{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_63116/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_63116","id":"gutenberg_63116","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/63116","summary":null,"tags":["Ballads, English -- England -- Texts","Ballads, Scots -- Scotland -- Texts","Category: British Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore"],"text":"THE\n ENGLISH AND SCOTTISH\n POPULAR BALLADS\n\n\n EDITED BY\n FRANCIS JAMES CHILD\n\n\n IN FIVE VOLUMES\n VOLUME IV\n\n\n NEW YORK\n DOVER PUBLICATIONS, INC.\n\n\n\n\nThis Dover edition, first published in 1965, is an unabridged and\nunaltered republication of the work originally published by Houghton,\nMifflin and Company, as follows:\n\n Vol. I\u2014Part I, 1882; Part II, 1884\n Vol. II\u2014Part III, 1885; Part IV, 1886\n Vol. III\u2014Part V, 1888; Part VI, 1889\n Vol. IV\u2014Part VII, 1890; Part VIII, 1892\n Vol. V\u2014Part IX, 1894; Part X, 1898.\n\nThis edition also contains as an appendix to Part X an essay by Walter\nMorris Hart entitled \u201cProfessor Child and the Ballad,\u201d reprinted _in\ntoto_ from Vol. XXI, No. 4, 1906 [New Series Vol. XIV, No. 4] of the\n_Publications of the Modern Language Association of America_.\n\n\n _Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 65\u201324347_\n\n Manufactured in the United States of America\n\n Dover Publications, Inc.\n 180 Varick Street\n New York, N.Y. 10014\n\n\n\n\n ADVERTISEMENT TO PART VII\n\n NUMBERS 189\u2013225\n\n\nI would acknowledge with particular gratitude the liberality of the HON.\nMRS MAXWELL-SCOTT in allowing the examination and use of the rich store\nof ballads accumulated at Abbotsford by her immortal ancestor; and also\nthat of LORD ROSEBERY in sending to Edinburgh for inspection the\ncollection of rare Scottish broadsides formed by the late David Laing,\nand permitting me to print several articles.\n\nThe REV. S. BARING-GOULD has done me the great favor of furnishing me\nwith copies of traditional ballads and songs taken down by him in the\nWest of England.\n\nI am much indebted to the REV. W. FORBES-LEITH for his good offices, and\nto MR MACMATH, as I have been all along, for help of every description.\n\n F. J. C.\n\n OCTOBER, 1890.\n\n\n\n\n ADVERTISEMENT TO PART VIII\n\n NUMBERS 226\u2013265\n\n\nA considerable portion of this eighth number is devoted to texts from\nAbbotsford. Many of these were used by Sir WALTER SCOTT in the\ncompilation of the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border; many, again, not\nless important than the others, did not find a place in that collection.\nThey are now printed either absolutely for the first time, or for the\nfirst time without variation from the form in which they were written.\nAll of them, and others which were obtained in season for the Seventh\nPart, were transcribed with the most conscientious and vigilant care by\nMr MACMATH, who has also identified the handwriting, has searched the\nnumerous volumes of letters addressed to Sir WALTER SCOTT for\ninformation relating to the contributors and for dates, and has examined\nthe humbler editions of printed ballads in the Abbotsford library; this\nwithout remitting other help.\n\nVery cordial thanks are offered, for texts or information, or for both,\nto the Rev. S. BARING-GOULD, the Rev. W. FORBES-LEITH, Mr ANDREW LANG,\nDr GEORGE BIRKBECK HILL, Mr P. Z. ROUND, Dr F. J. FURNIVALL, Mr JAMES\nBARCLAY MURDOCH, Dr GIUSEPPE PITR\u00c8, of Palermo, Mr WILLIAM WALKER, of\nAberdeen, Mr DAVID MACRITCHIE, of Edinburgh, Mr JAMES GIBB, of Joppa, Mr\nJAMES RAINE, of York, Rev. WILLIAM LESLIE CHRISTIE, of London, Mrs MARY\nTHOMSON, of Fochabers, and Mr GEORGE M. RICHARDSON, late of Harvard\nCollege; for notes on Slavic popular literature, to Mr JOHN KAR\u0141OWICZ,\nof Warsaw, and Professor WILHELM WOLLNER; and for miscellaneous notes,\nto my colleague, Professor G. L. KITTREDGE.\n\nSo far as can be foreseen, one part more will bring this book to a\nclose; it is therefore timely to say again that I shall be glad of any\nkind of assistance that will make it less imperfect, whether in the way\nof supplying omissions or of correcting errors, great or small.\n\n F. J. C.\n\n FEBRUARY, 1892.\n\n\n\n\n CONTENTS OF VOLUME IV\n\n\n BALLAD PAGE\n 189. HOBIE NOBLE 1\n\n 190. JAMIE TELFER OF THE FAIR DODHEAD 4\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 518; V, 249, 300.)\n\n 191. HUGHIE GRAME 8\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 518; V, 300.)\n\n 192. THE LOCHMABEN HARPER 16\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 300.)\n\n 193. THE DEATH OF PARCY REED 24\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 520.)\n\n 194. THE LAIRD OF WARISTON 28\n\n 195. LORD MAXWELL\u2019S LAST GOODNIGHT 34\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 251.)\n\n 196. THE FIRE OF FRENDRAUGHT 39\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 521; V, 251, 301.)\n\n 197. JAMES GRANT 49\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 251.)\n\n 198. BONNY JOHN SETON 51\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 251.)\n\n 199. THE BONNIE HOUSE O AIRLIE 54\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 252.)\n\n 200. THE GYPSY LADDIE 61\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 522; V, 252, 301.)\n\n 201. BESSY BELL AND MARY GRAY 75\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 522; V, 253.)\n\n 202. THE BATTLE OF PHILIPHAUGH 77\n\n 203. THE BARON OF BRACKLEY 79\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 522; V, 253.)\n\n 204. JAMIE DOUGLAS 90\n\n 205. LOUDON HILL, OR, DRUMCLOG 105\n\n 206. BOTHWELL BRIDGE 108\n\n 207. LORD DELAMERE 110\n\n 208. LORD DERWENTWATER 115\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 522; V, 254.)\n\n 209. GEORDIE 123\n\n 210. BONNIE JAMES CAMPBELL 142\n\n 211. BEWICK AND GRAHAM 144\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 522.)\n\n 212. THE DUKE OF ATHOLE\u2019S NURSE 150\n\n 213. SIR JAMES THE ROSE 155\n\n 214. THE BRAES O YARROW 160\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 522; V, 255.)\n\n 215. RARE WILLIE DROWNED IN YARROW, OR, THE WATER O GAMRIE 178\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 256.)\n\n 216. THE MOTHER\u2019S MALISON, OR, CLYDE\u2019S WATER 185\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 256, 301.)\n\n 217. THE BROOM OF COWDENKNOWS 191\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 523; V, 257.)\n\n 218. THE FALSE LOVER WON BACK 209\n\n 219. THE GARDENER 212\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 258.)\n\n 220. THE BONNY LASS OF ANGLESEY 214\n\n 221. KATHARINE JAFFRAY 216\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 523; V, 260.)\n\n 222. BONNY BABY LIVINGSTON 231\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 523; V, 261.)\n\n 223. EPPIE MORRIE 239\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 262.)\n\n 224. THE LADY OF ARNGOSK 241\n\n 225. ROB ROY 243\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 523; V, 262.)\n\n 226. LIZIE LINDSAY 255\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 524; V, 264.)\n\n 227. BONNY LIZIE BAILLIE 266\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 265.)\n\n 228. GLASGOW PEGGIE 270\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 266.)\n\n 229. EARL CRAWFORD 276\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 301.)\n\n 230. THE SLAUGHTER OF THE LAIRD OF MELLERSTAIN 281\n\n 231. THE EARL OF ERROL 282\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 267.)\n\n 232. RICHIE STORY 291\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 270.)\n\n 233. ANDREW LAMMIE 300\n\n 234. CHARLIE MACPHERSON 308\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 301.)\n\n 235. THE EARL OF ABOYNE 311\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 270, 301.)\n\n 236. THE LAIRD O DRUM 322\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 272.)\n\n 237. THE DUKE OF GORDON\u2019S DAUGHTER 332\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 273.)\n\n 238. GLENLOGIE, OR, JEAN O BETHELNIE 338\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 273, 302.)\n\n 239. LORD SALTOUN AND AUCHANACHIE 347\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 273.)\n\n 240. THE RANTIN LADDIE 351\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 274.)\n\n 241. THE BARON O LEYS 355\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 275.)\n\n 242. THE COBLE O CARGILL 358\n\n 243. JAMES HARRIS (THE D\u00c6MON LOVER) 360\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 524.)\n\n 244. JAMES HATLEY 370\n\n 245. YOUNG ALLAN 375\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 275.)\n\n 246. REDESDALE AND WISE WILLIAM 383\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 276.)\n\n 247. LADY ELSPAT 387\n\n 248. THE GREY COCK, OR, SAW YOU MY FATHER? 389\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 302.)\n\n 249. AULD MATRONS 391\n\n 250. HENRY MARTYN 393\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 302.)\n\n 251. LANG JOHNNY MORE 396\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 524.)\n\n 252. THE KITCHIE-BOY 400\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 277.)\n\n 253. THOMAS O YONDERDALE 409\n\n 254. LORD WILLIAM, OR, LORD LUNDY 411\n\n 255. WILLIE\u2019S FATAL VISIT 415\n\n 256. ALISON AND WILLIE 416\n\n 257. BURD ISABEL AND EARL PATRICK 417\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 278.)\n\n 258. BROUGHTY WA\u2019S 423\n\n 259. LORD THOMAS STUART 425\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 279.)\n\n 260. LORD THOMAS AND LADY MARGARET 426\n\n 261. LADY ISABEL 429\n\n 262. LORD LIVINGSTON 431\n\n 263. THE NEW-SLAIN KNIGHT 434\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 279.)\n\n 264. THE WHITE FISHER 435\n\n 265. THE KNIGHT\u2019S GHOST 437\n\n ADDITIONS AND CORRECTIONS 439\n\n\n\n\n 189\n\n HOBIE NOBLE\n\n #a.# Caw\u2019s Poetical Museum, p. 193.\n\n #b.# \u2018Hobie Noble,\u2019 Percy Papers.\n\n\nScott\u2019s Minstrelsy, I, 164, 1802, II, 90, 1833. The source is not\nmentioned, but was undoubtedly Caw\u2019s Museum, though there are variations\nof text, attributable to the editor. A copy in the Campbell MSS, I, 230,\nis again from the Museum, with several corrections, two of which are\nalso found in Scott. Caw received the ballad, says Sir Walter, from John\nElliot of Reidheugh. #b# seems to have been sent Percy (with \u2018Dick o the\nCow\u2019) by Roger Halt, in 1775.\n\nHobie Noble, though banished from Bewcastle for his irregularities, will\nalways command the hearty liking of those who live too late to suffer\nfrom them, on account of his gallant bearing in the rescue of Jock o the\nSide. See especially No 187, #A#, of which Hobie is the hero. All that\nwe know of him is so much as we are told in that ballad and in this. He\nattached himself, after his expulsion from England, to the laird of\nMangerton, who gives him the praise \u2018Thy coat is blue, thou has been\ntrue.\u2019\n\nSim o the Mains, an Armstrong of the Whithaugh branch (the most\nimportant after that of Mangerton), undertakes to betray Hobie to the\nEnglish land-sergeant. A tryst is set at Kershope-foot, the junction of\nthat stream with the Liddel; and Hobie, who lives a little way up the\nLiddel, rides eagerly down the water to keep it. He meets five men, who\nask him to join them in a raid into England. Hobie dares not go by day;\nthe land-sergeant is at feud with him on account of a brother\u2019s death,\nin which Hobie must have had a hand, and \u2018the great earl of Whitfield\u2019\nhas suffered from his depredations;[1] but he will be their guide if\nthey will wait till night. He takes them to the Foulbogshiel, where they\nalight, and word is sent by Sim to the land-sergeant at Askerton, his\nadversary\u2019s residence; the land-sergeant orders the men of the\nneighborhood to meet him at daybreak. Hobie has a bad dream, wakes his\ncomrades in alarm, and sets out to guide them across the Waste; but the\nsergeant\u2019s force come before him, and Sim behind; his sword breaks; he\nis bound with his own bow-string and taken to Carlisle. As he goes up\nthe quarter called the Rickergate, the wives say one to the other,\nThat\u2019s the man that loosed Jock o the Side! They offer him bread and\nbeer, and urge him to confess stealing \u201cmy lord\u2019s\u201d horses; he swears a\ngreat oath that he never had beast of my lord\u2019s. He is to die the next\nday, and says his farewell to Mangerton; he would rather be called\n\u2018Hobie Noble\u2019 and be hanged in Carlisle, than be called \u2018Traitor Mains\u2019\nand eat and drink.\n\nMr R. B. Armstrong informs me that he has found no notice of Hobie Noble\nexcept that Hobbe Noble, with eight others, \u201clived within the Nyxons,\nnear to Bewcastle.\u201d\n\n1569. \u201cLancy Armistrang of Quhithauch obliged him ... for Sym Armistrang\nof the Mains and the rest of the Armistrangis of his gang. Syme of the\nMains was lodged in Wester Wemys.\u201d (Register of the Privy Council of\nScotland.)\n\n4. The Mains was a place a very little to the east of Castleton, on the\nopposite, or north, side of the Liddel. 13\u201317. Askerton is in the Waste\nof Bewcastle, \u201cabout seventeen miles\u201d northeast of Carlisle. \u201cWilleva\nand Spear-Edom [otherwise Spade-Adam] are small districts in Bewcastle\ndale, through which also the Hartlie-burn takes its course.\nConscowthart-Green and Rodric-haugh and the Foulbogshiel are the names\nof places in the same wilds, through which the Scottish plunderers\ngenerally made their raids upon England.\u201d (Scott.)\n\nSim o the Mains fled into England from the resentment of his chief, but\nwas himself executed at Carlisle about two months after Hobie\u2019s death.\n\u201cSuch is at least the tradition of Liddesdale,\u201d says Scott. This is of\ncourse, notwithstanding the precision of the interval of two months,\nwhat Lord Bacon calls \u201can imagination as one would\u201d; an appendage of a\nlater generation, in the interest of poetical justice.\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1\n Foul fa the breast first treason bred in!\n That Liddisdale may safely say,\n For in it there was baith meat and drink,\n And corn unto our geldings gay.\n Fala la diddle, etc.\n\n 2\n We were stout-hearted men and true,\n As England it did often say;\n But now we may turn our backs and fly,\n Since brave Noble is seld away.\n\n 3\n Now Hobie he was an English man,\n And born into Bewcastle dale,\n But his misdeeds they were sae great,\n They banishd him to Liddisdale.\n\n 4\n At Kershope-foot the tryst was set,\n Kershope of the lily lee;\n And there was traitour Sim o the Mains,\n With him a private companie.\n\n 5\n Then Hobie has graithd his body weel,\n I wat it was wi baith good iron and steel;\n And he has pulld out his fringed grey,\n And there, brave Noble, he rade him weel.\n\n 6\n Then Hobie is down the water gane,\n Een as fast as he may drie;\n Tho they shoud a\u2019 brusten and broken their hearts,\n Frae that tryst Noble he would not be.\n\n 7\n \u2018Weel may ye be, my feiries five!\n And aye, what is your wills wi me?\u2019\n Then they cryd a\u2019 wi ae consent,\n Thou\u2019rt welcome here, brave Noble, to me.\n\n 8\n Wilt thou with us in England ride?\n And thy safe-warrand we will be,\n If we get a horse worth a hundred punds,\n Upon his back that thou shalt be.\n\n 9\n \u2018I dare not with you into England ride,\n The land-sergeant has me at feid;\n I know not what evil may betide\n For Peter of Whitfield his brother\u2019s dead.\n\n 10\n \u2018And Anton Shiel, he loves not me,\n For I gat twa drifts of his sheep;\n The great Earl of Whitfield loves me not,\n For nae gear frae me he eer coud keep.\n\n 11\n \u2018But will ye stay till the day gae down,\n Until the night come oer the grund,\n And I\u2019ll be a guide worth ony twa\n That may in Liddisdale be fund.\n\n 12\n \u2018Tho dark the night as pick and tar,\n I\u2019ll guide ye oer yon hills fu hie,\n And bring ye a\u2019 in safety back,\n If you\u2019ll be true and follow me.\u2019\n\n 13\n He\u2019s guided them oer moss and muir,\n Oer hill and houp, and mony ae down,\n Til they came to the Foulbogshiel,\n And there brave Noble he lighted down.\n\n 14\n Then word is gane to the land-sergeant,\n In Askirton where that he lay:\n \u2018The deer that ye hae hunted lang\n Is seen into the Waste this day.\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018Then Hobie Noble is that deer;\n I wat he carries the style fu hie!\n Aft has he beat your slough-hounds back,\n And set yourselves at little ee.\n\n 16\n \u2018Gar warn the bows of Hartlie-burn,\n See they shaft their arrows on the wa!\n Warn Willeva and Spear Edom,\n And see the morn they meet me a\u2019.\n\n 17\n \u2018Gar meet me on the Rodrie-haugh,\n And see it be by break o day;\n And we will on to Conscowthart Green,\n For there, I think, w\u2019ll get our prey.\u2019\n\n 18\n Then Hobie Noble has dreamd a dream,\n In the Foulbogshiel where that he lay;\n He thought his horse was neath him shot,\n And he himself got hard away.\n\n 19\n The cocks could crow, and the day could dawn,\n And I wat so even down fell the rain;\n If Hobie had no wakend at that time,\n In the Foulbogshiel he had been tane or slain.\n\n 20\n \u2018Get up, get up, my feiries five\u2014\n For I wat here makes a fu ill day\u2014\n And the warst clock of this companie\n I hope shall cross the Waste this day.\u2019\n\n 21\n Now Hobie thought the gates were clear,\n But, ever alas! it was not sae;\n They were beset wi cruel men and keen,\n That away brave Noble could not gae.\n\n 22\n \u2018Yet follow me, my feiries five,\n And see of me ye keep good ray,\n And the worst clock of this companie\n I hope shall cross the Waste this day.\u2019\n\n 23\n There was heaps of men now Hobie before,\n And other heaps was him behind,\n That had he been as wight as Wallace was\n Away brave Noble he could not win.\n\n 24\n Then Hobie he had but a laddies sword,\n But he did more than a laddies deed;\n In the midst of Conscouthart Green,\n He brake it oer Jers a Wigham\u2019s head.