHE GAY GOSS-HAWK\n\n[Illustration: 9094]\n\n\n|O weel's me, my gay goss-hawk,\n\n     That he can speak and flee;\n\nHell carry a letter to my love,\n\n     Bring back another to me.\"\n\n\n\n\"O how can I your true love ken,\n\n     Or how can I her know?\n\nWhen frae her mouth I ne er heard couth,\n\n     Nor wi' my eyes her saw.\"\n\n\n\n\"O weel sail ye my true love ken,\n\n     As soon as ye her see;\n\nFor, of a the flowers of fair England,\n\n     The fairest flower is she.\n\n\n\n(_heard, couth_, could hear.)\n\n\"And even at my love's bower-door\n\n     There grows a bowing birk;\n\nAnd sit ye doun and sing thereon\n\n     As she gangs to the kirk.\n\n\n\n\"And four-and-twenty ladies fair\n\n     Will wash and to the kirk,\n\nBut well shall ye my true-love ken,\n\n     For she wears goud on her skirt.\n\n\n\n\"And four-and-twenty gay ladies\n\n     Will to the mass repair;\n\nBut weel shall ye my true love ken,\n\n     For she wears goud on her hair.\"\n\n\n\nAnd even at the lady's bower-door\n\n     There grows a bowing birk;\n\nAnd [he] sat down and sang thereon\n\n     As she gaed to the kirk.\n\n\n\n\"O eat and drink, my Maries a',\n\n     The wine flows you among,\n\nTill I gang to my shot-window,\n\n     And hear yon bonny bird's song.\n\n\n\n\"Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird,\n\n     The song ye sang [yestreen];\n\nFor I ken, by your sweet singing,\n\n     Ye're frae my true love sen.\"\n\n\n\n(_birk,_ birch. _shot-windoiv_, projecting window. _sen,_ sent.)\n\nO first he sang a merry song,\n\n     And then he sang a grave;\n\nAnd then he pick'd his feathers gray,\n\n     To her the letter gave.\n\n\n\n\"Ha, there's a letter frae your love,\n\n     He says he sent you three;\n\nHe canna wait your love langer,\n\n     But for your sake he'll die.\n\n\n\n\"He bids you write a letter to him;\n\n     He says he's sent ye five;\n\nHe canna wait your love langer,\n\n     Tho' you're the fairest woman alive.\"\n\n\n\n\"Ye bid him bake his bridal bread,\n\n     And brew his bridal ale;\n\nAnd I'll meet him in fair Scotland,\n\n     Lang, lang ere it be stale.\"\n\n\n\nShe's doen to her father dear,\n\n     Fa'en low down on her knee:\n\n\"A boon, a boon, my father dear,\n\n     I pray you, grant it me.\"\n\n\n\n\"Ask on, ask on, my daughter,\n\n     An granted it shall be;\n\nExcept ae squire in fair Scotland,\n\n     An him you shall never see.\"\n\n\n\n\"The only boon, my father dear,\n\n     That I do crave of thee,--\n\nIs, gin I die in Southern lands,\n\n     In Scotland to bury me.\n\n\n\n\"And the first in kirk that ye come till,\n\n     Ye gar the bells be rung;\n\nAnd the nextin kirk that ye come to,\n\n     Ye gar the mass be sung.\n\n\n\n\"And the thirdin kirk that ye come till,\n\n     You deal gold for my sake.\n\nAnd the fourthin kirk that ye come till,\n\n     You tarry there till night.\"\n\n\n\nShe has doen her to her bigly bower\n\n     As fast as she could fare;\n\nAnd she has ta'en a sleepy draught,\n\n     That she had mix'd wi' care.\n\n\n\n(_gar,_ make. _bigly,_ big.)\n\nThe Gay Goss-Hawk ss' 63\n\nShe's laid her down upon her bed,\n\n     An soon she fa en asleep,\n\nAnd soon o'er every tender limb\n\n     Cold death began to creep.\n\n\n\nWhen night was flown, and day was come,\n\n     Nae ane that did her see\n\nBut thought she was a surely dead,\n\n     As ony lady could be.\n\n\n\nHer father and her brothers dear\n\n     Gar'd make to her a bier;\n\nThe tae half was o' gude red gold,\n\n     The tither o' silver clear.\n\n\n\nHer mither and her sisters fair\n\n     Gar'd work for her a sark;\n\nThe tae half was o' cambric fine\n\n     The tither o' needle wark.\n\n\n\nAn the first in kirk that they came till,\n\n     They gar'd the bells be rung;\n\nThe nextin kirk that they came till,\n\n     They gar'd the mass be sung.\n\n\n\nThe thirdin kirk that they came till,\n\n     They dealt gold for her sake,\n\nAn' the fourthin kirk that they came till,\n\n     Lo, there they met her make.\n\n\n\n(_make_, mate.)\n\n\"Lay down, lay down the bigly bier,\"\n\n     \"Let me the dead look on:\"\n\nWi' cherry cheeks and ruby lips\n\n     She lay and smiled on him.\n\n\n\n\"O ae shave of your bread, true love,\n\n     An' ae glass of your wine;\n\nFor I hae fasted for your sake\n\n     These fully days is nine.\n\n\n\n\"Gang hame, gang hame, my seven bold\n\nbrithers,\n\n     Gang hame and sound your horn!\n\nAnd ye may boast in southern lands\n\n     Your sister's played you scorn.\"\n\n\n\n[Illustration: 0099]\n\n\n\n\nBROWN ADAM\n\n[Illustration: 9100]\n\n\n|O wha wad wish the wind to blaw,\n\n     Or the green leaves fa' therewith?\n\nOr wha wad wish a lealer love\n\n     Than Brown Adam the Smith?\n\n\n\nHis hammer's o' the beaten gold,\n\n     His study's o' the steel,\n\n(_study_, that which stands, i.e. the anvil (?))\n\nHis fingers white, are my delight,\n\n     He blows his bellows weel.\n\n\n\nBut they hae banish'd him, Brown Adam,\n\n     Frae father and frae mother;\n\nAnd they hae banish'd him, Brown Adam,\n\n     Frae sister and frae brother.\n\n\n\nAnd they hae banish'd Brown Adam,\n\n     Frae the flower o' a' his kin;\n\nAnd he's bigged a bower i' the gude greenwood\n\n     Between his lady and him.\n\n\n\nO it fell once upon a day,\n\n     Brown Adam he thought lang;\n\nAn' he would to the green-wood gang,\n\n     To hunt some venison.\n\n\n\nHe has ta'en his bow his arm o'er,\n\n     His bran' intill his han',\n\nAnd he is to the gude green-wood\n\n     As fast as he could gang.\n\n\n\nO he's shot up, and he's shot down,\n\n     The bird upon the briar;\n\nAnd he sent it hame to his lady,\n\n     Bade her be of gude cheer.\n\n\n\nO he's shot up, and he's shot down,\n\n     The bird upon the thorn;\n\nAnd sent it hame to his lady,\n\n     Said he'd be hame the morn.\n\n\n\nWhen he came to his lady's bower door\n\n     He stood a little forbye,\n\nAnd there he heard a fu' fause knight\n\n     Tempting his gay lady.\n\n\n\nFor he's ta'en out a gay goud ring,\n\n     Had cost him many a poun',\n\n\"O grant me love for love, lady,\n\n     And this sal be thy own.\"--\n\n\n\n\"I lo'e Brown Adam weel,\" she says;\n\n     \"I wot sae does he me;\n\nAn I wadna gie Brown Adam's love\n\n     For nae fause knight I see.\"--\n\n\n\nOut has he ta'en a purse o' goud,\n\n     Was a' fu' to the string,\n\n\"O grant me but love for love, lady,\n\n     And a' this sail be thine.\"--\n\n\n\n\"I lo'e Brown Adam weel,\" she says;\n\n     \"I wot sae does he me:\n\nI wadna be your light leman,\n\n     For mair nor ye could gie.\"\n\n\n\nThen out has he drawn his lang, lang bran',\n\n     And he's flash'd it in her een;\n\n\"Now grant me love for love, lady,\n\n     Or thro' ye this shall gang!\"--\n\n\n\nOh, sighing, said that gay lady,\n\n     \"Brown Adam tarries lang!\"--\n\nThen up it starts Brown Adam,\n\n     Says--\"I'm just at your hand.\"--\n\n\n\nHe's gar'd him leave his bow, his bow,\n\n     He's gar'd him leave his brand,\n\nHe's gar'd him leave a better pledge--\n\n     Four fingers o' his right hand.\n\n\n\n\nTHE LAIRD O' LOGIE\n\n\n|I will sing, if ye will hearken,\n\n     If ye will hearken unto me;\n\nThe king has ta'en a poor prisoner,\n\n     The wanton laird o' young Logie.\n\n\n\nYoung Logie's laid in Edinburgh chapel,\n\n     Carmichael's the keeper o' the key;\n\nAnd May Margaret's lamenting sair,\n\n     A' for the love o' young Logie.\n\n\n\n\"Lament, lament na, May Margaret,\n\n     And of your weeping let me be;\n\nFor ye maun to the king himsel',\n\n     To seek the life o' young Logie.\"\n\n\n\nMay Margaret has kilted her green cleiding,\n\n     And she has curl'd back her yellow hair,--\n\n\"If I canna get young Logie's life,\n\n     Farewell to Scotland for evermair.\"\n\n\n\nWhen she came before the king,\n\n     She kneelit lowly on her knee.\n\n\"O what's the matter, May Margaret?\n\n     And what needs a' this courtesy?\"\n\n\n\n\"A boon, a boon, my noble liege,\n\n     A boon, a boon, I beg o' thee!\n\nAnd the first boon that I come to crave\n\n     Is to grant me the life o' young Logie.\"\n\n\n\n\"Ona, O na, May Margaret,\n\n     Forsooth, and so it mauna be;\n\nFor a' the gowd o' fair Scotland\n\n     Shall not save the life o' young Logie.\"\n\n\n\nBut she has stown the king's redding kaim,\n\n     Likewise the queen her wedding knife;\n\nAnd sent the tokens to Carmichael,\n\n     To cause young Logie get his life.\n\n\n\nShe sent him a purse o' the red gowd,\n\n     Another o' the white money;\n\n' She sent him a pistol for each hand,\n\n     And bade him shoot when he gat free.\n\n\n\n(_stown,_ stolen. _redding kaim_, hair comb.)\n\nWhen he came to the Tolbooth stair,\n\n     Then he let his volley flee;\n\nIt made the king in his chamber start,\n\n     Een in the bed where he might be.\n\n\n\n\"Gae out, gae out, my merrymen a,\n\n     And bid Carmichael come speak to me;\n\nFor I'll lay my life the pledge o' that,\n\n     That yon's the shot o' young Logie.\"\n\n\n\nWhen Carmichael came before the king,\n\n     He fell low down upon his knee;\n\nThe very first word that the king spake\n\n     Was,--\"Where's the laird of young Logie?\"\n\n\n\nCarmichael turn'd him round about,\n\n     (I wot the tear blinded his e'e,)--\n\n\"There came a token frae your grace\n\n     Has ta'en away the laird frae me.\"\n\n\n\n\"Hast thou play'd me that, Carmichael?\n\n     And hast thou play'd me that?\" quoth he;\n\n\"The morn the Justice Court's to stand,\n\n     And Logie's place ye maun supply.\"\n\n\n\nCarmichael's awa to Margaret's bower,\n\n     Even as fast as he may dri'e,--\n\n\"O if young Logie be within,\n\n     Tell him to come and speak with me!\"\n\n\n\n(_drte_, drive).\n\nMay Margaret turn'd her round about,\n\n     (I wot a loud laugh laughed she,)--\n\n\"The egg is chipp'd, the bird is flown,\n\n     Ye'll see nae mair of young Logie.\"\n\n\n\nThe tane is shipped at the pier of Leith,\n\n     The t'other at the Queen's Ferry;\n\nAnd she's gotten a father to her bairn,\n\n     The wanton laird of young Logie.\n\n\n\n\nJOHNNIE OF BREADISLEE\n\n\n|Johnnie rose up in a May morning,\n\n     Call'd for water to wash his hands--\n\n\"Gar loose to me the gude gray dogs,\n\n     That are bound wi' iron bands.\"\n\n\n\nWhen Johnnie's mother gat word o' that,\n\n     Her hands for dule she wrang--\n\n\"O Johnnie! for my benison,\n\n     To the greenwood dinna gang!\n\n\n\n\"Enough ye hae o' gude wheat bread,\n\n     And enough o' the blood-red wine;\n\nAnd therefore, for nae venison, Johnnie,\n\n     I pray ye, stir frae hame.\"\n\n\n\nBut Johnnie's busk'd up his gude bent bow,\n\n     His arrows, ane by ane,\n\nAnd he has gane to Durrisdeer,\n\n     To hunt the dun deer down.\n\n\n\nAs he came down by Merriemass,\n\n     And in by the benty line,\n\nThere has he espied a deer lying\n\n     Aneath a bush of ling.\n\n\n\nJohnnie he shot, and the dun deer lap,\n\n     And he wounded her on the side;\n\nBut atween the water and the brae,\n\n     His hounds they laid her pride.\n\n\n\nAnd Johnnie has bryttled the deer sae weel,\n\n     That he's had out her liver and lungs;\n\nAnd wi' these he has feasted his bluidy hounds,\n\n     As if they had been earl's sons.\n\n\n\nThey eat sae much o' the venison,\n\n     And drank sae much o' the blude,\n\nThat Johnnie and a' his bluidy hounds\n\n     Fell asleep as they had been dead.\n\n\n\nAnd by there came a silly auld carle,\n\n     An ill death mote he die!\n\nFor he's awa' to Hislinton,\n\n     Where the seven Foresters did lie.\n\n\n\n(_benty line,_ path covered with bent (?).  _bryttled_, cut up.  _carle_,  churl.)\n\n\"What news, what news, ye gray-headed carle,\n\n     What news bring ye to me?\"\n\n\"I bring nae news,\" said the gray-headed carle,\n\n     \"Save what these eyes did see.\n\n\n\n\"As I came down by Merriemass,\n\n     And down among the scroggs,\n\nThe bonniest child that ever I saw\n\n     Lay sleeping amang his dogs.\n\n\n\n\"The shirt that was upon his back\n\n     Was o' the Holland fine;\n\nThe doublet which was over that\n\n     Was o' the Lincoln twine.\n\n\n\n\"The buttons that were on his sleeve\n\n     Were o' the goud sae gude;\n\nThe gude gray hounds he lay amang,\n\n     Their mouths were dyed wi' blude\"\n\n\n\nThen out and spak the First Forester\n\n     The head man ower them a'--\n\n\"If this be Johnnie o' Breadislee,\n\n     Nae nearer will we draw.\"\n\n\n\nBut up and spak the Sixth Forester,\n\n     (His sister's son was he,)\n\n\"If this be Johnnie o' Breadislee,\n\n     We soon shall gar him die.\"\n\n\n\n(_scroggs,_ stunted trees.)\n\nThe first flight of arrows the Foresters shot,\n\n     They wounded him on the knee;\n\nAnd out and spak the Seventh Forester,\n\n     \"The next will gar him die.\"\n\n\n\nJohnnies set his back against an aik,\n\n     His foot against a stane;\n\nAnd he has slain the Seven Foresters,\n\n     He has slain them a' but ane.\n\n\n\nHe has broke three ribs in that ane's side,\n\n     But and his collar bane;\n\nHe's laid him twa-fald ower his steed,\n\n     Bade him carry the tidings hame.\n\n\n\n\"O is there nae a bonny bird\n\n     Can sing as I can say,\n\nCould flee away to my mother's bower,\n\n     And tell to fetch Johnnie away?\"\n\n\n\nThe starling flew to his mother's window stane,\n\n     It whistled and it sang;\n\nAnd aye the ower word o' the tune\n\n     Was--\"Johnnie tarries lang!\"\n\n\n\nThey made a rod o' the hazel bush,\n\n     Another o' the sloe-thorn tree,\n\nAnd mony mony were the men\n\n     At fetching o'er Johnnie.\n\n\n\n(_aik,_ oak.  _the ower word,_ the refrain.)\n\nThen out and spake his auld mother,\n\n     And fast her tears did fa'--\n\n\"Ye wad nae be warn'd, my son Johnnie,\n\n     Frae the hunting to bide awa'.\n\n\n\n'' Aft hae I brought to Breadislee\n\n     The less gear and the mair,\n\nBut I ne'er brought to Breadislee\n\n     What grieved my heart sae sair.\n\n\n\n\"But wae betide that silly auld carle!\n\n     An ill death shall he die!\n\nFor the highest tree in Merriemas\n\n     Shall be his morning's fee.\"\n\n\n\nNow Johnnie's gude bend bow is broke,\n\n     And his gude gray dogs are slain;\n\nAnd his body lies dead in Durrisdeer,\n\n     And his hunting it is done.\n\n\n\n\nKINMONT WILLY\n\n[Illustration: 0111]\n\n\n|O have ye na heard o' the fause Sakelde?\n\n     O have ye na heard of the keen Lord Scroope?\n\nHow they hae taen bould Kinmont Willy,\n\n     On Haribee to hang him up?\n\n\n\nHad Willy had but twenty men,\n\n     But twenty men as stout as he,\n\nFause Sakelde had never the Kinmont ta'en,\n\n     Wi' eight score in his company.\n\n\n\nThey band his legs beneath the steed,\n\n     They tied his hands behind his' back;\n\nThey guarded him, five some on each side,\n\n     And they brought him ower the Liddel-rack.\n\n\n\nThey led him thro' the Liddel-rack,\n\n     And also thro' the Carlisle sands;\n\nThey brought him to Carlisle castle,\n\n     To be at my Lord Scroope's commands.\n\n\n\n(_band,_  bound.)\n\n\"My hands are tied, but my tongue is free,\n\n     And wha will dare this deed avow?\n\nOr answer by the Border law?\n\n     Or answer to the bauld Buccleuch?\"\n\n\n\n\"Now haud thy tongue, thou rank reiver!\n\n     There's never a Scot shall set thee free:\n\nBefore ye cross my castle yate,\n\n     I trow ye shall take farewell o' me.\"\n\n\n\n\"Fear na ye that, my lord,\" quo' Willy:\n\n     \"By the faith o' my body, Lord Scroope,\" he said,\n\n\"I never yet lodged in a hostelry,\n\n     But I paid my lawing before I gaed.\"\n\n\n\nNow word is gane to the bauld Keeper,\n\n     In Branksome Ha' where that he lay,\n\nThat Lord Scroope has ta'en the Kinmont Willy,\n\n     Between the hours of night and day.\n\n\n\nHe has ta'en the table wi' his hand,\n\n     He gar'd the red wine spring on high--\n\n\"Now Christ's curse on my head,\" he said,\n\n     \"But avenged of Lord Scroope I'll be!\n\n\n\n\"O is my basnet a widow's curch?\n\n     Or my lance a wand of the willow-tree?\n\nOr my arm a lady's lily hand,\n\n     That an English lord should lightly me!\n\n\n\n(_reiver_, robber. _yate_, gate. _lawing,_ reckoning. _basnet_, helmet. _curch_,  kerchief.)\n\n\"And have they ta en him, Kinmont Willy,\n\n     Against the truce of Border tide,\n\nAnd forgotten that the bauld Buccleuch\n\n     Is keeper there on the Scottish side?\n\n\n\n\"And have they e en ta en him, Kinmont Willy,\n\n     Withouten either dread or fear,\n\nAnd forgotten that the bauld Buccleuch\n\n     Can back a steed, or shake a spear?\n\n\n\n\"O were there war between the lands,\n\n     As well I wot that there is none,\n\nI would slight Carlisle castle high,\n\n     Though it were builded of marble stone.\n\n\n\n\"I would set that castle in a low,\n\n     And sloken it with English blood!\n\nThere's never a man in Cumberland,\n\n     Should ken where Carlisle castle stood.\n\n\n\n\"But since nae war's between the lands,\n\n     And there is peace, and peace should be;\n\nI'll neither harm English lad or lass,\n\n     And yet the Kinmont freed shall be!\"\n\n\n\nHe has call'd him forty Marchmen bauld,\n\n     I trow they were of his ain name,\n\nExcept Sir Gilbert Elliot, call'd\n\n     The Laird of Stobs, I mean the same.\n\n\n\n(_slight_, i.e., make little of.   _sloken_, slake.)\n\nHe has call'd him forty Marchmen bauld,\n\n     Were kinsmen to the bauld Buccleuch;\n\nWith spur on heel, and splent on spauld,\n\n     And gloves of green, and feathers blue.\n\n\n\nThere were five and five before them a',\n\n     Wi' hunting-horns and bugles bright:\n\nAnd five and five came wi' Buccleuch,\n\n     Like warden's men, array'd for fight.\n\n\n\nAnd five and five, like a mason-gang,\n\n     That carried the ladders lang and high;\n\nAnd five and five, like broken men;\n\n     And so they reach'd the Woodhouselee.\n\n\n\nAnd as we cross'd the Bateable Land,\n\n     When to the English side we held,\n\nThe first o' men that we met wi',\n\n     Wha should it be but fause Sakelde?\n\n\n\n\"Where be ye gaun, ye hunters keen?\"\n\n     Quo' fause Sakelde; \"come tell to me!\"\n\n\"We go to hunt an English stag,\n\n     Has trespass'd on the Scots country.\"\n\n\n\n\"Where be ye gaun, ye marshal-men?\"\n\n     Quo' fause Sakelde; \"come tell me true!\n\n\"We go to catch a rank reiver,\n\n     Has broken faith wi' the bauld Buccleuch.'\n\n\n\n(_splent_, armour.  _spauld_, shoulder.)\n\n\"Where are ye gaun, ye mason lads,\n\n     Wi' a' your ladders lang and high?\"\n\n\"We gang to herry a corbie's nest,\n\n     That wons not far frae Woodhouselee.\"\n\n\n\n\"Where be ye gaun, ye broken men?\"\n\n     Quo' fause Sakelde; \"Come tell to me!\"\n\nNow Dicky of Dry hope led that band,\n\n     And the never a word of lear had he.\n\n\n\n\"Why trespass ye on the English side?\n\n     Row-footed outlaws, stand!\" quo' he;\n\nThen never a word had Dicky to say,\n\n     Sae he thrust the lance through his fause body.\n\n\n\nThen on we held for Carlisle toun,\n\n     And at Staneshaw-bank the Eden we cross'd;\n\nThe water was great and mickle of spate,\n\n     But the never a horse nor man we lost.\n\n\n\nAnd when we reach'd the Staneshaw-bank,\n\n     The wind was rising loud and high;\n\nAnd there the Laird gar'd leave our steeds,\n\n     For fear that they should stamp and neigh.\n\n\n\nAnd when we left the Staneshaw-bank,\n\n     The wind began full loud to blaw;\n\nBut 'twas wind and weet, and fire and sleet,\n\n     When we came beneath the castle wa'.\n\n\n\n(_herry_, harry. _wons_, dwells. _ lear,_  lying.  _row-footed_, rough-footed.)\n\nWe crept on knees, and held our breath,\n\n     Till we placed the ladders against the wa';\n\nAnd sae ready was Buccleuch himsel'\n\n     To mount the first before us a'.\n\n\n\nHe has taen the watchman by the throat,\n\n     He flung him down upon the lead--\n\n\"Had there not been peace between our lands,\n\n     Upon the other side thou hadst gaed!\n\n\n\n\"Now sound out, trumpets!\" quo' Buccleuch;\n\n     \"Let's waken Lord Scroope right merrily!\"\n\nThen loud the wardens trumpet blew--\n\n     _O wha dare meddle wi' me?_\n\n\n\nThen speedily to wark we gaed,\n\n     And raised the slogan ane and a',\n\nAnd cut a hole through a sheet of lead,\n\n     And so we wan to the castle ha'.\n\n\n\nThey thought King James and a' his men\n\n     Had won the house wi' bow and spear;\n\nIt was but twenty Scots and ten,\n\n     That put a thousand in sic a stear!\n\n\n\nWi' coulters, and wi' forehammers,\n\n     We gar'd the bars bang merrily,\n\nUntil we came to the inner prison,\n\n     Where Willy o' Kinmont he did lie.\n\n\n\n(_forehammers_, sledge-hammers. _stear_, stir. _slogan,_ war-cry.)\n\nAnd when we came to the lower prison,\n\n     Where Willy o' Kinmont he did lie--\n\n\"O sleep ye, wake ye, Kinmont Willy,\n\n     Upon the morn that thou's to die?\"\n\n\n\n\"O I sleep saft, and I wake aft,\n\n     It's lang since sleeping was fley'd frae me;\n\nGie my service back to my wife and bairns,\n\n     And a' gude fellows that speer for me.\"\n\n\n\nThen Red Rowan has hente him up,\n\n     The starkest man in Teviotdale--\n\n\"Abide, abide now, Red Rowan,\n\n     Till of my Lord Scroope I take farewell.\n\n\n\n\"Farewell, farewell, my gude Lord Scroope!\n\n     My gude Lord Scroope, farewell!\" he cried--\n\n\"I'll pay you for my lodging mail,\n\n     When first we meet on the Border side.\"\n\n\n\nThen shoulder high, with shout and cry,\n\n     We bore him down the ladder lang:\n\nAt every stride Red Rowan made,\n\n     I wot the Kinmont's airns play'd clang.\n\n\n\n\"O mony a time,\" quo' Kinmont Willy,\n\n     \"I have ridden horse baith wild and wood;\n\nBut a rougher beast than Red Rowan\n\n     I ween my legs have ne'er bestrode.\n\n\n\n(_hente_, caught. _fley'd,_ frightened. _starkest,_ strongest.  _airns_, irons.)\n\n\"And mony a time,\" quo' Kinmont Willy,\n\n     \"I've prick'd a horse out ower the furs;\n\nBut since the day I back'd a steed,\n\n     I never wore sic cumbrous spurs.\"\n\n\n\nWe scarce had won the Staneshaw-bank,\n\n     When a' the Carlisle bells were rung,\n\nAnd a thousand men on horse and foot\n\n     Came wi' the keen Lord Scroope along.\n\n\n\nBuccleuch has turn'd to Eden Water,\n\n     Even where it flow'd frae bank to brim,\n\nAnd he has plunged in wi' a' his band,\n\n     And safely swam them through the stream.\n\n\n\nHe turn'd him on the other side,\n\n     And at Lord Scroope his glove flung he--\n\n\"If ye like na my visit in merry England,\n\n     In fair Scotland come visit me!\"\n\n\n\nAll sore astonish'd stood Lord Scroope,\n\n     He stood as still as rock of stane;\n\nHe scarcely dared to trew his eyes,\n\n     When through the water they had gane.\n\n\n\nHe is either himsel' a devil frae hell,\n\n     Or else his mother a witch maun be;\n\n\"I wadna hae ridden that wan water\n\n     For a' the gowd in Christianty.\"\n\n\n\n(_furs_, furrows. _trew_, trust.)\n\n\n\n\nTHE DROWNED LOVERS\n\n\n|Ye gie corn unto my horse,\n\n     An' meat unto my man;\n\nFor I will gae to my true love's gates\n\n     This night, that I can win.\"\n\n\n\n\"O stay at hame this ae night, Willy,\n\n     This ae bare night wi' me;\n\nThe best bed in a' my house\n\n     Shall be well made to thee.\"\n\n\n\n\"I carena for your beds, mither,\n\n     I carena a pin;\n\nFor I'll gae to my love's gates\n\n     This night, gin I can win.\"\n\n\n\n4 Oh stay, my son Willy, this night,\n\n     This ae night wi' me;\n\nThe best hen in a' my roost\n\n     Shall be well made ready for thee.\"\n\n\n\n\"I carena for your hens, mither,\n\n     I carena a pin;\n\nI shall gae to my love's gates\n\n     This night, gin I can win.\"\n\n\n\n\"Gin ye winna stay, my son Willy,\n\n     This ae bare night wi' me,\n\nGin Clyde's water's be deep and fu' o' flood,\n\n     My malison drown thee!\"\n\n\n\nHe rade up yon high hill,\n\n     And down yon dowie den,\n\nThe roaring of Clyde's water\n\n     Wad hae fleyed ten thousand men.\n\n\n\n\"O spare me, Clyde's water,\n\n     O spare me as I gae!\n\nMak' me your wrack as I come back,\n\n     But spare me as I gae!\"\n\n\n\nHe rade in, and farther in,\n\n     Till he came to the chin;\n\nAnd he rade in, and farther in,\n\n     Till he came to dry land.\n\n\n\nAnd when he came to his love's gates,\n\n     He tirled at the pin.\n\n\"Open your gates, Meggie,\n\n     Open your gates to me;\n\nFor my boots are fu' o' Clyde's water\n\n     And the rain rains ower my chin.\"\n\n\n\n\"I hae nae lovers thereout,\" she says,\n\n     \"I hae nae love within;\n\nMy true-love is in my arms twa,\n\n     An' nane will I let in.\"\n\n\n\n(_den_, hollow.)\n\n\"Open your gates, Meggie, this ae night,\n\n     Open your gates to me;\n\nFor Clydes water is fu' o' flood,\n\n     And my mother's malison 'll drown me.\"\n\n\n\n\"Ane o' my chambers is fu' o' corn,\n\n     An ane is fu' o' hay;\n\nAnother is fu' o' gentlemen;--\n\n     An' they winna move till day.\"\n\n\n\nOut waked her may Meggie,\n\n     Out of her drowsy dream.\n\n\"I dreamed a dream sin the yestreen,\n\n     God read a' dreams to guid,\n\nThat my true love Willy\n\n     Was staring at my bed-feet.\"\n\n\n\n\"Lay still, lay still, my ae dochter,\n\n     An keep my back frae the call,\n\nFor it's na the space o' half an hour,\n\n     Sen he gaed frae your hall.''\n\n\n\nAn' hey Willy, and hoa, Willy,\n\n     Winna ye turn agen;\n\nBut aye the louder that she cried,\n\n     He rade against the win'.\n\nHe rade up yon high hill,\n\n     And doun yon dowie den;\n\nThe roaring that was in Clyde's water,\n\n     Wad ha fleyed ten thousand men.\n\n\n\n(_read_ explain. _call_, cold.)\n\nHe rade in, an' farther in,\n\n     Till he came to the chin;\n\nAn' he rade in, an' further in,\n\n     But never mair was seen.\n\n\n\n*****\n\nThere was na mair seen o' that guid lord,\n\n     But his hat frae his head;\n\nThere was na more seen of that lady,\n\n     But her comb and her snood.\n\n\n\nThere waders went up and doun,\n\n     Eddying Clyde's water;\n\nHave done us wrang.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWA BROTHERS\n\n\n|There were twa brethren in the north,\n\n     They went to the school together;\n\nThe one unto the other said\n\n     Will ye try a warsle afore?\n\n\n\nThey warsled up, they warsled down,\n\n     Till Sir John fell to the ground;\n\nAnd there was a knife in Sir William's pouch,\n\n     Gi ed him a deadly wound.\n\n\n\n(_warsle_, wrestle.)\n\n\"O brither dear, take me upon your back,\n\n     Carry me to yon burn clear,\n\nAnd wash the blood from off my wound,\n\n     And it will bleed nae mair.\"\n\n\n\nHe's took him up upon his back,\n\n     Carried him to yon burn clear,\n\nAnd wash'd the blood from off his wound,\n\n     But aye it bled the mair.\n\n\n\n\"Oh brither dear, take me on your back,\n\n     Carry me to yon kirk-yard,\n\nAnd dig a grave baith wide and deep,\n\n     And lay my body there.\"\n\n\n\nHe's ta'en him up upon his back,\n\n     Carried him to yon kirkyard,\n\nAnd dug a grave baith deep and wide,\n\n     And laid his body there.\n\n\n\n\"But what will I say to your father dear,\n\n     Gin he chance to say, Willy, where's John?\"\n\n\"O say that he's to England gone,\n\n     To buy him a cask of wine.\"\n\n\n\n\"And what will I say to my mother dear,\n\n     Gin she chance to say, Willy, where's John?\"\n\n\"Oh say that he's to England gone,\n\n     To buy her a new silk gown.\"\n\n\n\n\"And what will I say to my sister dear,\n\n     Gin she chance to say, Willy, where's John?\"\n\n\"Oh say that he's to England gone,\n\n     To buy her a wedding ring.\"\n\n\n\n\"But what shall I say to her you love dear,\n\n     Gin she cry, why tarries my John?\"\n\n\"Oh tell her I lie in Kirkland fair,\n\n     And home again will never come.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE LAIRD OF WARISTOUN\n\n\n|Down by yon garden green\n\n     Sae merrily as she gaes;\n\nShe has twa weel-made feet,\n\n     And she trips upon her taes.\n\n\n\nShe has twa weel-made feet;\n\n     Far better is her hand;\n\nShe's as jimp in the middle\n\n     As ony willow-wand.\n\n\n\n\"Gif ye will do my bidding,\n\n     At my bidding for to be,\n\nIt's I will make you lady\n\n     Of a the lands you see.\"\n\n\n\nHe spak a word in jest;\n\n     Her answer wasna good;\n\nHe threw a plate at her face,\n\n     Made it a' gush out o' blood.\n\n\n\nShe wasna frae her chamber\n\n     A step but barely three,\n\nWhen up and at her right hand\n\n     There stood Man's Enemy.\n\n\n\n\"Gif ye will do my bidding,\n\n     At my bidding for to be;\n\nI'll learn you a wile\n\n     Avenged for to be.\"\n\n\n\nThe Foul Thief knotted the tether;\n\n     She lifted his head on high;\n\nThe nourice drew the knot\n\n     That gar'd lord Waristoun die.\n\n\n\nThen word is gane to Leith,\n\n     Also to Edinburgh town,\n\nThat the lady had kill'd the laird,\n\n     The laird o' Waristoun.\n\n\n\n\"Tak aff, tak aff my hood,\n\n     But lat my petticoat be;\n\nPut my mantle o'er my head;\n\n     For the fire I daurna see.\n\n\n\n\"Now, a ye gentle maids,\n\n     Tak warning now by me,\n\nAnd never marry ane\n\n     But wha pleases your e'e.\n\n\n\n\"For he married me for love,\n\n     But I married him for fee;\n\nAnd sae brak out the feud\n\n     That gar'd my deary die.\"\n\n\n\n\nYOUNG BEICHAN AND SUSIE\n\n[Illustration: 9126]\n\n\n|In London city was Beichan born,\n\n     He longed strange countries for to see;\n\nBut he was ta en by a savage Moor,\n\n     Who handled him right cruelly;\n\n\n\nFor through his shoulder he put a bore;\n\n     And through the bore has putten a tree;\n\nAnd he's gar'd him draw the carts of wine\n\n     Where horse and oxen had wont to be.\n\n\n\nHe's casten [him] in a dungeon deep,\n\n     Where he could neither hear nor see;\n\nHe's shut him up in a prison strong,\n\n     And he's handled him right cruelly.\n\n\n\nO this Moor he had but ae daughter,\n\n     I wot her name was Susie Pye;\n\nShe doen her to the prison house,\n\n     And she's called young Beichan one word by.\n\n\n\n\"O have ye any lands, or rents,\n\n     Or cities in your own country,\n\nCould free you out of prison strong,\n\n     And could maintain a lady free?\"\n\n\n\n\"O London city is my own,\n\n     And other cities twa or three,\n\nCould loose me out of prison strong,\n\n     And could maintain a lady free\"\n\n\n\nO she has brib'd her father's men\n\n     Wi' mickle gold and white money;\n\nShe's gotten the keys of the prison door\n\n     And she has set young Beichan free.\n\n\n\n(_bore_, hole. _tree_, pole. _free_, noble.)\n\nShe's gi en him a loaf of good white bread,\n\n     But an' a flask of Spanish wine;\n\nAnd she bad him mind on the lady's love\n\n     That sae kindly freed him out of pine.\n\n\n\n[Illustration: 9128]\n\n\"Go set your foot on good ship-board,\n\n     And haste ye back to your own country;\n\nAnd before that seven years have an end,\n\n     Come back again, love, and marry me.\"\n\n\n\nIt was long ere seven years had an end,\n\n     She long'd full sore her love to see;\n\nShe's set her foot on good shipboard,\n\n     And turn'd her back on her own country.\n\nShe's sailed up, so has she doun,\n\nTill she came to the other side;\n\nShe's landed at young Beichan's\n\ngates,\n\n     An I hope this day she shall be his bride.\n\n\n\n\"Is this young Beichan's gates,\" says she,\n\n     \"Or is that noble prince within?\"\n\n \"He's up the stairs wi' his bonny bride,\n\n     An mony a lord and lady wi him.\"\n\n\n\n(_pinge_,  woe.0\n\n\"And has he ta'en a bonny bride?\n\n     An' has he clean forgotten me?\"\n\nAn', sighin', said that gay lady,\n\n     \"I wish I were in my own country.\"\n\n\n\nBut she's putten her han' in her pocket,\n\n     An' gien the porter guineas three;\n\nSays, \"take ye that, ye proud porter,\n\n     An' bid the bridegroom speak to me.\"\n\n\n\nO when the porter came up the stair,\n\n     He's fa'n low down upon his knee--\n\n\"Win up, win up, ye proud porter,\n\n     And what makes a' this courtesy?\"\n\n\n\n\"O I've been porter at your gates,\n\n     This mair nor seven years and three;\n\nBut there is a lady at them now,\n\n     The like of whom I never did see;\n\n\n\n\"For on every finger she has a ring,\n\n     And on the mid finger she has three;\n\nAnd as mickle gold aboon her brow\n\n     As would buy an earldom o' Lan' to me.\"\n\n\n\nThen up it started Young Beichan,\n\n     An' swear so loud by our Lady,\n\n\"It can be nane but Susie Pye,\n\n     That has come o'er the sea to me.\n\n\n\n(_win up_, get up.)\n\nAnd quickly ran he down the stair;\n\n     Of fifteen steps he has made but three;\n\nHe's ta'en his bonny love in his arms,\n\n     And I wot he kissed her tenderly.\n\n\n\n\"O hae ye taen a bonny bride?\n\n     And hae ye quite forsaken me?\n\nAnd hae ye quite forgotten her,\n\n     That gave you life and liberty?\"\n\n\n\nShe looked o'er her left shoulder,\n\n     To hide the tears stood in her e'e:\n\n\"Now fare thee well, young Beichan,\" she says,\n\n     \"I'll try to think no more on thee,\"\n\n\n\n\"Take back your daughter, madam,\" he says,\n\n     \"An' a double dowry I'll gie her wi';\n\nFor I maun marry my first true love,\n\n     That's done and suffered so much for me.\"\n\n\n\nHe's ta'en his bonny love by the hand,\n\n     And led her to yon fountain stane;\n\nHe's changed her name from Susie Pye,\n\n     And he's call'd her his bonny love, Lady Jane.\n\n\n\n\nLIZZIE LINDSAY\n\n\n|Out it spake Lizzie Lindsay,\n\n     The tear blinket in her ee;\n\nHow can I leave father and mother,\n\n     Along with young Donald to gae.\n\n\n\nOut spak Lizzie's young handmaid,\n\n     A bonny young lassie was she;\n\nSaid,--\"were I heiress to a kingdom,\n\n     Along wi' young Donald I'd gae.\"\n\n\n\n\"O say you so to me, Nelly?\n\n     O say ye so to me?\n\nMust I leave Edinburgh city,\n\n     To the high Highland to gae?\"\n\n\n\nOut spak Lizzie's own mother,\n\n     A good old lady was she,\n\n\"If ye speak sic a word to my daughter,\n\n     I'll gar hang ye high.\"\n\n\n\n\"Keep weel your daughter frae me, madam;\n\n     Keep weel your daughter frae me;\n\nI care as little for your daughter,\n\n     As ye can care for me.\"\n\n\n\nThe road grew wetty and dubby;\n\n     And Lizzie began to think lang;\n\nSaid, \"I wish I had stayed with my mother,\n\n     And na wi' young Donald had gone.\"\n\n\n\n\"Yere welcome hame, Sir Donald;\n\n     Yere welcome hame to me;\n\nYere welcome hame, Sir Donald,\n\n     And your bonny young lady wi' ye.\"\n\n\n\n\"Ye call na me Sir Donald,\n\n     But ca me Donald your son.\"\n\n\n\n\"Rise up, Lizzie Lindsay,\n\n     You have lain too long in the day;\n\nYou might have helped my mother\n\n     To milk her goats and her kye.\"\n\n\n\nOut it spake Lizzie Lindsay,\n\n     The tear blinket her eye;\n\n\"The ladies o' Edinburgh city\n\n     They neither milk goats nor kye.\"\n\n\n\n(_dubby_, full of puddles.)\n\n\n\n\nTHE BIRTH OF ROBIN HOOD\n\n\n|O Willys large o' limb and lith,\n\n     And come o' high degree,\n\nAnd he is gone to Earl Richard\n\n     To serve for meat and fee.\n\n\n\nEarl Richard had but ae daughter,\n\n     Fair as a lily flower;\n\nAnd they made up their love-contract\n\n     Like proper paramour.\n\n\n\nIt fell upon a simmer's night,\n\n     When the leaves were fair and green,\n\nThat Willy met his gay lady,\n\n     Intill the wood alane.\n\n\n\n\"O narrow is my gown, Willy,\n\n     That wont to be sae wide;\n\nAnd gane is a' my fair colour,\n\n     That wont to be my pride.\n\n\n\n\"But gin my father should get word\n\n     What's past between us twa,\n\nBefore that he should eat or drink,\n\n     He'd hang you o'er that wa'.\n\n\n\n(_lith_, joint.)\n\n\"But ye'll come to my bower, Willy,\n\n     Just as the sun goes down;\n\nAnd keep me in your arms twa,\n\n     And latna me fa' down.\"\n\n\n\nO when the sun was now gane down,\n\n     He's doen him till her bower;\n\nAnd there, by the lee light o' the moon,\n\n     Her window she lookit o'er.\n\n\n\nIntill a robe o' red scarlet\n\n     She lap, fearless o' harm;\n\nAnd Willy was large o' lith and limb,\n\n     And keepit her in his arm.\n\n\n\nAnd they've gane to the gude green-wood,\n\n     And ere the night was deen,\n\nShe's borne to him a bonny young son,\n\n     Amang the leaves sae green.\n\n\n\nWhan night was gane, and day was come,\n\n     And the sun began to peep,\n\nUp and raise the Earl Richard\n\n     Out o' his drowsy sleep.\n\n\n\nHe's ca'd upon his merry young men,\n\n     By ane, by twa, and by three,\n\n\"O what's come o' my daughter dear,\n\n     That she's na come to me?\n\n\n\n(_lee_, sad. _deen_, done.)\n\n\"I dreamt a dreary dream last night,\n\n     God grant it come to gude!\n\nI dreamt I saw my daughter dear,\n\n     Drown in the saut sea flood.\n\n\n\n\"But gin my daughter be dead or sick,\n\n     Or yet be stown awa,\n\nI mak a vow, and I'll keep it true,\n\n     I'll hang ye ane and a!\"\n\n\n\nThey sought her back, they sought her fore,\n\n     They sought her up and down;\n\nThey got her in the gude green wood,\n\n     Nursing her bonny young son.\n\n\n\nHe took the bonny boy in his arms,\n\n     And kissed him tenderly;\n\nSays, \"Though I would your father hang,\n\n     Your mother's dear to me.\"\n\n\n\nHe kissed him oer and o'er again;\n\n     \"My grandson I thee claim;\n\nAnd Robin Hood in gude green wood,\n\n     And that shall be your name.\"\n\n\n\nAnd mony ane sings o' grass, o' grass,\n\n     And mony ane sings o' corn;\n\nAnd mony ane sings o' Robin Hood,\n\n     Kens little where he was born.\n\n\n\nIt was na in the ha', the ha',\n\n     Nor in the painted bower;\n\nBut it was in the gude green wood,\n\n     Amang the lily flower.\n\n\n\n\nTHE BARON OF BRACKLEY\n\n\n|Down Dee side came Inverey whistling and playing;\n\nHe's lighted at Brackley yates at the day dawing.\n\n\n\nSays, \"Baron o' Brackley, O are ye within?\n\nThere's sharp swords at the y ate will gar your blood spin.\"\n\n\n\nThe lady raise up, to the window she went;\n\nShe heard her kye lowing o'er hill and o'er bent.\n\n\n\n\"O rise up, ye baron, and turn back your kye;\n\nFor the lads o' Drumwharran are driving them\n\nby.\"\n\n\n\n\"How can I rise, lady, or turn them again!\n\nWhere'er I have ae man, I wot they hae ten.\"\n\n\n\n\"Then rise up, my lasses, take rocks in your hand,\n\nAnd turn back the kye;--I hae you at command.\n\n\n\n(_bent_, plain. _rocks_, distaffs.)\n\n\"Gin I had a husband, as I hae nane,\n\nHe wadna lie in his bower, see his kye ta en.\"\n\n\n\n-\n\nThen up got the baron, and cried for his graith;\n\nSays, \"Lady, I'll gang, tho' to leave you I'm laith.\n\n\n\n\"Come, kiss me,then,Peggy,and gieme my spear;\n\nI ay was for peace, though I never fear'd weir.\n\n\n\n\"Come, kiss me, then, Peggy, nor think I'm to\n\nblame;\n\nI weel may gae out, but I'll never win in!\"\n\n\n\nWhen Brackley was busked, and rade o'er the closs,\n\nA gallanter baron ne'er lap to a horse.\n\n\n\nWhen Brackley was mounted, and rade o'er the green,\n\nHe was as bold a baron as ever was seen.\n\n\n\nTho' there cam' wi' Inverey thirty and three,\n\nThere was nane wi' bonny Brackley but his brother and he.\n\n\n\nTwa gallanter Gordons did never sword draw;\n\nBut against four and thirty, wae's me, what is twa?\n\n\n\nWi' swords and wi' daggers they did him surround;\n\nAnd they've pierced bonny Brackley wi' mony a wound.\n\n\n\n(_graith,_ armour. _weir-_, war. _busked_, dressed. _closs_, close.)\n\nFrae the head o' the Dee to the banks o' the Spey\n\nThe Gordons may mourn him, and bann Inverey.\n\n\n\n[Illustration: 0138]\n\n\"O came ye by Brackley yates, was ye in there?\n\nOr saw ye his Peggy dear riving her hair?\"\n\n\n\n\"O I came by Brackley yates, I was in there,\n\nAnd I saw his Peggy a-making good cheer.\"\n\n\n\nThat lady she feasted them, carried them ben;\n\nShe laugh'd wi' the men that her baron had slain.\n\n\n\n\"O fie on you, lady! how could you do sae?\n\nYou open'd your gates to the fause Inverey.\"\n\n\n\nShe ate wi' him, drank wi' him, welcom'd him in;\n\nShe welcom'd the villain that slew her baron!\n\n\n\nShe kept him till morning, syne bade him be gane,\n\nAnd shaw'd him the road that he shou'dna be ta'en.\n\n\n\n\"Thro' Birss and Aboyne,\" she says, \"lyin in a tour,\n\nO'er the hills o' Glentanar you'll skip in an hour.\"\n\n\n\n--There's grief in the kitchen, and mirth in the ha';\n\nBut the Baron o' Brackley is dead and awa.\n\n\n\n\nCHILD VYET\n\n\n|Lord Ingram and Child Vyet,\n\n     Were both born in ane bower,\n\nHad both their loves on one Lady,\n\n     The less was their honour.\n\n\n\nChild Vyet and Lord Ingram,\n\n     Were both born in one hall,\n\nHad both their loves on one Lady,\n\n     The worse did them befall.\n\n\n\nLord Ingram woo'd the Lady Maisry,\n\n     From father and from mother;\n\nLord Ingram woo'd the Lady Maisry,\n\n     From sister and from brother.\n\n\n\nLord Ingram wooed the Lady Maisry,\n\n     With leave of all her kin;\n\nAnd every one gave full consent,\n\n     But she said no, to him.\n\n\n\nLord Ingram wooed the Lady Maisry,\n\n     Into her father's ha';\n\nChild Vyet wooed the Lady Maisry,\n\n     Amang the sheets so sma'.\n\n\n\nNow it fell out upon a day,\n\n     She was dressing her head,\n\nThat ben did come her father dear,\n\n     Wearing the gold so red.\n\n\n\n\"Get up now, Lady Maisry,\n\n     Put on your wedding gown,\n\nFor Lord Ingram will be here,\n\n     Your wedding must be done!\"\n\n\n\n\"I'd rather be Child Vyet's wife,\n\n     The white fish to sell,\n\nBefore I were Lord Ingram's wife,\n\n     To wear the silk so well!\n\n\n\n\"I'd rather be Child Vyet's wife,\n\n     With him to beg my bread,\n\nBefore I'd be Lord Ingram's wife,\n\n     To wear the gold so red.\n\n\n\n[Illustration: 0142]\n\n\"Where will I get a bonny boy,\n\n     Will win gold to his fee,\n\nWill run unto Child Vyet's,\n\n     With this letter from me?\"\n\n\n\n\"O here, I am the boy,\" says one,\n\n     \"Will win gold to my fee,\n\nAnd carry away any letter,\n\n     To Child Vyet from thee.\"\n\n\n\n(_ben_, in.)\n\n\n\nAnd when he found the bridges broke,\n\n     He bent his bow and swam;\n\nAnd when he found the grass growing,\n\n     He hasten'd and he ran.\n\n\n\nAnd when he came to Vyet's castle,\n\n     He did not knock nor call,\n\nBut set his bent bow to his breast,\n\n     And lightly leaped the wall;\n\nAnd ere the porter open'd the gate,\n\n     The boy was in the hall.\n\n\n\nThe first line that Child Vyet read,\n\n     A grieved man was he;\n\nThe next line that he looked on,\n\n     A tear blinded his e'e.\n\n\n\n\"What ails my own brother,\" he says,\n\n     \"He'll not let my love be;\n\nBut I'll send to my brother's bridal;\n\n     The woman shall be free.\n\n\n\n\"Take four and twenty bucks and ewes,\n\n     And ten tun of the wine,\n\nAnd bid my love be blithe and glad,\n\n     And I will follow syne.\"\n\n\n\nThere was not a groom about that castle,\n\n     But got a gown of green;\n\nChild Vyet s'\n\n109\n\nAnd a' was blithe, and a was glad,\n\n     But Lady Maisry was wi' wean.\n\n\n\nThere was no cook about the kitchen,\n\n     But got a gown of gray;\n\nAnd a' was blythe, and a was glad,\n\n     But Lady Maisry was wae.\n\n\n\n'Tween Mary Kirk and that castle,\n\n     Was all spread o'er with [garl].\n\nTo keep the lady and her maidens,\n\n     From tramping on the [marl].\n\n\n\nFrom Mary Kirk to that castle,\n\n     Was spread a cloth of gold,\n\nTo keep the lady and her maidens,\n\n     From treading on the mould.\n\n\n\nWhen mass was sung, and bells were rung,\n\n     And all men bound for bed,\n\nThen Lord Ingram and Lady Maisry,\n\n     In one bed they were laid.\n\n\n\nWhen they were laid upon their bed,\n\n     It was baith soft and warm,\n\nHe laid his hand over her side,\n\n     Says he, \"you are with bairn.\"\n\n\n\n(_wean_, child.  _garl_, gravel,  _marl_, mould.)\n\n\"I told you once, so did I twice,\n\n     When ye came as my wooer,\n\nThat Child Vyet, your one brother,\n\n     One night lay in my bower!\"\n\n\n\n\"I told you twice, so did I thrice,\n\n     Ere ye came me to wed,\n\nThat Child Vyet, your one brother,\n\n     One night lay in my bed!\"\n\n\n\n\"O will you father your bairn on me,\n\n     And on no other man?\n\nAnd I'll gie him to his dowry,\n\n     Full fifty ploughs of land.\"\n\n\n\n\"I will not father my bairn on you,\n\n     Nor on no wrongous man,\n\nTho' you would give him to his dowry,\n\n     Five thousand ploughs of land.\"\n\n\n\nThen up did start him Child Vyet,\n\n     Shed by his yellow hair,\n\nAnd gave Lord Ingram to the heart,\n\n     A deep wound and a sair.\n\n\n\nThen up did start him Lord Ingram,\n\n     Shed by his yellow hair,\n\nAnd gave Child Vyet to the heart,\n\n     A deep wound and a sair.\n\n\n\n(_shed by,_  put back.)\n\nThere was no pity for the two lords,\n\n     Where they were lying slain,\n\nAll was for Lady Maisry:\n\n     In that bower she gaed brain!\n\n\n\nThere was no pity for the two lords,\n\n     When they were lying dead,\n\nAll was for Lady Maisry:\n\n     In that bower she went mad!\n\n\n\n\"O get to me a cloak of cloth,\n\n     A staff of good hard tree;\n\nIf I have been an evil woman,\n\n     I shall beg till I die.\n\n\n\n\"For ae bit I'll beg for Child Vyet,\n\n     For Lord Ingram I'll beg three,\n\nAll for the honourable marriage, that\n\n     At Mary Kirk he gave me!\"\n\n\n\n(_brain_, mad. _tree_, wood.)\n\n\n\n\nROBIN HOOD AND THE MONK\n\n\n|In summer when the shaws be sheen,\n\n     And leaves be large and long,\n\nIt is full merry in fair forest\n\n     To hear the fowl\u00e9s song.\n\n\n\nTo see the deer draw to the dale,\n\n     And leave the hill\u00e9s high,\n\nAnd shadow them in the leaves green,\n\n     Under the green-wood tree.\n\n\n\nIt befell on Whitsuntide,\n\n     Early in a May morning,\n\nThe sun up fair can shine,\n\n     And the bird\u00e9s merry can sing.\n\n\n\n(_shaws_, wood. _sheen_, bright.)\n\n\"This is a merry morning,\" said Little John,\n\n     \"By Him that died on tree;\n\nA more merry man then I am one\n\n     Lives not in Christiant\u00e9.\"\n\n\n\n\"Pluck up thy heart, my dear master,\"\n\n     Little John can say,\n\n\"And think it is a full fair time\n\n     In a morning of May.\"\n\n\n\n\"The one thing grieves me,\" said Robin,\n\n     \"And does my heart much woe,\n\nThat I may not so solemn day\n\n     To mass nor matins go.\n\n\n\n\"It is a fortnight and more,\" said he,\n\n     \"Since I my Saviour see;\n\nTo-day will I to Nottingham,\" said Robin,\n\n     \"With the might of mild Mary.\"\n\n\n\nThen spake Much the miller son,\n\n     Ever more well him betide,\n\n\"Take twelve of thy wight yeomen\n\n     Well weaponed by thy side.\n\nSuch one would thyself slon\n\n     That twelve dare not abide.\"\n\n\n\n(_slon_, slay.)\n\n\"Of all my merry men,\" said Robin,\n\n     \"By my faith I will none have;\n\nBut Little John shall bear my bow\n\n     Till that me list to draw.\"\n\n\n\n\"Thou shall bear thine own,\" said Little John,\n\n     \"Master, and I will bear mine;\n\nAnd we will shoot a penny,\" said Little John,\n\n     \"Under the green wood line.\"\n\n\n\n\"I will not shoot a penny,\" said Robin Hood,\n\n     \"In faith, Little John, with thee,\n\nBut ever for one as thou shoots,\" said Robin,\n\n     \"In faith I hold thee three.\"\n\n\n\nThus shot they forth, these yeomen two,\n\n     Both at busk and broom,\n\nTill Little John won of his master\n\n     Five shillings to hose and shoon.\n\n\n\nA ferly strife fell them between.\n\n     As they went by the way;\n\nLittle John said he had won five shillings,\n\n     And Robin Hood said shortly nay.