\n\n 25\n Now they have tane brave Hobie Noble,\n Wi his ain bowstring they band him sae;\n And I wat his heart was neer sae sair\n As when his ain five band him on the brae.\n\n 26\n They have tane him [on] for West Carlisle;\n They askd him if he knew the way;\n Whateer he thought, yet little he said;\n He knew the way as well as they.\n\n 27\n They hae tane him up the Ricker-gate;\n The wives they cast their windows wide,\n And ilka wife to anither can say,\n That\u2019s the man loosd Jock o the Side!\n\n 28\n \u2018Fy on ye, women! why ca ye me man?\n For it\u2019s nae man that I\u2019m usd like;\n I\u2019m but like a forfoughen hound,\n Has been fighting in a dirty syke.\u2019\n\n 29\n Then they hae tane him up thro Carlisle town,\n And set him by the chimney-fire;\n They gave brave Noble a wheat loaf to eat,\n And that was little his desire.\n\n 30\n Then they gave him a wheat loaf to eat\n And after that a can o beer;\n Then they cried a\u2019, wi ae consent,\n Eat, brave Noble, and make good cheer!\n\n 31\n Confess my lord\u2019s horse, Hobie, they say,\n And the morn in Carlisle thou\u2019s no die;\n \u2018How shall I confess them?\u2019 Hobie says,\n \u2018For I never saw them with mine eye.\u2019\n\n 32\n Then Hobie has sworn a fu great aith,\n By the day that he was gotten or born,\n He never had onything o my lord\u2019s\n That either eat him grass or corn.\n\n 33\n \u2018Now fare thee weel, sweet Mangerton!\n For I think again I\u2019ll neer thee see;\n I wad betray nae lad alive,\n For a\u2019 the goud in Christentie.\n\n 34\n \u2018And fare thee well now, Liddisdale,\n Baith the hie land and the law!\n Keep ye weel frae traitor Mains!\n For goud and gear he\u2019ll sell ye a\u2019.\n\n 35\n \u2018I\u2019d rather be ca\u2019d Hobie Noble,\n In Carlisle, where he suffers for his faut,\n Before I were ca\u2019d traitor Mains,\n That eats and drinks of meal and maut.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n#a.#\n\n 9^4. brother is dead: _cf._ #b.# (Dead _is_ death.)\n\n 10^2. For twa drifts of his sheep I gat: _corrected in Scott and\n in the Campbell MS._\n\n 15^4. lee, #b# lye: _corrected to_ fee _in Campbell MS._\n (ee==awe.)\n\n 16^2. shaft _is corrected to_ sharp _in Scott and the Campbell\n MS._\n\n 24^4. Jersawigham\u2019s: _cf._ #b#.\n\n #b.# _There is a burden after the first, second, and fourth line,\n variously given; as,_ Fa (La, Ta) la didle, Ta la la didle,\n _etc., after the first and second;_ Fala didle, lal didle, Tal\n didle, tal diddle, _after the fourth_.\n\n 2^{1,2} _wanting._\n\n 2^{3,4}. _1^{5,6} in the MS._\n\n 2^3. flee.\n\n 2^4. he is.\n\n 3^1. Then _for_ Now.\n\n 5^2. both with.\n\n 5^3. out a.\n\n 6^3. If they should all have bursen.\n\n 6^4. From.\n\n 7^4. here _wanting_.\n\n 8^1. Will.\n\n 8^2. we shall.\n\n 8^3. pound.\n\n 8^4. shall.\n\n 9^1. in.\n\n 9^4. brother\u2019s dead (_death_).\n\n 10^2. For twa drifts of his sheep I gott.\n\n 10^3. not me.\n\n 10^4. me that he can keep.\n\n 11^3. worth other three.\n\n 11^4 _wanting._\n\n 12^{1,2} _written as 11^4_: The pick and tar was never so dark but\n I\u2019le guide you over yon hillies high.\n\n 12^{3,4} _wanting._\n\n 15^1. he was that.\n\n 15^3. slooth.\n\n 15^4. little lye.\n\n 16^2. shaft.\n\n 16^3. Gar warn.\n\n 17^1. me the morn.\n\n 17^2. see that it be by the.\n\n 17^3. Corscowthart.\n\n 17^4. ow?\n\n 18^3. beneath.\n\n 19^1. cra: da.\n\n 19^3. not.\n\n 19^4. either tane.\n\n 21^1. But H.: gates they had been.\n\n 21^3. set.\n\n 21^4. Noble he.\n\n 23^1. lumps _for_ heaps (heaps _in 23^2_).\n\n 24^3. Corscothart.\n\n 24^4. Jers a wighams.\n\n 25^1. They have tane now H. N.\n\n 25^2. bow-strings.\n\n 25^3. his heart was never so wae.\n\n 26^1. on for.\n\n 27^2. cuist.\n\n 27^3. Then every.\n\n 27^4. John of.\n\n 28^3. for fouchald.\n\n 29^3. brave _wanting_: for to.\n\n 30^1. _wanting._\n\n 32^3. had nothing.\n\n 33^1. now _for_ sweet.\n\n 33^4. Crisenty.\n\n 34^3. And keep.\n\n 35^1. cald now.\n\n 35^4. That eat and drank him a of.\n\n\n\n\n 190\n\n JAMIE TELFER OF THE FAIR DODHEAD\n\n Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, I, 80, 1802; II, 3, 1833.\n\n\nScott, by whom this ballad was first published, and to whom alone it\nseems to be known, gives us no information how he came by it. He says,\n\u201cThere is another ballad, under the same title as the following, in\nwhich nearly the same incidents are narrated, with little difference\nexcept that the honor of rescuing the cattle is attributed to the\nLiddesdale Elliots, headed by a chief, there called Martin Elliot of the\nPreakin Tower, whose son, Simon, is said to have fallen in the action.\nIt is very possible that both the Teviotdale Scotts and the Elliots were\nengaged in the affair, and that each claimed the honor of the victory.\u201d\nEd. 1833, II. 3.\n\nScott has suggested that an article in the list of attempts upon\nEngland, fouled by the commissioners at Berwick in the year 1587, may\nrelate to the subject of the ballad.\n\n October, 1582.[2]\n\n Thomas Musgrave, de- { Walter Scott, Laird } 200 kine and\n puty of Bewcastle, { of Buckluth, and his } oxen, 300 gait\n and the tenants, against { complices; for } and sheep.\n\nBewcastle, of which Thomas Musgrave at the above date was deputy and\ncaptain, was, says Percy, a great rendezvous of thieves and\nmoss-troopers down to the last century. \u201cIt is handed down by report,\u201d\nhe remarks, \u201cthat@ there was formerly an Order of Council that no\ninhabitant of Bewcastle should be returned on a jury.\u201d That the deputy\nof the warden, an officer of the peace, should be exhibited as making a\nraid, not in the way of retaliation, but simply for plunder, is too much\nout of rule even for Bewcastle, and does not speak favorably for the\nantiquity of the ballad.\n\nTaking the story as it stands, the Captain of Bewcastle, who is looking\nfor a prey, is taken by a guide to the Fair Dodhead, which he pillages\nof kye and everything valuable. Jamie Telfer, whose threat of revenge\nthe Captain treats with derision, runs ten miles afoot to the Elliots of\nStobs Hall, to whom he says he has paid mail, st. 11, and asks help. Gib\nElliot denies the mail, and tells him to go to the Scotts at Branksome\nwhere he has paid it. Telfer keeps on to Coultart Cleugh, and there\nmakes his case known to a brother-in-law, who gives him a mount \u201cto take\nthe fray\u201d to Catslockhill. There William\u2019s Wat, who had often eaten of\nthe Dodhead basket, gives him his company and that of two sons, and they\ntake the fray to Branksome. Buccleuch collects a body of men of his\nname, and sends them out under the command of Willie Scott, who\novertakes the marauders, and asks the Captain if he will let Telfer\u2019s\nkye go back. This he will not do for love or for fear. The Scotts set on\nthem; Willie is killed, but two and thirty of the raiders\u2019 saddles are\nemptied, and the Captain is badly wounded and made prisoner. Nor is that\nall, for the Scotts ride to the Captain\u2019s house and loose his cattle,\nand when they come to the Fair Dodhead, for ten milk kye Jamie Telfer\nhas three and thirty.\n\nWalter Scott of Harden and Walter Scott of Goldielands, and, according\nto Scott of Satchells, Scott of Commonside, st. 26, were engaged with\nBuccleuch in the rescue of Kinmont Willie. So was Will Elliot of\nGorrombye, st. 27^4.\n\nThe ballad was retouched for the Border Minstrelsy, nobody can say how\nmuch. The 36th stanza is in Hardyknute style. St. 12 is not only found\nelsewhere (cf. \u2018Young Beichan,\u2019 #E# 6), but could not be more\ninappropriately brought in than here; Scott, however, is not responsible\nfor that.\n\n\nScott makes the following notes on the localities:\n\n2. Hardhaughswire is the pass from Liddesdale to the head of Teviotdale.\nBorthwick water is a stream which falls into the Teviot three miles\nabove Hawick. 3. The Dodhead was in Selkirkshire, near Singlee, where\nthere are still the vestiges of an old tower. 7. Stobs Hall: upon\nSlitterick. 10. Branksome Ha, the ancient family-seat of the lairds of\nBuccleuch, near Hawick. 13. The Coultart Cleugh is nearly opposite to\nCarlinrig, on the road between Hawick and Mosspaul. 26. The estates\nmentioned in this verse belonged to families of the name of Scott\nresiding upon the waters of Borthwick and Teviot, near the castle of\ntheir chief. 27. The pursuers seem to have taken the road through the\nhills of Liddesdale in order to collect forces and intercept the\nforayers at the passage of the Liddel on their return to Bewcastle. 29.\nThe Frostylee is a brook which joins the Teviot near Mosspaul. 33, 38.\nThe Ritterford and Kershopeford are noted fords on the river Liddel. 36.\nThe Dinlay is a mountain in Liddesdale. 44. Stanegirthside: a house\nbelonging to the Foresters, situated on the English side of the Liddel.\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1\n It fell about the Martinmas tyde,\n Whan our Border steeds get corn and hay,\n The Captain of Bewcastle hath bound him to ryde,\n And he\u2019s ower to Tividale to drive a prey.\n\n 2\n The first ae guide that they met wi,\n It was high up in Hardhaughswire;\n The second guide that they met wi,\n It was laigh down in Borthwick water.\n\n 3\n \u2018What tidings, what tidings, my trusty guide?\u2019\n \u2018Nae tidings, nae tidings, I hae to thee;\n But gin ye\u2019ll gae to the Fair Dodhead,\n Mony a cow\u2019s cauf I\u2019ll let thee see.\u2019\n\n 4\n And when they cam to the Fair Dodhead,\n Right hastily they clam the peel;\n They loosed the kye out, ane and a\u2019,\n And ranshakled the house right weel.\n\n 5\n Now Jamie Telfer\u2019s heart was sair,\n The tear aye rowing in his ee;\n He pled wi the Captain to hae his gear,\n Or else revenged he wad be.\n\n 6\n The Captain turned him round and leugh;\n Said, Man, there\u2019s naething in thy house\n But ae auld sword without a sheath,\n That hardly now wad fell a mouse.\n\n 7\n The sun was na up, but the moon was down,\n It was the gryming of a new-fa\u2019n snaw;\n Jamie Telfer has run ten myles a-foot,\n Between the Dodhead and the Stobs\u2019s Ha.\n\n 8\n And when he cam to the fair tower-yate,\n He shouted loud, and cried weel hie,\n Till out bespak auld Gibby Elliot,\n \u2018Whae\u2019s this that brings the fray to me?\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018It\u2019s I, Jamie Telfer o the Fair Dodhead,\n And a harried man I think I be;\n There\u2019s naething left at the Fair Dodhead\n But a waefu wife and bairnies three.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018Gae seek your succour at Branksome Ha,\n For succour ye\u2019se get nane frae me;\n Gae seek your succour where ye paid blackmail,\n For, man, ye neer paid money to me.\u2019\n\n 11\n Jamie has turned him round about,\n I wat the tear blinded his ee:\n \u2018I\u2019ll neer pay mail to Elliot again,\n And the Fair Dodhead I\u2019ll never see.\n\n 12\n \u2018My hounds may a\u2019 rin masterless,\n My hawks may fly frae tree to tree,\n My lord may grip my vassal-lands,\n For there again maun I never be!\u2019\n\n 13\n He has turned him to the Tiviot-side,\n Een as fast as he could drie,\n Till he cam to the Coultart Cleugh,\n And there he shouted baith loud and hie.\n\n 14\n Then up bespak him auld Jock Grieve:\n \u2018Whae\u2019s this that brings the fray to me?\u2019\n \u2018It\u2019s I, Jamie Telfer o the Fair Dodhead,\n A harried man I trew I be.\n\n 15\n \u2018There\u2019s naething left in the Fair Dodhead\n But a greeting wife and bairnies three,\n And sax poor ca\u2019s stand in the sta,\n A\u2019 routing loud for their minnie.\u2019\n\n 16\n \u2018Alack a wae!\u2019 quo auld Jock Grieve,\n \u2018Alack, my heart is sair for thee!\n For I was married on the elder sister,\n And you on the youngest of a\u2019 the three.\u2019\n\n 17\n Then he has taen out a bonny black,\n Was right weel fed wi corn and hay,\n And he\u2019s set Jamie Telfer on his back,\n To the Catslockhill to tak the fray.\n\n 18\n And whan he cam to the Catslockhill,\n He shouted loud and cried weel hie,\n Till out and spak him William\u2019s Wat,\n \u2018O whae\u2019s this brings the fray to me?\u2019\n\n 19\n \u2018It\u2019s I, Jamie Telfer o the Fair Dodhead,\n A harried man I think I be;\n The Captain o Bewcastle has driven my gear;\n For God\u2019s sake, rise and succour me!\u2019\n\n 20\n \u2018Alas for wae!\u2019 quo William\u2019s Wat,\n \u2018Alack, for thee my heart is sair!\n I never cam bye the Fair Dodhead\n That ever I fand thy basket bare.\u2019\n\n 21\n He\u2019s set his twa sons on coal-black steeds,\n Himsel upon a freckled gray,\n And they are on wi Jamie Telfer,\n To Branksome Ha to tak the fray.\n\n 22\n And when they cam to Branksome Ha,\n They shouted a\u2019 baith loud and hie,\n Till up and spak him auld Buccleuch,\n Said, Whae\u2019s this brings the fray to me?\n\n 23\n \u2018It\u2019s I, Jamie Telfer o the Fair Dodhead,\n And a harried man I think I be;\n There\u2019s nought left in the Fair Dodhead\n But a greeting wife and bairnies three.\u2019\n\n 24\n \u2018Alack for wae!\u2019 quo the gude auld lord,\n \u2018And ever my heart is wae for thee!\n But fye, gar cry on Willie, my son,\n And see that he cum to me speedilie.\n\n 25\n \u2018Gar warn the water, braid and wide!\n Gar warn it sune and hastilie!\n They that winna ride for Telfer\u2019s kye,\n Let them never look in the face o me!\n\n 26\n \u2018Warn Wat o Harden and his sons,\n Wi them will Borthwick water ride;\n Warn Gaudilands, and Allanhaugh,\n And Gilmanscleugh, and Commonside.\n\n 27\n \u2018Ride by the gate at Priesthaughswire,\n And warn the Currors o the Lee;\n As ye cum down the Hermitage Slack,\n Warn doughty Willie o Gorrinberry.\u2019\n\n 28\n The Scotts they rade, the Scotts they ran,\n Sae starkly and sae steadilie,\n And aye the ower-word o the thrang\n Was, Rise for Branksome readilie!\n\n 29\n The gear was driven the Frostylee up,\n Frae the Frostylee unto the plain,\n Whan Willie has lookd his men before,\n And saw the kye right fast driving.\n\n 30\n \u2018Whae drives thir kye,\u2019 can Willie say,\n \u2018To make an outspeckle o me?\u2019\n \u2018It\u2019s I, the Captain o Bewcastle, Willie;\n I winna layne my name for thee.\u2019\n\n 31\n \u2018O will ye let Telfer\u2019s kye gae back?\n Or will ye do aught for regard o me?\n Or, by the faith of my body,\u2019 quo Willie Scott,\n \u2018I\u2019se ware my dame\u2019s cauf\u2019s skin on thee.\u2019\n\n 32\n \u2018I winna let the kye gae back,\n Neither for thy love nor yet thy fear;\n But I will drive Jamie Telfer\u2019s kye\n In spite of every Scott that\u2019s here.\u2019\n\n 33\n \u2018Set on them, lads!\u2019 quo Willie than;\n \u2018Fye, lads, set on them cruellie!\n For ere they win to the Ritterford,\n Mony a toom saddle there sall be!\u2019\n\n 34\n Then till \u2018t they gaed, wi heart and hand;\n The blows fell thick as bickering hail;\n And mony a horse ran masterless,\n And mony a comely cheek was pale.\n\n 35\n But Willie was stricken ower the head,\n And through the knapscap the sword has gane;\n And Harden grat for very rage,\n Whan Willie on the grund lay slane.\n\n 36\n But he\u2019s taen aff his gude steel cap,\n And thrice he\u2019s waved it in the air;\n The Dinlay snaw was neer mair white\n Nor the lyart locks of Harden\u2019s hair.\n\n 37\n \u2018Revenge! revenge!\u2019 auld Wat can cry;\n \u2018Fye, lads, lay on them cruellie!\n We\u2019ll neer see Tiviot side again,\n Or Willie\u2019s death revenged sall be.\u2019\n\n 38\n O mony a horse ran masterless,\n The splintered lances flew on hie;\n But or they wan to the Kershope ford,\n The Scotts had gotten the victory.\n\n 39\n John o Brigham there was slane,\n And John o Barlow, as I hear say,\n And thirty mae o the Captain\u2019s men\n Lay bleeding on the grund that day.\n\n 40\n The Captain was run through the thick of the thigh,\n And broken was his right leg-bane;\n If he had lived this hundred years,\n He had never been loved by woman again.\n\n 41\n \u2018Hae back the kye!\u2019 the Captain said;\n \u2018Dear kye, I trow, to some they be;\n For gin I suld live a hundred years\n There will neer fair lady smile on me.\u2019\n\n 42\n Then word is gane to the Captain\u2019s bride,\n Even in the bower where that she lay,\n That her lord was prisoner in enemy\u2019s land,\n Since into Tividale he had led the way.\n\n 43\n \u2018I wad lourd have had a winding-sheet,\n And helped to put it ower his head,\n Ere he had been disgraced by the border Scot,\n Whan he ower Liddel his men did lead!\u2019\n\n 44\n There was a wild gallant amang us a\u2019,\n His name was Watty wi the Wudspurs,\n Cried, On for his house in Stanegirthside,\n If ony man will ride with us!\n\n 45\n When they cam to the Stanegirthside,\n They dang wi trees and burst the door;\n They loosed out a\u2019 the Captain\u2019s kye,\n And set them forth our lads before.\n\n 46\n There was an auld wyfe ayont the fire,\n A wee bit o the Captain\u2019s kin:\n \u2018Whae dar loose out the Captain\u2019s kye,\n Or answer to him and his men?\u2019\n\n 47\n \u2018It\u2019s I, Watty Wudspurs, loose the kye,\n I winna layne my name frae thee;\n And I will loose out the Captain\u2019s kye\n In scorn of a\u2019 his men and he.\u2019\n\n 48\n Whan they cam to the Fair Dodhead,\n They were a wellcum sight to see,\n For instead of his ain ten milk-kye,\n Jamie Telfer has gotten thirty and three.\n\n 49\n And he has paid the rescue-shot,\n Baith wi gowd and white monie,\n And at the burial o Willie Scott\n I wat was mony a weeping ee.\n\n * * * * *\n\n 28^1, 32^4, 38^4. Scots, Scot. _In the last edition_, Scotts,\n Scott.\n\n 29^4. drivand _in the later edition_.\n\n 31^4. cauf in _the later edition_.\n\n 37^1. gan _in the later edition_.\n\n 40. \u201cThe Editor has used some freedom with the original. The\n account of the Captain\u2019s disaster (teste l\u00e6va vulnerata) is\n rather too naive for literal publication.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n 191\n\n HUGHIE GRAME\n\n #A.# \u2018The Life and Death of Sir Hugh of the Grime.\u2019 #a.