\n\n\n\n(_line_, tree. _busk_, bush. _ferly_, wonderful.)\n\nWith that Robin Hood lied little John,\n\n     And smote him with his hand;\n\nLittle John waxed wroth therewith,\n\n     And pulled out his bright brand.\n\n\n\n\"Were thou not my master,\" said little John,\n\n     \"Thou shouldest be hit full sore;\n\nGet thee a man where thou wilt, Robin,\n\n     For thou gets me no more.\"\n\n\n\nThen Robin goes to Nottingham,\n\n     Himself morning alone,\n\nAnd Little John to merry Sherwood,\n\n     The paths he knew ilkone.\n\n\n\nWhen Robin came to Nottingham,\n\n     Certainly withouten lain,\n\nHe prayed to God and mild Mary\n\n     To bring him out safe again.\n\n\n\nHe goes into saint Mary church,\n\n     And kneeled down before the rood;\n\nAll that ever were the church within\n\n     Beheld well Robin Hood.\n\n\n\nBeside him stood a great-headed monk,\n\n     I pray to God woe he be;\n\nFull soon he knew good Robin\n\n     As soon as he him see.\n\n\n\n(_ilkone_, each one. _lain_, hindrance (?))\n\nOut at the door he ran\n\n     Full soon and anon;\n\nAll the gates of Nottingham\n\n     He made to be sparred everyone.\n\n\n\n\"Rise up,' he said, \"thou proud sheriff,\n\n     Busk thee and make thee boun;\n\nI have spied the king's felon,\n\n     Forsooth he is in this town.\n\n\n\n\"I have spied the false felon,\n\n     As he stands at his mass;\n\nIt is long of thee,\" said the monk,\n\n     \"An ever he fro us pass.\n\n\n\n\"This traitor's name is Robin Hood;\n\n     Under the green wood lind,\n\nHe robbed me once of a hundred pound,\n\n     It shall never out of my mind.\"\n\n\n\nUp then rose this proud sheriff,\n\n     And radly made him yare;\n\nMany was the mother son\n\n     To the kirk with him can fare.\n\n\n\nIn at the door they throly thrast\n\n     With staves full God wone.\n\n\"Alas, alas,\" said Robin Hood,\n\n     \"Now miss I Little John.\"\n\n\n\n(_sparred_, shut. _boun_, ready. _lind_, tree. _radly_, quickly. _yaref_ ready. _throly_, boldly. _thrast_, pressed. _ivone_, knows.)\n\nBut Robin took out a two-hand sword\n\n     That hanged down by his knee;\n\nThere as the sheriff and his men stood thickest,\n\n     Thitherward would he.\n\n\n\nThrice throughout them he ran,\n\n     Forsooth as I you say,\n\nAnd wounded many a mother's son,\n\n     And twelve he slew that day.\n\n\n\nHis sword upon the sheriff's head\n\n     Certainly he brake in two;\n\n\"The smith that thee made,\" said Robin,\n\n     \"I pray to God work him woe.\n\n\n\n\"For now am I weaponless,\" said Robin,\n\n     \"Alas, against my will;\n\nBut if I may flee these traitors fro,\n\n     I wot they will me kill.\"\n\n\n\nRobin in to the church ran,\n\n     Throughout them everyone;\n\n*****\n\nSome fell in swooning as they were dead,\n\n     And lay still as any stone.\n\nNone of them were in their mind\n\n     But only Little John.\n\n\n\n\"Let be your [dule],'' said Little John,\n\n     \"For His love that died on tree;\n\nYe that should be doughty men,\n\n     It is great shame to see.\n\n\n\n\"Our master has been hard bestood,\n\n     And yet scaped away;\n\nPluck up your hearts and leave this moan,\n\n     And hearken what I shall say.\n\n\n\n\"He has served Our Lady many a day,\n\n     And yet will securely;\n\nTherefore I trust in her specially\n\n     No wicked death shall he die.\n\n\n\n\"Therefore be glad,\" said Little John,\n\n     \"And let this mourning be,\n\nAnd I shall be the monk's guide,\n\n     With the might of mild Mary.\n\n\n\n\"We will go but we two\n\nAnd I meet him,\" said Little John,\n\n*****\n\n\"Look that ye keep well our tristil tree\n\n     Under the leaves small,\n\nAnd spare none of this venison\n\n     That goes in this vale.\"\n\n\n\n(_dule_, weeping. _tristil_, trysting.\n\nForth then went these yeomen two,\n\n     Little John and Much infere,\n\nAnd looked on Much emy's house\n\n     The highway lay full near.\n\n\n\nLittle John stood at a window in the morning,\n\n     And looked forth at a stage;\n\nHe was ware where the monk came riding,\n\n     And with him a little page.\n\n\n\n\"By my faith,\" said Little John to Much,\n\n     \"I can thee tell tidings good,\n\nI see where the monk comes riding,\n\n     I know him by his wide hood.\"\n\n\n\nThey went into the way these yeomen both,\n\n     As courteous men and hende,\n\nThey speered tidings at the monk,\n\n     As they had been his friend.\n\n\n\n\"Fro whence come ye,\" said Little John;\n\n     \"Tell us tidings, I you pray,\n\nOf a false outlaw [called Robin Rood],\n\n     Was taken yesterday.\n\n\n\n\"He robbed me and my fellows both\n\n     Of twenty mark in certain.\n\nIf that false outlaw be taken,\n\n     Forsooth we would be fain.\"\n\n\n\n(_infere_, together. _emys_, uncle's. _hende_, gentle.)\n\n\"So did he me,\" said the monk,\n\n     \"Of a hundred pound and more;\n\nI laid first hand him upon,\n\n     Ye may thank me therefore.\"\n\n\n\n\"I pray God thank you,\" said Little John,\n\n     \"And we will when we may;\n\nWe will go with you, with your leave,\n\n     And bring you on your way.\n\n\n\n\"For Robin Hood has many a wild fellow,\n\n     I tell you in certain;\n\nIf they wist ye rode this way,\n\n     In faith ye should be slain.\"\n\n\n\nAs they went talking by the way,\n\n     The monk and Little John,\n\nJohn took the monk's horse by the head\n\n     Full soon and anon.\n\n\n\nJohn took the monk's horse by the head,\n\n     Forsooth as I you say,\n\nSo did Much the little page,\n\n     For he should not stir away.\n\n\n\nBy the gullet of the hood\n\n     John pulled the monk down;\n\nJohn was nothing of him aghast,\n\n     He let him fall on his crown.\n\n\n\nLittle John was sore aggrieved,\n\n     And drew out his sword in high;\n\nThe monk saw he should be dead,\n\n     Lord mercy can he cry.\n\n\n\n\"He was my master,\" said Little John,\n\n     \"That thou has brought in bale;\n\nShall thou never come at our king\n\n     For to tell him tale.\"\n\n\n\nJohn smote off the monk's head,\n\n     No longer would he dwell;\n\nSo did Much the little page,\n\n     For fear lest he would tell.\n\n\n\nThere they buried them both\n\n     In neither moss nor ling,\n\nAnd Little John and Much infere\n\n     Bare the letters to our king.\n\n\n\n*****\n\n     He kneeled down upon his knee,\n\n\"God you save, my liege lord,\n\n     \"Jesus you save and see.\n\n\"God you save, my liege king,\"\n\n     To speak John was full bold;\n\nHe gave him the letters in his hand,\n\n     The king did it unfold.\n\n\n\n(_bale_, trouble.)\n\nThe king read the letters anon,\n\n     And said, \"so mot I thee,\n\nThere was never yeoman in merry England\n\n     I longed so sore to see.\n\n\n\n\"Where is the monk that these should have brought?\"\n\n     Our king gan say;\n\n\"By my troth,\" said Little John,\n\n     \"He died after the way.\"\n\n\n\nThe king gave Much and Little John\n\n     Twenty pound in certain,\n\nAnd made them yeomen of the crown,\n\n     And bade them go again.\n\n\n\nHe gave John the seal in hand,\n\n     The sheriff for to bear,\n\nTo bring Robin him to,\n\n     And no man do him dere.\n\n\n\nJohn took his leave at our king,\n\n     The sooth as I you say;\n\nThe next way to Nottingham\n\n     To take he yede the way.\n\n\n\nWhen John came to Nottingham\n\n     The gates were sparred each one;\n\nJohn called up the porter,\n\n     He answered soon anon.\n\n\n\n(_dere,_  harm. _yede_, went.)\n\n\"What is the cause,\" said Little John,\n\n     \"Thou sparrest the gates so fast?\"\n\n\"Because of Robin Hood,\" said [the] porter,\n\n     In deep prison is cast.\n\n\n\n\"John, and Much, and Will Scathlock,\n\n     Forsooth as I you say,\n\nThere slew our men upon our walls,\n\n     And sawten us every day.\"\n\n\n\nLittle John speered after the sheriff,\n\n     And soon he him found;\n\nHe opened the king's privy seal,\n\n     And gave him in his hand.\n\n\n\nWhen the sheriff saw the king's seal,\n\n     He did off his hood anon;\n\n\"Where is the monk that bare the letters?\"\n\n     He said to Little John.\n\n\n\n\"He is so fain of him,\" said Little John,\n\n     \"Forsooth as I you say,\n\nHe has made him abbot of Westminster,\n\n     A lord of that abbey.\"\n\n\n\nThe sheriff made John good cheer,\n\n     And gave him wine of the best;\n\nAt night they went to their bed,\n\n     And every man to his rest.\n\n\n\n(_sawten,_  sought.)\n\nWhen the sheriff was on sleep\n\n     Drunken of wine and ale,\n\nLittle John and Much forsooth\n\n     Took the way into the jail.\n\n\n\nLittle John called up the jailor,\n\n     And bade him rise anon;\n\nHe said Robin Hood had broken prison,\n\n     And out of it was gone.\n\n\n\nThe porter rose anon certain,\n\n     As soon as he heard John call;\n\nLittle John was ready with a sword,\n\n     And bare him to the wall.\n\n\n\n\"Now will I be porter,\" said Little John,\n\n     \"And take the keys in hand;\"\n\nHe took the way to Robin Hood,\n\n     And soon he him unbound.\n\n\n\nHe gave him a good sword in his hand,\n\n     His head therewith for to keep,\n\nAnd there as the wall was lowest\n\n     Anon down can they leap.\n\n\n\nBy that the cock began to crow,\n\n     The day began to spring,\n\nThe sheriff found the jailor dead,\n\n     The coming bell made he ring.\n\n\n\nHe made a cry throughout all the tow[n],\n\n     Whether he be yeoman or knave,\n\nThat could bring him Robin Hood,\n\n     His warison he should have.\n\n\n\n\"For I dare never,\" said the sheriff,\n\n     \"Come before our king,\n\nFor if I do, I wot certain,\n\n     Forsooth he will me hang.\"\n\n\n\nThe sheriff made to seek Nottingham,\n\n     Both by street and stye,\n\nAnd Robin was in merry Sherwood\n\n     As list as leaf on lind.\n\n\n\nThen bespake good Little John,\n\n     To Robin Hood can he say,\n\n\"I have done thee a good turn for an evil,\n\n     Quit thee when thou may.\n\n\n\n\"I have done thee a good turn,\"said Littlejohn,\n\n     \"Forsooth as I you say;\n\nI have brought thee under green wood lind;\n\n     Farewell, and have good day.\"\n\n\n\n\"Nay, by my troth,\" said Robin Hood,\n\n     \"So shall it never be;\n\nI make thee master,\" said Robin Hood,\n\n     \"Of all my men and me.\"\n\n\n\n(_warison,_  reward. _stye_, lane.  _list_, pleased.)\n\n\"Nay, by my troth,\" said Little John,\n\n     \"So shall it never be,\n\nBut let me be a fellow,\" said Little John,\n\n     \"None other kepe I'll be.\"\n\n\n\nThus John got Robin Hood out of prison,\n\n     Certain withouten lain;\n\nWhen his men saw him whole and sound,\n\n     Forsooth they were full fain.\n\n\n\nThey filled in wine, and made them glad,\n\n     Under the leaves small,\n\nAnd eat pasties of venison,\n\n     That good was with ale.\n\n\n\nThen word came to our king,\n\n     How Robin Hood was gone,\n\nAnd how the sheriff of Nottingham\n\n     Durst never look him upon.\n\n\n\nThen bespake our comely king,\n\n     In an anger high,\n\n\"Little John has beguiled the sheriff,\n\n     In faith so has he me,\n\n\"Little John has beguiled us both,\n\n     And that full well I see,\n\nOr else the sheriff of Nottingham\n\n     High hanged should he be.\n\n\n\n(_kepe I'll be_, relations I'll have. _lain_, deception.)\n\n\n\n\"I made them yeomen of the crown,\n\n     And gave them fee with my hand,\n\nI gave them grith,\" said our king,\n\n     Throughout all merry England.\n\n\n\n\"I gave them grith,\" then said our king,\n\n     \"I say, so might I thee,\n\nForsooth such a yeoman as he is one\n\n     In all England are not three.\n\n\n\n\"He is true to his master,\" said our king,\n\n     \"I say, by sweet Saint John;\n\nHe loves better Robin Hood,\n\n     Then he does us each one.\n\n\n\n\"Robin Hood is ever bound to him,\n\n     Both in street and stall;\n\nSpeak no more of this matter,\" said our king,\n\n     \"But John has beguiled us all.\"\n\n\n\nThus ends the talking of the monk\n\n     And Robin Hood i-wis;\n\nGod, that is ever a crowned king,\n\n     Bring us all to his bliss.\n\n\n\n(_grith_, protection.)\n\n\n\n\nTHE BONNY HOUSE O' AIRLY\n\n\n|It fell on a day, and a bonny summer day,\n\n     When the corn grew green and yellow,\n\nThat there fell out a great dispute,\n\n     Between Argyle and Airly.\n\n\n\nThe Duke o' Montrose has written to Argyle\n\n     To come in the morning early,\n\nAn' lead in his men, by the back o' Dunkeld,\n\n     To plunder the bonny house o' Airly.\n\n\n\nThe lady look'd o er her window sae high,\n\n     And O but she looked weary!\n\nAnd there she espied the great Argyle\n\n     Come to plunder the bonny house o' Airly.\n\n\n\n\"Come down, come down, Lady Margaret,\" he says,\n\n     \"Come down, and kiss me fairly,\n\nOr before the morning clear daylight,\n\n     I'll no leave a standing stane in Airly.\n\n\n\n\"I wadna kiss thee, great Argyle,\n\n     I wadna kiss thee fairly,\n\nI wadna kiss thee, great Argyle,\n\n     Gin you shouldna leave a standing stane in\n\nAirly.\n\n\n\nHe has ta en her by the middle sae sma',\n\n     Says, \"Lady, where is your drury?\"\n\n\"It's up and down by the bonny burn side,\n\n     Amang the planting o' Airly.\"\n\n\n\nThey sought it up, they sought it down,\n\n     They sought it late and early,\n\nAnd found it in the bonny balm-tree,\n\n     That shines on the bowling-green o' Airly.\n\n\n\nHe has ta'en her by the left shoulder,\n\n     And O but she grat sairly,\n\nAnd led her down to yon green bank,\n\n     Till they plundered the bonny house o' Airly.\n\n\n\n\"But gin my good lord had been at hame,\n\n     As this night he is wi' Charlie,\n\nThere durst na a Campbell in a' the west\n\n     Hae plundered the bonny house o' Airly.\n\n\n\n\"O it's I hae seven braw sons,\" she says,\n\n     \"And the youngest ne'er saw his daddy,\n\nAnd altho' I had as mony mae,\n\n     I wad gie them a' to Charlie.\"\n\n\n\n(_drury_, dowry. _grat_,wept.)\n\n\n\n\nBONNY JAMES CAMPBELL\n\n\n|O its up in the Hielands,\n\n     And along the sweet Tay,\n\nDid bonny James Campbell\n\n     Ride mony a day.\n\n\n\nSaddled and bridled\n\n     And bonny rode he;\n\nHame came horse, hame came saddle,\n\n     But ne'er hame came he!\n\n\n\nAnd doun came his sweet sisters\n\n     Greeting sae sair,\n\nAnd doun came his bonny wife,\n\n     Tearing her hair.\n\n\n\n\"My house is unbigged,\n\n     My bairn's unborn,\n\nMy corn's unshorn;\n\n     My meadow grows green.\"\n\n(_unbigged,_  unbuilt.)\n\nHind Horn\n\n[Illustration: 9166]\n\nIn Scotland there was a baby born,\n\n     _Lill lal, &c._\n\nAnd his name it was called Young Hind Horn,\n\n     _With a fal led, &c._\n\n\n\nHe sent a letter to our King,\n\nThat he was in love with his dochter Jean.\n\nHes gien to her a silver wand,\n\nWith seven living laverocks sitting thereon.\n\n\n\nShe's gien to him a diamond ring,\n\nWith seven bright diamonds set therein.\n\n\n\nWhen this ring grows pale and wan,\n\nYou may know by it my love is gane.\n\n\n\nOne day as he looked his ring upon,\n\nHe saw the diamonds pale and wan.\n\n(_laverocks_, larks.)\n\nHe left the sea, and came to land,\n\nAnd the first that he met was an old beggar man.\n\n\n\n\"What news, what news?\" said young Hind Horn,\n\n     \"No news, no news,\" said the old beggar man.\n\n\"No news,\" said the beggar, \"no news at a,\n\nBut there is a wedding in the King's ha'.\n\n\n\n\"But there is a wedding in the King's ha,\n\nThat has holden these forty days and twa.\"\n\n\n\n\"Will you lend me your begging coat?\n\nAnd I'll lend you my scarlet cloak.\n\n\n\n\"Will you lend me thy begging rung?\n\nAnd I'll give ye my steed to ride upon.\n\n\n\n\"Will ye lend me your wig o' hair\n\nTo cover mine, because it is fair.\"\n\n\n\nThe auld beggar man was bound for the mill,\n\nBut young Hind Horn for the King's hall.\n\n\n\nThe auld beggar man was bound for to ride,\n\nBut young Hind Horn was bound for the bride.\n\n\n\n(_rung_, staff.)\n\nWhen he came to the Kings gate,\n\nHe sought a drink for Hind Horns sake.\n\n\n\nThe bride came down with a glass of wine,\n\nWhen he drank out the glass, and dropt in the ring.\n\n\n\n\"O got ye this by sea, or land?\n\nOr got ye it off a dead man's hand?\"\n\n\n\n\"I got it not by sea, I got it by land,\n\nAnd I got it madam out of your own hand.\"\n\n\n\n\"O I'll cast off my gowns of brown,\n\nAnd beg wi' you frae town to town;\n\n\n\n\"O I'll cast off my gowns of red,\n\nAnd I'll beg with you to win my bread.\"\n\n\n\n\"Ye needna cast off your gowns of brown,\n\nFor I'll make you lady of many a town;\n\n\n\n\"Ye needna cast off your gowns of red,\n\nIt's only a sham, the begging o' my bread.\"\n\n\n\nThe bridegroom he had wedded the bride,\n\nBut young Hind Horn he took her to bed.\n\n\n\n\nRICHIE STORY\n\n\n|The Earl of Wigton had three daughters,\n\n     O and a wally, but they were unco bonny;\n\nThe eldest of them had the far brawest house,\n\n     But she's fallen in love with her footman-laddy.\n\n\n\nAs she was a-walking doun by yon river-side,\n\n     O and a wally, but she was unco bonny;\n\nThere she espied her own footman,\n\n     With ribbons hanging over his shoulders sae\n\nbonny.\n\n\n\n\"Here's a letter to you, madame,\n\n     Here's a letter to you, madame;\n\nThe Earl of Hume is waiting on,\n\n     And he has his service to you, madame.\"\n\n\n\n\"I'll have none of his service,\" says she,\n\n\"I'll have none of his service,\" says she,\n\n\"For I've made vow, and I'll keep it true,\n\nThat I'll marry none but you, Richie.\"\n\n\"O say not so again, madame,\n\nO say not so again, madame;\n\nFor I have neither land nor rents\n\nFor to keep you on, madame.\"\n\n\"I'll live where er you please, Richie,\n\n     I'll live where'er you please, [Richie]\n\nAnd I'll be ready at your ca',\n\n     Either late or early, Richie.\"\n\n\n\nAs they went in by Stirling toun,\n\n     O and a wally, but she was unco bonny!\n\nA' her silks were sailing on the ground,\n\n     But few of them knew of Richie Story.\n\n\n\nAs they went in by the Parliament Close,\n\n     O and a wally, but she was unco bonny!\n\nAll the nobles took her by the hand,\n\n     But few of them knew she was Richie's lady.\n\n\n\nAs they came in by her good-mother's yetts,\n\n     O and a wally, but she was unco bonny!\n\nHer good-mother bade her kilt her coats,\n\n     And muck the byre with Richie Story.\n\n\n\n\"O, may not ye be sorry, madame,\n\n     O, may not ye be sorry, madame,\n\nTo leave a' your lands at bonny Cumberland,\n\n     And follow home your footman-laddy?\"\n\n\n\n\"What need I be sorry?\" says she,\n\n     \"What need I be sorry?\" says she,\n\n\"For I've gotten my lot and my heart's desire,\n\n     And what Providence has ordered for me.\"\n\n\n\n(_good-mother_, mother-in-law. _byre_, cow-house.)\n\n\n\n\nEPPIE MORRIE\n\n\n|Four and twenty Highland men\n\n     Came a' from Carrie side,\n\nTo steal awa' Eppie Morrie,\n\n     'Cause she would not be a bride.\n\n\n\nOut it's came her mother,\n\n     It was a moonlight night,\n\nShe could not see her daughter.\n\n     The swords they shin'd so bright.\n\n\n\n\"Haud far awa' frae me, mother,\n\n     Haud far awa' frae me;\n\nThere's not a man in a' Strathdon\n\n     Shall wedded be with me.\"\n\n\n\nThey have taken Eppie Morrie,\n\n     And horseback bound her on,\n\nAnd then awa' to the minister,\n\n     As fast as horse could gang.\n\n\n\nHe's taken out a pistol,\n\n     And set it to the minister's breast;\n\n\"Marry me, marry me, minister,\n\n     Or else I'll be your priest.''\n\n\n\n\"Haud far awa' frae me, good sir,\n\n     Haud far awa' frae me;\n\nFor there's not a man in a' Strathdon\n\n     That shall married be with me.\"\n\n\n\n\"Haud far awa' frae me, Willy,\n\n     Haud far awa' frae me;\n\nFor I darna avow to marry you,\n\n     Except she's as willing as ye.\"\n\n\n\nThey have taken Eppie Morrie,\n\n     Since better could na be,\n\nAnd they're awa' to Carrie side,\n\n     As fast as horse could flee.\n\n\n\nThen mass was sung, and bells were rung,\n\n     And all were bound for bed,\n\nThen Willy an' Eppie Morrie\n\n     In one bed they were laid.\n\n\n\n\"Haud far awa' frae me, Willy,\n\n     Haud far awa' frae me;\n\nBefore I'll lose my maidenhead,\n\n     I'll try my strength with thee.\"\n\n\n\nShe took the cap from off her head,\n\n     And threw it to the way;\n\nSaid, \"Ere I lose my maidenhead,\n\n     I'll fight with you till day.\"\n\n\n\nThen early in the morning,\n\n     Before her clothes were on,\n\nIn came the maiden of Scalletter,\n\n     Gown and shirt alone.\n\n\n\n\"Get up, get up, young woman,\n\n     And drink the wine wi' me;\"\n\n\"You might have called me maiden,\n\n     I'm sure as leal as thee.\"\n\n\n\n\"Wally fa you, Willy,\n\n     That ye could na prove a man,\n\nAnd ta en the lassie's maidenhead;\n\n     She would have hired your han'.\"\n\n\n\n\"Haud far awa' frae me, lady,\n\n     Haud far awa' frae me;\n\nThere's not a man in a' Strathdon,\n\n     The day shall wed wi' me.\"\n\n\n\nSoon in there came Belbordlane,\n\nWith a pistol on every side;\n\n\"Come awa' hame, Eppie Morrie,\n\nAnd there you'll be my bride.\"\n\n\"Go get to me a horse, Willy,\n\nAnd get it like a man,\n\nAnd send me back to my mother,\n\nA maiden as I cam'.\n\n\"The sun shines o'er the westlin hills,\n\n     By the light lamp of the moon,\n\nJust saddle your horse, young John Forsyth,\n\n     And whistle, and I'll come soon.\"\n\n\n\n\nYOUNG AKIN\n\n\n|Lady Margaret sits in her bower door,\n\n     Sewing at her silken seam;\n\nShe heard a note in Elmond's-wood,\n\n     And wish'd she there had been.\n\n\n\nShe loot the seam fa' frae her side,\n\n     And the needle to her tae;\n\nAnd she is on to Elmond-wood\n\n     As fast as she could gae.\n\n\n\nShe hadna pu'd a nut, a nut,\n\n     Nor broken a branch but ane,\n\nTill by it came a young hind chiel,\n\n     Says, \"Lady, lat alane.\n\n\n\n\"O why pu' ye the nut, the nut,\n\n     Or why brake ye the tree?\n\nFor I am forester o' this wood;\n\n     Ye shou'd speer leave at me.\"\n\n\n\n(_hind chiel_, young stripling. _speer_, ask.)\n\n\"I'll ask leave at no living man,\n\n     Nor yet will I at thee;\n\nMy father is king o'er a' this realm,\n\n     This wood belongs to me.\"\n\n\n\nShe hadna pu'd a nut, a nut,\n\n     Nor broken a branch but three,\n\nTill by it came him Young Akin,\n\n     And gar'd her lat them be.\n\n\n\nThe highest tree in Elmond's-wood,\n\n     He's pu'd it by the reet;\n\nAnd he has built for her a bower\n\n     Near by a hollow seat.\n\n\n\nHe's built a bower, made it secure\n\n     Wi' carbuncle and stane;\n\nTho' travellers were never sae nigh,\n\n     Appearance it had nane.\n\n\n\nHe's kept her there in Elmond's-wood,\n\n     For six lang years and one;\n\nTill six pretty sons to him she bear,\n\n     And the seventh she's brought home.\n\n\n\nIt fell ance upon a day,\n\n     This guid lord went from home;\n\nAnd he is to the hunting gane,\n\n     Took wi' him his eldest son,\n\n\n\nAnd when they were on a guid way,\n\n     Wi' slowly pace did walk,\n\nThe boy's heart being something wae,\n\n     He thus began to talk:--\n\n\n\n\"A question I wou'd ask, father,\n\n     Gin ye wou'dna angry be?\"\n\n\"Say on, say on, my bonny boy,\n\n     Ye'se na be quarrell'd by me.\"\n\n\n\n\"I see my mithers cheeks aye weet,\n\n     I never can see them dry;\n\nAnd I wonder what aileth my mither,\n\n     To mourn continually.\"\n\n\n\n\"Your mither was a king's daughter,\n\n     Sprung frae a high degree;\n\nAnd she might hae wed some worthy prince,\n\n     Had she na been stown by me.\n\n\n\n\"I was her fathers cup-bearer,\n\n     Just at that fatal time;\n\nI catch'd her on a misty night,\n\n     When summer was in prime.\n\n\n\n\"My love to her was most sincere,\n\n     Her love was great for me;\n\nBut when she hardships doth endure,\n\n     Her folly she does see.\"\n\n\n\n\"I'll shoot the buntin' o' the bush,\n\n     The linnet o' the tree,\n\nAnd bring them to my dear mither,\n\n     See if she'll merrier be.\"\n\n\n\nIt fell upo' another day,\n\n     This guid lord he thought lang,\n\nAnd he is to the hunting gane,\n\n     Took wi' him his dog and gun.\n\n\n\nWi' bow and arrow by his side,\n\n     He's off, single, alane;\n\nAnd left his seven children to stay\n\n     Wi' their mither at hame.\n\n\n\n\"O, I will tell to you, mither,\n\n     Gin ye wadna angry be:\"\n\n\"Speak on, speak on, my little wee boy,\n\n     Ye se na be quarrelled by me.\"\n\n\n\n\"As we came frae the hind-hunting,\n\n     We heard fine music ring:\"\n\n\"My blessings on you my bonny boy,\n\n     I wish I'd been there my lane.\"\n\n\n\nHe's ta en his mither by the hand,\n\n     His six brithers also,\n\nAnd they are on thro' Elmond's-wood,\n\n     As fast as they could go.\n\n\n\n(_buntin'_, blackbird. _lane_, self.)\n\nThey wistna weel where they were ga en,\n\n     Wi' the strattlins o' their feet;\n\nThey wistna weel where they were ga'en,\n\n     Till at her father's gate.\n\n\n\n\"I hae nae money in my pocket,\n\n     But royal rings hae three;\n\nI'll gie them you, my little young son,\n\n     And ye'll walk there for me.\n\n\n\n\"Ye'll gie the first to the proud porter,\n\n     And he will lat you in;\n\nYe'll gie the next to the butler boy,\n\n     And he will show you ben;\n\n\n\n\"Ye'll gie the third to the minstrel\n\n     That plays before the king;\n\nHe'll play success to the bonny boy,\n\n     Came thro' the wood him lane.\"\n\n\n\nHe gae the first to the proud porter,\n\n     And he open'd and let him in;\n\nHe gae the next to the butler boy,\n\n     And he has shown him ben;\n\n\n\nHe gae the third to the minstrel\n\nThat play'd before the king;\n\nAnd he play'd success to the bonny boy,\n\nCame thro' the wood him lane.\n\n(_strattlins,_  straddlings (?). _ben_, in.)\n\nNow when he came before the king,\n\n     Fell low down on his knee:\n\nThe king he turned round about,\n\n     And the saut tear blinded his ee.\n\n\n\n\"Win up, win up, my bonny boy,\n\n     Gang frae my company;\n\nYe look sae like my dear daughter,\n\n     My heart will burst in three.\"\n\n\n\n\"If I look like your dear daughter,\n\n     A wonder it is none;\n\nIf I look like your dear daughter,\n\n     I am her eldest son.\n\n\n\n\"Will ye tell me, ye wee little boy,\n\n     Where may my Margaret be?\"\n\n\"She's just now standing at your gates,\n\n     And my six brothers her wi'.\"\n\n\n\n\"O where are all my porter-boys\n\n     That I pay meat and fee,\n\nTo open my gates baith wide and braid?\n\n     Let her come in to me.\"\n\n\n\nWhen she came in before the king,\n\n     Fell low down on her knee:\n\n\"Win up, win up, my daughter dear,\n\n     This day ye'll dine wi' me.\"\n\n\n\n\"Ae bit I canna eat, father,\n\n     Nor ae drop can I drink,\n\nTill I see my mither and sister dear,\n\n     For lang for them I think.\"\n\n\n\nWhen she came before the queen,\n\n     Fell low down on her knee:\n\n\"Win up, win up, my daughter dear,\n\n     This day ye'se dine wi' me.\"\n\n\n\n\"Ae bit I canna eat, mither,\n\n     Nor ae drop can I drink,\n\nUntil I see my dear sister,\n\n     For lang for her I think.\"\n\n\n\nWhen that these two sisters met,\n\n     She hail'd her courteously:\n\n\"Come ben, come ben, my sister dear,\n\n     This day ye'se dine wi' me.\"\n\n\n\n\"Ae bit I canna eat, sister,\n\n     Nor ae drop can I drink,\n\nUntil I see my dear husband,\n\n     For lang for him I think.\"\n\n\n\n\"O where are all my rangers bold\n\n     That I pay meat and fee,\n\nTo search the forest far an' wide,\n\n     And bring Akin to me?\"\n\n\n\nOut it speaks the wee little boy,--\n\n     \"Na, na, this mauna be;\n\nWithout ye grant a free pardon,\n\n     I hope ye'll na him see.\"\n\n\n\n\"O here I grant a free pardon,\n\n     Well seal'd by my own han';\n\nYe may make search for young Akin,\n\n     As soon as ever you can.\"\n\n\n\nThey search'd the country wide and braid,\n\n     The forests far and near,\n\nAnd found him into Elmond's-wood,\n\n     Tearing his yellow hair.\n\n\n\n\"Win up, win up, now young Akin,\n\n     Win up, and boun wi' me;\n\nWere messengers come from the court;\n\n     The king wants you to see.\"\n\n\n\n\"O lat him take frae me my head,\n\n     Or hang me on a tree;\n\nFor since I've lost my dear lady,\n\n     Life's no pleasure to me.\"\n\n\n\n\"Your head will na be touch'd, Akin,\n\n     Nor hang'd upon a tree:\n\nYour lady's in her father's court,\n\n     And all he wants is thee.\"\n\n\n\n(_boun_, go.)\n\nWhen he came in before the king,\n\n     Fell low down on his knee:\n\n\"Win up, win up now, young Akin,\n\n     This day ye'se dine wi' me.\"\n\n\n\nBut as they were at dinner set,\n\n     The boy asked a boon;\n\n\"I wish we were in the good church,\n\n     For to get christendoun.\n\n\n\n\"We hae lived in guid green wood\n\n     This is even years and ane;\n\nBut a this time since e'er I mind,\n\n     Was never a church within.\"\n\n\n\n\"Your asking's na sae great, my boy,\n\n     But granted it shall be;\n\nThis day to guid church ye shall gang,\n\n     And your mither shall gang you wi'.\"\n\n\n\nWhen unto the guid church she came,\n\n     She at the door did stan;\n\nShe was sae sair sunk down wi' shame,\n\n     She couldna come farther ben.\n\n\n\nThen out it speaks the parish priest,\n\n     And a sweet smile gae he;--\n\n\"Come ben, come ben, my lily flower,\n\n     Present your babes to me.\"\n\n\n\nCharles, Vincent, Sam, and Dick,\n\n     And likewise James and John;\n\nThey call'd the eldest Young Akin,\n\n     Which was his father's name.\n\n\n\nThen they staid in the royal court,\n\n     And liv'd wi' mirth and glee;\n\nAnd when her father was deceas'd,\n\n     Heir of the crown was she.\n\n\n\n\nBONNY ANNIE\n\n\n|There was a rich lord, and he lived in Forfar,\n\nHe had a fair lady, and one only dochter.\n\nO she was fair, O dear, she was bonny,\n\nA ship's captain courted her to be his honey.\n\n\n\nThere came a ship's captain out ower the sea sailing,\n\nHe courted this young thing till he got her wi' bairn: --\n\n\"Ye'll steal your father's gowd, and your mother's money,\n\nAnd I'll mak ye a lady in Ireland bonny.\"\n\n\n\nShe's stown her father's gowd and her mother's money,\n\nBut she was never a lady in Ireland bonny.\n\n\n\n*****\n\n\"There's fey folk in our ship, she winna sail for me,\n\nThere's fey folk in our ship, she winna sail for me.\"\n\nThey've casten black bullets twice six and forty,\n\nAnd ae the black bullet fell on bonny Annie.\n\n\n\n\"Ye'll tak me in your arms twa, lo, lift me canny,\n\nThrow me out ower board, your ain dear Annie.\"\n\nHe has ta'en her in his arms twa, lo, lifted her canny,\n\nHe has laid her on a bed of down, his ain dear Annie.\n\n\n\n\"What can a woman do, love, I'll do for ye;\"\n\n\"Muckle can a woman do, ye canna do for me.--\n\nLay about, steer about, lay our ship canny,\n\nDo all you can to save my dear Annie.\"\n\n\n\n\"I've laid about, steer'd about, laid about canny,\n\nBut all I can do, she winna sail for me.\n\nYe'll tak her in your arms twa, lo, lift her canny,\n\nAnd throw her out ower board, your ain dear Annie.\"\n\n\n\nHe has ta'en her in his arms twa, lo, lifted her canny,\n\nHe has thrown her out ower board, his ain dear Annie:\n\nAs the ship sailed, bonny Annie she swam,\n\nAnd she was at Ireland as soon as them.\n\n\n\n(_fey_, doomed. _canny_, carefully.)\n\nHe made his love a coffin of the gowd sae yellow,\n\nAnd buried his bonny love doun in a sea valley.\n\n\n\n\nTHE LAIRD O' DRUM\n\n[Illustration: 0185]\n\n\n|The Laird o' Drum is a wooing gane,\n\n     It was on a morning early,\n\nAnd he has fawn in wi' a bonny may,\n\n     A-shearing at her barley.\n\n\n\n\"My bonny may, my weel-faur'd may,\n\n     O will you fancy me, O;\n\nAnd gae and be the Lady o' Drum,\n\n     And lat your shearing abee, O?\"\n\n\n\n(_fawn_, fallen.)\n\n\"It's I canna fancy thee, kind sir,\n\n     I winna fancy thee, O,\n\nI winna gae and be Lady o' Drum,\n\n     And lat my shearing abee, O.\n\n\n\n\"But set your love on anither, kind sir,\n\n     Set it not on me, O,\n\nFor I am not fit to be your bride,\n\n     And your whore I'll never be, O.\n\n\n\n\"My father he is a shepherd mean,\n\n     Keeps sheep on yonder hill, O,\n\nAnd ye may gae and speer at him,\n\n     For I am at his will, O.\"\n\n\n\nDrum is to her father gane,\n\n     Keeping his sheep on yon hill, O;\n\nAnd he has gotten his consent\n\n     That the may was at his will, O.\n\n\n\n\"But my dochter can neither read nor write,\n\n     She was ne er brought up at scheel, O;\n\nBut weel can she milk cow and ewe,\n\n     And mak a kebbuck weel, O.\n\n\n\n\"She'll win in your barn at bear-seed time,\n\n     Cast out your muck at Yule, O,\n\nShe'll saddle your steed in time o' need,\n\n     And draw off your boots hersel', O.\"\n\n\n\n(_kebbuck_, cheese. _win_, go.)\n\n\"Have not I no clergymen?\n\n     Pay I no clergy fee, O?\n\nIll scheel her as I think fit,\n\n     And as I think weel to be, O.\n\n\n\n[Illustration: 0187]\n\n\"I'll learn your lassie to read and write,\n\n     And I'll put her to the scheel, O;\n\nShell neither need to saddle my steed,\n\n     Nor draw off my boots hersel', O.\n\n\n\n\"But wha will bake my bridal bread,\n\n     Or brew my bridal ale, O;\n\nAnd wha will welcome my bonny bride,\n\n     Is mair than I can tell, O.\"\n\n\n\nDrum is to the hielands gane,\n\n     For to mak a' ready,\n\nAnd a' the gentry round about,\n\n     Cried, \"Yonder's Drum and his lady!\n\n\n\n\"Peggy Coutts is a very bonny bride,\n\n     And Drum is a wealthy laddy,\n\nBut he might hae chosen a higher match,\n\n     Than ony shepherd's lassie.\"\n\n\n\nThen up bespak his brither John,\n\n     Says, \"Ye've deen us mickle wrang, O;\n\nYe've married een below our degree,\n\n     A lake to a' our kin, O.\"\n\n\n\n\"Hold your tongue, my brither John,\n\n     I have deen you na wrang, O;\n\nFor I've married een to work and win,\n\n     And ye've married een to spend, O.\n\n\n\n\"The first time that I had a wife,\n\n     She was far abeen my degree, O;\n\nI durst na come in her presence,\n\n     But wi' my hat upo' my knee, O.\n\n\n\n(_lake_, reproach.)\n\n\"The first wife that I did wed,\n\n     She was far abeen my degree, O;\n\nShe wadna hae walk'd to the yetts o' Drum,\n\n     But the pearls abeen her bree, O.\n\n\n\n\"But an' she was ador'd for as much gold,\n\n     As Peggy's for beauty, O,\n\nShe might walk to the yetts o' Drum,\n\n     Amang geed company, O.\"\n\n\n\nThere war four and twenty gentlemen\n\n     Stood at the yetts o' Drum, O;\n\nThere was na ane amang them a'\n\n     That welcom'd his lady in, O.\n\n\n\nHe has tane her by the milk-white hand,\n\n     And led her in himsel', O,\n\nAnd in thro' ha's, and in thro' bowers,--\n\n     \"And ye're welcome, Lady o' Drum, O.\"\n\n\n\nThrice he kissed her cherry cheek,\n\n     And thrice her cherry chin, O;\n\nAnd twenty times her comely mou',--\n\n     \"And ye're welcome, Lady o' Drum, O.\n\n\n\n\"Ye sall be cook in my kitchen,\n\n     Butler in my ha', O;\n\nYe sall be lady in my command,\n\n     Whan I ride far awa, O.\"--\n\n\n\n(_bree_, brow.)\n\n\"But I told ye afore we war wed,\n\n     I was ower low for thee, O;\n\nBut now we are wed, and in ae bed laid,\n\n     And ye maun be content wi' me, O.\n\n\n\n\"For an' I war dead, and ye war dead,\n\n     And baith in ae grave laid, O,\n\nAnd ye and I war tane up again,\n\n     Wha could distan your moulds frae mine, O?\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE DEATH  OF QUEEN JANE\n\n\n|Queen Jane, O! Queen Jane, O!\n\n     What a lady was she;\n\nAnd she was in labour\n\n     Six weeks and a' day:\n\nQueen Jane was in labour\n\n     For six weeks or more,\n\nTill the women grew weary\n\n     And fain would give oer.\n\n\n\n\"O women, O women,\n\n     Good wives if ye be,\n\nGo send for King Henry,\n\n     And bring him to me!\"\n\n\n\n(_distan_, distinguish.)\n\nKing Henry was sent for,\n\n     And to her he came.\n\n\"Dear lady! fair lady!\n\n     Your eyes they look dim.\"\n\n\n\nKing Henry came to her,\n\n     He came in all speed,\n\nIn a gown of red velvet\n\n     From heel to the head;\n\n\"King Henry, King Henry,\n\n     If kind you will be,\n\nSend for a good doctor,\n\n     And let him come unto me!\"\n\n\n\nThe doctor was sent for,\n\n     He came with all speed,\n\nIn a gown of black velvet\n\n     From heel to the head;\n\nThe doctor was sent for,\n\n     And to  her he came.\n\n\"Dear lady! dear lady!\n\n     Your labour's in vain.\"\n\n\"Dear doctor! dear doctor!\n\n     Will you do this for me;\n\nO open up my right side,\n\n     And save my baby.\"\n\nThen out spake King Henry,\n\n\"That never can be;\n\nI'd rather lose the branch than\n\nThe top of the tree.\"\n\n\n\nThe doctor gave a rich caudle,\n\n     The death-sleep slept she,\n\nThen her right side was opened,\n\n     And the babe set free.\n\nThe babe it was christened,\n\n     And put out and nursed,\n\nBut the royal Queen Jane\n\n     She lay cold in the dust.\n\n\n\n\nTHE GARDENER\n\n[Illustration: 0192]\n\n\n|The gardener stands in his bower door,\n\n     Wi' a primrose in his hand;\n\nAnd by there came a leal maiden,\n\n     As jimp as a willow wand;\n\nAnd by there came a leal maiden,\n\n     As jimp as a willow wand.\n\n\n\n\"O lady can you fancy me,\n\n     For to be my bride;\n\nYese get a the flowers in my garden,\n\n     To be to you a weed.\n\n\n\n\"The lily white sail be your smock,\n\n     Becomes your body neat;\n\nYour head sail be decked wi' gilly-flower,\n\n     And the primrose in your breast.\n\n\n\n\"Your gown sail be o' the Sweet William;\n\n     Your coat the camovine;\n\nYour apron o' the sallads neat,\n\n     That taste baith sweet and fine.\n\n\n\n\"Your stockings sail be o' the broad kail-blade,\n\n     That is baith broad and lang;\n\nNarrow, narrow, at the coot,\n\n     And broad, broad at the brawn.\n\n\n\n\"Your gloves sail be the marigold,\n\n     All glittering to your hand,\n\nWeel spread ower wi' the blue blaewort,\n\n     That grows in corn-land.\"\n\n\n\n\"O fare ye well, young man,'' she says,\n\n     \"Farewell and I bid adieu;\n\nSin ye've provided a weed for me\n\n     Amang the simmer flowers,\n\n\n\n(_camovine_, camomile. _kail-blade_, leaf of colewort.  _coot_, ankle. _brawn_, calf.)\n\nThen I'll provide another for you,\n\nAmang the winter-showers.\n\n\n\n[Illustration: 0194]\n\n\"The new fallen snow to be your smock;\n\n     Becomes your body neat;\n\nYour head sail be decked wi' the eastern wind,\n\n     And the cold rain on your breast.\"\n\n\n\n\nJOHNNY SCOTT\n\n\n|O Johnny was as brave a knight\n\n     As ever sail'd the sea,\n\nAn he's done him to the English court,\n\n     To serve for meat and fee.\n\n\n\nHe had na been in England\n\n     But yet a little while\n\nUntil the king's ae daughter\n\n     To Johnny proves wi' chil'.\n\n\n\nO word's come to the king himsel'\n\n     In his chair where he sat\n\nThat his ae daughter was wi' bairn\n\n     To Jack, the Little Scott.\n\n\n\nGin this be true that I do hear,\n\n     As I trust well it be,\n\nYe put her into prison strong,\n\n     An' starve her till she die.\n\n\n\nO Johnny's on to fair Scotland,\n\n     I wot, he went wi' speed,\n\nAnd he has left the king's court,\n\n     I wot, good was his need.\n\n\n\nO it fell once upon a day\n\n     That Johnny he thought lang;\n\nAn hes gane to the good green wood,\n\n     As fast as he could gang.\n\n\n\nO where will I get a bonny boy,\n\n     To rin my errand soon;\n\nThat will rin into fair England,\n\n     An' haste him back again?\n\n\n\nO up it starts a bonny boy,\n\n     Gold yellow was his hair,\n\nI wish his mither mickle joy,\n\n     His bonny love mickle mair.\n\n\n\nO here am I, a bonny boy,\n\n     Will rin your errand soon;\n\nI will gang into fair England,\n\n     An' come right soon again.\n\n\n\nO when he came to broken briggs\n\n     He bent his bow and swam,\n\nAn when he came to the green grass growing\n\n     He slaiked his shoon an' ran.\n\n\n\nWhen he came to yon high castle,\n\n     He ran it round about;\n\nAn' there he saw the king's daughter\n\n     At the window looking out.\n\n\n\n\"O here's a sark o' silk, lady,\n\n     Your ain hand sew'd the sleeve,\n\nYou're bidden come to fair Scotland,\n\n     Speer nane o' your parents' leave.\n\n\n\n\"Ha, take this sark o' silk, lady,\n\n     Your ain hand sew'd the gare;\n\nYou're bidden come to good green wood,\n\n     Love Johnny waits you there.\"\n\n\n\nShe's turned her right and round about\n\n     The tear was in her ee:\n\n\"How can I come to my true-love\n\n     Except I had wings to flee?\n\n\n\n\"Here am I kept wi' bars and bolts,\n\n     Most grievous to behold;\n\nMy breast-plate's o' the sturdy steel,\n\n     Instead of the beaten gold.\n\n\n\n(_slaiked,_ loosened, i.e. took off. _sark_, shirt.\n\ngare, hem.\n\nJohnny Scott ss'\n\n\"But take this purse, my bonny boy,\n\n     Ye well deserve a fee,\n\nAnd bear this letter to my love,\n\n     An' tell him what you see.\"\n\n\n\nThen quickly ran the bonny boy,\n\n     Again to Scotland fair,\n\nAn soon he reached Pitnachton's towrs,\n\n     An' soon found Johnny there.\n\n\n\nHe put the letter in his han,\n\n     An' told him what he saw,\n\nBut ere he half the letter read,\n\n     He loot the tears doun fa'.\n\n\n\nO I will gae back to fair England,\n\nTho' death should me betide,\n\nAn I will relieve the damsel\n\n     That lay last by my side.\n\n\n\nThen out it spake his father dear:\n\n     \"My son, you are to blame;\n\nAn' gin you're catched on English ground,\n\n     I fear you'll ne'er win hame.\"\n\n\n\nThen out it spake a valiant knight,\n\n     Johnny's best friend was he:\n\n\"I can command five hunder men,\n\n     An' I'll his surety be.\"\n\n\n\nThe firstin town that they came till,\n\n     They gar'd the bells be rung;\n\nAn' the nextin town that they came till,\n\n     They gar'd the mass be sung.\n\n\n\nThe thirdin town that they came till,\n\n     They gar'd the drums beat round,\n\nThe king but an' his nobles a'\n\n     Was startled at the sound.\n\n\n\nWhen they came to the king's palace,\n\n     They rade it round about;\n\nAn' there they saw the king himsel',\n\n     At the window looking out.\n\n\n\n\"Is this the Duke o' Albany,\n\n     Or James, the Scottish king?\n\nOr are ye some great foreign lord,\n\n     That's come a visiting?\"\n\n\n\n\"I'm na the Duke of Albany,\n\n     Nor James, the Scottish king;\n\nBut I'm a valiant Scottish knight;\n\n     Pitnachton is my name.\"\n\n\n\n\"O if Pitnachton be your name,\n\n     As I trust well it be;\n\nThe morn, or I taste meat or drink,\n\n     You shall be hanged hi'.\"\n\n\n\nThen out it spake the valiant knight,\n\n     That came brave Johnny wi':\n\n\"Behold five hunder bowmen bold,\n\n     Will die to set him free.\"\n\n\n\nThen out it spake the king again,\n\n     An' a scornfu' laugh laugh he:\n\n\"I have an Italian i' my house,\n\n     Will fight you three by three.\"\n\n\n\n\"O grant me a boon,\" brave Johnny cried,\n\n     \"Bring your Italian here;\n\nThen if he fall beneath my sword,\n\n     I've won your daughter dear.\"\n\n\n\nThen out it came, that Italian,\n\n     An' a curious ghost was he;\n\nUpon the point o' Johnny's sword,\n\n     This Italian did die.\n\n\n\nOut has he drawn his lang, lang bran',\n\n     Struck it across the plain:\n\n\"Is there any more o' your English dogs,\n\n     That you want to be slain?\"\n\n\n\n\"A clerk, a clerk,\" the king then cried,\n\n     \"To write her tocher free;\"\n\n\"A priest, a priest,\" says love Johnny,\n\n     \"To marry my love and me.\n\n\n\n\"I'm seeking nane o' your gold,\" he says,\n\n     \"Nor of your silver clear;\n\nI only seek your daughter fair,\n\n     Whose love hast cost her dear.\"\n\n\n\n\nKEMP OWYNE\n\n\n|Her mother died when she was young,\n\n     Which gave her cause to make great moan;\n\nHer father married the worst woman\n\n     That ever lived in Christendom.\n\n\n\nShe served her with foot and hand,\n\n     In every thing that she could dee;\n\nTill once, in an unlucky time,\n\n     She threw her in ower Craigy's sea.\n\n\n\nSays, \"Lie you there, dove Isabel,\n\n     And all my sorrows lie with thee;\n\nTill Kemp Owyne come ower the sea,\n\n     And borrow you with kisses three,\n\nLet all the world do what they will,\n\n     Oh borrowed shall you never be.\"\n\n\n\nHer breath grew strang, her hair grew lang,\n\n     And twisted thrice about the tree,\n\nAnd all the people, far and near,\n\n     Thought that a savage beast was she;\n\n(_borrow,_ redeem.)\n\n\n\nThis news did come to Kemp Owyne,\n\n     Where he lived far beyond the sea.\n\n\n\nHe hasted him to Craigy's sea,\n\n          And on the savage beast look'd he;\n\nHer breath was strang, her hair was lang,\n\n     And twisted was about the tree,\n\nAnd with a swing she came about:\n\n     \"Come to Craigy's sea, and kiss with me.\"\n\n\n\n\"Here is a royal belt,\" she cried,\n\n     \"That I have found in the green sea:\n\nAnd while your body it is on,\n\n     Drawn shall your blood never be;\n\nBut if you touch me, tail or fin,\n\n     I vow my belt your death shall be.\"\n\n\n\nHe stepped in, gave her a kiss,\n\n     The royal belt he brought him wi';\n\nHer breath was strang, her hair was lang,\n\n     And twisted twice about the tree,\n\nAnd with a swing she came about:\n\n     \"Come to Craigy's sea, and kiss with me.\"\n\n\n\n\"Here is a royal ring,\" she said,\n\n     \"That I have found in the green sea;\n\nAnd while your finger it is on,\n\n     Drawn shall your blood never be;\n\nBut if you touch me, tail or fin,\n\n     I swear my ring your death shall be.\"\n\n\n\n[Illustration: 0204]\n\nHe stepped in, gave her a kiss,\n\n     The royal ring he brought him wi';\n\nHer breath was strang, her hair was lang,\n\n     And twisted aince around the tree,\n\nAnd with a swing she came about:\n\n\"Come to Craigy's sea, and kiss with me.\"\n\n\n\n\"Here is a royal brand,\" she said,\n\n     \"That I have found in the green sea;\n\nAnd while your body it is on,\n\n     Drawn shall your blood never be:\n\nBut if you touch me, tail or fin,\n\n     I swear my brand your death shall be.\"\n\n\n\nHe stepped in, gave her a kiss,\n\n     The royal brand he brought him wi';\n\nHer breath was sweet, her hair grew short,\n\n     And twisted nane about the tree;\n\nAnd smilingly she came about'\n\n     As fair a woman as fair could be.\n\n\n\n\nTHE WEARY COBLE O' CARGILL\n\n\n|David Drummonds destiny,\n\n     Gude man o' appearance o' Cargill;\n\nI wot his blude rins in the flude,\n\n     Sae sair against his parents' will.\n\n\n\nShe was the lass o' Balathy toun,\n\n     And he the butler o' Stobhall;\n\nAnd mony a time she walked late,\n\n     To bore the coble o' Cargill.\n\n\n\nHis bed was made in Kercock ha',\n\n     Of gude clean sheets and of the hay;\n\nHe wadna rest ae night therein,\n\n     But on the proud waters he wad gae.\n\n\n\nHis bed was made in Balathy toun,\n\n     Of the clean sheets and of the strae;\n\nBut I wot it was far better made,\n\n     Into the bottom o' bonny Tay.\n\n\n\nShe bored the coble in seven parts,\n\n     I wot her heart might hae been fu' sair;\n\nFor there she got the bonny lad lost,\n\n     Wi' the curly locks and the yellow hair.\n\n\n\nHe put his foot into the boat,\n\n     He little thought o' ony ill:\n\nBut before that he was mid-waters,\n\n     The weary coble began to fill.\n\n\n\n\"Woe be to the lass o' Balathy toun,\n\n     I wot an ill death may she die;\n\nFor she bored the coble in seven parts,\n\n     And let the waters perish me!\n\n\n\n(_strae_, straw.)\n\n\"O help, O help I can get nane,\n\n     Nae help o' man can to me come!\"\n\nThis was about his dying words,\n\n     When he was choked up to the chin.