# Roxburghe\n Ballads, II, 294. #b.# Douce Ballads, II, 204 b. #c.# Rawlinson\n Ballads, 566, fol. 9. #d.# Pills to purge Melancholy, VI, 289, 17.\n #e.# Roxburghe Ballads, III, 344.\n\n #B.# \u2018Hughie Graham,\u2019 Johnson\u2019s Museum, No 303, p. 312; Cromek,\n Reliques of Robert Burns, 4th ed., 1817, p. 287; Cromek, Select\n Scottish Songs, 1810, II, 151.\n\n #C.# \u2018Hughie the Gr\u00e6me,\u2019 Scott\u2019s Minstrelsy, 1803, III, 85; 1833, III,\n 107.\n\n #D.# \u2018Sir Hugh in the Grime\u2019s Downfall,\u2019 Roxburghe Ballads, III, 456,\n edited by J. F. Ebsworth for The Ballad Society, VI, 598.\n\n #E.# \u2018Sir Hugh the Gr\u00e6me,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s MSS, I, 53; Dixon, Scottish\n Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads, p. 73, Percy Society, vol.\n xvii.\n\n #F.# Macmath MS., p. 79, two stanzas.\n\n #G.# \u2018Hughie Grame,\u2019 Harris MS., fol. 27 b, one stanza.\n\n\nThere is a copy of the broadside among the Pepys ballads, II, 148, No\n130, printed, like #a#, #b#, #c#, for P. Brooksby, with the variation,\n\u201cat the Golden Ball, near the Bear Tavern, in Pye Corner.\u201d The ballad\nwas given in Ritson\u2019s Ancient Songs, 1790, p. 192, from #A a#, collated\nwith another copy \u201cin the hands of John Baynes, Esq.\u201d In a note, p. 332,\nRitson says: \u201cIn the editor\u2019s collection is a somewhat different ballad\nupon the same subject, intitled \u2018Sir Hugh in the Grimes downfall, or a\nnew song made on Sir Hugh in the Grime, who was hangd for stealing the\nBishop\u2019s mare.\u2019 It begins, \u2018Good Lord John is a hunting gone.\u2019\u201d This\nlast was evidently the late and corrupt copy #D#. Of #C# Scott says:\n\u201cThe present edition was procured for me by my friend Mr W. Laidlaw, in\nBlackhouse, and has been long current in Selkirkshire. Mr Ritson\u2019s copy\nhas occasionally been resorted to for better readings.\u201d #B# is partially\nrewritten by Cunningham, Songs of Scotland, I, 327. The copy in R. H.\nEvans\u2019s Old Ballads, 1810, I, 367, is #A#; that in The Ballads and Songs\nof Ayrshire, First Series, p. 47, is of course #B#; Aytoun, ed. of 1859,\nII, 128, reprints #C#; Maidment, 1868, II, 140, #A#, II, 145, #C#.[3]\n\n\u201cAccording to tradition,\u201d says Stenhouse, \u201cRobert Aldridge, Bishop of\nCarlisle, about the year 1560, seduced the wife of Hugh Graham, one of\nthose bold and predatory chiefs who so long inhabited what was called\nthe debateable land on the English and Scottish border. Graham, being\nunable to bring so powerful a prelate to justice, in revenge made an\nexcursion into Cumberland, and carried off, _inter alia_, a fine mare\nbelonging to the bishop; but being closely pursued by Sir John Scroope,\nwarden of Carlisle, with a party on horseback, was apprehended near\nSolway Moss, and carried to Carlisle, where he was tried and convicted\nof felony. Great intercessions were made to save his life, but the\nbishop, it is said, being determined to remove the chief obstacle to his\nguilty passions, remained inexorable, and poor Graham fell a victim to\nhis own indiscretion and his wife\u2019s infidelity. Anthony Wood observes\nthat there were many changes in this prelate\u2019s time, both in church and\nstate, but that he retained his office and preferments during them all.\u201d\nMusical Museum, 1853, IV, 297.\n\nThe pretended tradition is plainly extracted from the ballad, the\nbishop\u2019s name and the date being supplied from without. The _inter alia_\nis introduced, and the mare qualified as a fine one, to mitigate the\nridiculousness of making Hugh Graham steal a mare to retaliate the wrong\ndone him by the bishop. As Allan Cunningham remarks, \u201ctradition, in all\nthe varieties of her legends, never invented such an unnecessary and\nsuperfluous reason as this. By habit and by nature thieves, the Gr\u00e6mes\nnever waited for anything like a pretence to steal.\u201d In passing, it may\nbe observed that Hugh is quite arbitrarily elevated to the rank of a\npredatory chief.\n\nScott suggested in 1803, Minstrelsy, I, 86 f., that Hugh Graham may have\nbeen one of more than four hundred borderers against whom complaints\nwere exhibited to the lord bishop of Carlisle for incursions, murders,\nburnings, mutilations, and spoils committed by the English of Cumberland\nand Westmoreland upon Scots \u201cpresently after the queen\u2019s departure;\u201d\nthat is, after Mary Stuart\u2019s going to France, which was in 1548. Nearly\na third of the names given in a partial list are Grames, but there is no\nHugh among them.[4] The bishop of Carlisle at the time was Robert\nAldridge, who held the see from 1537 till his death in 1555.[5] Lord\nScroope (Screw) is the English warden of the West Marches in #A#, #C#,\n#D#. A Lord Scroope had that office in 1542, but Lord Wharton, Lord\nDacre, and others during the last years of Bishop Aldridge\u2019s life, say\nfrom 1548 to 1555. Henry Lord Scroope of Bolton was appointed to the\nplace in 1563, retained it thirty years, and was succeeded by his son,\nThomas.[6] Considering how long the Scroopes held the warden-ship, and\nthat the ballad is not so old as the middle of the sixteenth century,\nthe fact that a Lord Scroope was not warden in the precise year when the\ncomplaints were addressed to the bishop of Carlisle would be of no\nconsequence if Scott\u2019s conjecture were well supported.\n\nThe story is the same in #A-D#, and in #E# also till we near the end,\nthough there are variations in the names. The scene is at Carlisle in\n#A#, #C#, #D#; at Stirling in #B#, #E#. Lord Home, who appears as\nintercessor for Hugh Graham in #C#, exercises the authority of the\nScottish warden and arrests Hugh in #E#. Lord Home was warden of the\n_east_ marches of Scotland from 1550, and I know not how much earlier,\nto 1564. The Lord Boles of #A# may possibly represent Sir Robert Bowes,\nwho was warden of the _east_ marches of England in 1550 and earlier. The\nWhitefoords of #B# are adopted into the ballad from the region in which\nthat version circulated, they being \u201can ancient family in Renfrewshire\nand Lanarkshire, and latterly in Ayrshire.\u201d[7]\n\nThe high jump which Hugh makes in #A# 18, #C# 12, #D# 4 (fourteen, or\neven eighteen, feet, with his hands tied on his back), is presumably an\neffort at escape, though, for all that is said, it might be a leap in\nthe air. In #E# 16\u201319, the prisoner jumps an eighteen-foot wall (tied as\nbefore), is defended by four brothers against ten pursuers, and sent\nover sea: which is certainly a modern perversion.\n\n#A# is strangely corrupted in several places, 2^2, 11^4, 13^2. Screw is\nplainly for Scroope. Garlard, sometimes printed Garland, is an\nobscuration of C\u00e1rlisle. The extravagance in 16^3, it is to be hoped, is\na corruption also. Stanzas 3, 8 of #B# are obviously, as Cromek says,\nthe work of Burns, and the same is true of 10^{3\u20134}. But Burns has left\nsome nonsense in 11, 12: \u2018my sword that\u2019s bent in the middle clear,\u2019 \u2018my\nsword that\u2019s bent in the middle brown.\u2019 We have more of this meaningless\nphraseology in #E# 10, 11, 12, where swords are pointed \u2018wi the metal\nclear,\u2019 \u2018brown,\u2019 \u2018fine.\u2019 Stanza 15 of #E# is borrowed from \u2018Johnie\nArmstrong.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n #a.# Roxburghe Ballads, II, 294. #b.# Douce Ballads, II, 204 b. #c.#\n Rawlinson Ballads, 566, fol. 9. All printed for P. Brooksby:\n 1672\u201395(?). #d.# Pills to purge Melancholy, VI, 289, 17. #e.#\n Roxburghe Ballads, III, 344.\n\n 1\n As it befell upon one time,\n About mid-summer of the year,\n Every man was taxt of his crime,\n For stealing the good Lord Bishop\u2019s mare.\n\n 2\n The good Lord Screw he sadled a horse,\n And rid after this same scrime;\n Before he did get over the moss,\n There was he aware of Sir Hugh of the Grime.\n\n 3\n \u2018Turn, O turn, thou false traytor,\n Turn, and yield thyself unto me;\n Thou hast stolen the Lord Bishops mare,\n And now thou thinkest away to flee.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018No, soft, Lord Screw, that may not be!\n Here is a broad sword by my side,\n And if that thou canst conquer me,\n The victory will soon be try\u2019d.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018I ner was afraid of a traytor bold,\n Although thy name be Hugh in the Grime;\n I\u2019le make thee repent thy speeches foul,\n If day and life but give me time.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018Then do thy worst, good Lord Screw,\n And deal your blows as fast as you can;\n It will be try\u2019d between me and you\n Which of us two shall be the best man.\u2019\n\n 7\n Thus as they dealt their blows so free,\n And both so bloody at that time,\n Over the moss ten yeomen they see,\n Come for to take Sir Hugh in the Grime.\n\n 8\n Sir Hugh set his back against a tree,\n And then the men encompast him round;\n His mickle sword from his hand did flee,\n And then they brought Sir Hugh to the ground.\n\n 9\n Sir Hugh of the Grime now taken is\n And brought back to Garlard town;\n [Then cry\u2019d] the good wives all in Garlard town,\n \u2018Sir Hugh in the Grime, thou\u2019st ner gang down.\u2019\n\n 10\n The good Lord Bishop is come to the town,\n And on the bench is set so high;\n And every man was taxt to his crime,\n At length he called Sir Hugh in the Grime.\n\n 11\n \u2018Here am I, thou false bishop,\n Thy humours all to fulfill;\n I do not think my fact so great\n But thou mayst put it into thy own will.\u2019\n\n 12\n The quest of jury-men was calld,\n The best that was in Garlard town;\n Eleven of them spoke all in a breast,\n \u2018Sir Hugh in the Grime, thou\u2019st ner gang down.\u2019\n\n 13\n Then another questry-men was calld,\n The best that was in Rumary;\n Twelve of them spoke all in a breast,\n \u2018Sir Hugh in the Grime, thou\u2019st now guilty.\u2019\n\n 14\n Then came down my good Lord Boles,\n Falling down upon his knee:\n \u2018Five hundred pieces of gold would I give,\n To grant Sir Hugh in the Grime to me.\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018Peace, peace, my good Lord Boles,\n And of your speeches set them by!\n If there be eleven Grimes all of a name,\n Then by my own honour they all should dye.\u2019\n\n 16\n Then came down my good Lady Ward,\n Falling low upon her knee:\n \u2018Five hundred measures of gold I\u2019le give,\n To grant Sir Hugh of the Grime to me.\u2019\n\n 17\n \u2018Peace, peace, my good Lady Ward,\n None of your proffers shall him buy!\n For if there be twelve Grimes all of a name,\n By my own honour they all should dye.\u2019\n\n 18\n Sir Hugh, of the Grime\u2019s condemnd to dye,\n And of his friends he had no lack;\n Fourteen foot he leapt in his ward,\n His hands bound fast upon his back.\n\n 19\n Then he lookt over his left shoulder,\n To see whom he could see or spy;\n Then was he aware of his father dear,\n Came tearing his hair most pittifully.\n\n 20\n \u2018Peace, peace, my father dear,\n And of your speeches set them by!\n Though they have bereavd me of my life,\n They cannot bereave me of heaven so high.\u2019\n\n 21\n He lookt over his right shoulder,\n To see whom he could see or spye;\n There was he aware of his mother dear,\n Came tearing her hair most pittifully.\n\n 22\n \u2018Pray have me remembred to Peggy, my wife;\n As she and I walkt over the moor,\n She was the cause of [the loss of] my life,\n And with the old bishop she plaid the whore.\n\n 23\n \u2018Here, Johnny Armstrong, take thou my sword,\n That is made of the mettle so fine,\n And when thou comst to the border-side,\n Remember the death of Sir Hugh of the Grime.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n Johnson\u2019s Museum, No 303, p. 312, contributed by Burns; Cromek,\n Reliques of Robert Burns, 4th ed., 1817, p. 287; Cromek, Select\n Scottish Songs, etc., 1810, II, 151. From oral tradition in\n Ayrshire.\n\n 1\n Our lords are to the mountains gane,\n A hunting o the fallow deer,\n And they hae gripet Hughie Graham,\n For stealing o the bishop\u2019s mare.\n\n 2\n And they hae tied him hand and foot,\n And led him up thro Stirling town;\n The lads and lasses met him there,\n Cried, Hughie Graham, thou art a loun!\n\n 3\n \u2018O lowse my right hand free,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018And put my braid sword in the same,\n He\u2019s no in Stirling town this day\n Daur tell the tale to Hughie Graham.\u2019\n\n 4\n Up then bespake the brave Whitefoord,\n As he sat by the bishop\u2019s knee:\n \u2018Five hundred white stots I\u2019ll gie yon,\n If ye\u2019ll let Hughie Graham gae free.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018O haud your tongue,\u2019 the bishop says,\n \u2018And wi your pleading let me be!\n For tho ten Grahams were in his coat,\n Hughie Graham this day shall die.\u2019\n\n 6\n Up then bespake the fair Whitefoord,\n As she sat by the bishop\u2019s knee:\n \u2018Five hundred white pence I\u2019ll gee you,\n If ye\u2019ll gie Hughie Graham to me.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018O haud your tongue now, lady fair,\n And wi your pleading let it be!\n Altho ten Grahams were in his coat,\n It\u2019s for my honour he maun die.\u2019\n\n 8\n They\u2019ve taen him to the gallows-knowe,\n He looked to the gallows-tree,\n Yet never colour left his cheek,\n Nor ever did he blink his ee.\n\n 9\n At length he looked round about,\n To see whatever he could spy,\n And there he saw his auld father,\n And he was weeping bitterly.\n\n 10\n \u2018O haud your tongue, my father dear,\n And wi your weeping let it be!\n Thy weeping\u2019s sairer on my heart\n Than a\u2019 that they can do to me.\n\n 11\n \u2018And ye may gie my brother John\n My sword that\u2019s bent in the middle clear,\n And let him come at twelve o\u2019clock,\n And see me pay the bishop\u2019s mare.\n\n 12\n \u2018And ye may gie my brother James\n My sword that\u2019s bent in the middle brown,\n And bid him come at four o\u2019clock,\n And see his brother Hugh cut down.\n\n 13\n \u2018Remember me to Maggy my wife,\n The niest time ye gang oer the moor;\n Tell her, she staw the bishop\u2019s mare,\n Tell her, she was the bishop\u2019s whore.\n\n 14\n \u2018And ye may tell my kith and kin\n I never did disgrace their blood,\n And when they meet the bishop\u2019s cloak,\n To mak it shorter by the hood.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n C\n\n Scott\u2019s Minstrelsy, 1803, III, 85, 1833, III, 107, procured by W.\n Laidlaw in Blackhouse, and long current in Selkirkshire; with\n readings from Ritson\u2019s copy.\n\n 1\n Gude Lord Scroope\u2019s to the hunting gane,\n He has ridden oer moss and muir,\n And he has grippet Hughie the Gr\u00e6me,\n For stealing o the bishop\u2019s mare.\n\n 2\n \u2018Now, good Lord Scroope, this may not be!\n Here hangs a broad sword by my side,\n And if that thou canst conquer me,\n The matter it may soon be tryed.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018I neer was afraid of a traitor thief;\n Although thy name be Hughie the Gr\u00e6me,\n I\u2019ll make thee repent thee of thy deeds,\n If God but grant me life and time.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018Then do your worst now, good Lord Scroope,\n And deal your blows as hard as you can;\n It shall be tried, within an hour,\n Which of us two is the better man.\u2019\n\n 5\n But as they were dealing their blows so free,\n And both so bloody at the time,\n Over the moss came ten yeomen so tall,\n All for to take brave Hughie the Gr\u00e6me.\n\n 6\n Then they hae grippit Hughie the Gr\u00e6me,\n And brought him up through Carlisle town;\n The lasses and lads stood on the walls,\n Crying, Hughie the Gr\u00e6me, thou\u2019se neer gae down!\n\n 7\n Then they hae chosen a jury of men,\n The best that were in Carlisle town,\n And twelve of them cried out at once,\n Hughie the Gr\u00e6me, thou must gae down!\n\n 8\n Then up bespak him gude Lord Hume,\n As he sat by the judge\u2019s knee:\n \u2018Twenty white owsen, my gude lord,\n If you\u2019ll grant Hughie the Gr\u00e6me to me.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018O no, O no, my gude Lord Hume,\n Forsooth and sae it mauna be;\n For were there but three Gr\u00e6mes of the name,\n They suld be hanged a\u2019 for me.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2019Twas up and spake the gude Lady Hume,\n As she sat by the judge\u2019s knee:\n \u2018A peck of white pennies, my good lord judge,\n If you\u2019ll grant Hughie the Gr\u00e6me to me.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018O no, O no, my gude Lady Hume,\n Forsooth and so it mustna be;\n Were he but the one Gr\u00e6me of the name,\n He suld be hanged high for me.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018If I be guilty,\u2019 said Hughie the Gr\u00e6me,\n \u2018Of me my friends shall hae small talk;\u2019\n And he has loupd fifteen feet and three,\n Though his hands they were tied behind his back.\n\n 13\n He looked over his left shoulder,\n And for to see what he might see;\n There was he aware of his auld father,\n Came tearing his hair most piteouslie.\n\n 14\n \u2018O hald your tongue, my father,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018And see that ye dinna weep for me!\n For they may ravish me o my life,\n But they canna banish me fro heaven hie.\n\n 15\n \u2018Fare ye weel, fair Maggie, my wife!\n The last time we came ower the muir\n \u2019Twas thou bereft me of my life,\n And wi the bishop thou playd the whore.\n\n 16\n \u2018Here, Johnnie Armstrang, take thou my sword,\n That is made o the metal sae fine,\n And when thou comest to the English side\n Remember the death of Hughie the Gr\u00e6me.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n D\n\n Roxburghe Ballads, III, 456; edited for the Ballad Society by J. W.\n Ebsworth, VI, 598.\n\n 1\n Good Lord John is a hunting gone,\n Over the hills and dales so far,\n For to take Sir Hugh in the Grime,\n For stealing of the bishop\u2019s mare.