\n\n\n\n\"Gae tell my father and my mother,\n\n     It was naebody did me this ill;\n\nI was a-going my ain errands,\n\n     Lost at the coble o' bonny Cargill.\"\n\n\n\nShe bored the boat in seven parts,\n\n     I wot she bored it wi' gude will;\n\nAnd there they got the bonny lad's corpse,\n\n     In the kirk-shot o' bonny Cargill.\n\n\n\nO a' the keys of bonny Stobha',\n\n     I wot they at his belt did hing;\n\nBut a the keys of bonny Stobha,\n\n     They now lie low into the stream.\n\n\n\nA braver page into his age\n\n     Ne er set a foot upon the plain;\n\nHis' father to his mother said,\n\n     \"O sae soon as we've wanted him!\"\n\n\n\nI wot they had mair love than this,\n\n     When they were young and at the school;\n\nBut for his sake she walked late,\n\n     And bored the coble o' bonny Cargill.\n\n\n\n(_shot_, plot of land.)\n\n\"There's ne'er a clean sark gae on my back,\n\n     Nor yet a kame gae in my hair;\n\nThere's neither coal nor candle light\n\n     Shall shine in my bower for ever mair.\n\n\n\n\"At kirk nor market I'se ne'er be at,\n\n     Nor yet a blithe blink in my ee;\n\nThere's ne'er a ane shall say to another,\n\n     That's the lassie gar'd the young man die.\"\n\n\n\nBetween the yetts o' bonny Stobha',\n\n     And the kirkstyle o' bonny Cargill,\n\nThere is mony a man and mother's son\n\n     That was at my love's burial.\n\n\n\n\nJOHN THOMSON AND THE TURK\n\n\n|John Thomson fought against the Turks\n\n     Three years, intill a far country;\n\nAnd all that time, and something mair,\n\n     Was absent from his gay lady.\n\nBut it fell aince upon a time,\n\n     As this young chieftain sat alane,\n\nHe spied his lady in rich array,\n\n     As she walk'd ower a rural plain.\n\n\n\n\"What brought ye here, my lady gay,\n\n     So far awa' from your ain country?\n\nI've thought lang, and very lang,\n\n     And all for your fair face to see.\"\n\n\n\nFor some days she did with him stay,\n\n     Till it fell aince upon a day,\n\n\"Fareweel, for a time,\" she said,\n\n     \"For now I must boun hame away.\"\n\n\n\nHe's gi en to her a jewel fine,\n\n     Was set with pearl and precious stane;\n\nSays, \"My love, beware of these savages bold\n\n     That's in your way as ye gang hame.\n\n\n\n\"Ye'll take the road, my lady fair,\n\n     That leads you fair across the lea:\n\nThat keeps you from wild Hind Soldan,\n\n     And likewise from base Violentrie.\"\n\n\n\nWi' heavy heart they twa did part,\n\n     She mintet as she would gae hame;\n\nHind Soldan by the Greeks was slain,\n\n     But to base Violentrie she's gane.\n\n\n\nWhen a twelvemonth had expired,\n\n     John Thomson he thought wondrous lang,\n\nAnd he has written a braid letter,\n\n     And sealed it weel wi' his ain hand.\n\n\n\n(_mintet_,  started off.)\n\nHe sent it with a small vessel\n\n     That there was quickly ga en to sea;\n\nAnd sent it on to fair Scotland,\n\n     To see about his gay lady.\n\n\n\nBut the answer he received again,--\n\n     The lines did grieve his heart right sair:\n\nNane of her friends there had her seen,\n\n     For a twelvemonth and something mair.\n\n\n\nThen he put on a palmers weed,\n\n     And took a pike-staff in his hand;\n\nTo Violentrie's castle he hied;\n\n     But slowly, slowly he did gang.\n\n\n\nWhen within the hall he came,\n\n     He jooked and couch'd out ower his tree:\n\n\"If ye be lady of this hall,\n\n     Some of your good bountith gie me.\"\n\n\n\n\"What news, what news, palmer,\" she said,\n\n     \"And from what country came ye?\"\n\n\"I'm lately come from Grecian plains,\n\n     Where lies some of the Scots army.\"\n\n\n\n\"If ye be come from Grecian plains,\n\n     Some mair news I will ask of thee,--\n\nOf one of the chieftains that lies there,\n\n     If he has lately seen his gay lady.\"\n\n\n\n(_jooked,_  bowed.  _tree_, staff.)\n\n\"It is twa months, and something mair,\n\n     Since we did part on yonder plain;\n\nAnd now this knight has began to fear\n\n     One of his foes he has her ta en.\"\n\n\n\n\"He has not ta'en me by force nor slight;\n\n     It was a' by my ain free will;\n\nHe may tarry into the fight,\n\n     For here I mean to tarry still.\n\n\n\n\"And if John Thomson ye do see,\n\n     Tell him I wish him silent sleep;\n\nHis head was not so cosily,\n\n     Nor yet sae weel, as lies at my feet.\"\n\n\n\nWith that he threw off his strange disguise,\n\n     Laid by the mask that he had on;\n\nSaid, \"Hide me now, my lady fair,\n\n     For Violentrie will soon be hame.\"\n\n\n\n\"For the love I bore thee aince,\n\n     I'll strive to hide you, if I can:\"\n\nThen she put him down in a dark cellar\n\n     Where there lay many a new slain man.\n\n\n\nBut he hadna in the cellar been,\n\n     Not an hour but barely three,\n\nThen hideous was the noise he heard,\n\n     When in at the gate came Violentrie.\n\n\n\nSays, \"I wish you well, my lady fair,\n\n     It's time for us to sit to dine;\n\nCome, serve me with the good white bread\n\n     And likewise with the claret wine.\n\n\"That Scots chieftain, our mortal foe,\n\n     Sae oft frae the field has made us flee,\n\nTen thousand zechins this day I'll give\n\n     That I his face could only see.\"\n\n\n\n\"Of that same gift would ye give me,\n\n     If I would bring him unto thee?\n\nI fairly hold you at your word;--\n\n     Come ben, John Thomson, to my lord.\"\n\n\n\nThen from the vault John Thomson came,\n\n     Wringing his hands most piteously:\n\n\"What would ye do,\" the Turk he cried,\n\n     \"If ye had me as I hae thee?\"\n\n\n\n\"If I had you as ye have me,\n\n     I'll tell ye what I'd do to thee;\n\nI'd hang you up in good greenwood,\n\n     And cause your ain hand wale the tree.\n\n\n\n\"I meant to stick you with my knife\n\n     For kissing my beloved lady:\"\n\n     \"But that same weed ye've shaped for me,\n\nIt quickly shall be sewed for thee.\"\n\n\n\n(_wald_, choose. _weed_, dress.)\n\nI\n\nThen to the wood they baith are gane;\n\n     John Thomson clomb frae tree to tree;\n\nAnd aye he sighed and said, \"Ochone!\n\n     Here comes the day that I must die,\"\n\n\n\nHe tied a ribbon on every branch,\n\n     Put up a flag his men might see;\n\nBut little did his false foes ken\n\n     He meant them any injury.\n\n\n\nHe set his horn unto his mouth,\n\n     And he has blawn baith loud and shrill:\n\nAnd then three thousand armed men\n\n     Came tripping all out ower the hill.\n\n\n\n\"Deliver us our chief,\" they all did cry;\n\n     \"It s by our hand that ye must die;\" -\n\n\"Here is your chief,\" the Turk replied,\n\n     With that fell on his bended knee.\n\n\n\n\"O mercy, mercy, good fellows all,\n\n     Mercy I pray you'll grant to me;\"\n\n\"Such mercy as ye meant to give,\n\n     Such mercy we shall give to thee.\"\n\n\n\nThis Turk they in his castle burnt,\n\n     That stood upon yon hill so high;\n\nJohn Thomson's gay lady they took\n\n     And hanged her on yon greenwood tree.\n\n\n\n\nLORD DERWENTWATER\n\n\n|Our King has wrote a lang letter\n\n     And sealed it ower with gold;\n\nHe sent it to my lord Dunwaters,\n\n     To read it if he could.\n\n\n\nHe has not sent it with a boy, with a boy,\n\n     Nor with any Scotch lord;\n\nBut hes sent it with the noblest knight\n\n     E er Scotland could afford.\n\n\n\nThe very first line that my lord did read,\n\n     He gave a smirkling smile;\n\nBefore he had the half of it read,\n\n     The tears from his eyes did fall.\n\n\n\n\"Come saddle to me my horse,\" he said,\n\n     \"Come saddle to me with speed;\n\nFor I must away to fair London town,\n\n     For me there was neer more need.\"\n\n\n\nOut and spoke his lady gay,\n\n     In child-bed where she lay:\n\n\"I would have you make your will, my lord\n\nDunwaters,\n\n     Before you go away.\"\n\n\n\n\"I leave to you, my eldest son,\n\n     My houses and my land;\n\nI leave to you, my youngest son,\n\n     Ten thousand pounds in hand.\n\n\n\n\"I leave to you, my lady gay,--\n\n     You are my wedded wife,--\n\nI leave to you, the third of my estate,\n\n     That'll keep you in a ladys life.\"\n\n\n\nThey had not rode a mile but one,\n\n     Till his horse fell ower a stane:\n\n\"Its a warning good enough,\" my lord Dunwaters said,\n\n     \"Alive I'll ne'er come hame.\"\n\n\n\nWhen they came to fair London town,\n\n     Into the courtiers' hall,\n\nThe lords and knights in fair London town\n\n     Did him a traitor call.\n\n\n\n\"A traitor! a traitor!\" says my lord,\n\n     \"A traitor! how can that be?\n\nAn' it was na for the keeping of five thousand men,\n\n     To fight for King Jamie.\n\n\n\n\"O all you lords and knights in fair London town,\n\n     Come out and see me die:\n\nThe Twa Magicians s'\n\n181\n\nO all you lords and knights in fair Londo town,\n\n     Be kind to my lady.\n\n\n\n\"Theres fifty pounds in my right pocket,\n\n     Divide it to the poor;\n\nThere's other fifty in my left pocket,\n\n     Divide it from door to door.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWA MAGICIANS\n\n\n|The lady stands in her bower door,\n\n     As straight as willow wand;\n\nThe blacksmith stood a little forbye,\n\n     Wi' hammer in his hand.\n\n\n\n\"Weel may ye dress ye, lady fair,\n\n     Into your robes o' red;\n\nBefore the morn at this same time,\n\n     I'll gain your maidenhead!\"\n\n\n\n\"Awa', awa', ye coal-black smith,\n\n     Would ye do me the wrang,\n\nTo think to gain my maidenhead,\n\n     That I hae kept sae lang?\"\n\n\n\n(_forbye_, on one side.)\n\nThen she has hadden up her hand,\n\n     And she sware by the mould,\n\n\"I wadna be a blacksmith's wife,\n\n     For the full o' a chest o' gold.\n\n\n\n\"I'd rather I were dead and gone,\n\n     And my body laid in grave,\n\nEre a rusty stock o' coal-black smith,\n\n     My maidenhead should have.\"\n\n\n\nBut he has hadden up his hand,\n\n     And he sware by the mass,\n\n\"I'll cause ye be my light leman,\n\n     For the half o' that and less.\"\n\nO bide, lady, bide,\n\n     And aye he bade her bide,\n\nThe rusty smith your leman shall be,\n\n     For a' your muckle pride.\n\n\n\nThen she became a turtle dow,\n\n     To fly up in the air,\n\nAnd he became another dow,\n\n     And they flew pair and pair,\n\n          O bide, lady, bide, &c.\n\n\n\nShe turned hersel' into an eel,\n\n     To swim into yon burn,\n\nAnd he became a speckled trout,\n\n     To gie the eel a turn.\n\n          O bide, lady, bide, &c.\n\n\n\n(_turn_, trick.)\n\nThen she became a duck, a duck,\n\n     To puddle in a peel,\n\nAnd he became a rose-kaimed drake,\n\n     To gie the duck a dreel.\n\n          O bide, lady, bide, &c.\n\n\n\nShe turned hersel' into a hare,\n\n     To rin upon yon hill,\n\nAnd he became a gude grey-hound,\n\n     And boldly he did fill.\n\n          O bide, lady, bide, &c.\n\n\n\nThen she became a gay gray mare,\n\n     And stood in yonder slack,\n\nAnd he became a gilt saddle,\n\n     And sat upon her back.\n\n     Was she wae, he held her sae,\n\n          And still he bade her bide;\n\n     The rusty smith her leman was,\n\n          For a' her muckle pride.\n\n\n\nThen she became a hot girdle,\n\n     And he became a cake,\n\nAnd a' the ways she turn'd hersel',\n\n     The blacksmith was her make.\n\n          Was she wae, &c.\n\n\n\nShe turn'd hersel' into a ship,\n\n     To sail out ower the flood;\n\n(_peel_, pool. _dreel_, rush (?).  _slack_, dell. _make_, mate.\n\nHe ca'ed a nail intill her tail,\n\n     And syne the ship she stood.\n\n          Was she wae, &c.\n\n\n\nThen she became a silken plaid,\n\n     And stretch'd upon a bed,\n\nAnd he became a green covering,\n\n     And gain'd her maidenhead.\n\n          Was she wae, &c.\n\n\n\n\nBROWN ROBIN\n\n[Illustration: 0219]\n\n\n|The king but an his nobles a'\n\n     Sat birling at the wine;\n\nHe would ha' nane but his ae daughter\n\n     To wait on them at dine.\n\n\n\n(_ca'ed_, drove. _birling_, drinking.)\n\nShe's serv'd them but, she's serv'd them ben,\n\n     Intill a gown of green,\n\nBut her ee was aye on Brown Robin\n\n     That stood low under the rain.\n\n\n\nShe's do'en her to her bigly bower,\n\n     As fast as she could gang,\n\nAn' there she's drawn her shot-window,\n\n     An' she's harped an' she's sang.\n\n\n\n\"There sits a bird i' my father's garden,\n\n     An O but she sings sweet!\n\nI hope to live and see the day\n\n     When wi' my love I'll meet.\"\n\n\n\n\"O gin that ye like me as well\n\n     As your tongue tells to me,\n\nWhat hour o' the night, my lady bright,\n\n     At your bower shall I be?\"\n\n\n\n\"When my father and gay Gilbert\n\n     Are baith set at the wine,\n\nO ready, ready I will be\n\n     To let my true-love in.\"\n\n\n\nO she has birled her father's porter\n\n     Wi' strong beer an' wi' wine,\n\nUntil he was as beastly drunk\n\n     As ony wild-wood swine;\n\nShe's stown the keys o' her father's gates\n\n     An letten her true-love in.\n\n\n\n(_bigly_, pleasant. _shot_, projecting.)\n\n\n\nWhan night was gane, and day was come,\n\n     An the sun shone on their feet,\n\nThen out it spake him Brown Robin:\n\n     \"I'll be discovered yet.\"\n\n\n\nThen out it spake that gay lady:\n\n     \"My love, ye needna doubt;\n\nFor wi' ae wile I've got you in,\n\n     Wi' anither I'll bring you out.\"\n\n\n\nShe's taen her to her father's cellar,\n\n     As fast as she can fare;\n\nShe's drawn a cup o' the guid red wine,\n\n     Hung't low down by her gare;\n\nAn' she met wi' her father dear\n\n     Just coming down the stair.\n\n\n\n\"I wouldna gie that cup, daughter,\n\n     That ye hold i' your hand\n\nFor a' the wines in my cellar,\n\n     An' gauntrees where they stand.\"\n\n\n\n'O wae be to your wine, father,\n\n     That ever't came o'er the sea;\n\n'Tis putten my head in sick a steer\n\n     I' my bower I canna be.\"\n\n\n\n\"Gang out, gang out, my daughter dear,\n\n     Gang out an' take the air;\n\nGang out an' walk i' the good green wood,\n\n     An' a your marys fair.\"\n\n\n\n(_gare,_ skirt. _steer,_ stir.)\n\n\n[Illustration: 0222]\n\nThen out it spake the proud porter--\n\n     Our lady wished him shame--\n\n\"Well send the marys to the wood,\n\n     But well keep our lady at hame.\"\n\n\"Theres thirty marys i' my bower,\n\n     There's thirty o' them an' three;\n\nBut there's na ane among them a'\n\n     Kens what flower gains for me.\"\n\n\n\nShe's do'en her to her bigly bower,\n\n     As fast as she could bang,\n\nAn' she has dressed him, Brown Robin,\n\n     Like ony bower-woman.\n\n\n\nThe gown she put upon her love\n\n     Was o' the dainty green,\n\nHis hose was o' the saft, saft silk,\n\n     His shoon o' the cordwain fine.\n\n\n\nShe's putten his bow in her bosom,\n\n     His arrow in her sleeve,\n\nHis sturdy bran' her body next,\n\n     Because he was her love.\n\n\n\nThen she is unto her bower-door,\n\n     As fast as she could gang;\n\nBut out it spake the proud porter--\n\n     Our lady wished him shame--\n\n\"Well count our marys to the wood,\n\n     An well count them back again.\"\n\n\n\n(_cordwain_, leather.)\n\nThe firsten mary she sent out\n\n     Was Brown Robin by name;\n\nThen out it spake the king himsel',\n\n     \"This is a sturdy dame.\"\n\n\n\nO she went out in a May morning,\n\n     In a May morning so gay,\n\nBut she came never back again,\n\n     Her auld father to see.\n\n\n\n\nBLANCHEFLOUR AND JELLYFLORICE\n\n\n|There was a maid, richly array'd,\n\n     In robes were rare to see;\n\nFor seven years and something mair,\n\n     She serv'd a gay lady.\n\n\n\nBut being fond o' a higher place,\n\n     In service she thought lang;\n\nShe took her mantle her about,\n\n     Her coffer by the band.\n\n\n\nAnd as she walk'd by the shore side,\n\n     As blithe's a bird on tree,\n\nYet still she gaz'd her round about,\n\n     To see what she could see.\n\n\n\n(_coffer_, cap.)\n\nAt last she spied a little castle,\n\n     That stood near by the sea;\n\nShe spied it far, and drew it near,\n\n     To that castle went she.\n\n\n\nAnd when she came to that castle,\n\n     She tirled at the pin '\n\nAnd ready stood a little wee boy\n\n     To let this fair maid in.\n\n\n\n\"O who's the owner of this place,\n\n     O porter boy, tell me?\"\n\n\"This place belongs unto a queen\n\n     O' birth and high degree.\"\n\n\n\nShe put her hand in her pocket,\n\n     And gae him shillings three;\n\n\"O porter, bear my message well,\n\n     Unto the queen frae me.\"\n\n\n\nThe porter's gane before the queen,\n\n     Fell low down on his knee;\n\n\"Win up, win up, my porter boy,\n\n     What makes this courtesy?\"\n\n\n\n\"I hae been porter at your yetts,\n\n     My dame, these years full three,\n\nBut see a lady at your yetts,\n\n     The fairest my eyes did see.\"\n\n\n\n\"Cast up my yetts baith wide and braid,\n\n     Let her come in to me;\n\nAnd I'll know by her courtesy,\n\n     Lord's daughter if she be.\"\n\n\n\nWhen she came in before the queen,\n\n     Fell low down on her knee;\n\n\"Service frae you, my dame, the queen,\n\n     I pray you grant it me.\"\n\n\n\n\"If that service ye now do want,\n\n     What station will ye be?\n\nCan ye card wool, or spin, fair maid,\n\n     Or milk the cows to me?\"\n\n\n\n\"No, I can neither card nor spin,\n\n     Nor cows I canna milk;\n\nBut sit into a lady's bower,\n\n     And sew the seams o' silk.\"\n\n\n\n\"What is your name, ye comely dame?\n\n     Pray tell this unto me:\"\n\n\"O Blancheflour, that is my name,\n\n     Born in a strange country.\"\n\n\n\n\"O keep ye well frae Jellyflorice;\n\n     My ain dear son is he;\n\nWhen other ladies get a gift,\n\n     O' that ye shall get three.\"\n\n\n\nIt wasna told into the bower,\n\n     Till it went thro' the ha',\n\nThat Jellyflorice and Blancheflour\n\n     Were grown ower great witha'.\n\n\n\nWhen the queen's maids their visits paid,\n\n     Upo' the gude Yule day,\n\nWhen other ladies got horse to ride,\n\n     She boud take foot and gae.\n\n\n\nThe queen she call'd her stable groom,\n\n     To come to her right seen;\n\nSays, \"Ye'll take out yon wild waith steed,\n\n     And bring him to the green.\n\n\n\n\"Ye'll take the bridle frae his head,\n\n     The lighters frae his e'en;\n\nEre she ride three times roun' the cross,\n\n     Her weel days will be dune.\"\n\n\n\nJellyflorice his true love spy'd,\n\n     As she rade roun' the cross,\n\nAnd thrice he kiss'd her lovely lips,\n\n     And took her frae her horse.\n\n\n\n\"Gang to your bower, my lily flower,\n\n     For a' my mother's spite;\n\nThere's nae other amang her maids,\n\n     In whom I take delight.\n\n\n\n(_boud_, was bound (?). _seen_, soon.  _waith_, wandering. _lighters_, blinkers.)\n\n\"Ye are my jewel, and only ane,\n\n     Nane's do you injury;\n\nFor ere this-day-month come and gang,\n\n     My wedded wife ye'se be.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE EARL OF MAR'S DAUGHTER\n\n\n|It was intill a pleasant time,\n\n     Upon a simmer's day;\n\nThe noble Earl of Mar's daughter\n\n     Went forth to sport and play.\n\n\n\nAs thus she did amuse hersel',\n\n     Below a green aik tree,\n\n     There she saw a sprightly doo\n\n     Set on a tower sae high.\n\n\n\n\"O Cow-me-doo, my love sae true,\n\n     If ye'll come down to me,\n\nYe'se hae a cage o' guid red gowd\n\n     Instead o' simple tree:\n\n\n\n\"I'll put gowd hingers roun' your cage,\n\n     And siller roun' your wa';\n\nI'll gar ye shine as fair a bird\n\n     As ony o' them a'.\"\n\n\n\n(_tree_, wood. _hingers_, hangings.)\n\nBut she had na these words well spoke,\n\n     Nor yet these words well said,\n\nTill Cow-me-doo flew frae the tower,\n\n     And lighted on her head.\n\n\n\nThen she has brought this pretty bird\n\n     Hame to her bowers and ha';\n\nAnd made him shine as fair a bird\n\n     As ony o' them a.\n\n\n\nWhen day was gane, and night was come,\n\n     About the evening tide,\n\nThis lady spied a sprightly youth\n\n     Stand straight up by her side.\n\n\n\n\"From whence came ye, young man?\"\n\nshe said,\n\n     \"That does surprise me sair;\n\nMy door was bolted right secure;\n\n     What way hae ye come here?\"\n\n\n\n\"O hold your tongue, ye lady fair,\n\n     Let a' your folly be;\n\nMind ye not on your turtle doo\n\n     Last day ye brought wi' thee?\"\n\n\n\n\"O tell me mair, young man,\" she said,\n\n     \"This does surprise me now;\n\nWhat country hae ye come frae?\n\n     What pedigree are you?\"\n\n\n\n\"My mither lives on foreign isles,\n\n     She has nae mair but me;\n\nShe is a queen o' wealth and state,\n\n     And birth and high degree;\n\n\n\n\"Likewise well skill'd in magic spells,\n\n     As ye may plainly see;\n\nAnd she transform'd me to yon shape,\n\n     To charm such maids as thee.\n\n\n\n\"l ma doo the live lang day,\n\n     A sprightly youth at night;\n\nThis aye gars me appear mair fair\n\n     In a fair maiden's sight.\n\n\n\n\"And it was but this verra day\n\n     That I came ower the sea;\n\nYour lovely face did me enchant,--\n\n     I'll live and die wi' thee.\"\n\n\n\n\"O Cow-me-doo, my love sae true,\n\n     Nae mair frae me ye'se gae.\"\n\n\"That's never my intent, my love,\n\n     As ye said, it shall be sae.\"\n\n\n\n\"O Cow-me-doo, my love sae true,\n\n     It's time to gae to bed.\"\n\n\"Wi' a' my heart, my dear marrow,\n\n     It's be as ye hae said.\"\n\n\n\nThen he has staid in bower wi' her\n\n     For sax lang years and ane,\n\nTill sax young sons to him she bare,\n\n     And the seventh she's brought hame.\n\n\n\nBut aye as ever a child was born,\n\n     He carried them away,\n\nAnd brought them to his mither's care,\n\n     As fast as he could fly.\n\n\n\nThus he has staid in bower wi' her\n\n     For twenty years and three;\n\nThere came a lord o' high renown\n\n     To court this fair lady.\n\n\n\nBut still his proffer she refused,\n\n     And a' his presents too;\n\nSays, \"Im content to live alane\n\n     Wi' my bird, Cow-me-doo.\"\n\n\n\nHer father sware a solemn oath\n\n     Amang the nobles all,\n\n\"The morn, or ere I eat or drink,\n\n     This bird I will gar kill.\"\n\n\n\nThe bird was sitting in his cage,\n\n     And heard what they did say;\n\nAnd when he found they were dismissed,\n\n     Says, \"Wae's me for this day!\n\n\n\n\"Before that I do langer stay,\n\n     And thus to be forlorn,\n\nI'll gang unto my mither's bower,\n\n     Where I was bred and born.\"\n\n\n\nThen Cow-me-doo took flight and flew\n\n     Beyond the raging sea;\n\nAnd lighted near his mither's castle\n\n     On a tower o' gowd sae high.\n\n\n\nAs his mither was walking out,\n\n     To see what she could see,\n\nAnd there she saw her little son\n\n     Set on the tower sae high.\n\n\n\n\"Get dancers here to dance,\" she said,\n\n     \"And minstrels for to play;\n\nFor here's my young son, Florentine,\n\n     Come here wi' me to stay.\"\n\n\n\n\"Get nae dancers to dance, mither,\n\n     Nor minstrels for to play;\n\nFor the mither o' my seven sons,\n\n     The morn's her wedding-day.\"\n\n\n\n\"O tell me, tell me, Florentine,\n\n     Tell me, tell me true,\n\nTell me this day without a flaw,\n\n     What I will do for you.\"\n\n\n\n\"Instead of dancers to dance, mither,\n\n     Or minstrels for to play,\n\nTurn four-and-twenty well-wight men,\n\n     Like storks, in feathers gray;\n\n\n\n\"My seven sons in seven swans,\n\n     Aboon their heads to flee;\n\nAnd I, mysel', a gay gos-hawk,\n\n     A bird o' high degree.\"\n\n\n\nThen sighin' said the queen hersel',\n\n     \"That thing's too high for me;\"\n\nBut she applied to an auld woman,\n\n     Who had mair skill than she.\n\n\n\nInstead o' dancers to dance a dance,\n\n     Or minstrels for to play,\n\nFour-and-twenty well-wight men\n\n     Turn'd birds o' feathers gray;\n\n\n\nHer seven sons in seven swans,\n\n     Aboon their heads to flee;\n\nAnd he, himsel', a gay gos-hawk,\n\n     A bird o' high degree.\n\n\n\nThis flock o' birds took flight and flew\n\n     Beyond the raging sea;\n\nAnd landed near the Earl Mar's castle,\n\n     Took shelter in every tree.\n\n\n\n(_well-wight_, picked.)\n\nThey were a flock o' pretty birds,\n\n     Right comely to be seen;\n\nThe people view'd them wi' surprise,\n\n     As they danc'd on the green.\n\n\n\nThese birds ascended frae the tree,\n\n     And lighted on the ha';\n\nAnd at the last wi' force did flee\n\n     Amang the nobles a'.\n\n\n\nThe storks, there seized some o' the men,\n\n     They could neither fight nor flee;\n\nThe swans they bound the bride's best man\n\n     Below a green aik tree.\n\n\n\nThey lighted next on maidens fair,\n\n     Then on the bride's own head;\n\nAnd wi' the twinkling o' an eye,\n\n     The bride and them were fled.\n\n\n\nThere's ancient men at weddings been\n\n     For sixty years or more;\n\nBut sic a curious wedding-day\n\n     They never saw before.\n\n\n\nFor naething could the company do,\n\n     Nor naething could they say;\n\nBut they saw a flock o' pretty birds\n\n     That took their bride away.\n\n\n\nWhen that Earl Mar he came to know\n\n     Where his dochter did stay,\n\nHe sign'd a bond o' unity\n\n     And visits now they pay.\n\n\n\nThe Fause Lover\n\nA fair maid sat in her bower door,\n\n     Wringing her lily hands;\n\nAnd by it came a sprightly youth,\n\n     Fast tripping oer the strands.\n\n\n\n\"Where gang ye, young John,\" she says,\n\n     \"Sae early in the day?\n\nIt gars me think, by your fast trip,\n\n     Your journey's far away.\"\n\n\n\nHe turn'd about wi' surly look,\n\n     And said, \"What's that to thee?\n\nI'm ga'en to see a lovely maid,\n\n     Mair fairer far than ye.\"\n\n\n\n\"Now hae ye play'd me this, fause love,\n\n     In simmer, mid the flowers?\n\nI shall repay ye back again,\n\n     In winter, 'mid the showers.\n\n\n\n[Illustration: 0237]\n\n\"But again, dear love, and again, dear love,\n\n     Will ye not turn again?\n\nFor as ye look to ither women,\n\n     I shall to other men.\"\n\n\n\n\"Make your choice o' whom you please,\n\n     For I my choice will have;\n\nI've chosen a maid more fair than thee,\n\n     I never will deceive.\"\n\n\n\nBut she's kilt up her claithing fine,\n\n     And after him gaed she;\n\nBut aye he said, \"Ye'll turn again,\n\n     Nae farder gae wi' me.\"\n\n\n\n\"But again, dear love, and again, dear love,\n\n     Will ye never love me again?\n\nAlas! for loving you sae well,\n\n     And you na me again.\"\n\n\n\nThe firstan' town that they come till,\n\n     He bought her brooch and ring;\n\nBut aye he bade her turn again,\n\n     And gang nae farder wi' him.\n\n\n\n\"But again, dear love, and again, dear love,'' &c.\n\n\n\nThe nextan' town that they came till,\n\n     He bought her muff and gloves;\n\nBut aye he bade her turn again,\n\n     And choose some other loves.\n\n\n\n\"But again, dear love, and again, dear love,\" &c.\n\n\n\nThe nextan' town that they came till,\n\n     His heart it grew mair fain;\n\nAnd he was deep in love wi' her,\n\n     As she was ower again.\n\n\n\nThe nextan' town that they came till,\n\n     He bought her wedding gown;\n\nAnd made her lady o' ha's and bowers,\n\n     In sweet Berwick town.\n\n\n\n[Illustration: 0238]\n\n\n\n\nTHE UNQUIET GRAVE.\n\n[Illustration: 0239]\n\n\n|The wind doth blow to-day, my love,\n\n     And a few small drops of rain;\n\nI never had but one true-love,\n\n     In cold grave she was lain.\n\n\n\nI'll do as much for my true-love\n\n     As any young man may;\n\nI'll sit and mourn all at her grave\n\n     For a twelvemonth and a day.\n\n\n\nThe twelvemonth and a day being up,\n\n     The dead began to speak:\n\n\"Oh, who sits weeping on my grave,\n\n     And will not let me sleep?\"\n\n\n\n\"'Tis I, my love, sits on your grave,\n\n     And will not let you sleep;\n\nFor I crave one kiss of your clay-cold lips,\n\n     And that is all I seek.\"\n\n\n\n\"You crave one kiss of my clay-cold lips,\n\n     But my breath smells earthy strong;\n\nIf you have one kiss of my clay-cold lips,\n\n     Your time will not be long.\n\n\n\n\"'Tis down in yonder garden green,\n\n     Love, where we used to walk;\n\nThe finest flower that ere was seen\n\n     Is withered to a stalk.\n\n\n\n\"The stalk is withered,dry, my love,\n\n     So will our hearts decay;\n\nSo make yourself content, my love,\n\n     Till God call you away!\"\n\n\n\n\nPEASANT BALLADS\n\n\n\n\nTHE BROKEN TOKEN\n\n\n|One summer evening, a maiden fair\n\nWas walking forth in the balmy air,\n\nShe met a sailor upon the way;\n\n     \"Maiden stay,\" he whispered,\n\n     \"Maiden stay,\" he whispered,\n\n          \"O pretty maiden stay.\n\n\n\n\"Why art thou walking abroad alone?\n\nThe stars are shining, the day is done.\"\n\nO then her tears they began to flow,\n\n     For a dark-eyed sailor,\n\n     For a dark-eyed sailor,\n\n          Had filled her heart with woe.\n\n\n\n\"Three years are passed since he left this land,\n\nA ring of gold he took off my hand,\n\nHe broke the token, a half to keep;\n\n     Half he bade me treasure,\n\n     Half he bade me treasure,\n\n          Then crossed the briny deep.\"\n\n\n\n\"O drive him, damsel, from out your mind,\n\nFor men are changeful as is the wind,\n\nAnd love inconstant will quickly grow\n\n     Cold as winter morning,\n\n     Cold as winter morning,\n\n          When lands are white with snow.\"\n\n\n\n\"Above the snow is the holly seen,\n\nIn bitter blast it abideth green,\n\nAnd blood-red drops it as berries bears;\n\n     So my aching bosom,\n\n     So my aching bosom,\n\n          Its truth and sorrow wears.\"\n\n\n\nThen half the ring did the sailor show:\n\n\"Away with weeping and sorrow now!\n\nIn bands of marriage united we,\n\n     Like the Broken Token,\n\n     Like the Broken Token,\n\n          In one shall welded be.\"\n\n\n\n\nYOUNG ROGER OF THE VALLEY\n\n\n|Young Roger of the mill\n\n     One morning very soon,\n\nPut on his best apparel,\n\n     New hose and clouted shoon;\n\nAnd he a-wooing came\n\n     To bonny, buxom Nell.\n\n\"Adzooks!\" cried he, \"couldst fancy me?\n\n     For I like thee wondrous well.\n\n\n\n\"My horses I have dress'd,\n\n     And gi en them corn and hay,\n\nPut on my best apparel;\n\n     And having come this way,\n\nLet's sit and chat a while,\n\n     With thee, my bonny Nell;\n\nDear lass,\" cries he, \"couldst fancy me?\n\n     I'se like thy person well.\"\n\n\n\n\"Young Roger, you re mistaken,\"\n\n     The damsel then reply'd,\n\n\"I'm not in such a haste\n\n     To be a ploughman's bride;\n\nKnow I then live in hopes\n\n     To marry a farmer's son;\"\n\n\"If it be so,\" says Hodge, \"I'll go,\n\n     Sweet mistress, I have done.\"\n\n\n\n\"Your horses you have dress'd,\n\n     Good Hodge, I heard you say,\n\nPut on your best apparel;\n\n     And being come this way,\n\nCome sit and chat awhile.\"\n\n     \"O no, indeed, not I,\n\nI'll neither wait, nor sit, nor prate,\n\n     I've other fish to fry.\"\n\n\n\n\"Go, take your farmer's son,\n\n     With all my honest heart;\n\nWhat tho' my name be Roger,\n\n     That goes at plough and cart?\n\nI need not tarry long,\n\n     I soon may gain a wife:\n\nThere's buxom Joan, it is well known,\n\n     She loves me as her life.\"\n\n\n\n\"Pray, what of buxom Joan?\n\n     Can't I please you as well?\n\nFor she has ne'er a penny,\n\n     And I am buxom Nell;\n\nAnd I have fifty shillings\"\n\n     (The money made him smile):\n\n\"O then, my dear, I'll draw a chair,\n\n     And chat with thee a while.\"\n\n\n\nWithin the space of half-an-hour\n\n     This couple a bargain struck,\n\nHoping that with their money\n\n     They both would have good luck;\n\n\"To your fifty I've forty,\n\n     With which a cow we'll buy;\n\nWe'll join our hands in wedlock bands,\n\n     Then who but you and I?\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE GOLDEN GLOVE\n\n\n|A wealthy young squire of Tam worth, we hear,\n\nHe courted a noblemans daughter so fair;\n\nAnd for to marry her it was his intent,\n\nAll friends and relations gave their consent.\n\n\n\nThe time was appointed for the wedding-day,\n\nA young farmer chosen to give her away;\n\nAs soon as the farmer the young lady did spy,\n\nHe inflamed her heart; \"O, my heart!\" she\n\ndid cry.\n\n\n\nShe turned from the squire, but nothing she said,\n\nInstead of being married she took to her bed;\n\nThe thought of the farmer soon run in her mind,\n\nA way for to have him she quickly did find.\n\n\n\nCoat, waistcoat, and breeches she then did put on,\n\nAnd a hunting she went with her dog and her\n\ngun;\n\nShe hunted all round where the farmer did dwell,\n\nBecause in her heart she did love him full well:\n\n\n\nShe oftentimes fired, but nothing she killed,\n\nAt length the young farmer came into the field;\n\nAnd to discourse with him it was her intent,\n\nWith her dog and her gun to meet him she went.\n\n\n\n\"I thought you had been at the wedding,\" she cried,\n\n\"To wait on the squire, and give him his bride.\"\n\n\"No, sir,\" said the farmer, \"if the truth I may tell,\n\nI'll not give her away, for I love her too well.\"\n\n\n\n\"Suppose that the lady should grant you her love,\n\nYou know that the squire your rival will prove.''\n\n\"Why, then,\" says the farmer, \"I'll take sword\n\nin hand,\n\nBy honour I'll gain her when she shall command.''\n\n\n\nIt pleased the lady to find him so bold;\n\nShe gave him a glove that was flowered with gold,\n\nAnd told him she found it when coming along,\n\nAs she was a hunting with her dog and gun.\n\n\n\nThe lady went home with a heart full of love,\n\nAnd gave out a notice that she'd lost a glove;\n\nAnd said, \"Who has found it, and brings it to\n\nme,\n\nWhoever he is, he my husband shall be.\"\n\n\n\nThe farmer was pleased when he heard of the\n\nnews,\n\nWith heart full of joy to the lady he goes:\n\n\"Dear, honoured lady, I've picked up your glove,\n\nAnd hope you'll be pleased to grant me your love.\"\n\n\n\nSir Arthur s'\n\n215\n\n\"It's already granted, I will be your bride;\n\nI love the sweet breath of a farmer,\" she cried.\n\n\"I'll be mistress of my dairy, and milking my cow,\n\nWhile my jolly brisk farmer is whistling at plough.\"\n\n\n\nAnd when she was married she told of her fun,\n\nHow she went a hunting with her dog and gun:\n\n\"And \"[said]\" now I've got him so fast in my snare,\n\nI'll enjoy him for ever, I vow and declare!\"\n\n\n\n\nSIR ARTHUR AND CHARMING MOLLEE\n\n\n|As noble Sir Arthur one morning did ride,\n\nWith his hounds at his feet, and his sword by his side,\n\nHe saw a fair maid sitting under a tree,\n\nHe asked her name, and she said 'twas Mollee.\n\n\n\n\"Oh, charming Mollee, you my butler shall be,\n\nTo draw the red wine for yourself and for me!\n\nIll make you a lady so high in degree,\n\nIf you will but love me, my charming Mollee!\n\n\n\n\"I'll give you fine ribbons, I'll give you fine rings,\n\nI'll give you fine jewels, and many fine things;\n\nI'll give you a petticoat flounced to the knee,\n\nIf you will but love me, my charming Mollee!\"\n\n\n\n\"V have none of your ribbons, and none of your rings,\n\nNone of your jewels, and other fine things;\n\nAnd I've got a petticoat suits my degree,\n\nAnd I'll ne er love a married man till his wife dee.''\n\n\n\n\"Oh, charming Mollee, lend me then your pen-knife,\n\nAnd I will go home, and I'll kill my own wife;\n\nI'll kill my own wife, and my bairnies three,\n\nIf you will but love me, my charming Mollee!\"\n\n\n\n\"Oh, noble Sir Arthur, it must not be so,\n\nGo home to your wife, and let nobody know;\n\nFor seven long years I will wait upon thee,\n\nBut I'll ne'er love a married man till his wife dee.''\n\n\n\nNow seven long years are gone and are past,\n\nThe old woman went to her long home at last;\n\nThe old woman died, and Sir Arthur was free,\n\nAnd he soon came a-courting to charming Mollee.\n\n\n\nNow charming Mollee in her carriage doth ride,\n\nWith her hounds at her feet, and her lord by her side:\n\nNow all ye fair maids, take a warning by me,\n\nAnd ne er love a married man till his wife dee.\n\n\n\n\nUNDAUNTED MARY\n\n\n|It's of a Farmer's daughter, so beautiful I'm told,\n\nHer parents died and left her five hundred pounds in gold,\n\nShe lived with her uncle, the cause of all her woe,\n\nAnd you shall hear this maiden fair did prove his overthrow.\n\n\n\nHer uncle had a ploughboy, young Mary loved full well,\n\nAnd in her uncle's garden their tales of love would tell;\n\nThere was a wealthy squire who oft came her to see,\n\nBut still she loved her ploughboy, on the bank of sweet Dundee.\n\n\n\nIt was on one summer's morning, her uncle went straightway,\n\nHe knocked at her chamber door, and unto her did say,\n\n\"Come, rise up, pretty maiden, a lady you may be,\n\nThe squire is waiting for you on the banks of sweet Dundee.\"\n\n\n\n\"A fig for all your squires, your lords and dukes likewise,\n\nFor William's hand appears to me like diamonds in my eyes;\"\n\n\"Begone, unruly maiden, you ne'er shall happy be,\n\nFor I mean to banish William from the banks of sweet Dundee.\"\n\n\n\nHer uncle and the squire rode out one summer day,\n\n\"Young William he's in favour,\" her uncle he did say,\n\n\"But indeed it's my intention to tie him to a tree,\n\nOr else to bribe the pressgang, on the banks of sweet Dundee.\"\n\n\n\nThe pressgang came to William when he was all alone,\n\nHe bravely fought for liberty, but they were six to one,\n\nThe blood did flow, in torrents:  \"Pray kill me now,\" said he,\n\n\"I'd rather die for Mary I, on the banks of sweet Dundee.\"\n\n\n\nThis maid one day was walking, lamenting for her love,\n\nShe met the wealthy squire down in her uncles grove,\n\nHe put his arm around her: \"Stand off, base man,\" said she,\n\n\"For you've sent the only lad I love, from the banks of sweet Dundee.\"\n\n\n\nHe clasped his arms around her, and tried to throw her down,\n\nTwo pistols and a sword she spied beneath his morning gown,\n\nThe pistol proved so active, the sword she used so free,\n\nThat she shot and slew the squire, on the banks of sweet Dundee.\n\n\n\nHer uncle overheard the noise, and hastened to the ground,\n\n\"Since you have slain the squire, I'll give you your death wound,\"\n\n\"Stand off, stand off,\" said Mary, \"undaunted I will be,\"\n\nShe the trigger drew, and her uncle slew, on the banks of sweet Dundee.\n\n\n\nThe doctor he was sent for, a man of noted skill,\n\nAnd likewise was a lawyer, all for to sign his will,\n\nHe willed his gold to Mary, who fought so manfully,\n\nAnd closed his eyes no more to rise on the banks of sweet Dundee.\n\n\n\n\nTHE WILTSHIRE WEDDING\n\n[Illustration: 0255]\n\n\n|All in a misty morning,\n\n     Cloudy was the weather,\n\nI meeting with an old man,\n\n     Was clothed all in leather,\n\nWith ne er a shirt unto his back,\n\n     But wool unto his skin;\n\n          _With how do you do? and how do you do?_\n\n          _And how do you do agen?_\n\nThe rustic was a thresher,\n\n     And on his way he hied,\n\nAnd with a leather bottle,\n\n     Fast buckl'd by his side;\n\nAnd with a cap of woollen,\n\n     Which cover'd cheek and chin,\n\n          _With how do you do? and how do you do?_\n\n          _And how do you do agen?_\n\n\n\nI went a little further,\n\n     And there I met a maid,\n\nWas going then a milking,\n\n     A milking, sir, she said:\n\nThen I began to compliment,\n\n     And she began to sing;\n\n          _With how do you do? and how do you do?_\n\n          _And how do you do agen?_\n\n\n\nThis maid her name was Dolly,\n\n     Clothed in a gown of gray,\n\nI being somewhat jolly,\n\n     Persuaded her to stay:\n\nThen straight I fell to courting her,\n\n     In hopes her love to win,\n\n          _With how do you do? and how do you do?_\n\n          And how do you do agen?_\n\n\n\nThen having time and leisure,\n\n     I spent a vacant hour,\n\nTelling of all my treasure,\n\n     Whilst sitting in the bower:\n\n     With many kind embraces,\n\n     I strok'd her double chin:\n\n          _With how do you do? and how do you do?_\n\n          _And how do you do agen?_\n\n\n\nI told her I would married be,\n\n     And she should be my bride,\n\nAnd long we should not tarry,\n\n     With twenty things beside:\n\n\"Til plough and sow, and reap and mow,\n\n     While thou shalt sit and spin;\"\n\n          _With how do you do? and how do you do?_\n\n          And how do you do agen?_\n\n\n\n\"Did you not know my Father?\"\n\n     The damsel then reply 'd;\n\n\"His jerkin was of leather,\n\n     A bottle by his side:\"\n\n\"Yes, I did meet him trudging,\n\n     As fast as he could win,\"\n\n          _With how do you do? and how do you do?_\n\n          _And how do you do agen?_\n\n\n\n\"Kind sir, I have a mother,\n\n     Beside a father, still,\n\nThose friends above all other,\n\n     You must ask their good-will:\n\nFor if I be undutiful\n\n     To them, it is a sin;\"\n\n          _With how do you do? and how do you do?_\n\n          _And how do you do agen?_\n\n\n\nNow there we left the milk-pail,\n\n     And to her mother went,\n\nAnd when I was come thither,\n\n     I asked her consent,\n\nAnd doft my hat, and made a leg,.\n\n     For why she was within;\n\n          _With how do you do? and how do you do?_\n\n          _And how do you do agen?_\n\n\n\n\"My husband is a thresher,\n\n     Who is her father dear,\n\nHe'll give with her his blessing,\n\n     Kind sir, you need not fear:\n\nHe is of such good nature,\n\n     That he would never lin,\"\n\n          _With how do you do? and how do you do?_\n\n          _And how do you do agen?_\n\n\n\n\"For by your courteous carriage,\n\n     You seem an honest man,\n\nYou may have her in marriage,\n\n     My husband he anon\n\nWill bid you very welcome,\n\n     Tho' he be poor and thin,\"\n\n          With how do you do? and how do you do?_\n\n          And how do you do agen?_\n\n\n\nHer dad came home full weary,\n\n     Alas! he could not choose;\n\nHer mother being merry,\n\n     She told him all the news:\n\n(_lin_, hinder or stop.)\n\nThen he was mighty jovial too,\n\n     His son did soon begin,\n\n          _With how do you do? and how do you do?_\n\n          _And how do you do agen?_\n\n\n\nHer parents being willing,\n\n     All parties was agreed;\n\nHer portion thirty shilling,\n\n     They married were with speed;\n\nThen Will the piper he did play,\n\n     While others dance and sing;\n\n          _With how do you do? and how do you do?_\n\n          _And how do you do agen?_\n\n\n\nIn pleasant recreation,\n\nThey pass'd away the night,\n\nAnd likewise by relation,\n\nWith her he takes delight,\n\nTo walk abroad on holy-days,\n\n     To visit kiff and kin:\n\n          _With how do you do? and how do you do?_\n\n          _And how do you do agen?_\n\n\n\nThen lusty Ralph and Robin,\n\nWith many damsels gay,\n\nDid ride on Roan and Dobbin,\n\nTo celebrate the day:\n\nWhen being met together,\n\nTheir caps they off did fling,\n\n_With how do you do? and how do you do?_\n\n_And how do you do agen?_\n\n\n\n\nTHE TREES THEY ARE SO HIGH\n\n\n|All the trees they are so high,\n\n     The leaves they are so green,\n\nThe day is past and gone, sweet-heart,\n\n     That you and I have seen.\n\n     It is cold winter's night,\n\nYou and I must bide alone:\n\n          Whilst my pretty lad is young\n\n          And is growing.\n\n\n\nO father, father dear,\n\n     Great wrong to me is done,\n\nThat I should married be this day,\n\n     Before the set of sun.\n\n          At the huffle of the gale,\n\n     Here I toss and cannot sleep:\n\n          Whilst my pretty lad is young\n\n          And is growing.\n\n\n\nO daughter, daughter dear,\n\n     No wrong to thee is done,\n\nFor I have married thee this day\n\n     Unto a rich Lord's son.\n\n          O the wind is on the thatch\n\n     Here and I alone must weep:\n\n          Whilst my pretty lad is young\n\n          And is growing.\n\nO father, father dear,\n\n     If that you think it fit,\n\nThen send him to the school awhile,\n\n     To be a year there yet.\n\n          At the huffle of the gale\n\n     Here I toss and cannot sleep:\n\n          Whilst my pretty lad is young\n\n          And is growing.\n\n\n\nTo let the lovely ladies know\n\n     They may not touch and taste,\n\nI'll bind a bunch of ribbons blue\n\n     About his little waist,\n\n          And I'll wait another year\n\n     O he roaring of the sea:\n\n          Whilst my pretty lad is young\n\n          And is growing.\n\n\n\nIn a garden as I walked,\n\n     I heard them laugh and call;\n\nThere were four-and-twenty playing there,\n\n     They played with bat and ball;\n\n          I must wait awhile, must wait,\n\n     And then his bride will be:\n\n     O my pretty lad is young\n\n          And is growing.\n\n\n\nI listened in the garden,\n\n     I looked o'er the wall;\n\nAmidst five-and-twenty gallants there,\n\n     My love exceeded all.\n\nThe Trees they are so High s'\n\n          O the snow, the snowflakes fall,\n\n     O and I am chill and freeze:\n\n          But my pretty lad is young\n\n          And is growing.\n\n\n\nI'll cut my yellow hair,\n\n     I'll cut it close my brow,\n\nI'll go unto the high college\n\n     And none shall know me so;\n\n          O the clouds are driving by\n\n     And they shake the leafy trees:\n\n          But my pretty lad is young\n\n          And is growing.\n\n\n\nTo the college I did go,\n\n     I cut my yellow hair;\n\nTo be with him in sun and shower,\n\n     His sports and studies share.\n\n          O the taller that he grew\n\n     The sweeter still grew he:\n\n          O my pretty lad is young\n\n          And is growing.\n\n\n\nAs it fell upon a day,\n\n     A bright and summer day,\n\nWe went into the green green wood\n\n     To frolic and to play,\n\n          O and what did there befall\n\n     I tell not unto thee:\n\n          But my pretty lad so young,\n\n          Was still growing.\n\n\n\nAt thirteen he married was,\n\n     A father at fourteen,\n\nAt fifteen his face was white as milk,\n\n     And then his grave was green;\n\n          And the daisies were outspread,\n\n     And buttercups of gold\n\n          O'er my pretty lad so young,\n\n          Now ceased growing.\n\n\n\nI'll make my pretty love\n\n     A shroud of holland fine,\n\nAnd all the time Im making it\n\n     My tears run down the twine;\n\n          And as the bell doth knell\n\n     I shiver as one cold,\n\n          And weep o'er my pretty lad\n\n          Now done growing.\n\n\n\n\nGREEN BROOM\n\n\n|There was an old man lived out in the wood,\n\n     His trade was a-cutting of broom, green broom;\n\nHe had but one son, without thrift, without good,\n\n     Who lay in his bed till 'twas noon, bright noon.\n\n\n\nThe old man awoke, one morning, and spoke,\n\n     He swore he would fire the room, that room,\n\nIf his John would not rise, and opet his eyes,\n\n     And away to the wood to cut broom, green broom.\n\n\n\nSo Johnny arose, and he slipped on his clothes,\n\n     And away to the wood to cut broom, green\n\nbroom;\n\nHe sharpened his knives, for once he contrives\n\n     To cut a great bundle of broom, green broom.\n\n\n\nWhen Johnny passed under a lady's fine house,\n\n     Passed under a lady's fine room, fine room,\n\nShe call'd to her maid, \"Go fetch me,'' she said,\n\n     \"Go fetch me the boy that sells broom, green broom.\"\n\n\n\nWhen Johnny came into the lady's fine house,\n\n     And stood in the lady's fine room, fine room;\n\n\"Young Johnny,\" she said, \"will you give up your trade,\n\n     And marry a lady in bloom, full bloom?\"\n\n\n\nJohnny gave his consent, and to church they\n\nboth went,\n\n     And he wedded the lady is bloom, full bloom;\n\nAt market and fair, all folks do declare,\n\n     There is none like the boy that sold broom, green broom.