\n He derry derry down\n\n 2\n Hugh in the Grime was taken then\n And carried to Carlisle town;\n The merry women came out amain,\n Saying, The name of Grime shall never go down!\n\n 3\n O then a jury of women was brought,\n Of the best that could be found;\n Eleven of them spoke all at once,\n Saying, The name of Grime shall never go down!\n\n 4\n And then a jury of men was brought,\n More the pity for to be!\n Eleven of them spoke all at once,\n Saying, Hugh in the Grime, you are guilty.\n\n 5\n Hugh in the Grime was cast to be hangd,\n Many of his friends did for him lack;\n For fifteen foot in the prisin he did jump,\n With his hands tyed fast behind his back.\n\n 6\n Then bespoke our good Lady Ward,\n As she set on the bench so high:\n \u2018A peck of white pennys I\u2019ll give to my lord,\n If he\u2019ll grant Hugh Grime to me.\n\n 7\n \u2018And if it be not full enough,\n I\u2019ll stroke it up with my silver fan;\n And if it be not full enough,\n I\u2019ll heap it up with my own hand.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018Hold your tongue now, Lady Ward,\n And of your talkitive let it be!\n There is never a Grime came in this court\n That at thy bidding shall saved be.\u2019\n\n 9\n Then bespoke our good Lady Moor,\n As she sat on the bench so high:\n \u2018A yoke of fat oxen I\u2019ll give to my lord,\n If he\u2019ll grant Hugh Grime to me.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018Hold your tongue now, good Lady Moor,\n And of your talkitive let it be!\n There is never a Grime came to this court\n That at thy bidding shall saved be.\u2019\n\n 11\n Sir Hugh in the Grime lookd out of the door,\n With his hand out of the bar;\n There he spy\u2019d his father dear,\n Tearing of his golden hair.\n\n 12\n \u2018Hold your tongue, good father dear,\n And of your weeping let it be!\n For if they bereave me of my life,\n They cannot bereave me of the heavens so high.\u2019\n\n 13\n Sir Hugh in the Grime lookd out at the door,\n Oh, what a sorry heart had he!\n There [he] spy\u2019d his mother dear,\n Weeping and wailing \u2018Oh, woe is me!\u2019\n\n 14\n \u2018Hold your tongue now, mother dear,\n And of your weeping let it be!\n For if they bereave me of my life,\n They cannot bereave me of heaven\u2019s fee.\n\n 15\n \u2018I\u2019ll leave my sword to Johnny Armstrong\n That is made of mettal so fine,\n That when he comes to the border-side\n He may think of Hugh in the Grime.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n E\n\n Buchan\u2019s MSS, I, 53.\n\n 1\n Lord Home he is a hunting gane,\n Through the woods and valleys clear,\n And he has taen Sir Hugh the Gr\u00e6me,\n For stealing o the bishop\u2019s mare.\n\n 2\n They hae taen Sir Hugh the Gr\u00e6me,\n Led him down thro Strieveling town;\n Fifeteen o them cried a\u2019 at ance,\n \u2018Sir Hugh the Gr\u00e6me he must go down!\u2019\n\n 3\n They hae causd a court to sit,\n Mang a\u2019 their best nobilitie;\n Fifeteen o them cried a\u2019 at ance,\n \u2018Sir Hugh the Gr\u00e6me he now must die!\u2019\n\n 4\n Out it speaks the lady Black,\n And o her will she was right free:\n \u2018A thousand pounds, my lord, I\u2019ll gie,\n If Hugh the Gr\u00e6me set free to me.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018Hold your tongue, ye Lady Black,\n And ye\u2019ll let a\u2019 your pleadings be!\n Though ye woud gie me thousands ten,\n It\u2019s for my honour he must die.\u2019\n\n 6\n Then out it speaks her Lady Bruce,\n And o her will she was right free:\n \u2018A hundred steeds, my lord, I\u2019ll gie,\n If ye\u2019ll gie Hugh the Gr\u00e6me to me.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018O hold your tongue, ye Lady Bruce,\n And ye\u2019ll let a\u2019 your pleadings be!\n Though a\u2019 the Gr\u00e6mes were in this court,\n It\u2019s for my honour he must die.\u2019\n\n 8\n He looked over his shoulder,\n It was to see what he coud see,\n And there he saw his auld father,\n Weeping and wailing bitterlie.\n\n 9\n \u2018O hold your tongue, my old father,\n And ye\u2019ll let a\u2019 your mourning be!\n Though they bereave me o my life,\n They canno had the heavens frae me.\n\n 10\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll gie my brother John the sword\n That\u2019s pointed wi the metal clear,\n And bid him come at eight o\u2019clock,\n And see me pay the bishop\u2019s mare.\n\n 11\n \u2018And, brother James, take here the sword\n That\u2019s pointed wi the metal brown;\n Come up the morn at eight o\u2019clock,\n And see your brother putten down.\n\n 12\n \u2018And, brother Allan, take this sword\n That\u2019s pointed wi the metal fine;\n Come up the morn at eight o\u2019clock,\n And see the death o Hugh the Gr\u00e6me.\n\n 13\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll tell this news to Maggy my wife,\n Niest time ye gang to Strievling town,\n She is the cause I lose my life,\n She wi the bishop playd the loon.\u2019\n\n 14\n Again he ower his shoulder lookd,\n It was to see what he could see,\n And there he saw his little son,\n Was screaming by his nourice knee.\n\n 15\n Then out it spake the little son,\n \u2018Since \u2019tis the morn that he must die,\n If that I live to be a man,\n My father\u2019s death revengd shall be.\u2019\n\n 16\n \u2018If I must die,\u2019 Sir Hugh replied,\n \u2018My friends o me they will think lack;\u2019\n He leapd a wa eighteen feet high,\n Wi his hands bound behind his back.\n\n 17\n Lord Home then raised ten armed men,\n And after him they did pursue;\n But he has trudged ower the plain\n As fast as ony bird that flew.\n\n 18\n He looked ower his left shoulder,\n It was to see what he coud see;\n His brother John was at his back,\n And a\u2019 the rest o his brothers three.\n\n 19\n Some they wound, and some they slew,\n They fought sae fierce and valiantly;\n They made his enemies for to yield,\n And sent Sir Hugh out ower the sea.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n F\n\n Macmath MS., p. 79. \u201cReceived by me 20th August and 7th September,\n 1887, from my aunt, Miss Jane Webster, who derived it from her\n mother, Janet Spark, Kirkcudbrightshire.\u201d\n\n 1\n \u2018Ye may tell to my wife Maggie,\n When that she comes to the fair,\n She was the cause of all my ruin,\n It was her that stole the bishop\u2019s mare.\n\n 2\n \u2018Ye may tell to my wife Maggie,\n When that she comes to the town,\n She was the cause of all my ruin,\n It was her that stole the bishop\u2019s gown.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n G\n\n Harris MS., fol. 27 b.\n\n Dukes an lords a huntin gane,\n Over hills an vallies clear;\n There the\u2019ve bound him Hughie Grame,\n For stealin o the bishop\u2019s mare.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A. a.#\n\n Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golden-Ball, in West-smith-field,\n neer the Hospital-gate.\n\n 12^2. Garland.\n\n 13^1. another.\n\n 22^3. the causer of my life.\n\n#b.#\n\n To a pleasant new northern tune.\n\n Printed for P. Brooksby at the Golden-Ball, in Westsmithfield.\n\n 3^3. Lords.\n\n 9^3. Then cry\u2019d _wanting_.\n\n 9^4. never.\n\n 10^4. of the.\n\n 12^2. Garlard.\n\n 13^1. other.\n\n 21^3. ware.\n\n 22^3. the causer of my life.\n\n 22^4. plays.\n\n 23^3. borders.\n\n#c.#\n\n Printed for P. Brooksby [_torn off_] West-smith-field.\n\n 2^4. he _wanting_.\n\n 5^3. of thy.\n\n 9^3. Then cry\u2019d _wanting_.\n\n 10^4. of the.\n\n 11^3. thy fact.\n\n 12^2. Garlard.\n\n 13^1. other.\n\n 21^3. ware.\n\n 22^3. the causer of my life.\n\n 22^4. plays.\n\n 23^3. borders.\n\n#d.#\n\n 2^2. the same serime.\n\n 8^1. again.\n\n 8^2. compast.\n\n 9^{2,3}, 12^2. Garland.\n\n 9^3. Then cry\u2019d.\n\n 10^1. the _wanting_.\n\n 11^4. it _wanting_.\n\n 13^1. other.\n\n 14^3. will I.\n\n 17^4. they _wanting_.\n\n 22^3. cause of the loss.\n\n#e.#\n\n _No imprint._\n\n 2^2. rid _wanting_: the same.\n\n 2^3. he could.\n\n 5^2. my _for_ thy.\n\n 7^1. as _wanting_.\n\n 8^2. compast.\n\n 9^{2,3}. Garland.\n\n 9^3. Then cry\u2019d.\n\n 10^1. to town.\n\n 10^4. calld to.\n\n 11^2. for to.\n\n 13^1. other.\n\n 14^3. will I.\n\n 18^4. With his.\n\n 19^4. come.\n\n 22^3. of the loss of.\n\n#B.#\n\n 8^4. blin\u2019 _in Johnson\u2019s Museum_: blink _in Cromek_.\n\n#D.#\n\n Sir Hugh in the Grime\u2019s Downfall, or, A New Song made on Sir Hugh\n in the Grime, who was hangd for stealing the Bishop\u2019s Mare.\n London: Printed and sold by L. How. (About 1770?)\n\n 5^2. did leet: _cf._ #A# 18^2.\n\n 10^4. biding.\n\n 14^1. tonge.\n\n\n\n\n 192\n\n THE LOCHMABEN HARPER\n\n #A. a.# \u2018The Blind Harper of Lochmaben,\u2019 Glenriddell MSS, XI, 42,\n 1791. #b.# \u2018The Blind Harper,\u2019 Johnson\u2019s Museum, No 579, 1803. #c.#\n \u2018The Lochmaben Harper,\u2019 Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, 1802, I,\n 65; 1833, I, 422.\n\n #B.# \u2018Lochmaben Harper,\u2019 Glenriddell MSS, XI, 39.\n\n #C.# \u2018The Auld Harper,\u2019 The Edinburgh Topographical, Traditional, and\n Antiquarian Magazine, 1849, p. 58.\n\n #D.# Macmath MS, p. 35.\n\n #E.# \u2018The Jolly Harper,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s MSS, I, 35; Dixon, Scottish\n Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads, Percy Society, vol. xvii,\n p. 37.\n\n\nThe Stationers\u2019 Registers, 22 July, 1564\u201322 July, 1565, Arber, I, 260,\nhave an entry of a fee from Owyn Rogers for license to print \u201ca ballett\nintituled The Blende Harper, etc.\u201d; and again, the following year,\nArber, I, 294, of a fee from Lucas Haryson for license to print \u201ca\nballet intituled The Blynde Harpers, with the Answere.\u201d Nothing further\nis known of this ballet.\n\nBoyd, the translator of Dante, had a recollection of a ballad of a\nScotch minstrel who stole a horse from one of the Henries of England:\nRitson, Scotish Song, I, xxxvi, note 25, 1794.\n\nPrinted in Scott\u2019s Minstrelsy, 1802 (#A c#), and the next year in the\nMusical Museum (#A b#), as communicated by Burns. Burns\u2019s copy differs\nvery slightly from #A a#, however he came by it. Scott had access to the\nGlenriddell collection, and his ballad (of which he gives no account)\nwas made by changing #A a# to his taste, substituting one stanza of his\nown in place of 18, and the last two of #B#, with alterations, for the\nlast of #A a#. To reduce improbabilities, Scott put the Lord Warden for\nKing Henry.\n\n#C# was pointed out to me, and transcribed from the short-lived\nperiodical in which it was printed, by Mr James Barclay Murdoch, to whom\nI have been from the beginning indebted for the most essential help.\n\nOf #D# Mr Macmath writes: This version was copied by me in fac-simile\nfrom the original manuscript in the handwriting of the late Rev. George\nMurray, of Troquhain, minister of Balmaclellan, in the Stewartry of\nKirkcudbright, and was in possession of his son, the Rev. George Murray,\nto whose kindness I was indebted for the loan of it. The late Mr Murray\ntook down the ballad from the singing of Sarah Rae, a poor weak-minded\nwoman of his parish. Sarah Rae was the last person known to Mr\nMurray\u2014and he was a keen observer of such matters\u2014to use the distaff.\nThe present Mr George Murray wrote to me on 12th January, 1883: \u201cI may\nadd that I have heard her sing the ballad myself, to a very simple but\nparticularly plaintive lilt\u2014more like a rapid chant than an ordinary\nsong\u2014which rings in my ear yet, although I only heard it once, when a\nlad.\u201d[8]\n\n#A-C.# A harper of Lochmaben (blind, #A#, #B#) who means to steal the\nWanton Brown, a horse of King Henry\u2019s, consults with his wife before\nsetting about the business, and gets a few valuable hints; among them,\nto leave his mare\u2019s foal at home. He goes up to England, and has the\ngood luck, so common in ballads, of finding King Henry at his gate. The\nking wants to hear some of his harping, and, as the harper makes a\ndifficulty about the stabling of his mare, orders the beast to be put\ninto his own stable. The harper harps all his hearers asleep; then makes\nhis way softly to the stable, slips a halter over the Wanton\u2019s nose and\nties him to the mare\u2019s tail, and turns the mare out. She goes straight\nto Lochmaben, to her foal, neighs at the harper\u2019s house, and is let in\nby the servant-lass, who exclaims at the braw foal that the mare has\ngot. In the morning they find in England that both the Wanton Brown and\nthe mare have been stolen. The harper breaks out into \u2018allaces:\u2019 he has\nlost a foal in Scotland and had his mare stolen in England! The king\nquiets him with a promise of a better mare and pay for his foal to boot.\n\nIn #D#, #E#, the harper steals the horse on a wager, which, however, is\npassed over lightly in #D#. The wager in #E# is with two knights of\nStirling, five ploughs of land with one and five thousand pounds with\nthe other, and \u201cJohn\u201d has to go all the way to London to win it. The\nknights pay their loss and then restore the Wanton Brown to Henry!\u2014so\ngreat an improvement upon the dealings of the Scots with English\nhorseflesh as to compel one to assign this particular version of the\nstory to the nineteenth, if not the twentieth, century.[9]\n\nThe twelve armed men in armor bright that guard the stable night and day\nin #E# 23 remind us of popular tales; as of the Grimms\u2019 \u2018Master Thief.\u2019\n\n#A b# is loosely translated by Knortz, Schottische Balladen, No 16, p.\n58.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n #a.# Glenriddell MS. XI, 42, 1791; \u201cfrom a MS. collection of Mr\n Henderson.\u201d #b.# Johnson\u2019s Museum, No 579, VI, 598, 1803,\n communicated by Burns, #c.# Scott\u2019s Minstrelsy, 1802, I, 65.\n\n 1\n Heard ye eer of the silly blind harper,\n That long livd in Lochmaben town,\n How he wad gang to fair England,\n To steal King Henry\u2019s Wanton Brown?\n Sing, Faden dilly and faden dilly\n Sing, Faden dilly and deedle dan\n\n 2\n But first he gaed to his gude wife,\n Wi a\u2019 the speed that he coud thole;\n \u2018This wark,\u2019 quo he, \u2018will never work\n Without a mare that has a foal.\u2019\n\n 3\n Quo she, Thou has a gude gray mare,\n That\u2019al rin oer hills baith law and hie;\n Gae tak the gray mare in thy hand,\n And leave the foal at hame wi me.\n\n 4\n \u2018And tak a halter in thy hose,\n And o thy purpose dinna fail;\n But wap it oer the Wanton\u2019s nose,\n And tie her to the gray mare\u2019s tail.\n\n 5\n \u2018Syne ca her out at yon back geate,\n Oer moss and muir and ilka dale;\n For she\u2019ll neer let the Wanton bite\n Till she come hame to her ain foal.\u2019\n\n 6\n So he is up to England gane,\n Even as fast as he can hie,\n Till he came to King Henry\u2019s geate;\n And wha was there but King Henry?\n\n 7\n \u2018Come in,\u2019 quo he, \u2018thou silly blind harper,\n And of thy harping let me hear;\u2019\n \u2018O, by my sooth,\u2019 quo the silly blind harper,\n \u2018I\u2019d rather hae stabling for my mare.\u2019\n\n 8\n The king he looks oer his left shoulder,\n And says unto his stable-groom,\n Gae tak the silly poor harper\u2019s mare,\n And tie her side my Wanton Brown.\n\n 9\n And ay he harpit, and ay he carpit,\n Till a\u2019 the lords had fitted the floor;\n They thought the music was sae sweet,\n And they forgot the stable-door.\n\n 10\n And ay he harpit, and ay he carpit,\n Till a\u2019 the nobles were sound asleep;\n Than quietly he took aff his shoon,\n And safly down the stair did creep.\n\n 11\n Syne to the stable-door he hies,\n Wi tread as light as light coud be,\n And when he opned and gaed in,\n There he fand thirty gude steads and three.\n\n 12\n He took the halter frae his hose,\n And of his purpose did na fail;\n He slipt it oer the Wanton\u2019s nose,\n And tied it to his gray mare\u2019s tail.\n\n 13\n He ca\u2019d her out at yon back geate,\n Oer moss and muir and ilka dale,\n And she loot neer the Wanton bite,\n But held her still gaun at her tail.\n\n 14\n The gray mare was right swift o fit,\n And did na fail to find the way,\n For she was at Lochmaben geate\n Fu lang three hours ere \u2019twas day.\n\n 15\n When she came to the harper\u2019s door,\n There she gave mony a nicher and sneer;\n \u2018Rise,\u2019 quo the wife, \u2018thou lazey lass,\n Let in thy master and his mare.\u2019\n\n 16\n Then up she rose, pat on her claes,\n And lookit out through the lock-hole;\n \u2018O, by my sooth,\u2019 then quoth the lass,\n \u2018Our mare has gotten a braw big foal!\u2019\n\n 17\n \u2018Come had thy peace, thou foolish lass,\n The moon\u2019s but glancing in thy eye;\n I\u2019ll wad my hail fee against a groat,\n It\u2019s bigger than eer our foal will be.\u2019\n\n 18\n The neighbours too that heard the noise\n Cried to the wife to put hir in;\n \u2018By my sooth,\u2019 then quo the wife,\n \u2018She\u2019s better than ever he rade on.\u2019\n\n 19\n But on the morn, at fair day light,\n When they had ended a\u2019 thier chear,\n King Henry\u2019s Wanton Brown was stawn,\n And eke the poor old harper\u2019s mare.\n\n 20\n \u2018Allace! allace!\u2019 says the silly blind harper,\n \u2018Allace, allace, that I came here!\n In Scotland I\u2019ve tint a braw cowte-foal,\n In England they\u2019ve stawn my gude gray mare.\u2019\n\n 21\n \u2018Come had thy tongue, thou silly blind harper,\n And of thy allacing let me be;\n For thou shalt get a better mare,\n And weel paid shall thy cowte-foal be.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n Glenriddell MSS, XI, 39, 1791; \u201cfrom Dr Clapperton, of Lochmaben.\u201d\n\n 1\n Hard ye tell of the silly blind harper?\n Long he lived in Lochmaben town;\n He\u2019s away to fair Carlisle,\n To steal King Henry\u2019s Wanton Brown.\n Sing, Fadle didle dodle didle\n Sing, Fadle didle fadle doo\n\n 2\n He has mounted his auld gray mare,\n And ridden oer both hills and mire,\n Till he came to fair Carlisle town,\n And askd for stabling to his mare.\n\n 3\n \u2018Harp on, harp on, thou silly blind harper,\n \u2018Some of thy harping let us hear;\u2019\n \u2018By my sooth,\u2019 says the silly blind harper,\n \u2018I would rather hae stabling to my mare.