\n\n\n\n\nBONNY BARBARA ALLAN\n\n\n|It was in and about the Martinmas time,\n\n     When the green leaves were a falling,\n\nThat Sir John Graeme in the west country\n\n     Fell in love with Barbara Allan.\n\n\n\nHe sent his man down through the town,\n\n     To the place where she was dwelling;\n\n\"O haste and come to my master dear,\n\n     Gin ye be Barbara Allan.\"\n\n\n\nO hooly, hooly rose she up,\n\n     To the place where he was lying,\n\nAnd when she drew the curtain by,\n\n     \"Young man, I think you're dying.\"\n\n\n\n\"O it's I'm sick, and very, very sick,\n\n     And 'tis a' for Barbara Allan:\"\n\n\"O the better for me ye's never be,\n\n     Tho' your heart's blood were a spilling.\n\n\n\n\"O dinna ye mind, young man,\" said she,\n\n     \"When ye was in the tavern a drinking,\n\nThat ye made the healths gae round and round,\n\n     And slighted Barbara Allan.\"\n\n\n\n(_hooly_, slowly.)\n\nAs Johnny walked out s''\n\nHe turn'd his face unto the wall,\n\n     And death was with him dealing;\n\n\"Adieu, adieu, my dear friends all,\n\n     And be kind to Barbara Allan.\"\n\n\n\nAnd slowly, slowly raise she up,\n\n     And slowly, slowly left him;\n\nAnd sighing said, she could not stay,\n\n     Since death of life had reft him.\n\n\n\nShe had not gane a mile but twa,\n\n     When she heard the dead-bell ringing,\n\nAnd every jow that the dead-bell gi'ed,\n\n     It cried \"Woe to Barbara Allan!\"\n\n\n\n\"O mother, mother, make my bed,\n\n     O make it saft and narrow;\n\nSince my love died for me to-day,\n\n     Til die for him to-morrow.\"\n\n\n\n\nAS JOHNNY  WALKED OUT\n\n\n|As Johnny walked out one day\n\n     It was a summer morn,\n\nHimself he laid beneath the shade,\n\n     To rest him, of a thorn.\n\n\n\n(_jow,_ stroke.)\n\nHe had not long been tarrying there\n\n     Before his love passed by:\n\nAnd 'twas down in yonder valley, love,\n\n     Where the water glideth by.\n\n\n\n\"O have you seen a pretty ewe\n\n     That hath a tender lamb;\n\nAstrayed from the orchard glade\n\n     That little one and dam?\"\n\n\n\n\"O pretty maid,\" he answered,\n\n     \"They passed as here I lie!\"\n\nAnd 'twas down in yonder valley, love,\n\n     Where the water glideth by.\n\n\n\nShe traced the country o'er\n\n     No lambs nor ewe could find;\n\nAnd many times upbraided she\n\nYoung Johnny in her mind.\n\nThen coming back....\n\nAnd 'twas down in yonder valley, love,\n\n     Where the water glideth by.\n\n\n\nShe turned heraelf right curiously,\n\n     Her cheeks with anger flush,\n\nShe bade young Johnny lead the way\n\n     Nor loiter in a bush....\n\nAnd 'twas down in yonder valley, love,\n\n     Where the water glideth by:\n\nThen angers flame enkindled love,\n\n     And changed its kind of show,\n\nAs Johnny laughed out and said,\n\n     \"I'll lead the way below;\n\nI'll lead you to the meadows green\n\n     Where we the lambs may spy/'\n\nAnd 'twas down in yonder valley, love,\n\n     Where the water glideth by.\n\n\n\nHe held her hand, he whispered love;\n\n     He swore his heart was true;\n\nHe kissed her lips; the lambs did skip\n\n     About them on the dew,\n\nAbout them in the morning dew,\n\n     Beneath a summer sky,\n\nAnd 'twas down in yonder valley, love,\n\n     Where the water glideth by.\n\n\n\nSo married were the happy pair,\n\nAnd joined in wedlock's band,\n\nNo more they go to seek the lambs\n\nTogether hand in hand;\n\nThey go no more a searching for\n\nHer sheep with tearful eye,\n\nAll adown in yonder valley, love,\n\nWhere the water glideth by.\n\n\n\n\nTHE BROWN GIRL\n\n\n|I am as brown, as brown can be,\n\n     And my eyes are as black as sloe;\n\nI am as brisk as a nightingale,\n\n     And wild as a forest doe.\n\nMy love he was so high and proud,\n\n     His fortune too so high;\n\nHe, for another fair pretty maid,\n\n     Did scorn and passed me by.\n\n\n\nMe did he send a love letter,\n\n     And he sent it from the town,\n\nSaying, no more he loved me,\n\n     For that I was so brown.\n\nI sent his letter back again,\n\n     For his love I valued not;\n\nWhether that he would fancy me,\n\n     Whether that he would not.\n\n\n\nWhen that six months were over passed,\n\n     Were over passed and gone,\n\nThen did my lover, once so bold,\n\n     Alie on his bed and groan.\n\nWhen that six months were over passed,\n\n     Were over gone and passed,\n\nMy lover, then, so bold and proud,\n\n     With love was sick at last.\n\n\n\nFirst sent he for the doctor's man,\n\n     \"You, doctor, must me cure;\n\nThe cruel pains that torture me,\n\n     I never can long endure.\"\n\nNext did he send from out the town,\n\n     O next did send for me;\n\nHe sent for me, the brown, brown girl,\n\n     Who once his wife should be.\n\n\n\nO never a bit the doctor man\n\n     His sufferings could relieve;\n\nO never an one but the brown, brown girl,\n\n     Who could his life reprieve.\n\nO now you shall hear what was she had\n\n     For this poor love-sick man,\n\nAll of the day, and a summers day,\n\n     She walked, but never ran.\n\n\n\nWhen that she came to his bedside,\n\n     Where he lay sick and weak,\n\nO then for laughing she scarce could stand\n\n     Upright upon her feet.\n\n\"You flouted me, you scouted me,\n\n     And many another one,\n\nAnd now the reward has come at last\n\n     For all that you have done.\"\n\n\n\nShe took the rings from off her hand,\n\n     The rings, by two and three;\n\n\"O take, and O take these golden rings,\n\n     By them remember me.\"\n\n\n\nShe had a white wand in her hand,\n\n     She strake him on the breast;\n\n\"My faith and troth I give back to thee,\n\n     So may thy soul have rest.\"\n\n\n\n\"Prithee,\" said he, \"forgive, forget;\n\n     Prithee, forget, forgive;\n\nGrant to me yet a little space,\n\n     That I may longer live.\"\n\n\n\n\"O never will I forget, forgive,\n\n     So long as I have breath,\n\nI'll dance above your green, green grave,\n\n     Where you do lie beneath.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE ROVING JOURNEY-MAN\n\n\n|Young Jack he was a journey-man\n\n     That roved from town to town;\n\nAnd when he'd done a job of work\n\n     He lightly sat him down.\n\nWith his kit upon his shoulder, and\n\n     A grafting knife in hand,\n\nHe roved the country round about,\n\n     A merry journey-man.\n\n\n\n     And when he came to Exeter\n\nThe maidens leaped for joy;\n\n     Said one and all, both short and tall,\n\n\"Here comes a gallant boy.\"\n\n     The lady dropt her needle, and\n\n     The maid her frying-pan;\n\nEach plainly told her mother that\n\n     She loved the journey-man.\n\n\n\nHe had not been in Exeter\n\n     The days were barely three,\n\nBefore the Mayor, his sweet daughter\n\n     She loved him desperately;\n\nShe bid him to her mother's house,\n\n     She took him by the hand,\n\nSaid she, \"My dearest mother, see,\n\n     I love the journey-man!\"\n\n\n\n\"Now out on thee, thou silly maid!\n\n     Such folly speak no more:\n\nHow can'st thou love a roving man\n\n     Thou ne'er hast seen before?\"\n\n\"O mother sweet, I do entreat,\n\n     I love him all I can;\n\nAround the country glad I'll rove\n\n     With this young journey-man.\n\n\n\n\"He need no more to trudge afoot,\n\n     He'll travel coach and pair;\n\nMy wealth with me--or poverty\n\n     With him, content I'll share.\"\n\n\n\nNow fill the horn with barleycorn,\n\n     And flowing fill the can,\n\nHere let us toast the Mayor's daughter\n\n     And the roving journey-man.\n\n\n\n\nTHYME AND RUE\n\n\n|O once I had plenty of thyme,\n\n     I could flourish by night and by day.\n\nTill a saucy lad he\n\n     Returned from sea,\n\n          And stole my thyme away.\n\n\n\nO and I was a damsel so fair,\n\n     But fairer I wished to appear;\n\nSo I wash'd me in milk,\n\n     And I dressed me in silk,\n\n          And put the.sweet thyme in my hair.\n\n\n\nWith June is the red rose in bud,\n\n     But that's not the flower for me;\n\nSo I plucked the bud,\n\n     And it pricked me to blood,\n\n          And I gazed on the willow tree.\n\n\n\nOthe willow tree it will twist,\n\n     And the willow tree, it will turn;\n\nI would I were clasped\n\n     In my lover's arms fast,\n\n          For 'tis he that has stolen my thyme.\n\n\n\nO it's very good drinking of ale,\n\n     But it's far better drinking of wine;\n\nI would I were clasped\n\n     In my lover's arms fast,\n\n          For 'tis he that has stolen my thyme.\n\n\n\n\nTHE BAILIFF'S DAUGHTER OF ISLINGTON\n\n\n|There was a youth, and a well-beloved youth,\n\n     And he was a squire's son:\n\nHe loved the bailifFs daughter dear,\n\n     That lived in Islington.\n\n\n\nYet she was coy, and would not believe\n\n     That he did love her so,\n\nNo nor at any time would she\n\n     Any countenance to him show.\n\n\n\nBut when his friends did understand\n\n     His fond and foolish mind,\n\nThey sent him up to fair London,\n\n     An apprentice for to bind.\n\n\n\nAnd when he had been seven long years,\n\n     And never his love could see,--\n\n\"Many a tear have I shed for her sake,\n\n     When she little thought of me.\"\n\n\n\nThen all the maids of Islington\n\n     Went forth to sport and play,\n\nAll but the bailiff's daughter dear;\n\n     She secretly stole away.\n\n\n\nShe pulled off her gown of green,\n\n     And put on ragged attire,\n\nAnd to fair London she would go,\n\n     Her true love to enquire.\n\n\n\nAnd as she went along the high road,\n\n     The weather being hot and dry,\n\nShe sat her down upon a green bank,\n\n     And her true love came riding by.\n\n\n\nShe started up, with a colour so red,\n\n     Catching hold of his bridle-rein;\n\n\"One penny, one penny, kind sir,\" she said,\n\n     \"Will ease me of much pain.\"\n\n\n\n\"Before I give you one penny, sweet-heart,\n\n     Pray tell me where you were born.\"\n\n\"At Islington, kind sir,\" said she,\n\n     \"Where I have had many a scorn.\"\n\n\n\n\"I pry thee, sweet-heart, then tell to me,\n\n     O tell me, whether you know\n\nThe bailiff's daughter of Islington.\"\n\n     \"She is dead, sir, long ago.\"\n\n\n\n\"If she be dead, then take my horse,\n\n     My saddle and bridle also;\n\nFor I will into some far country,\n\n     Where no man shall me know.\"\n\n\n\n\"O stay, O stay, thou goodly youth,\n\n     She standeth by thy side;\n\nShe is here alive, she is not dead,\n\n     And ready to be thy bride.\"\n\n\n\n\"O farewell grief, and welcome joy,\n\n     Ten thousand times therefore;\n\nFor now I have found mine own true love,\n\n     Whom I thought I should never see more.\"\n\n\n\n[Illustration: 0276]\n\n\n\n\nTHE SIMPLE PLOUGHBOY\n\n\n|O the ploughboy was a ploughing\n\nWith his horses on the plain,\n\n     And was singing of a song as on went he.\n\n\"Since that I have fall'n in love,\n\nIf the parents disapprove,\n\n     'Tis the first thing that will send me to the sea.\n\n\n\nWhen the parents came to know\n\nThat their daughter loved him so,\n\n     Then they sent a gang, and pressed him for the sea.\n\nAnd they made of him a tar,\n\nTo be slain in cruel war,\n\n     Of the simple ploughboy singing on the lea.\n\n\n\nThe maiden sore did grieve,\n\nAnd without a word of leave\n\n     From her father's house she fled secretly,\n\nIn male attire dress'd\n\nWith a star upon her breast,\n\n     All to seek her simple ploughboy on the sea.\n\n\n\nThen she went o'er hill and plain,\n\nAnd she walked in wind and rain,\n\n     Till she came to the brink of the blue sea,\n\nSaying, \"I am forced to rove,\n\nFor the loss of my true love,\n\n     Who is but a simple ploughboy from the lea.\"\n\n\n\nNow the first she did behold,\n\nO it was a sailor bold,\n\n     \"Have you seen my simple ploughboy?\" then said she;\n\nThey have press'd him to the fleet,\n\nSent him tossing on the deep,\n\n     Who is but a simple ploughboy from the lea.\"\n\n\n\nThen she went to the captain\n\nAnd to him she made complain,\n\n     O a silly ploughboy's run away from me!\n\nThen the captain smiled and said,\n\n\"Why sir! surely you're a maid?\n\n     So the ploughboy I will render up to thee.\"\n\n\n\nThen she pulled out a store\n\nOf five hundred crowns and more\n\n     And she strewed them on the deck, did she;\n\nThen she took him by the hand,\n\nAnd she rowed him to the land,\n\n     Where she wed the simple ploughboy back\n\nfrom sea.\n\n\n\n[Illustration: 0278]\n\n\n\n\nROBBIE TAMSON'S SMIDDIE\n\n\n|Me mither mend't me auld breeks,\n\n     But ay! but they were diddy;\n\nShe sent me to get shod the mare\n\n     At Robbie Tamson's smiddie.\n\nNow t' smiddie lies ayent the burn\n\n     That wamples thro' the claughin',\n\nAnd ne'er a time I pass that way\n\n     But aye I fall a-laughin'.\n\n          Singing fol loi de loi de roi,\n\n               Ri fol loi de laddy,\n\n          Sing fol de duy, duy day,\n\n               Sing fol de duy daddy.\n\n\n\nNow Robin was a canny lad\n\n     Wha had an ainly daughter;\n\nHe'd niver let her tak a mon,\n\n     Though mony a yan had sought her.\n\nI'll tell you news of my exploits\n\n     The time the mare was shoeing,\n\nI steppit in ahint the lass\n\n     And quickly fell a-wooing.\n\n\n\nIt's aye she eyed my auld breeks\n\n     The time that they were making;\n\nSays I, \"My lass, ne'er mind my breeks,\n\n     There's new yans for the making.\n\n\n\nGin yell agree to gang wi' me,\n\n     And leave the carle thy father,\n\nYe'll hae my breeks to keep in trim,\n\n     Myself and a together.\"\n\n\n\nThe lassie smiled and shook her head,\n\n     Says she, \"Your offers clever;\n\nI think I'll gang awa' wi' yan,\n\n     Well baith gae on the back o't.\n\nFor gin I wait my father's time\n\n     I'll wait till I bin fifty;\n\nSo I think I'll tak ye at your word,\n\n     And make a wife sae thrifty.\"\n\n\n\nNow Robbie was an angry man,\n\n     For a t' loss of his daughter,\n\nThrough all the town baith up and down,\n\n     And far and near he sought her.\n\nBut when he cam to our gude inn\n\n     And found us baith together,\n\nSays I, \"My lad, I've tick your bairn,\n\n     Tho' ye may tak my mither.\"\n\n\n\nNow Robbie girned and shook his head:\n\nQuo' he, \"I think I'll marry;\n\nAnd so I'll tak ye at your word,\n\nTo end the hurry burry.\"\n\nSo Robbie and our ain gudewife\n\n. Agreed to creep together:\n\nSo I've ta'en Robbie Tamson's pet,\n\nAnd Robbie's ta'en my mither.\n\n\n\n\nCUPID'S GARDEN\n\n[Illustration: 9281]\n\n\n|As I were in Cupid's garden,\n\n     Not more nor half-an-hour,\n\n'Twere there I see'd two maidens,\n\n     Sitting under Cupid's bower,\n\nA-gathering of sweet jassamine,\n\n     The lily and the rose.\n\nThese be the fairest flowers\n\n     As in the garden grows.\n\n\n\nI fondly stepped to one o' them,\n\n     These words to her I says,\n\n\"Be you engaged to arra young man,\n\n     Come tell to me, I prays.\"\n\n\"I bean't engaged to narra young man, '\n\n     I solemnly declare,\n\nI aims to live a maiden,\n\n     And still the laurel wear.\"\n\n\n\nSays I, \"My stars and garters!\n\n     This here's a pretty go,\n\nFor a fine young maid as never was,\n\n     To serve all mankind so.\"\n\nBut t'other young maiden looked sly at me,\n\n     And from her seat she risen,\n\nSays she, \"Let thee and I go our own way,\n\n     And we'll let she go shis'n.\"\n\n\n\n\nKING JOHN AND THE ABBOT\n\n\n|An ancient story I'll tell you anon\n\nOf a notable prince, that was called King John;\n\nAnd he ruled England with main and with\n\nmight,\n\nFor he did great wrong, and maintain'd little right.\n\n\n\nAnd I'll tell you a story, a story so merry,\n\nConcerning the Abbot of Canterbury;\n\nHow for his house-keeping and high renown,\n\nThey rode post for him to fair London town.\n\n\n\nAn hundred men, the king did hear say,\n\nThe abbot kept in his house every day;\n\nAnd fifty gold chains, without any doubt,\n\nIn velvet coats waited the abbot about.\n\n\n\n\"How now, father abbot, I hear it of thee,\n\nThou keepest a far better house than me;\n\nAnd for thy house-keeping and high renown,\n\nI fear thou workst treason against my crown.\"\n\n\n\n\"My liege,\" quo' the abbot, \"I would it were known\n\nI never spend nothing, but what is my own;\n\nAnd I trust your grace will do me no deere,\n\nFor spending of my own true-gotten gear.\"\n\n\n\n\"Yes, yes, father abbot, thy fault it is high,\n\nAnd now for the same thou needest must die;\n\nFor except thou canst answer me questions three,\n\nThy head shall be smitten from thy body.\n\n\n\n\"And first,\" quo' the king, \"when I'm in this\n\nstead,\n\nWith my crown of gold so fair on my head,\n\nAmong all my liege-men so noble of birth,\n\nThou must tell me to one penny what I am worth.\n\n\n\n\"Secondly, tell me, without any doubt,\n\nHow soon I may ride the whole world about;\n\nAnd at the third question thou must not shrink,\n\nBut tell me here truly what I do think.\"\n\n\n\n\"O these are hard questions for my shallow wit,\n\nNor I cannot answer your grace as yet:\n\nBut if you will give me but three weeks' space,\n\nI'll do my endeavour to answer your grace.\"\n\n\n\n(_deere_, harm. _stead_, place.)\n\n\"Now three weeks' space to thee will I give,\n\nAnd that is the longest time thou hast to live;\n\nFor if thou dost not answer my questions three,\n\nThy lands and thy livings are forfeit to me.\"\n\n\n\nAway rode the abbot all sad at that word,\n\nAnd he rode to Cambridge, and Oxenford;\n\nBut never a doctor there was so wise,\n\nThat could with his learning an answer devise.\n\n\n\nThen home rode the abbot of comfort so cold,\n\nAnd he met his shepherd a going to fold:\n\n\"How now, my lord abbot, you are welcome home;\n\nWhat news do you bring us from good King John?\"\n\n\n\n\"Sad news, sad news, shepherd, I must give,\n\nThat I have but three days more to live;\n\nFor if I do not answer him questions three\n\nMy head will be smitten from my body.\n\n\n\n\"The first is to tell him there in that stead,\n\nWith his crown of gold so fair on his head,\n\nAmong all his liege-men so noble of birth,\n\nTo within one penny of what he is worth.\n\n\n\n\"The second, to tell him, without any doubt,\n\nHow soon he may ride this whole world about;\n\nAnd at the third question I must not shrink,\n\nBut tell him there truly what he does think.\"\n\n\n\n\"Now cheer up, sire abbot, did you never hear yet,\n\nThat a fool he may learn a wise man wit?\n\nLend me horse, and serving men, and your apparel,\n\nAnd I'll ride to London to answer your quarrel.\n\n\n\n\"Nay frown not, if it hath been told unto me,\n\nI am like your lordship, as ever may be;\n\nAnd if you will but lend me your gown,\n\nThere is none shall know us at fair London\n\ntown.\"+\n\n\"Now horses and serving-men thou shalt have,\n\nWith sumptuous array most gallant and brave,\n\nWith crozier, and mitre, and rochet, and cope,\n\nFit to appear Yore our father the pope.\"\n\n\n\n\"Now, welcome, sire abbot,\" the king he did say,\n\n\"'Tis well thourt come back to keep thy day:\n\nFor and if thou canst answer my questions three,\n\nThy life and thy living both saved shall be.\n\n\n\n\"And first, when thou seest me here in this stead,\n\nWith my crown of gold so fair on my head,\n\nAmong all my liege-men so noble of birth,\n\nTell me to one penny what I am worth.\"\n\n\n\n\"For thirty pence our Saviour was sold\n\nAmong the false Jews, as I have been told:\n\nAnd twenty-nine is the worth of thee,\n\nFor I think thou art one penny worser than he.\"\n\n\n\nThe king he laughed, and swore by St Bittel,\n\n\"I did not think I had been worth so little!\n\n--Now secondly tell me, without any doubt,\n\nHow soon I may ride this whole world about.\"\n\n\n\n\"You must rise with the sun, and ride with the same\n\nUntil the next morning he riseth again;\n\nAnd then your grace need not make any doubt\n\nBut in twenty-four hours you'll ride it about.\"\n\n\n\nThe king he laughed, and swore by St John,\n\n\"I did not think it could be gone so soon!\n\n--Now from the third question thou must not shrink,\n\nBut tell me here truly what I do think.\"\n\n\n\n\"Yea, that shall I do, and make your grace merry;\n\nYou think I'm the abbot of Canterbury;\n\nBut I'm his poor shepherd, as plain you may see,\n\nThat am come to beg pardon for him and for me.\"\n\n\n\nThe king he laughed, and swore by the mass,\n\n\"I'll make thee lord abbot this day in his place!\"\n\n\"Now nay, my liege, be not in such speed,\n\nFor alack I can neither write nor read.\"\n\n\n\n\"Four nobles a week, then I will give thee,\n\nFor this merry jest thou hast shown unto me;\n\nAnd tell the old abbot when thou comest home,\n\nThou hast brought him a pardon from good King John.\"\n\n\n\n(_Bittel_, Botolph (?))\n\nTHE KING AND THE COUNTRYMAN\n\n[Illustration: 0287)\n\nThere was an old chap in the west country,\n\n     A flaw in the lease the lawyers had found,\n\n'Twas all about felling of five oak trees,\n\n     And building a house upon his own ground.\n\n          Right too looral, looral, looral--right too looral la!\n\n\n\nNow, this old chap to Lunnun would go,\n\n     To tell the king a part of his woe,\n\nLikewise to tell him a part of his grief,\n\n     In hopes the king would give him relief.\n\n\n\nNow, when this old chap to Lunnun had come,\n\n     He found the king to Windsor had gone;\n\nBut if he'd known he'd not been at home,\n\n     He danged his buttons if ever he'd come.\n\n\n\nNow, when this old chap to Windsor did stump,\n\n     The gates were barred, and all secure,\n\nBut he knocked and thumped with his oaken clump,\n\n     There's room within for I to be sure.\n\n\n\nBut when he got there, how he did stare,\n\n     To see the yeomen strutting about;\n\nHe scratched his head, and rubbed down his hair,\n\n     In the ear of a noble he gave a great shout:\n\n\n\n\"Pray, Mr Noble, show I the King;\n\n     Is that the King that I see there?\n\nI see'd an old chap at Bartlemy fair\n\n     Look more like a king than that chap there.\n\n\n\n\"Well, Mr King, pray how dye do?\n\n     I gotten for you a bit of a job,\n\nWhich if you'll be so kind as to do,\n\n     I gotten a summat for you in my fob.\"\n\n\n\nThe king he took the lease in hand,\n\n     To sign it, too, he was likewise willing;\n\nAnd the old chap to make a little amends,\n\n     He lugged out his bag, and gave him a shilling.\n\n\n\nThe king, to carry on the joke,\n\n     Ordered ten pounds to be paid down;\n\nThe farmer he stared, but nothing spoke,\n\n     And stared again, and he scratched his crown.\n\n\n\nThe farmer he stared to see so much money,\n\n     And to take it up he was likewise willing;\n\nBut if he'd a known King had got so much money,\n\n     He danged his wig if he'd gi'en him that shilling!\n\n\n\n\nSADDLE TO RAGS\n\n\n|This story I'm going to sing,\n\n     I hope it will give you content,\n\nConcerning a silly old man\n\n     That was going to pay his rent.\n\n          With a till da dill, till a dill, dill,\n\n               Till a dill, dill a dill, dee,\n\n          Sing fal de dill, dill de dill, dill.\n\n               Fal de dill, dill de dill, dee.\n\n\n\nAs he was a-riding along,\n\n     Along all on the highway,\n\nA gentleman-thief overtook him,\n\n     And thus unto him he did say:\n\n\n\n\"O! well overtaken, old man,\n\n     O! well overtaken,\" said he:\n\n\"Thank you kindly, sir,\" says the old man,\n\n     \"If you be for my company.\"\n\n\n\n\"How far are you going this way?\"\n\n     It made the old man to smile;\n\n\"To tell you the truth, kind sir,\n\n     I'm just a-going twa mile.\n\n\n\n\"I am but a silly old man,\n\n     Who farms a piece of ground;\n\nMy half-year rent, kind sir,\n\n     Just comes to forty pound.\n\n\n\n\"But my landlord's not been at hame,\n\n     I've not seen him twelve month or more;\n\nIt makes my rent to be large,\n\n     I've just to pay him fourscore.