\u2019\n\n 4\n The king looked oer his left shoulder\n And called to his stable-groom:\n \u2018Gae stable up the harper\u2019s mare,\n And just beyond the Wanton Brown.\u2019\n\n 5\n Ay he carped, and ay he harped,\n Till a\u2019 the lords gaed thro the floor;\n But and the musick was sae sweet\n The groom forgot the key o the stable-door.\n\n 6\n Ay he harped, and ay he carped,\n Till a\u2019 the lords fell fast asleep,\n And, like a fause deceiver as he was,\n He quickly down the stair did creep.\n\n 7\n He pulld a colt-halter out o his hoe,\n On purpose as I shall to you tell;\n He sliped it oer the Wanton\u2019s nose,\n And tyed it to his gray mare\u2019s tail.\n\n 8\n \u2018My blessing light upon my wife!\n I think she be a daily flower;\n She told me to ken my ain gray mare\n When eer I felt her by the ewer.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018Harp on, harp on, thou silly blind harper,\n Some of thy harping let us hear:\u2019\n \u2018Oh and alas!\u2019 says the silly blind harper,\n \u2018Oh and alas that eer I came here!\n\n 10\n \u2018For in Scotland I lost a good brown foal,\n And in England a good gray mare,\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n 11\n \u2018Harp on, harp on, thou silly blind harper,\n Some of thy harping let us hear,\n And thy brown foal shall be well payed,\n And thou\u2019s hae a far better gray mare.\u2019\n\n 12\n Ay he harped, and ay he carped,\n And some of his harping he let them hear,\n And his brown foal it was well payed,\n And he got a better gray mare.\n\n 13\n His mare\u2019s away to Lochmaben,\n Wi mony a nicker and mony a sneer;\n His wife cry\u2019d, Rise up, you lazy lass,\n Let in your master and his mare.\n\n 14\n The lazy lass was loth to rise;\n She looked through a little hole;\n \u2018By my troth,\u2019 crys the lazy lass,\n \u2018Our mare has brought a bonie foal.\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018Rise up, rise up, thou lazy lass,\n And, een as the sun it shines sae clear,\n I\u2019ll wager my life against a groat\n The foal was better than ever the mare.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n C\n\n The Edinburgh Topographical, Traditional, and Antiquarian Magazine,\n 1849, p. 58; communicated by W. G. \u201cfrom the recitation of a friend,\n who learned it many years ago from her grandfather,\u201d a farmer in\n Wigtonshire, who died in 1813, at the age of ninety-four.\n\n 1\n It\u2019s hae ye heard tell o the auld harper\n That lang lived in Lochmaben town,\n How he maun awa to England fair,\n To steal King Henry\u2019s Wanton Brown?\n Faw aiden diden an diden an diden\n Faw aiden diden faw aiden dee\n\n 2\n Out then bespak his gude auld wife,\n I wat she spak out very wiselie;\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll ride the mear to England fair,\n But the foal ye\u2019ll leave at hame wi me.\n\n 3\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll hide your halter in o your hose,\n And o your purpose ye\u2019ll no fail;\n Ye\u2019ll cast a hook on the Wanton\u2019s nose,\n And tie him to the gray mear\u2019s tail.\n\n 4\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll lead them awa by a back yett,\n And hound them out at a wee hole;\n The mear she\u2019ll neer [let] the Wanton bait\n Till hame at Lochmaben town wi her foal.\u2019\n\n 5\n Awa then rade the auld harper,\n I wat he rade right merrilie,\n Until he cam to England fair,\n Where wonned the gude King Henerie.\n\n 6\n \u2018Light down, light down, ye auld harper,\n And some o your harping let me hear;\n \u2018O williwa!\u2019 quo the auld harper,\n Will I get stabling for my mear?\u2019\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 7\n And aye he harped and he carped,\n Till a\u2019 the lordlings fell asleep;\n Syne bundled his fiddles upon his back,\n And down the stairs fu fast did creep.\n\n 8\n He\u2019s taen the halter out o his hose,\n And o his purpose he didna fail;\n He\u2019s cast a hook on the Wanton\u2019s nose,\n And tied him to the gray mear\u2019s tale.\n\n 9\n He\u2019s led them awa by the back yett,\n And hounded them out at a wee hole;\n The mear she neer let the Wanton bait\n Till hame at Lochmaben town wi her foal.\n\n 10\n And when they cam to the house-end,\n Wi mony a nicker but an a neigh,\n They waukend the auld wife out o her sleep;\n She was a-dreaming she was fouie.\n\n 11\n \u2018Rise up, rise up, my servant-lass,\n Let in your master and his mear;\u2019\n \u2018It\u2019s by my sooth,\u2019 the wee lassie goud say,\n \u2018I\u2019m in a sleeping drowsy air.\u2019\n\n 12\n Wi mony a gaunt she turned her round,\n And keekit through at a wee hole;\n \u2018It\u2019s by my sooth!\u2019 the wee lassie goud say,\n \u2018Our mear has gotten a braw brown foal!\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018Lie still, lie still, ye lazy lass,\n It\u2019s but the moon shines in your ee;\u2019\n \u2018Na, by my sooth,\u2019 the lassie goud say,\n \u2018And he\u2019s bigger than ony o his degree.\u2019\n\n 14\n Then lightly rose the gude auld wife,\n I wat the first up in a\u2019 the town;\n She took the grit oats intil her lap\n And fodderd King Henry\u2019s Wanton Brown.\n\n 15\n King Henry\u2019s groom rase in the morn,\n And he was of a sorry cheer:\n \u2018King Henry\u2019s Wanton Brown\u2019s awa,\n And sae is the silly auld harper\u2019s mear!\u2019\n\n 16\n Up then rase the auld harper,\n And loudly he did curse and swear:\n \u2018In Scotland they but steald my foal,\n In England ye hae steald my mear!\u2019\n\n 17\n \u2018It\u2019s haud your tongue,\u2019 King Henry did say,\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll hae nae cause to curse or swear;\n Here\u2019s thirty guineas for your foal,\n And three times thirty for your mear.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n D\n\n Taken down by the Rev George Murray from the singing of Sarah Rae, a\n weak-minded woman of Balmaclellan, Kirkcudbright, 1866. Communicated\n by Mr Macmath.\n\n 1\n There was a poor silly harper-man,\n And he lived in Lochmaben toon,\n And he has wagered wi lairds and lords,\n And mony a guinea ag_ains_t a croon.\n Tum tid iddly\n Dodaly diddely\n Tidaly diddaly\n Dodaly dan\n\n 2\n And he has wagered wi lairds and lords,\n And mony a guinea ag_ains_t a croon,\n That into England he w_oul_d go,\n And steal King Henerie\u2019s Wanton Broun.\n\n 3\n Out spak the silly poor harper\u2019s wife,\n And O but she spak wililie:\n \u2018If into England you do go,\n Leave the wee-wee foal wi me.\u2019\n\n 4\n The harper he got on to ride,\n And O but he rode richt highlie!\n The very first man that he did meet,\n They said it was King Henerie.\n\n 5\n \u2018Licht doon, licht doon, ye silly poor harper,\n And o _you_r harping let me hear;\u2019\n \u2018And by my sooth,\u2019 quoth the silly poor harper,\n \u2018I\u2019d rather hae stabling for my mear.\u2019\n\n 6\n O he lookit ower his left shoulder,\n And saw ane of the stable-grooms:\n \u2018Go take the sillie poor harper\u2019s mear,\n And stable her by my Wanton Brown.\u2019\n\n 7\n And aye he harpit, and aye he carpit,\n Till a\u2019 the nobles fell on the floor,\n And aye he harpit, and aye he carpit,\n Till they forgot the key of the stable-door.\n\n 8\n And aye he harpit, and aye he carpit,\n Till a\u2019 the nobles fell fast asleep;\n He has taen his harp upon his back,\n And doon the stair did softly creep.\n\n 9\n He has taen a halter frae his hose,\n And o his purpose did not fail;\n He coost a wap on Wanton\u2019s nose,\n And tyed her to his ain mear\u2019s tail.\n\n 10\n He ca\u2019d her through at the bye-yett,\n Through mony a syre and mony a hole;\n She never loot Wanton licht till she\n Was at Lochmaben, at her foal.\n\n 11\n And she came oer Lochmaben heights,\n Wi mony a nicker and mony a sneeze,\n And waukend the silly poor harper\u2019s wife,\n As she was a sleeping at her ease.\n\n 12\n \u2018Rise up, rise up, ye servant-lass,\n Let in the maister and the mear;\u2019\n \u2018By my sooth,\u2019 quoth the servant-lass,\n \u2018I think my maister be na here.\u2019\n\n 13\n Up then rose the servant-lass,\n And lookit through a wee, wee hole;\n \u2018By my sooth,\u2019 quoth the servant-lass,\n \u2018Our mear has gotten a waly foal.\u2019\n\n 14\n \u2018Ye clatter, ye clatter, ye servant-lass,\n It is the moon shines in your ee;\u2019\n \u2018By my sooth,\u2019 quoth the servant-lass,\n \u2018It\u2019s mair than ever her ain will be.\u2019\n\n 16\n It\u2019s whan the stable-groom awoke,\n Put a\u2019 the nobles in a fear;\n King Henerie\u2019s Wanton Brown was stown,\n And Oh! the silly poor harper\u2019s mear.\n\n 16\n Out then spak the silly poor harper,\n Says, Oh, this loss I douna thole!\n In England fair a guid grey mear,\n In fair Scotland a guid cout-foal.\n\n 17\n \u2018Haud your tongue, ye sillie poor harper,\n And wi your carping let me be;\n Here\u2019s ten pounds for your auld gray mear,\n And a weel paid foal it\u2019s be to thee!\u2019\n\n 18\n And O the silly poor harper\u2019s wife,\n She\u2019s aye first up in Lochmaben toun;\n She\u2019s stealing the corn and stealing the hay,\n And wappin it oer to Wanton Broun.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n E\n\n Buchan\u2019s MSS, I, 35; Dixon, Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient\n Ballads, p. 37, Percy Society, vol. xvii.\n\n 1\n There was a jolly harper-man,\n That harped aye frae toun to toun;\n A wager he made, with two knights he laid\n To steal King Henry\u2019s Wanton Brown.\n\n 2\n Sir Roger he wagered five ploughs o land,\n Sir Charles wagered five thousand pound,\n And John he\u2019s taen the deed in hand,\n To steal King Henry\u2019s Wanton Brown.\n\n 3\n He\u2019s taen his harp into his hand,\n And he gaed harping thro the toun,\n And as the king in his palace sat,\n His ear was touched wi the soun.\n\n 4\n \u2018Come in, come in, ye harper-man,\n Some o your harping let me hear;\u2019\n \u2018Indeed, my liege, and by your grace,\n I\u2019d rather hae stabling to my mare.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll gang to yon outer court,\n That stands a little below the toun;\n Ye\u2019ll find a stable snug and neat,\n Where stands my stately Wanton Brown.\n\n 6\n He\u2019s down him to the outer court,\n That stood a little below the toun;\n There found a stable snug and neat,\n For stately stood the Wanton Brown.\n\n 7\n Then he has fixd a good strong cord\n Unto his grey mare\u2019s bridle-rein,\n And tied it unto that steed\u2019s tail,\n Syne shut the stable-door behin.\n\n 8\n Then he harped on, an he carped on,\n Till all were fast asleep;\n Then down thro bower and ha he\u2019s gone,\n Even on his hands and feet.\n\n 9\n He\u2019s to yon stable snug and neat,\n That lay a little below the toun;\n For there he placed his ain grey mare,\n Alang wi Henry\u2019s Wanton Brown.\n\n 10\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll do you down thro mire an moss,\n Thro mony bog an lairy hole;\n But never miss your Wanton slack;\n Ye\u2019ll gang to Mayblane, to your foal.\u2019\n\n 11\n As soon\u2019s the door he had unshut,\n The mare gaed prancing frae the town,\n An at her bridle-rein was tied\n Henry\u2019s stately Wanton Brown.\n\n 12\n Then she did rin thro mire an moss,\n Thro mony bog an miery hole;\n But never missed her Wanton slack\n Till she reachd Mayblane, to her foal.\n\n 13\n When the king awaked from sleep\n He to the harper-man did say,\n O waken ye, waken ye, jolly John,\n We\u2019ve fairly slept till it is day.\n\n 14\n \u2018Win up, win up, ye harper-man,\n Some mair o harping ye\u2019ll gie me:\u2019\n He said, My liege, wi a\u2019 my heart,\n But first my gude grey mare maun see.\n\n 15\n Then forth he ran, and in he came,\n Dropping mony a feigned tear:\n \u2018Some rogue[s] hae broke the outer court,\n An stown awa my gude grey mare.\u2019\n\n 16\n \u2018Then by my sooth,\u2019 the king replied,\n \u2018If there\u2019s been rogues into the toun,\n I fear, as well as your grey mare,\n Awa is my stately Wanton Brown.\u2019\n\n 17\n \u2018My loss is great,\u2019 the harper said,\n \u2018My loss is twice as great, I fear;\n In Scotland I lost a gude grey steed,\n An here I\u2019ve lost a gude grey mare.\u2019\n\n 18\n \u2018Come on, come on, ye harper-man,\n Some o your music lat me hear;\n Well paid ye\u2019se be, John, for the same,\n An likewise for your gude grey mare.\u2019\n\n 19\n When that John his money received,\n Then he went harping frae the toun,\n But little did King Henry ken\n He\u2019d stown awa his Wanton Brown.\n\n 20\n The knights then lay ower castle-wa,\n An they beheld baith dale an down,\n An saw the jolly harper-man\n Come harping on to Striveling toun.\n\n 21\n Then, \u2018By my sooth,\u2019 Sir Roger said,\n \u2018Are ye returned back to toun?\n I doubt my lad ye hae ill sped\n Of stealing o the Wanton Brown.\u2019\n\n 22\n \u2018I hae been into fair England,\n An even into Lunan toun,\n An in King Henry\u2019s outer court,\n An stown awa the Wanton Brown.\u2019\n\n 23\n \u2018Ye lie, ye lie,\u2019 Sir Charles he said,\n \u2018An aye sae loud\u2019s I hear ye lie;\n Twall armed men, in armour bright,\n They guard the stable night and day.\u2019\n\n 24\n \u2018But I did harp them all asleep,\n An managed my business cunninglie;\n If ye make light o what I say,\n Come to my stable an ye\u2019ll see.\n\n 25\n \u2018My music pleasd the king sae well\n Mair o my harping he wishd to hear;\n An for the same he paid me well,\n And also for my gude grey mare.\u2019\n\n 26\n Then he drew out a gude lang purse,\n Well stored wi gowd an white monie,\n An in a short time after this\n The Wanton Brown he lat them see.\n\n 27\n Sir Roger produced his ploughs o land,\n Sir Charles produced his thousand pounds,\n Then back to Henry, the English king,\n Restored the stately Wanton Brown.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A. a.#\n\n \u201cI have here given another copy of this Border Ballad, which I\n took from a MS. collection of Mr Henderson. It varies a little\n from the former [#A#], which I had from Dr Clapperton of\n Lochmaben.\u201d\n\n 4^4, 13^4, 18^4. _The Wanton Brown is a mare: so #b#, and #D#,\n 9^4. But the Brown is a stallion in #C#, 3^4, 8^4, 13^4, and is\n so made to be in #A c#, 13^4, 17^3: rightly, I should suppose._\n\n 8^2. say.\n\n 12^4. _to wanting_.\n\n#b.#\n\n _The third and fourth lines are repeated as burden._\n\n 1^1. O heard ye of a silly harper.\n\n 1^2. Livd long.\n\n 1^3. he did.\n\n 8^1. he _wanting_.\n\n 9^2. lords gaed through.\n\n 9^4. That they forgat.\n\n 14^4. ere it.\n\n 15^2. gae.\n\n 16^1. raise.\n\n 17^1. then (_misprint_) _for_ those.\n\n 17^3. gainst.\n\n 21^3. shall.\n\n#c.#\n\n _No burden._\n\n 1^1. O heard ye na o.\n\n 1^2. How lang he lived.\n\n 1^3. And how.\n\n 1^4. steal the Lord Warden\u2019s.\n\n 2^2. the haste.\n\n 2^3. will neer gae weel.\n\n 3^1. hast.\n\n 3^2. That can baith lance oer laigh.\n\n 3^3. Sae set thee on the gray mare\u2019s back.\n\n 4, 5, _wanting._\n\n 6^2. And even: he may drie.\n\n 6^3. And when he cam to Carlisle gate.\n\n 6^4. O whae: but the Warden, he.\n\n 7^1. into my hall, thou.\n\n 7^4. I wad.\n\n 8^1. The Warden lookd ower.\n\n 8^2. said.\n\n 8^3. silly blind. 8^4. beside.\n\n 9^1. Then aye.\n\n 9^2. the lordlings footed.\n\n 9^3. But an the.\n\n 9^4. The groom had nae mind o.\n\n 10^2. were fast.\n\n 11^1 hied.\n\n 11^4. gude _wanting_.\n\n 12^1. took a cowt halter.\n\n 12^2. he did.\n\n 13^1. He turned them loose at the castle gate.\n\n 13^2. muir and moss.\n\n 13^3. neer let: bait.\n\n 13^4. But kept him a-galloping hame to her foal.\n\n 14^1. The mare she was: foot.\n\n 14^2. She didna.\n\n 14^4. A lang: before the day.\n\n 15^3. Rise up.\n\n 16^1. cloathes.\n\n 16^2. keekit through at the.\n\n 16^3. then cried.\n\n 16^4. braw brown.\n\n 17^1. haud thy tongue, thou silly wench.\n\n 17^2. morn\u2019s: in your ee.\n\n 17^3. He\u2019s.\n\n 18.\n Now all this while, in merry Carlisle,\n The harper harped to hie and law,\n And the fiend thing dought they do but listen him to,\n Untill that the day began to daw.\n\n 19^3. Behold the Wanton Brown was gane.\n\n 19^4. poor blind.\n\n 20^1. quo the cunning auld.\n\n 20^2. And ever allace.\n\n 20^3. I lost a.\n\n 21, 22, _alteration of_ #B# 11, 12:\n\n Come cease thy allacing, thou silly blind harper,\n And again of thy harping let us hear;\n And weel payd sall thy cowt-foal be,\n And thou sall have a far better mare.\n\n Then aye he harped, and aye he carped,\n Sae sweet were the harpings he let them hear!\n He was paid for the foal he had never lost,\n And three times ower for the gude gray mare.\n\n#B.#\n\n 1^2. in a Bell town: _see_ 13^1.\n\n 5. _The burden is here_: Sing, Fadle fidle, etc.\n\n#C.#\n\n \u201cThe following is an oral version of a ballad which appears in the\n first volume of the \u2018Minstrelsy.\u2019 I have written it down from\n the recitation of a friend who learned it many years ago from\n her grandfather, a Mr John Macreddie, farmer, Little Laight\n parish of Inch, Wigtonshire. He died in 1813, at the age of\n ninety-four, and is supposed to have acquired the song from\n tradition in his youth. On comparison, it will be found to\n differ in several respects from Sir Walter\u2019s version. 11 Hill\n Street, Anderston, Glasgow. W. G.\u201d\n\n#D.#\n\n 3^2, 4^2, 6^1, 18^1, oh. 10^1, at, 16^1, then, _added by Mr Murray\n in pencil above the line, as if on reading over what he had\n written down_.\n\n 18^4. _Dr Mitchell gives_: An waps. \u201c The ower-word,\u201d _he adds_,\n \u201cwas something like the following:\u201d\n\n Hey tum tidly\n Doodlem didly\n Hey tum tidly\n Doodley dan.\n\n#E.#\n\n 2^2. _The reading is perhaps_ pounds.\n\n 7^{2,3}. _Absurdity could be avoided by exchanging_ grey mare\n _and_ steed.\n\n 24^2. by _for_ my.\n\n\n\n\n 193\n\n THE DEATH OF PARCY REED\n\n #A.# \u2018A song of Parcy Reed and the Three False Halls,\u2019 the late Robert\n White\u2019s papers.\n\n #B.# \u2018The Death of Parcy Reed,\u2019 Richardson\u2019s Borderer\u2019s Table Book,\n 1846, VII, 361; J. H. Dixon, Ancient Poems, Ballads and Songs of the\n Peasantry of England, p. 99, Percy Society, vol. xvii, 1846.\n\n\nOf #B#, which purports to have been taken down from an old woman\u2019s\nsinging by James Telfer, Mr Robert White, from whom I received #A#, said\nin a letter to Mr J. H. Dixon: \u201cParcy Reed, as you suspect, is not\ngenuine, for it bears marks of our friend\u2019s improvements. I have a copy\nof the original somewhere, but may not be able to find it.\u201d And again,\nTelfer himself, \u201cin a letter to the late Robert Storey, the Northumbrian\npoet,\u201d wrote, \u201cI will send Mr Dixon the real verses, but it is but a\ndroll of a ballad.\u201d (J. H. Dixon, in Notes and Queries, Fourth Series,\nI, 108, V, 520.)\n\nComparison will show that almost the whole of #A# is preserved in #B#,\nand in fairly good form. #B# has also some stanzas not found in #A#\nwhich may be accepted as traditional. Telfer may have added a dozen of\nhis own, and has retouched others.\n\nMr White, after remarking that there is no historical evidence to show\nwhen the event on which the ballad was founded occurred, informs us that\nalmost every circumstance in the narrative has been transmitted to the\npresent century by local tradition.\n\n\u201cPercival, or Parcy, Reed,\u201d in the words of Mr White, \u201cwas proprietor of\nTroughend, an elevated tract of land lying on the west side and nearly\nin the centre of Redesdale, Northumberland. The remains of the old tower\nmay still be seen, a little to the west of the present mansion,\ncommanding a beautiful and most extensive view of nearly the whole\nvalley. Here he resided, and being a keen hunter and brave soldier, he\npossessed much influence, and was appointed warden or keeper of the\ndistrict. His office was to suppress and order the apprehension of\nthieves and other breakers of the law; in the execution of which he\nincurred the displeasure of a family of brothers of the name of Hall,\nwho were owners of Girsonsfield, a farm about two miles east from\nTroughend. He also drew upon himself the hostility of a band of\nmoss-troopers, Crosier by name, some of whom he had been successful in\nbringing to justice. The former were, however, artful enough to conceal\ntheir resentment, and under the appearance of friendship calmly awaited\nan opportunity to be avenged. Some time afterwards, they solicited his\nattendance on a hunting expedition to the head of Redesdale, and\nunfortunately he agreed to accompany them. His wife had some strange\ndreams anent his safety on the night before his departure, and at\nbreakfast, on the following morning, the loaf of bread from which he was\nsupplied chanced to be turned with the bottom upwards, an omen which is\nstill accounted most unfavorable all over the north of England.\nConsidering these presages undeserving of notice, Reed set out in\ncompany with the Halls, and, after enjoying a good day\u2019s sport, the\nparty withdrew to a solitary hut in Batinghope, a lonely glen stretching\nwestward from the Whitelee, whose little stream forms one of the chief\nsources of Reedwater. The whole of this arrangement had been previously\nplanned by the Halls and Crosiers, and when the latter came down, late\nin the evening, to execute their purpose of vengeance, they found Parcy\nReed altogether a defenceless man. His companions not only deserted him,\nbut had previously driven his sword so firmly in its scabbard that it\ncould not be drawn, and had also moistened the powder with which the\nvery long gun he carried with him was charged, so as to render both\nuseless when he came to rely upon them for protection. Accordingly the\nCrosiers instantly put him to death; and so far did they carry out their\nsanguinary measures, even against his lifeless body, that tradition says\nthe fragments thereof had to be collected together and conveyed in\npillow-slips home to Troughend. Public indignation was speedily aroused\nagainst the murderers; the very name of Crosier was abhorred throughout\nRedesdale, and the abettors were both driven from their residence and\ndesignated as the fause-hearted Ha\u2019s, an appellation which yet remains\nin force against them.\u201d (Richardson\u2019s Borderer\u2019s Table Book, VII, 361.)\n\nThe farm of Girsonsfield, according to the ballad, #A# 3, 18, belonged\nto the Halls. But that place has been the property of others, says Mr\nWhite, \u201cever since the reign of Elizabeth;\u201d whence he concludes that the\nstory is not to be dated later than the sixteenth century.\n\nParcy Reed is famed to have had a favorite dog named Keeldar, and,\nthough a \u201cpeerless archer,\u201d to have killed him by an unlucky shot while\nhunting. Sir Walter Scott has celebrated this mishap and its consequence\nin \u2018The Death of Keeldar\u2019 (Table Book, as above, p. 240); and he alludes\nto the treacherous murder of Reed (with which he became acquainted\nthrough Robert Roxby\u2019s \u2018Lay of the Reedwater Minstrel,\u2019 1809) in Rokeby,\nwritten in 1812, Canto I, xx.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n The late Robert White\u2019s papers; \u201cWoodburn, December 1, 1829, Thomas\n Hedley, Bridge End, Corsonside Parish.\u201d\n\n 1\n The Liddesdale Crosiers hae ridden a race,\n And they had far better staid at hame,\n For they have lost a gallant gay,\n Young Whinton Crosier it was his name.\n\n 2\n For Parcy Reed he has him taen,\n And he\u2019s delivered him to law,\n But auld Crosier has made answer\n That he\u2019ll gar the house of the Troughend fa.\n\n 3\n So as it happened on a day\n That Parcy Reed is a hunting gane,\n And the three false Halls of Girsonsfield\n They all along with him are gane.\n\n 4\n They hunted up and they hunted down,\n They hunted all Reedwater round,\n Till weariness has on him seized;\n At the Batinghope he\u2019s fallen asleep.\n\n 5\n O some they stole his powder-horn,\n And some put water in his lang gun:\n \u2018O waken, waken, Parcy Reed!\n For we do doubt thou sleeps too sound.\n\n 6\n \u2018O waken, O waken, Parcy Reed!\n For we do doubt thou sleeps too long;\n For yonder\u2019s the five Crosiers coming,\n They\u2019re coming by the Hingin Stane.\n\n 7\n \u2018If they be five men, we are four,\n If ye will all stand true to me;\n Now every one of you may take one,\n And two of them ye may leave to me.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018We will not stay, nor we dare not stay,\n O Parcy Reed, for to fight with thee;\n For thou wilt find, O Parcy Reed,\n That they will slay both us and thee.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018O stay, O stay, O Tommy Hall,\n O stay, O man, and fight with me!\n If we see the Troughend again,\n My good black mare I will give thee.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018I will not stay, nor I dare not stay,\n O Parcy Reed, to fight for thee;\n For thou wilt find, O Parcy Reed,\n That they will slay both me and thee.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018O stay, O stay, O Johnnie Hall,\n O stay, O man, and fight for me!\n If I see the Troughend again,\n Five yoke of oxen I will give thee.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018I will not stay, nor I dare not stay,\n O Parcy Reed, for to fight with thee;\n For thou wilt find, O Parcy Reed,\n That they will slay both me and thee.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018O stay, O stay, O Willie Hall,\n O stay, O man, and fight for me!\n If we see the Troughend again,\n The half of my land I will give thee.\u2019\n\n 14\n \u2018I will not stay, nor I dare not stay,\n O Parcy Reed, for to fight with thee;\n For thou wilt find, O Parcy Reed,\n That they will slay both me and thee.\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018Now foul fa ye, ye traitors all,\n That ever ye should in England won!\n You have left me in a fair field standin,\n And in my hand an uncharged gun.\n\n 16\n \u2018O fare thee well, my wedded wife!\n O fare you well, my children five!\n And fare thee well, my daughter Jane,\n That I love best that\u2019s born alive!\n\n 17\n \u2018O fare thee well, my brother Tom!\n And fare you well his children five!\n If you had been with me this day,\n I surely had been man alive.\n\n 18\n \u2018Farewell all friends! as for my foes,\n To distant lands may they be tane,\n And the three false Halls of Girsonsfield,\n They\u2019ll never be trusted nor trowed again.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n Richardsons\u2019 Borderers\u2019 Table Book, VII, 361, 1846; \u201ctaken down by\n James Telfer, of Saughtree, Liddesdale, from the chanting of an old\n woman named Kitty Hall, a native of Northumberland.\u201d\n\n 1\n God send the land deliverance\n Frae every reaving, riding Scot;\n We\u2019ll sune hae neither cow nor ewe,\n We\u2019ll sune hae neither staig nor stot.\n\n 2\n The outlaws come frae Liddesdale,\n They herry Redesdale far and near;\n The rich man\u2019s gelding it maun gang,\n They canna pass the puir man\u2019s mear.\n\n 3\n Sure it were weel, had ilka thief\n Around his neck a halter strang;\n And curses heavy may they light\n On traitors vile oursels amang.\n\n 4\n Now Parcy Reed has Crosier taen,\n He has delivered him to the law;\n But Crosier says he\u2019ll do waur than that,\n He\u2019ll make the tower o Troughend fa.\n\n 5\n And Crosier says he will do waur,\n He will do waur if waur can be;\n He\u2019ll make the bairns a\u2019 fatherless,\n And then, the land it may lie lee.\n\n 6\n \u2018To the hunting, ho!\u2019 cried Parcy Reed,\n \u2018The morning sun is on the dew;\n The cauler breeze frae off the fells\n Will lead the dogs to the quarry true.\n\n 7\n \u2018To the hunting, ho!\u2019 cried Parcy Reed,\n And to the hunting he has gane;\n And the three fause Ha\u2019s o Girsonsfield\n Alang wi him he has them taen.\n\n 8\n They hunted high, they hunted low,\n By heathery hill and birken shaw;\n They raised a buck on Rooken Edge,\n And blew the mort at fair Ealylawe.\n\n 9\n They hunted high, they hunted low,\n They made the echoes ring amain;\n With music sweet o horn and hound,\n They merry made fair Redesdale glen.\n\n 10\n They hunted high, they hunted low,\n They hunted up, they hunted down,\n Until the day was past the prime,\n And it grew late in the afternoon.\n\n 11\n They hunted high in Batinghope,\n When as the sun was sinking low;\n Says Parcy then, Ca off the dogs,\n We\u2019ll bait our steeds and homeward go.\n\n 12\n They lighted high in Batinghope,\n Atween the brown and benty ground;\n They had but rested a little while\n Till Parcy Reed was sleeping sound.\n\n 13\n There\u2019s nane may lean on a rotten staff,\n But him that risks to get a fa;\n There\u2019s nane may in a traitor trust,\n And traitors black were every Ha.\n\n 14\n They\u2019ve stown the bridle off his steed,\n And they\u2019ve put water in his lang gun;\n They\u2019ve fixed his sword within the sheath\n That out again it winna come.\n\n 15\n \u2018Awaken ye, waken ye, Parcy Reed,\n Or by your enemies be taen;\n For yonder are the five Crosiers\n A-coming owre the Hingin-stane.\u2019\n\n 16\n \u2018If they be five, and we be four,\n Sae that ye stand alang wi me,\n Then every man ye will take one,\n And only leave but two to me:\n We will them meet as brave men ought,\n And make them either fight or flee.\u2019\n\n 17\n \u2018We mayna stand, we canna stand,\n We daurna stand alang wi thee;\n The Crosiers haud thee at a feud,\n And they wad kill baith thee and we.\u2019\n\n 18\n \u2018O turn thee, turn thee, Johnie Ha,\n O turn thee, man, and fight wi me;\n When ye come to Troughend again,\n My gude black naig I will gie thee;\n He cost full twenty pound o gowd,\n Atween my brother John and me.\u2019\n\n 19\n \u2018I mayna turn, I canna turn,\n I daurna turn and fight wi thee;\n The Crosiers haud thee at a feud,\n And they wad kill baith thee and me\u2019\n\n 20\n \u2018O turn thee, turn thee, Willie Ha,\n O turn thee, man, and fight wi me;\n When ye come to Troughend again,\n A yoke o owsen I\u2019ll gie thee.\u2019\n\n 21\n \u2018I mayna turn, I canna turn,\n I daurna turn and fight wi thee;\n The Crosiers haud thee at a feud,\n And they wad kill baith thee and me.\u2019\n\n 22\n \u2018O turn thee, turn thee, Tommy Ha,\n O turn now, man, and fight wi me;\n If ever we come to Troughend again,\n My daughter Jean I\u2019ll gie to thee.\u2019\n\n 23\n \u2018I mayna turn, I canna turn,\n I daurna turn and fight wi thee;\n The Crosiers haud thee at a feud,\n And they wad kill baith thee and me.\u2019\n\n 24\n \u2018O shame upon ye, traitors a\u2019!\n I wish your hames ye may never see;\n Ye\u2019ve stown the bridle off my naig,\n And I can neither fight nor flee.\n\n 25\n \u2018Ye\u2019ve stown the bridle off my naig,\n And ye\u2019ve put water i my lang gun;\n Ye\u2019ve fixed my sword within the sheath\n That out again it winna come.\u2019\n\n 26\n He had but time to cross himsel,\n A prayer he hadna time to say,\n Till round him came the Crosiers keen,\n All riding graithed and in array.\n\n 27\n \u2018Weel met, weel met, now, Parcy Reed,\n Thou art the very man we sought;\n Owre lang hae we been in your debt,\n Now will we pay you as we ought.\n\n 28\n \u2018We\u2019ll pay thee at the nearest tree,\n Where we shall hang thee like a hound;\u2019\n Brave Parcy raisd his fankit sword,\n And felld the foremost to the ground.\n\n 29\n Alake, and wae for Parcy Reed,\n Alake, he was an unarmed man;\n Four weapons pierced him all at once,\n As they assailed him there and than.\n\n 30\n They fell upon him all at once,\n They mangled him most cruellie;\n The slightest wound might caused his deid,\n And they hae gien him thirty-three;\n They hacket off his hands and feet,\n And left him lying on the lee.\n\n 31\n \u2018Now, Parcy Reed, we\u2019ve paid our debt,\n Ye canna weel dispute the tale,\u2019\n The Crosiers said, and off they rade;\n They rade the airt o Liddesdale.\n\n 32\n It was the hour o gloaming gray,\n When herds come in frae fauld and pen;\n A herd he saw a huntsman lie,\n Says he, Can this be Laird Troughen?\n\n 33\n \u2018There\u2019s some will ca me Parcy Reed,\n And some will ca me Laird Troughen;\n It\u2019s little matter what they ca me,\n My faes hae made me ill to ken.\n\n 34\n \u2018There\u2019s some will ca me Parcy Reed,\n And speak my praise in tower and town;\n It\u2019s little matter what they do now,\n My life-blood rudds the heather brown.\n\n 35\n \u2018There\u2019s some will ca me Parcy Reed,\n And a\u2019 my virtues say and sing;\n I would much rather have just now\n A draught o water frae the spring.\u2019\n\n 36\n The herd flung aff his clouted shoon\n And to the nearest fountain ran;\n He made his bonnet serve a cup,\n And wan the blessing o the dying man.\n\n 37\n \u2018Now, honest herd, ye maun do mair,\n Ye maun do mair, as I you tell;\n Ye maun bear tidings to Troughend,\n And bear likewise my last farewell.\n\n 38\n \u2018A farewell to my wedded wife,\n A farewell to my brother John,\n Wha sits into the Troughend tower\n Wi heart as black as any stone.\n\n 39\n \u2018A farewell to my daughter Jean,\n A farewell to my young sons five;\n Had they been at their father\u2019s hand,\n I had this night been man alive.\n\n 40\n \u2018A farewell to my followers a\u2019,\n And a\u2019 my neighbours gude at need;\n Bid them think how the treacherous Ha\u2019s\n Betrayed the life o Parcy Reed.\n\n 41\n \u2018The laird o Clennel bears my bow,\n The laird o Brandon bears my brand;\n Wheneer they ride i the Border-side,\n They\u2019ll mind the fate o the laird Troughend.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A.#\n\n 10^1, 12^1, 14^1, or _for_ nor; _cf._ 8^1.\n\n 12^2. \u201cO Parcy Reed, etc. (same as stanza 8, save at end, thee and\n me).\u201d _The same abridgment and remark at 10^2, 14^2, but the\n last words are there given as_ me and thee. _Uniformity is to be\n expected._\n\n 16^1. fare thou: _cf._ 16^3, 17^1.\n\n\n\n\n 194\n\n THE LAIRD OF WARISTON\n\n #A.# \u2018The Laird of Waristoun,\u2019 Jamieson\u2019s Popular Ballads, I, 109.\n\n #B.# \u2018Laird of Wariestoun,\u2019 Kinloch MSS, VII, 217; Kinloch\u2019s Ancient\n Scottish Ballads, p. 49.\n\n #C.# \u2018Death of Lord Warriston,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of\n Scotland, I, 56.\n\n\nBirrell\u2019s Diary, under the date of July 2, 1600, has the following\nentry: \u201cJohn Kinland [Kincaid] of Waristone murderit be hes awin wyff\nand servant-man, and the nurische being also upone the conspiracy. The\nsaid gentilwoman being apprehendit, scho was tane to the Girth Crosse\nupon the 5 day of Julii, and her heid struck fra her bodie at the\nCan-nagait fit; quha diet verie patiently. Her nurische was brunt at the\nsame tyme, at 4 houres in the morneing, the 5 of Julii.\u201d P. 49.\n\nBoth husband and wife belonged to houses of some note. The wife, Jean\nLivingston, was a daughter of John Livingston of Dunipace, \u201cand related\nto many of the first families in Scotland.\u201d\n\nNothing seems to have been done to keep the murder from divulging.\nWarriston being only about a mile from Edinburgh, information very soon\nreached the authorities of justice, and those who were found in the\nhouse, the mistress, the nurse, and two female servants, were arrested.\nThe crime was committed on Tuesday morning, not long after midnight. On\nThursday such trial as there was took place, and it may have occupied\nthree hours, probably less. At three o\u2019clock on Saturday morning\nsentence was executed. This had been burning (_i. e._ after strangling),\nboth for the principal and her accomplice, the nurse; but for the\nwell-born woman, no doubt through the influence of her kindred, it was\ncommuted to beheading. The servant-man who did the handiwork fled, but\nthe penalty for undue devotion to his former master\u2019s daughter overtook\nhim within four years. He was broken on a cart-wheel with a\nplough-coulter.