\"\n\n\n\n\"You should not have told anybody,\n\n     For thieves they are ganging many;\n\nIf they were to light upon you\n\n     They would rob you of every penny.\"\n\n\n\n\"O! never mind,\" says the old man,\n\n     \"Thieves I fear on no side;\n\nMy money is safe in my bags,\n\n     In the saddle on which I ride.\"\n\n\n\nAs they were a-riding along,\n\n     And riding a-down a ghyll,\n\nThe thief pulled out a pistol,\n\n     And bade the old man stand still.\n\n\n\n(_ghyll_, ravine.)\n\nThe old man was crafty and false,\n\n     As in this world are many;\n\nHe flung his old saddle o'er t' hedge,\n\n     And said, \"Fetch it, if thou'lt have any.\"\n\n\n\nThis thief got off his horse,\n\n     With courage stout and bold,\n\nTo search this old man's bags,\n\n     And gave him his horse to hold.\n\n\n\nThe old man put foot in stirrup,\n\n     And he got on astride;\n\nHe set the thief's horse in a gallop,--\n\n     You need not bid the old man ride!\n\n\n\n\"O, stay! O, stay!\" says the thief,\n\n     \"And thou half my share shalt have;\"\n\n\"Nay, marry, not I,\" quoth the old man,\n\n     \"For once I've bitten a knave!\"\n\n\n\nThis thief he was not content,\n\n     He thought there must be bags,\n\nSo he up with his rusty sword,\n\n     And chopped the old saddle to rags.\n\n\n\nThe old man gallop'd and rode,\n\n     Until he was almost spent,\n\nTill he came to his landlord's house,\n\n     And he paid him his whole year's rent.\n\n\n\nHe opened this rogue's portmantle,\n\n     It was glorious for to behold;\n\nThere was five hundred pound in money,\n\n     And other five hundred in gold.\n\n\n\nHis landlord it made him to stare,\n\n     When he did the sight behold;\n\n\"Where did thou get the white money,\n\n     And where get the yellow gold?\"\n\n\n\n\"I met a fond fool by the way,\n\n     I swopped horses, and gave him no boot;\n\nBut never mind,\" says the old man,\n\n     \"I got a fond fool by the foot.\"\n\n\n\n\"But now you're grown cramped and old,\n\n     Nor fit for to travel about;\"\n\n\"O, never mind,\" says the old man,\n\n     \"I can give these old bones a route!\"\n\n\n\nAs he was a-riding hame,\n\n     And a-down a narrow lane,\n\nHe spied his mare tied to a tree,\n\n     And said, \"Tib, thou'lt now gae hame.\"\n\n\n\nAnd when that he got hame,\n\n     And told his old wife what he'd done:\n\nShe rose and she donned her clothes,\n\n     And about the house did run.\n\n\n\nShe sung, and she danced, and sung,\n\n     And she sung with a merry devotion,\n\n\"If ever our daughter gets wed,\n\n     It will help to enlarge her portion!\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE WEEK'S WORK\n\n\n|When I was a bachelor brave,\n\nEnjoying all my soul could have,\n\nMy silver and guineas I then let fly,\n\nI cock'd up my beaver, and who but I.\n\n          Fal, lal, &c.\n\n\n\nI rov'd about, and I rov'd a while,\n\nTill all the ladies seem'd to smile,\n\nFrom the ladies of pleasure to royal Joan,\n\nBoth gentle and simple was all my own.\n\nMy rapier was made of the Bilbo blade,\n\nMy coat and waistcoat were overlaid\n\nWith silver spangles so neat and so gay,\n\nAs tho' I had been king of some country play.\n\n\n\nBesides I had a flattering tongue,\n\nThe ladies admired me when I sung,\n\nFor I had a voice so charming and fine,\n\nThat every lady's heart was mine.\n\n\n\nOn Monday morning I married a wife,\n\nAnd thought to have liv'd a sober life,\n\nBut as it fell out I had better been dead,\n\nThen mark the time that I was wed.\n\n\n\nOn Tuesday morn to my surprise,\n\nA little before the sun did rise,\n\nShe tun'd up her clapper, and scolded more,\n\nThan ever I heard in my life before.\n\nOn Wednesday morn I went to the wood,\n\nI thought in my heart she'd never be good,\n\nI cut me a twig of the holly green,\n\nI think 'twas the toughest ever seen,\n\nI brought it home, and laid it by.\n\nOn Thursday I went the same to try,\n\nAnd if she would no better be,\n\nThe devil might take her to-morrow, for me.\n\n\n\nOn Friday morn, to my surprise,\n\nA little before the sun did rise,\n\nShe tun'd up her clapper in a scolding tune,\n\nAnd now you shall hear we parted soon.\n\n\n\nOn Saturday morn, as I may say,\n\nAs she, on her pillow, consulting lay;\n\nThe devil came in the midst of the game,\n\nAnd took her away both blind and lame.\n\n\n\nOn Sunday, friends, I can dine without\n\nA scolding wife, or a brawling out,\n\nEnjoying my bottle, and my best friend,\n\nAnd is not this a noble week's-work end.\n\n\n\n\nFARMER'S BOY\n\n\n|The sun went down beyond yon hills,\n\n     Across yon dreary-moor,\n\nWeary and lame, a boy there came,\n\n     Up to a farmer's door.\n\n\"Will you tell me if any there be\n\n     That will give me employ\n\nTo plough and sow, and reap and mow,\n\n     And be a farmer's boy?\n\n\n\n\"My fathers dead, and mothers left,\n\n     With her five children small,\n\nAnd what is worst for mother still,\n\n     I'm the oldest of them all:\n\nThough little I be yet I fear not work,\n\n     If you will me employ\n\nTo plough and sow, and reap and mow,\n\n     And be a farmer's boy.\n\n\n\n\"And if that you won't me employ,\n\n     One favour I have to ask,\n\nWill you shelter me till break of day,\n\n     From this cold winter's blast:\n\nAt break of day, I'll trudge away,\n\n     Elsewhere to seek employ\n\nTo plough and sow, and reap and mow,\n\n     And be a farmer's boy.\"\n\n\n\nThe mistress said, \"Pray take the lad,\n\n     No farther let him seek;\"\n\n\"O yes, dear father,\" the daughter cried,\n\n     While tears ran down her cheeks,\n\n\"For those that will work it's hard to want,\n\n     And wander for employ\n\nTo plough and sow, and reap and mow,\n\n     And be a farmer's boy.\"\n\n\n\nIn course of time he grew a man\n\n     The good old farmer died,\n\nAnd left the boy the farm he had,\n\n     And his daughter for his bride;\n\nThe boy that was the farm now has,\n\n     Oft smiles and thinks with joy,\n\nOf the lucky day he came that way,\n\nAnd to be a farmer's boy.\n\n\n\n\nTOMMY LINN\n\n\n|_Tommy Linn_ is a _Scotchman_ born,\n\nHis head is bald, and his beard is shorn,\n\nHe has a cap made of a hare skin,\n\nAn elderman is _Tommy Linn,_\n\n\n\n_Tommy Linn_ has no boots to put on,\n\nBut two calves' skins, and the hair it was on,\n\nThey are open at the side and the water goes in,\n\n\"Unwholesome boots,\" says _Tommy Linn_.\n\n\n\n_Tommy Linn_ has a mare of the gray,\n\nLam'd of all four as I hear say;\n\nIt has the farcy all over the skin,\n\n\"It's a running jade,\" says _Tommy Linn._\n\n\n\n_Tommy Linn_ no bridle had to put on,\n\nBut two mouses' tails that he put on;\n\n_Tommy Linn_ had no saddle to put on,\n\nBut two urchin skins, and them he put on.\n\n\n\n_Tommy Linn_ went to yonder hall,\n\nWent hipping and skipping among them all;\n\nThey ask'd what made him come so boldly in,\n\n\"I'm come a wooing,\" says _Tommy Linn_.\n\n\n\n_Tommy Linn_ went to the church to be wed,\n\nThe bride followed after hanging down her head,\n\nShe hung down her cheeks, she hung down her chin,\n\n\"This is a glooming quean,\" says _Tommy Linn_.\n\n\n\n_Tommy Linn's_ daughter sat on the stairs,\n\n\"Oh, dear father, gin I be not fair;\"\n\nThe stairs they broke, and she fell in,\n\n\"You are fair enough now,\" says Tommy Linn.\n\n\n\n(_quean_, lass.)\n\n_Tommy Linn's_ daughter sat on the brig,\n\n\"Oh, dear father, gin I be not trig;\"\n\nThe bridge it broke, and she fell in,\n\n\"You are trig enough now,\" says _Tommy Linn._\n\n\n\n_Tommy Linn_, and his wife and his wife's mother,\n\nThey all fell into the fire together;\n\nThey that lay undermost got a hot skin,\n\n\"We are [hot] enough,\" says _Tommy Linn_.\n\n\n\n(_trig_, neat.)\n\n\n\n\nTHE MERMAID\n\n[Illustration: 0298]\n\n\n|On Friday morning as we set sail,\n\nIt was not far from land,\n\nO there I espied a fair pretty maid,\n\nWith a comb and a glass in her hand.\n\nO the raging seas did roar,\n\n     And the stormy winds did blow,\n\nWhile we poor sailors were up into the top,\n\n     And the land lubbers laid below.\n\n\n\nThen up spoke a boy of our gallant ship,\n\n     And a well speaking boy was he,\n\n\"I've a father and mother in fair Portsmouth town,\n\n     And this night they will weep for me.\"\n\n\n\nThen up spoke a man of our gallant ship,\n\n     And a well spoken man was he,\n\n\"I have married a wife in fair London town,\n\n     And this night a widow she shall be.\"\n\n\n\nThen up spoke the captain of our gallant ship,\n\n     And a valiant man was he,\n\n\"For want of a boat we shall be drowned,\"\n\n     For she sunk to the bottom of the sea.\n\n\n\nThe moon shone bright, and the stars gave light,\n\n     And my mother was looking for me,\n\nShe might look, and weep, with watery eyes,\n\n     She might look to the bottom of the sea.\n\n\n\nThree times round went our gallant ship,\n\n     And three times round went she,\n\nThree times round went our gallant ship,\n\n     Then she sunk to the bottom of the sea.\n\n\n\n[Illustration: 0300]\n\n\n\n\nCAPTAIN WARD AND THE RAINBOW\n\n[Broadside.]\n\n\n|Strike up, you lusty gallants,\n\n     With music and sound of drum,\n\nFor we have descried a rover\n\n     Upon the sea is come.\n\nHis name is Captain Ward,\n\n     Right well it doth appear\n\nThere has not been such a rover\n\n     Found out this thousand year.\n\n\n\nFor he hath sent unto the king,\n\n     The sixth of January,\n\nDesiring that he might come in\n\n     With all his company:\n\n\"And if your king will let me come,\n\n     Till I my tale have told,\n\nI will bestow for my ransom\n\n     Full thirty ton of gold.\"\n\n\n\n\"O nay, O nay,\" then said our king,\n\n     \"O nay, this may not be,\n\nTo yield to such a rover,\n\n     Myself will not agree;\n\nHe hath deceived the Frenchman,.\n\n     Likewise the king of Spain,\n\nAnd how can he be true to me\n\n     That hath been false to twain?\"\n\n\n\nWith that our king provided\n\n     A ship of worthy fame,\n\nRainbow is she called,\n\n     If you would know her name.\n\nNow the gallant Rainbow,\n\n     She roves upon the sea,\n\nFive hundred gallant seamen\n\n     To bear her company.\n\n\n\nThe Dutchman, and the Spaniard,\n\n     She made them for to flee,\n\nAlso the bonny Frenchman,\n\n     As she met him on the sea.\n\nWhen as this gallant Rainbow\n\n     Did come where Ward did lie,\n\n\"Where is the captain of this ship?\"\n\n     This gallant Rainbow did cry.\n\n\n\n\"Oh, that am I,\" said Captain Ward,\n\n     \"There's no man bids me lie;\n\nAnd if thou art the king's fair ship,\n\n     Thou art welcome unto me.\"\n\n\"I tell thee what,\" says Rainbow,\n\n     \"Our king is in great grief,\n\nThat thou shouldst lie upon the sea,\n\n     And play the arrant thief.\n\n\n\n\"And will not let our merchant ships\n\n     Pass as they did before;\n\nSuch tidings to our king is come,\n\n     Which grieves his heart full sore.\"\n\n\n\nWith that this gallant Rainbow\n\n     She shot out of her pride,\n\nFull fifty gallant brass pieces,\n\n     Charged on every side.\n\n\n\nAnd yet these gallant shooters,\n\n     Prevailed not a pin;\n\nThough they were brass on the outside,\n\n     Brave Ward was steel within:\n\n\"Shoot on, shoot on/' says Captain Ward,\n\n     \"Your sport well pleaseth me,\n\nAnd he that first gives over\n\n     Shall yield unto the sea.\n\n\n\n\"I never wronged an English ship,\n\n     But Turk and king of Spain,\n\nAnd the jovial Dutchman,\n\n     As I met on the main.\n\nIf I had known your king\n\n     But one two years before,\n\nI would have saved brave Essex life,\n\n     Whose death did grieve me sore.\n\n\n\n\"Go tell the king of England,\n\n     Go tell him thus from me,\n\nIf he reign king of all the land,\n\n     I will reign king at sea.\"\n\nWith that the gallant Rainbow shot,\n\n     And shot, and shot in vain,\n\nAnd left the rover's company,\n\n     And returned home again.\n\n\n\n\"Our royal king of England,\n\n     Your ship's returned again,\n\nFor Ward's ship is so strong\n\n     It never will be ta'en.\"\n\n\"O Everlasting,\" said our king,\n\n     \"I have lost jewels three,\n\nWhich would have gone unto the wars,\n\n     And brought proud Ward to me.\"\n\n\n\nThe first was Lord Clifford,\n\n     Earl of Cumberland;\n\nThe second was Lord Mountjoy,\n\n     As you shall understand;\n\nThe third was brave Essex,\n\n     From field would never flee,\n\nWhich would agone unto the seas,\n\nAnd brought proud Ward to me.\n\n\n\n\nGREENLAND WHALE FISHERY\n\n\n|We can no longer stay on shore,\n\n     Since we are so deep in debt;\n\nSo a voyage to Greenland we will go,\n\n     Some money for to get--brave boys.\n\n\n\nNow when we lay at Liverpool,\n\n     Our good-like ship to man,\n\n'Twas there our names were all wrote down,\n\n     And were bound for Greenland--brave boys.\n\n\n\nIn eighteen hundred and twenty-four,\n\n     On March the twenty-third,\n\nWe hoisted our colours up to our mast-head,\n\n     And for Greenland bore away--brave boys.\n\n\n\nBut when we came to Greenland,\n\n     Our good-like ship to moor,\n\nO then we wish'd ourselves back again,\n\n     With our friends upon the shore--brave boys.\n\n\n\nThe boatswain went to the mast-head,\n\n     With his spy-glass in his hand,\n\n\"Here's a whale, a whale, a whale,\" he cried,\n\n     \"And she blows on every spring--brave boys.\"\n\n\n\nThe Captain on the quarter deck,\n\n     (A very good man was he),\n\n\"Overhaul, overhaul, your boat tackle-fall,\n\n     And launch your boats to sea--brave boys.\"\n\n\n\nThe boats being launch'd and the hands got in,\n\n     The whale fishes appeared in view,\n\nResolved was the whole boat's crew\n\n     To steer where the whale fish blew--brave boys.\n\n\n\nThe whale being struck and the line paid on,\n\n     She gave a flash with her tail,\n\nShe capsized the boat and lost five men,\n\n     Nor did we catch the whale--brave boys.\n\n\n\nBad news unto our Captain brought,\n\n     That we had lost the 'prentice boys;\n\nHe hearing of the dreadful news,\n\n     His colours down did haul--brave boys.\n\n\n\nThe losing of this whale, brave boys,\n\n     Did grieve his heart full sore,\n\nBut losing of his five brave men,\n\n     Did grieve him ten times more--brave boys.\n\n\n\n\"Come, weigh your anchor, my brave boys,\n\n     For the winter star I see;\n\nIt is time we should leave this cold country\n\n     And for England bear away--brave boys.\"\n\n\n\nFor Greenland is a barren place,\n\n     Neither light nor day to be seen,\n\nNought but ice and snow where the whale fish blew\n\nAnd the day-light's seldom seen--brave boys.\n\n\n\n\nGOLDEN VANITEE\n\n\n|Sir Walter Raleigh has built a ship\n\n     In the Netherlands;\n\nAnd it is called the Sweet Trinity,\n\nAnd was taken by the false Gallaly,\n\n     Sailing in the Lowlands.\n\n\n\nIs there never a seaman bold\n\n     In the Netherlands?\n\nThat will go take this false Gallaly,\n\nAnd to redeem the Sweet Trinity,\n\n     Sailing in the Lowlands.\n\n\n\nThen spoke the little ship-boy\n\n     In the Netherlands;\n\n\"Master, master, what will you give me?\n\nAnd I will take this false Gallaly,\n\nAnd release the Sweet Trinity\n\n     Sailing in the Lowlands.\"\n\n\n\n\"I'll give thee gold, and I'll give thee fee,\n\n     In the Netherlands;\n\nAnd my eldest daughter thy wife shall be,\n\n     Sailing in the Lowlands.\"\n\n\n\nHe set his breast and away he did swim,\n\n     In the Netherlands;\n\nUntil he came to the false Gallaly,\n\n     Sailing in the Lowlands.\n\n\n\nHe had an augur fit for the nonce\n\n     In the Netherlands;\n\nThe which will bore\n\nFifteen good holes at once,\n\n     Sailing in the Lowlands.\n\n\n\nSome were at cards, and some at dice,\n\n     In the Netherlands;\n\nUntil the salt water flashed in their eyes,\n\n     Sailing in the Lowlands.\n\n\n\nSome cut their hats, and some their caps,\n\n     In the Netherlands;\n\nFor to stop the salt-water gaps,\n\n     Sailing in the Lowlands.\n\n\n\nHe set his breast and away did swim,\n\n     In the Netherlands;\n\nUntil he came to his own ship again,\n\n     Sailing in the Lowlands.\n\n\n\n\"I have done the work I promised to do\n\n     In the Netherlands;\n\nFor I have sunk the false Gallaly,\n\nAnd released the Sweet Trinity,\n\n     Sailing in the Lowlands.\n\n\n\n\"You promis'd me gold, and you promis'd me fee,\n\n     In the Netherlands;\n\nYour eldest daughter my wife she must be,\n\n     Sailing in the Lowlands.\"\n\n\n\n(_nonce_, occasion.)\n\n\"You shall have gold, and you shall have fee,\n\n     In the Netherlands;\n\nBut my eldest daughter your wife shall never be,\n\n     Sailing in the Lowlands.\"\n\n\n\n\"Then fare you well, you cozening Lord,\n\n     In the Netherlands;\n\nSeeing you are not as good as your word,\n\n     For sailing in the Lowlands.\"\n\n\n\nAnd thus shall I conclude my song\n\n     Of the sailing in the Lowlands;\n\nWishing happiness to all seamen, old and young,\n\n     In their sailing in the Lowlands.\n\n\n\n\nTHE YORKSHIRE HORSE-DEALER\n\n\n|Near to Clapham town-gate lived an old Yorkshire tike,\n\nWho in dealing in horseflesh had ne'er met his like;\n\n'Twas his pride that in all the hard bargains he'd hit,\n\nHe'd bit a great many, but never been bit.\n\n\n\n(_town-gate_, high road.)\n\nThis old Tommy Tavers (by that name he was known),\n\nHad an old carrion bit that was sheer skin and bone;\n\nTo have killed him for the curs would have been quite as well,\n\nBut 'twas Tommy's opinion he'd die of himsel.\n\n\n\nWell! one Abey Muggins, a neighbouring cheat,\n\nThought to diddle old Tommy would be a great treat;\n\nHe'd a horse, too, 'twas worse than old Tommy's, you see,\n\nFortnight afore that he'd thought proper to dee!\n\n\n\nThinks Abey, th' old codger'll never smoke t' trick,\n\nI'll swop with him my poor dead horse for his quick,\n\nAnd if Tommy I nobbut can happen to trap,\n\n'Twill be a fine feather in Aberram cap.\n\n\n\nSo to Tommy he goes and to Tommy he pops:\n\n\"Between my horse and thine, prithee, Tommy, what swops?\n\nWhat will give me to boot? for mines t' better horse still!\"\n\n\"Nought,\" says Tommy, \"I'll swop even hands, an ye will.\"\n\n\n\n(_nobbut,_ only.)\n\nAbbey preached a long time about something to boot,\n\nInsisting that his was the liveliest brute;\n\nBut Tommy stuck fast where he first had begun,\n\nTill Abey shook hands, and said, \"Well Tommy, done.\"\n\n\n\n\"O! Tommy,\" said Abey, \"I'se sorry for thee,\n\nI thought thou'd a hadden more white in thy ee;\n\nGood luck's in thy bargain, for my horse is\n\ndead\"--\n\n\"Hey,\" says Tommy, \"my lad, so is mine, an it's flayed.\"\n\n\n\nSo Tommy got t' better of t' bargain, a vast,\n\nAnd came off with a Yorkshireman's triumph at last;\n\nFor though 'twixt dead horses there's not much to choose\n\nYet Tommy was richer by the hide and four shoes.\n\n\n\n[Illustration: 0311]\n\n\n\n\nWIDDICOMBE FAIR\n\n\n|Tom Pearse, Tom Pearse, lend me your grey\n\nmare,\n\n     All along, down along, out along, lee;\n\nFor I want for to go to Widdicombe fair,\n\n     Wi' Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney,\n\n          Peter Davy, Dan'l Whiddon,\n\nHarry Hawk, Old Uncle Tom Cobbleigh and all,\"\n\n     Old Uncle Tom Cobbleigh and all.\n\n\n\n\"And when shall I see again my grey mare?\"\n\n     All along, &c.\n\n\"By Friday soon, or Saturday noon,\"\n\n     Wi' Bill Brewer, &c.\n\n\n\nThen Friday came, and Saturday noon,\n\n     All along, &c.\n\nBut Tom Pearses old mare hath not trotted\n\nhome,\n\n     Wi' Bill Brewer, &c.\n\n\n\nSo Tom Pearse he got up to the top o' the hill,\n\n     All along, &c.\n\nAnd he see'd his old mare down a-making her will\n\n     Wi' Bill Brewer, &c.\n\n\n\nSo Tom Pearse's old mare, her took sick and died,\n\n     All along, &c.\n\nAnd Tom he sat down on a stone, and he cried\n\n     Wi' Bill Brewer, &c.\n\n\n\nAnd now that Tom Pearse's old grey mare is dead\n\n     All along, &c.\n\nThey all did agree that she should be buried\n\n     Wi' Bill Brewer, &c.\n\n\n\nBut this isn't the end o' this shocking affair,\n\n     All along, &c.\n\nNor, though they be dead, of the horrid career\n\n     Of Bill Brewer, &c.\n\n\n\nWhen the wind whistles cold on the moor of a night,\n\n     All along, &c.\n\nTom Pearse's old mare doth appear, gashly white,\n\n     Wi' Bill Brewer, &c.\n\n\n\nAnd all the long night be heard skirling and groans,\n\n     All along, down along, out along, lee;\n\nFrom Tom Pearse's old mare in her rattling bones,\n\n     And from Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter\n\n          Gurney, Peter Davy, Dan'l Whiddon,\n\nHarry Hawk, Old Uncle Tom Cobbleigh and all,\n\n     Old Uncle Tom Cobbleigh and all.\n\n\n\n\nLAZARUS\n\n\n|As it fell out upon one day,\n\n     Rich Diverus he made a feast;\n\nAnd he invited all his friends,\n\n     And gentry of the best.\n\nAnd it fell out upon one day,\n\n     Poor Lazarus he was so poor,\n\nHe came and laid him down and down,\n\n     Ev'n down at Diverus' door.\n\n\n\nSo Lazarus laid him down and down,\n\n     Ev'n down at Diverus' door;\n\n\"Some meat, some drink, brother Diverus,\n\n     Do bestow upon the poor.''\n\n\"Thou art none of mine, brother Lazarus,\n\n     Lying begging at my door,\n\nNo meat, no drink will I give thee,\n\n     Nor bestow upon the poor.''\n\n\n\nThen Lazarus laid him down and down,\n\n     Ev'n down at Diverus' wall;\n\n\"Some meat, some drink, brother Diverus,\n\n     Or surely starve I shall.''\n\n\"Thou art none of mine, brother Lazarus,\n\n     Lying begging at my wall;\n\nNo meat, no drink will I give thee,\n\n     And therefore starve thou shall.''\n\n\n\nThen Lazarus laid him down and down,\n\n     Ev'n down at Diverus' gate;\n\n\"Some meat, some drink, brother Diverus,\n\n     For Jesus Christ his sake.\"\n\n\"Thou art none of mine, brother Lazarus,\n\n     Lying begging at my gate,\n\nNo meat, no drink will I give thee,\n\n     For Jesus Christ his sake.\"\n\n\n\nThen Diverus sent his merry men all,\n\n     To whip poor Lazarus away;\n\nThey had not power to whip one whip,\n\n     But threw their whips away.\n\nThen Diverus sent out his hungry dogs,\n\n     To bite poor Lazarus away;\n\nThey had not power to bite one bite,\n\n     But licked his sores away.\n\n\n\nAnd it fell out upon one day,\n\n     Poor Lazarus he sickened and died;\n\nThere came two angels out of heaven,\n\n     His soul thereto to guide.\n\n\"Rise up, rise up, brother Lazarus,\n\n     And come along with me,\n\nThere is a place prepared in heaven,\n\n     For to sit upon an angel's knee.\"\n\n\n\nAnd it fell out upon one day,\n\n     Rich Diverus sickened and died;\n\nThere came two serpents out of hell\n\n     His soul thereto to guide.\n\n\n\n\"Rise up, rise up, brother Diverus,\n\n     And come along with me;\n\nThere is a place prepared in hell,\n\n     For to sit upon a serpent's knee.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE GAY LADY THAT WENT TO CHURCH\n\n\n|There was a lady all skin and bone;\n\nSure such a lady was never known:\n\nIt happen'd upon a certain day,\n\nThis lady went to church to pray.\n\n\n\nWhen she came to the church stile,\n\nThere she did rest a little while;\n\nWhen she came to the church yard,\n\nThere the bells so loud she heard.\n\n\n\nWhen she came to the church door,\n\nShe stopt to rest a little more;\n\nWhen she came the church within,\n\nThe parson pray'd gainst pride and sin.\n\n\n\nOn looking up, on looking down,\n\nShe saw a dead man on the ground;\n\nAnd from his nose unto his chin,\n\nThe worms crawl'd out, the worms crawl'd in.\n\n\n\nThen she unto the parson said,\n\n\"Shall I be so when I am dead?\"\n\n\"O yes! O yes,\" the parson said,\n\n\"You will be so when you are dead.\"\n\n\n\n_Here the lady screams_.\n\n[Illustration: 0317]","title":"Popular British Ballads, Ancient and Modern, Vol. 2 (of 4)","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":39358}