\n\nThe judicial records in the case of Jean Livingston are lost, but the\nprocess of the murder and the provocation are known from a register of\nthe trial of Robert Weir, the actual perpetrator, and partly also from\nJean Livingston\u2019s own relation. Jean Livingston, having conceived a\ndeadly hatred and malice against her husband, John Kincaid, \u201cfor the\nalleged biting of her in the arm and striking her divers times,\u201d sent\nword by her nurse, Janet Murdo, to Robert Weir, formerly servant to her\nfather, to come to Wariston to speak with her concerning the murdering\nof him. The nurse, who, we may safely suppose, had been the witness of\nKincaid\u2019s brutal behavior, was no unwilling agent. \u201cShe helped me too\nwell in mine evil purpose,\u201d says her mistress; \u201cfor when I told her what\nI was minded to do, she consented to the doing of it, and ... when I\nsent her to seek the man who would do it, she said, I shall go and seek\nhim, and if I get him not, I shall seek another; and if I get none, I\nshall do it myself.\u201d This the nurse confessed. The other two women knew\nnothing of the deed before it was done; \u201cand that which they knew,\u201d says\nthe mistress again, \u201cthey durst not tell for fear, for I had compelled\nthem to dissemble.\u201d Robert Weir, having given consent, was put in a\ncellar, where he stayed till midnight, about which time he came up and\nwent to Kincaid\u2019s chamber. Kincaid, who had waked with the \u201cdin,\u201d and\nwas leaning over the side of his bed, was knocked to the floor by a blow\nin the neck, kicked in the belly, and then throttled. \u201cAs soon as that\nman gripped him and began his evil turn,\u201d says the wife, \u201cso soon as my\nhusband cried so fearfully, I leapt outover my bed and went to the hall,\nwhere I sat all the time till that unhappy man came to me and reported\nthat mine husband was dead.\u201d She desired Weir, she says, to take her\naway with him, for she feared trial, albeit flesh and blood made her\nthink that her father\u2019s interest at court would have saved her (this may\nhave been an after-thought). But Weir refused, saying, You shall tarry\nstill, and if this matter come not to light, you shall say he died in\nthe gallery, and I shall return to my master\u2019s service. But if it be\nknown, I shall fly and take the crime on me, and none dare pursue you.\n\nA benevolent minister, who visited Jean Livingston in prison about ten\no\u2019clock on Thursday, the third day after the murder, found her \u201craging\nin a senseless fury, disdainfully taunting every word of grace that was\nspoken to her, impatiently tearing her hair, sometimes running up and\ndown the house like one possessed, sometimes throwing herself on the bed\nand sprawling, refusing all comfort by word, and, when the book of God\nwas brought to her, flinging it upon the walls, twice or thrice, most\nunreverently.\u201d His warnings of wrath to come and his exhortations to\nseek mercy through repentance were treated as \u201ctrittle, trattle,\u201d and\nshe stubbornly refused to pray for herself, or to take part in his\nprayer, or to say so much as God help me. He told her that she was\npromising herself impunity, but within a few hours, when she should have\nthe sentence of death pronounced against her, the pride of her heart\nwould be broken. The trial and sentence followed hard upon this, and\nwhen the minister returned, some time in the afternoon, he found a\nvisible and apparent grace beginning in her. He remained with her till\nafter midnight, and when he left her, Jean Livingston could say that she\nfelt in her heart a free remission of all her sins. This worthy man came\nto the prison again early the next morning, and found God\u2019s grace\nwonderfully augmented in her. She was full of joy and courage. Those\nthat stood about her said they never saw her so amiable or well-favored.\nThe glory of God was shining both without and within her.\n\nTo follow no further this astounding chapter in psychology, this bairn\nof twenty-one years,[10] with whom the Lord began to work in mercy upon\nThursday at two hours in the afternoon, gave up her soul to him in peace\nupon the Saturday following at three hours in the morning. \u201cWhen she\ncame to the scaffold and was carried up upon it, she looked up to the\nMaiden with two longsome looks,\u201d but her serenity was not disturbed. She\nmade a confession at each of the four corners of the scaffold, took\n\u201cgood night\u201d cheerfully of all her friends, kissing them, and then, \u201cas\na constant saint of God, humbled herself on her knees and offered her\nneck to the axe.\u201d[11]\n\nIt may be gathered from Weir\u2019s indictment that it was the ill treatment\nwhich she had received from her husband that incited the wife to the\nmurder. Two of the ballads, #A# 4, #B# 2, make the same representation.\nAn epitaph on Jean Livingston gives us to understand that both parties\nwere very young, and were married aganst their will (invita invito\nsubjuncta puella puello): whence perpetual disagreements (nihil in\nthalamo nisi rix\u00e6, jurgia, lites).\n\nIn #A#, #B#, the strangling is done by the nurse and her lady, Man\u2019s\nEnemy personally knotting the tether in #A#; in #C# it is done by the\nnurse alone. In #B# 8 the great Dunipace, in his anger at hearing what\nhis daughter has done, cries out for her to be put in a barrel of\npikes[12] and rolled down some lea. In #C# the father, mother, and\nbrother come to see Jean, and would fain give everything to borrow her.\nThis is a by much too flattering account of the behavior of her\nrelatives, who were principally anxious to have her got out of the world\nwith as little \u00e9clat as might be. None of them came near her in prison,\nthough Wariston\u2019s brother did. #C# makes Wariston\u2019s mortal offence not\nthe throwing a plate at her face (#A#) or striking her on the mouth\n(#B#), but the taxing her with a bairn by another man.[13] The\nunfriendly relations of the pair must have been notorious. In the prison\nthe wife \u201cpurged herself very sincerely from many scandalous things she\nhad been bruited with. Not that she would excuse herself that she was a\nsinner in the highest rank, but that she might clear herself from these\nfalse reports that her house was charged with:\u201d Memorial, p. XXVII.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n Jamieson\u2019s Popular Ballads, I, 109, as taken down by Sir Walter\n Scott from the recitation of his mother.\n\n 1\n Down by yon garden green\n Sae merrily as she gaes;\n She has twa weel-made feet,\n And she trips upon her taes.\n\n 2\n She has twa weel-made feet,\n Far better is her hand;\n She\u2019s as jimp in the middle\n As ony willow-wand.\n\n 3\n \u2018Gif ye will do my bidding,\n At my bidding for to be,\n It\u2019s I will make you lady\n Of a\u2019 the lands you see.\u2019\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 4\n He spak a word in jest;\n Her answer wasna good;\n He threw a plate at her face,\n Made it a\u2019 gush out o blood.\n\n 5\n She wasna frae her chamber\n A step but barely three,\n When up and at her richt hand\n There stood Man\u2019s Enemy.\n\n 6\n \u2018Gif ye will do my bidding,\n At my bidding for to be,\n I\u2019ll learn you a wile\n Avenged for to be.\u2019\n\n 7\n The Foul Thief knotted the tether,\n She lifted his head on hie,\n The nourice drew the knot\n That gard lord Waristoun die.\n\n 8\n Then word is gane to Leith,\n Also to Edinburgh town,\n That the lady had killd the laird,\n The laird o Waristoun.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 9\n \u2018Tak aff, tak aff my hood,\n But lat my petticoat be;\n Put my mantle oer my head,\n For the fire I downa see.\n\n 10\n \u2018Now, a\u2019 ye gentle maids,\n Tak warning now by me,\n And never marry ane\n But wha pleases your ee.\n\n 11\n \u2018For he married me for love,\n But I married him for fee;\n And sae brak out the feud\n That gard my dearie die.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n Kinloch MSS, VII, 217; from the recitation of Jenny Watson.\n\n 1\n It was at dinner as they sat,\n And whan they drank the wine,\n How happy war the laird and lady\n Of bonnie Wariston!\n\n 2\n The lady spak but ae word,\n The matter to conclude;\n The laird strak her on the mouth,\n Till she spat out o blude.\n\n 3\n She did not know the way\n Her mind to satisfy,\n Till evil cam into [her] head\n All by the Enemy.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 4\n \u2018At evening when ye sit,\n And whan ye drink the wine,\n See that ye fill the glass weill up\n To the laird o Wariston.\u2019\n\n 5\n So at table whan they sat,\n And whan they drank the wine,\n She made the glass aft gae round\n To the laird o Wariston.\n\n 6\n The nurice she knet the knot,\n And O she knet it sicker!\n The lady did gie it a twig,\n Till it began to wicker.\n\n 7\n But word\u2019s gane doun to Leith,\n And up to Embro toun,\n That the lady she has slain the laird,\n The laird o Waristoun.\n\n 8\n Word has gane to her father, the grit Dunipace,\n And an angry man was he;\n Cries, Gar mak a barrel o pikes,\n And row her down some lea!\n\n 9\n She said, Wae be to ye, Wariston,\n I wish ye may sink for sin!\n For I have been your wife\n These nine years, running ten;\n And I never loved ye sae well\n As now whan ye\u2019re lying slain.\n\n 10\n \u2018But tak aff this gowd brocade,\n And let my petticoat stay,\n And tie a handkerchief round my face,\n That the people may not see.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n C\n\n Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 56.\n\n 1\n \u2018My mother was an ill woman,\n In fifteen years she married me;\n I hadna wit to guide a man,\n Alas! ill counsel guided me.\n\n 2\n \u2018O Warriston, O Warriston,\n I wish that ye may sink for sin!\n I was but bare fifteen years auld,\n Whan first I enterd your yates within.\n\n 3\n \u2018I hadna been a month married,\n Till my gude lord went to the sea;\n I bare a bairn ere he came hame,\n And set it on the nourice knee.\n\n 4\n \u2018But it fell ance upon a day,\n That my gude lord returnd from sea;\n Then I did dress in the best array,\n As blythe as ony bird on tree.\n\n 5\n \u2018I took my young son in my arms,\n Likewise my nourice me forebye,\n And I went down to yon shore-side,\n My gude lord\u2019s vessel I might spy.\n\n 6\n \u2018My lord he stood upon the deck,\n I wyte he haild me courteouslie:\n Ye are thrice welcome, my lady gay,\n Whae\u2019s aught that bairn on your knee?\u2019\n\n 7\n She turnd her right and round about,\n Says, \u2018Why take ye sic dreads o me?\n Alas! I was too young married,\n To love another man but thee.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018Now hold your tongue, my lady gay,\n Nae mair falsehoods ye\u2019ll tell to me;\n This bonny bairn is not mine,\n You\u2019ve loved another while I was on sea.\u2019\n\n 9\n In discontent then hame she went,\n And aye the tear did blin her ee;\n Says, Of this wretch I\u2019ll be revenged\n For these harsh words he\u2019s said to me.\n\n 10\n She\u2019s counselld wi her father\u2019s steward\n What way she coud revenged be;\n Bad was the counsel then he gave,\n It was to gar her gude lord dee.\n\n 11\n The nourice took the deed in hand,\n I wat she was well paid her fee;\n She kiest the knot, and the loop she ran,\n Which soon did gar this young lord dee.\n\n 12\n His brother lay in a room hard by,\n Alas! that night he slept too soun;\n But then he wakend wi a cry,\n \u2018I fear my brother\u2019s putten down.\n\n 13\n \u2018O get me coal and candle light,\n And get me some gude companie;\u2019\n But before the light was brought,\n Warriston he was gart dee.\n\n 14\n They\u2019ve taen the lady and fause nourice,\n In prison strong they hae them boun;\n The nourice she was hard o heart,\n But the bonny lady fell in swoon.\n\n 15\n In it came her brother dear,\n And aye a sorry man was he:\n \u2018I woud gie a\u2019 the lands I heir,\n O bonny Jean, to borrow thee.\u2019\n\n 16\n \u2018O borrow me, brother, borrow me?\n O borrowd shall I never be;\n For I gart kill my ain gude lord,\n And life is nae pleasure to me.\u2019\n\n 17\n In it came her mother dear,\n I wyte a sorry woman was she:\n \u2018I woud gie my white monie and gowd,\n O bonny Jean, to borrow thee.\u2019\n\n 18\n \u2018Borrow me, mother, borrow me?\n O borrowd shall I never be;\n For I gart kill my ain gude lord,\n And life\u2019s now nae pleasure to me,\u2019\n\n 19\n Then in it came her father dear,\n I wyte a sorry man was he;\n Says, \u2018Ohon, alas! my bonny Jean,\n If I had you at hame wi me!\n\n 20\n \u2018Seven daughters I hae left at hame,\n As fair women as fair can be;\n But I would gie them ane by ane,\n O bonny Jean, to borrow thee.\u2019\n\n 21\n \u2018O borrow me, father, borrow me?\n O borrowd shall I never be;\n I that is worthy o the death,\n It is but right that I shoud dee.\u2019\n\n 22\n Then out it speaks the king himsell,\n And aye as he steps in the fleer;\n Says, \u2018I grant you your life, lady,\n Because you are of tender year.\u2019\n\n 23\n \u2018A boon, a boon, my liege the king,\n The boon I ask, ye\u2019ll grant to me;\u2019\n \u2018Ask on, ask on, my bonny Jean,\n Whateer ye ask it\u2019s granted be.\u2019\n\n 24\n \u2018Cause take me out at night, at night,\n Lat not the sun upon me shine,\n And take me to yon heading-hill,\n Strike aff this dowie head o mine.\n\n 25\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll take me out at night, at night,\n When there are nane to gaze and see,\n And hae me to yon heading-hill,\n And ye\u2019ll gar head me speedilie.\u2019\n\n 26\n They\u2019ve taen her out at nine at night,\n Loot not the sun upon her shine,\n And had her to yon heading-hill,\n And headed her baith neat and fine.\n\n 27\n Then out it speaks the king himsell,\n I wyte a sorry man was he:\n \u2018I\u2019ve travelld east, I\u2019ve travelld west,\n And sailed far beyond the sea,\n But I never saw a woman\u2019s face\n I was sae sorry to see dee.\n\n 28\n \u2018But Warriston was sair to blame,\n For slighting o his lady so;\n He had the wyte o his ain death,\n And bonny lady\u2019s overthrow.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n#B.#\n\n 4. _The MS indicates that this is the nurse\u2019s speech._\n\n 5^1. whan _struck out_, as _written over_.\n\n 8. has _struck out_, \u2018s _substituted_.\n\n 10^2. stay _struck out_, be _substituted_.\n\n 10^3. _Originally_ handkerchief; hand _struck out_.\n\n _Kinloch has made several changes in printing_:\n\n 7^1. has gane.\n\n 8^3. Fy! gar.\n\n 8^4. some brae.\n\n 9^3. gud wife. _He gives_ as _in 5^1;_ be _in 10^2;_ handkerchief\n _in 10^3._\n\n#C.#\n\n 6^4. Whase. _Perhaps_, Wha\u2019s _rather than_ Whae\u2019s.\n\n\n\n\n 195\n\n LORD MAXWELL\u2019S LAST GOODNIGHT\n\n #A.# \u2018Lord Maxwell\u2019s Last Goodnight,\u2019 communicated to Percy by G.\n Paton, 1778.\n\n #B.# \u2018Lord Maxwell\u2019s Goodnight,\u2019 Glenriddell MSS, XI, 18, 1791,\n Scott\u2019s Minstrelsy, I, 194, 1802; II, 133, 1833.\n\n\nFirst published in the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, \u201cfrom a copy\nin Glenriddell\u2019s MS., with some slight variations from tradition.\u201d I\nunderstand this to mean, not that the variations were derived from\ntradition, but that the text of the Minstrelsy departs somewhat from\nthat of the manuscript.\n\n#A# and #B# agree entirely as to matter. The order of the stanzas, not\nbeing governed by an explicit story, might be expected to vary with\nevery reciter.\n\nIn the year 1585, John, Lord Maxwell, having incurred the enmity of the\nking\u2019s favorite, the Earl of Arran, was denounced rebel, on such charges\nas were always at hand, and a commission was given to the Laird of\nJohnstone to pursue and take him. A hired force, by the aid of which\nthis was expected to be done, was badly routed by the Maxwells in a\nsharp fight. Johnstone made a raid on Maxwell\u2019s lands; Maxwell burnt\nJohnstone\u2019s house. Finally, in one of their skirmishes, Johnstone was\ncaptured: \u201cthe grief of this overthrow gave Johnstone, shortly after he\nwas liberated, his death.\u201d\n\nAfter some years of feud, the two chiefs, \u201cby the industry of certain\nwise gentlemen of the Johnstones,\u201d surprised all Scotland by making a\ntreaty of peace. On April 1, 1592, they entered into a bond to forget\nand forgive all rancor and malice of the past, and to live in amity,\nthemselves and their friends, in all time coming. A little more than a\nyear after, a party of Johnstones, relying, no doubt, on the forbearance\nof their new ally, then warden of the West Marches, \u201crode a stealing\u201d in\nthe lands of Lord Sanquhar and of the knights of Drumlanrig, Lag, and\nCloseburn, carried off a large booty, and killed eighteen men who\nendeavored to retrieve their property. (See No 184, \u2018The Lads of\nWamphray.\u2019) The injured gentlemen made complaint to Maxwell as warden,\nand also procured a commission directing him to proceed against the\nJohnstones. Maxwell was in an awkward plight. To induce him to take\naction, several of the sufferers engaged to enter into a bond of\nmanrent, or homage, to Maxwell, by which they should be obliged to\nservice and he to protection. \u201cMaxwell, thinking this to be a good\noccasion for bringing all Nithsdale to depend upon him, embraced the\noffer.\u201d But this bond, through negligence, came to the hands of\nJohnstone, who, seeing what turn matters would take, made a league with\nScotts, Eliots, and others, and in a battle at Dryfe Sands, by superior\nstrategy, defeated Maxwell, though the warden had much larger numbers.\nThis was in December, 1593. \u201cThe Lord Maxwell, a tall man and heavy in\narmor, was in the chase overtaken and stricken from his horse. The\nreport went that he called to Johnstone and desired to be taken as he\nhad sometime taken his father, but was unmercifully used, and the hand\nthat he reached forth cut off. But of this,\u201d says Spotiswood, \u201cI can\naffirm nothing. There always the Lord Maxwell fell, having received many\nwounds.\u201d Drumlanrig, Closeburn, and other of the Nithsdale lairds of\nMaxwell\u2019s faction, barely escaped with their lives.\n\nSir James Johnstone soon made his peace with the king, whose warden had\nbeen slain while acting under royal authority. The heir of the slain\nwarden, John, the ninth Lord Maxwell, is said to have been only eight\nyears old at the time of his father\u2019s death.[14] If this was so, he\nbecame very early of age for all purposes of offence. The two clans kept\nup a bloody and destructive private war. Both chiefs were imprisoned and\nproclaimed rebel or traitor; Maxwell twice, first in 1601, as favoring\npopery, and again in 1607, for his extravagant turbulence; and in each\ncase he made his own escape, the second time by the use of violence. At\nlength, influenced perhaps by a conviction that his defiance of the law\nhad gone too far for his safety, Maxwell seemed to be seriously disposed\nto reconcile himself with his inveterate enemy.[15] Sir James Johnstone,\nas it happened, had already asked Sir Robert Maxwell, who was his\nbrother-in-law and cousin to Lord Maxwell, to speak to his kinsman with\nthat view. Sir Robert had no wish to meddle, for his cousin, he said,\nwas a dangerous man to have to do with. Lord John, however,\nspontaneously sent for Sir Robert, and said to him, You see my estate\nand the danger I stand in. I would crave your counsel as a man that\ntenders my weal. The result of much conference and writing (in which Sir\nRobert Maxwell, evidently feeling imperfect confidence in his cousin,\nacted with great caution) was that Lord Maxwell proposed a tryst with\nSir James Johnstone, each of them to be accompanied by one person only,\nand no others to be present except Sir Robert, and faithfully promised,\nwith his hands between Sir Robert\u2019s hands, that neither he nor the man\nhe should bring with him should do any wrong, \u201cwhether they agreed or\nnot.\u201d Johnstone accepted the terms and made corresponding promises. The\nmeeting came off the 6th of April, 1608. Johnstone brought Willie\nJohnstone with him, and Maxwell Charlie Maxwell, a man that Sir Robert\nstrongly disapproved, but his chief undertook to be answerable for him.\nSir Robert required the same guaranty on the part of Johnstone for his\nfollower, and these men were ordered to keep away from one another. The\ntwo principals and their mediator between them rode off, with their\nbacks to their men, and began their parley. Looking round, Sir Robert\nsaw that Charlie Maxwell had left his appointed place and gone to Willie\nJohnstone, at whom, after some words between them, he fired a pistol.\nSir Robert cried to Lord Maxwell, Fie, make not yourself a traitor and\nme both! Lord Maxwell replied, I am blameless. Sir James Johnstone\nslipped away to see to his follower\u2019s safety. Lord Maxwell followed Sir\nJames, shot him in the back, and rode off.[16]\n\nLord Maxwell fled the country, but was tried in his absence and\nsentenced to death, with forfeiture of his estates. He came back to\nScotland after four years, was basely betrayed into the power of the\ngovernment by a kinsman, and was beheaded at Edinburgh May 21, 1613.[17]\n\n\u201cThus was finally ended,\u201d remarks Sir Walter Scott, \u201cby a salutary\nexample of severity, the \u2018foul debate\u2019 betwixt the Maxwells and\nJohnstones, in the course of which each family lost two chieftains: one\ndying of a broken heart, one in the field of battle, one by\nassassination, and one by the sword of the executioner.\u201d\n\n#A# 1, 2, and _passim_. The very affectionate relations of Lord Maxwell\nand his \u2018lady and only joy,\u2019 are a fiction of the ballad-maker. His wife\nwas daughter of the first Marquis of Hamilton. Maxwell instituted a\nprocess of divorce against her, and she died while this was pending,\nbefore he fled the country in 1608. By his treatment of his wife he made\nher brother, the second marquis, and the Hamiltons generally, his\nenemies.[18]\n\n5, 6. Carlaverock castle had from far back belonged to the Maxwells, and\nis theirs still. They had a house, or castle, at Dumfries, and the\ncustody of the \u201chouses\u201d of Lochmaben, Langholm, and Thrieve.\n\n9, 10. Douglas of Drumlanrig, Kirkpatrick of Closeburn, and Grierson of\nLag fled in the _sauve qui peut_ of Dryfe Sands, and the partisans of\nLord Maxwell, who there lost his life, would naturally describe them as\ndeserting their chief. They (or two of them) had entered into a \u201cband\u201d\nwith Maxwell, as aforesaid. The ballad-maker seems to intimate that they\nwere in a band with each other, or with somebody, to betray Maxwell.\n\n11, and #B# 1. \u2018Robin in the Orchet,\u2019 \u2018Robert of Oarchyardtoan,\u2019 is\nproperly Sir Robert Maxwell of Orchardton, Lord John\u2019s cousin, but it is\nevident, from the conjunction of mother and sisters, that the person\nhere intended is his brother Robert, to whom, some years after the\nexecution and forfeiture of Lord John, the estates were restored.\n\n14. Maxwell\u2019s wife, as said above, was no longer living. The \u201coffers\u201d\nwhich he made, to save his life, contain a proposal that he should marry\nthe slain Sir James Johnstone\u2019s daughter, without any dowry.\n\n\u201cGoodnight\u201d is to be taken loosely as a farewell. Other cases are \u2018John\nArmstrong\u2019s last Goodnight,\u2019 and the well-known beautiful fragment (?)\nof two stanzas called \u2018Armstrong\u2019s Goodnight;\u2019 again, Essex\u2019s last\nGoodnight, to the tune of The King\u2019s last Goodnight, Chappell, Roxburghe\nBallads, I, 570, and Popular Music, p. 174. The Earl of Derby sings a\nGoodnight (though the name is not used) in \u2018Flodden Field,\u2019 No 168, III,\n356, stanzas 36\u201358. Justice Shallow sang those tunes that he heard the\ncarmen whistle, and sware they were his Fancies, or his Good-nights:\nSecond Part of Henry IV, III, 2. Lord Byron, in the preface to Childe\nHarold\u2019s Pilgrimage, says \u201cthe good-night in the beginning of the first\ncanto was suggested by Lord Maxwell\u2019s Goodnight in the Border\nMinstrelsy.\u201d\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n Communicated to Percy by G. Paton, Edinburgh, December 4, 1778.\n\n 1\n \u2018Good lord of the land, will you stay thane\n About my faither\u2019s house,\n And walk into these gardines green,\n In my arms I\u2019ll the embraice.\n\n 2\n \u2018Ten thousand times I\u2019ll kiss thy face;\n Make sport, and let\u2019s be mery:\u2019\n \u2018I thank you, lady, fore your kindness;\n Trust me, I may not stay with the.\n\n 3 \u2018For I have kil\u2019d the laird Johnston;\n I vallow not the feed;\n My wiked heart did still incline;\n He was my faither\u2019s dead.\n\n 4\n \u2018Both night and day I did proced,\n And a\u2019 on him revainged to be;\n But now have I gotten what I long sowght,\n Trust me, I may not stay with the.\n\n 5\n \u2018Adue, Dumfriese, that proper place!\n Fair well, Carlaurike faire!\n Adue the castle of the Trive,\n And all my biddings there!\n\n 6\n \u2018Adue, Lochmaben gaits so faire,\n And the Langhm shank, where birks bobs bony!\n Adue, my leady and only joy!\n Trust me, I may not stay with the.\n\n 7\n \u2018Adue, fair Eskdale, up and doun,\n Wher my poor frends do duell!\n The bangisters will beat them doun,\n And will them sore compell.\n\n 8\n \u2018I\u2019ll reveinge the cause mysell,\n Again when I come over the sea;\n Adue, my leady and only joy!\n Fore, trust me, I may not stay with the.\n\n 9\n \u2018Adue, Dumlanark! fals was ay,\n And Closburn! in a band;\n The laird of the Lag from my faither fled\n When the Jhohnstones struek of his hand.\n\n 10\n \u2018They wer three brethren in a band;\n I pray they may never be merry;\n Adue, my leady and only joy!\n Trust me, I may not stay with the.\n\n 11\n \u2018Adue, madam my mother dear,\n But and my sister[s] two!\n Fair well, Robin in the Orchet!\n Fore the my heart is wo.\n\n 12\n \u2018Adue, the lillie, and fair well, rose,\n And the primros, spreads fair and bony!\n Adue, my leady and only joy!\n Fore, trust me, I may not stay with the.\u2019\n\n 13\n He took out a good gold ring,\n Where at hang sygnets three:\n \u2018Take thou that, my own kind thing,\n And ay have mind of me.\n\n 14\n \u2018Do not mary another lord\n Agan or I come over the sea;\n Adue, my leady and only joy!\n For, trust me, I may not stay with the.\u2019\n\n 15\n The wind was fair, and the ship was clare,\n And the good lord went away;\n The most part of his frends was there,\n Giving him a fair convoy.\n\n 16\n They drank the wine, they did not spare,\n Presentting in that good lord\u2019s sight;\n Now he is over the floods so gray;\n Lord Maxwell has te\u2019n his last good-night.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n Glenriddell MSS, XI, 18. 1791.\n\n 1\n \u2018Adiew, madam my mother dear,\n But and my sisters two!\n Adiew, fair Robert of Oarchyardtoan!\n For thee my heart is woe.\n\n 2\n \u2018Adiew, the lilly and the rose,\n The primrose, sweet to see!\n Adiew, my lady and only joy!\n For I manna stay with thee.\n\n 3\n \u2018Tho I have killed the laird Johnston,\n What care I for his feed?\n My noble mind dis still incline;\n He was my father\u2019s dead.\n\n 4\n \u2018Both night and day I laboured oft\n Of him revenged to be,\n And now I\u2019ve got what I long sought;\n But I manna stay with thee.\n\n 5\n \u2018Adiew, Drumlanrig! false was ay,\n And Cloesburn! in a band,\n Where the laird of Lagg fra my father fled\n When the Johnston struck off his hand.\n\n 6\n \u2018They were three brethren in a band;\n Joy may they never see!\n But now I\u2019ve got what I long sought,\n And I maunna stay with thee.\n\n 7\n \u2018Adiew, Dumfries, my proper place,\n But and Carlaverock fair,\n Adiew, the castle of the Thrieve,\n And all my buildings there!\n\n 8\n \u2018Adiew, Lochmaben\u2019s gates so fair,\n The Langholm shank, where birks they be!\n Adiew, my lady and only joy!\n And, trust me, I maunna stay with thee.\n\n 9\n \u2018Adiew, fair Eskdale, up and down,\n Where my poor friends do dwell!\n The bangisters will ding them down,\n And will them sore compel.\n\n 10\n \u2018But I\u2019ll revenge that feed mysell\n When I come ou\u2019r the sea;\n Adiew, my lady and only joy!\n For I maunna stay with thee.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018Lord of the land, will you go then\n Unto my father\u2019s place,\n And walk into their gardens green,\n And I will you embrace.\n\n 12\n \u2018Ten thousand times I\u2019ll kiss your face,\n And sport, and make you merry;\u2019\n \u2018I thank thee, my lady, for thy kindness,\n But, trust me, I maunna stay with thee.\u2019\n\n 13\n Then he took off a great gold ring,\n Where at hang signets three:\n \u2018Hae, take thee that, my ain dear thing,\n And still hae mind of me.\n\n 14\n \u2018But if thow marry another lord\n Ere I come ou\u2019r the sea\u2014\n Adiew, my lady and only joy!\n For I maunna stay with thee.\u2019\n\n 15\n The wind was fair, the ship was close,\n That good lord went away,\n And most part of his friends were there,\n To give him a fair convay.\n\n 16\n They drank thair wine, they did not spare,\n Even in the good lord\u2019s sight;\n Now he is oer the floods so gray,\n And Lord Maxwell has taen his good-night.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A.#\n\n 1^2. faither\u2019s place? _So_ #B#.\n\n 4^2. And a\u2019 to be revainged on him. _Cf._ #B#.\n\n 5^2. Fair well the Lanr\u00edke faires. (?)\n\n 9^4. struet. (?)\n\n 13^{1,2}.\n He took out a good gold ring [where it hang, _partly erased_.]\n Where it hang signets three.\n\n#B.#\n\n _Written in stanzas of eight lines._\n\n 4^1. labourod.\n\n _The variations of the Minstrelsy, being editorial, do not require\n to be recorded, but some of them have a certain interest._\n\n 1^2. sisters three.\n\n 1^4. My heart is wae for thee.\n\n 3^3. mind their wrath disdains.\n\n 6^{3,4}.\n Their treacherous art and cowardly heart\n Has twin\u2019d my love and me.\n\n 11\n Lord of the land, that ladye said,\n O wad ye go wi me\n Unto my brother\u2019s stately tower,\n Where safest ye may be!\n\n 12^{1,2}.\n There Hamiltons and Douglas baith\n Shall rise to succour thee.\n\n 14^3. His life is but a three days\u2019 lease.\n\n 15^1. was clear, _as in_ #A#.\n\n\n\n\n 196\n\n THE FIRE OF FRENDRAUGHT\n\n #A. a.# \u2018The Fire of Frendraught,\u2019 Motherwell\u2019s Minstrelsy, p. 161,\n 1827. #b.# \u2018Burning of Frendraught,\u2019 Maidment\u2019s North Countrie\n Garland, p. 4, 1824.\n\n #B.# \u2018The Burning of Frendraught,\u2019 Kinloch MSS, V, 399.\n\n #C.# \u2018The Fire of Frendraught,\u2019 from a note-book of Dr Joseph\n Robertson\u2019s.\n\n #D.# Ritson\u2019s Scotish Songs, II, 35, 1794.\n\n #E.# Kinloch MSS, VI, 27, one stanza.\n\n\n#A a# was communicated to Motherwell by Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe.\n(Corrections have here been adopted from Motherwell\u2019s Errata: see also\nthe Musical Museum, 1853, IV, 322*.) #A b#, says Motherwell, has the\n\u201cdisadvantage of containing a very considerable number of slight verbal\nand literal inaccuracies.\u201d The implication is, or should be, that these\nvariations are of editorial origin. Some of the readings of #b# are in\nthemselves better than those of #a#. #b# is repeated in Buchan\u2019s\nGleanings, p. 165. The copy in Maidment\u2019s Scotish Ballads, 1868, I, 267,\nis a with a reading or two from #b#, arbitrary alterations, and some\nmisprints.\n\nDr Joseph Robertson has, in one of his notebooks, \u201cAdversaria,\u201d p. 63,\nthe two following stanzas, given him by a gentleman of Buchan as\nbelonging to \u201cThe Burning of Frendraught House.\u201d\n\n \u2018Will ye play at the cards, Lord John?\n Will ye drink at the wine?\n Or will ye [gang] to a weel made bed,\n And sleep till it be time?\u2019\n\n \u2018I\u2019ll no play at the cards, ladie,\n I\u2019ll no drink at the wine;\n But I\u2019ll gang to a weel made bed,\n An sleep till it be time.\u2019\n\nUndoubtedly these stanzas may have occurred in a version of this ballad,\nbut they are a commonplace, and sometimes an intrusive one. See II, 109,\n\u2018Fair Janet,\u2019 #F# 4, 5; 154, \u2018Young Hunting,\u2019 #K# 8, 9; 164, \u2018Clerk\nSaunders,\u2019 #F#, 5, 6; 409, \u2018Willie o Douglas Dale,\u2019 #B# 20.\n\nThe modern, and extremely vapid, ballad of \u2018Frennet Hall\u2019 appeared\noriginally (I suppose) in Herd\u2019s Scottish Songs, 1776, I, 142, and was\nafterwards received into Ritson\u2019s Scotish Songs, II, 31, The Musical\nMuseum, No 286, etc.\n\n\nJames Crichton of Frendraught and William Gordon of Rothiemay (a\nneighboring estate[19]) had a fierce quarrel about fishing-rights\npertaining to lands which Gordon had sold to Crichton. A legal decision\nwas rendered in favor of Frendraught, who, however, pursued his\nadversary with excessive vigor and procured him to be outlawed. After\nthis, Rothiemay would hear to no terms of peace, and collected a party\nof loose fellows with the intent to waste Frendraught\u2019s lands.\nFrendraught obtained a commission to arrest Rothiemay, and on the first\nday of the year 1630 set out to put this in force, accompanied, among\nothers, by his uncle (George Gordon) James Leslie, son of the laird of\nPitcaple, and John Meldrum, who was married to young Leslie\u2019s aunt.\nRothiemay, hearing of Frendraught\u2019s coming, rode out to meet him, and\nthere was a fight, in which Rothiemay and George Gordon were mortally\nwounded, and Meldrum badly. The feud waxed hot, and Frendraught\u2019s lands\nwere in danger of being burned and ravaged by Highlanders, with whom\nJohn Gordon of Rothiemay, son to the slain laird, had combined for the\npurpose. But in the end, by the strenuous exertions of the Marquis of\nHuntly and others, a settlement was effected. The laird of Rothiemay and\nthe children of George Gordon were \u201cto remit their father\u2019s slaughter\nmutually,\u201d and in satisfaction thereof the laird of Frendraught was to\npay a certain sum of money to young Rothiemay and to George Gordon\u2019s\nchildren: \u201cwhich both, Frendraught obeyed and performed willingly, and\nso, all parties having shaken hands, they were heartily reconciled.\u201d\n\nThis broil was no sooner settled than another sprouted, a side-shoot\nfrom the same stem. Meldrum, who had been with Frendraught in the affray\nwith Rothiemay, and had been wounded, was dissatisfied with such\nrequital as he received, and, getting nothing more by his bickering and\nthreats, helped himself one night to two of Frendraught\u2019s best horses.\nSummoned to court for the theft, he \u201cturned rebel\u201d and did not appear.\nFrendraught obtained a commission to arrest him, and went to look for\nhim at Pitcaple, a place belonging to John Leslie, Meldrum\u2019s\nbrother-in-law. He did not find Meldrum, but fell in with James Leslie,\nPitcaple\u2019s son, who had also been of Frendraught\u2019s party at the\nencounter on New Year\u2019s day. There was talk about Meldrum\u2019s behavior, in\nwhich Frendraught comported himself forbearingly; but James Leslie and\nRobert Crichton, a kinsman of Frendraught, had hot words, which ended in\nLeslie\u2019s getting a dangerous shot in the arm. Hereupon the larger part\nof the surname of Leslie rose in arms against the Crichtons.\nFrendraught, grieved for what had happened to James Leslie, betook\nhimself to the Marquis of Huntly, and entreated him to make peace. The\nmarquis sent for the Leslies, and did his best to reconcile them, but\nPitcaple would listen to nothing until he knew whether his son James was\nto live or die. Huntly, fearing for Frendraught\u2019s safety, kept him two\ndays at the Bog of Gight, and then, hearing that the Leslies were lying\nin wait, sent his own son, Viscount Melgum, and the young laird of\nRothiemay, to protect him on the way home. Arrived there, the laird and\nhis lady begged these young gentlemen to remain overnight, \u201cand did\ntheir best, with all demonstration of love and kindness, to entertain\nthem, thinking themselves happy now to have purchased such friends who\nhad formerly been their foes.\u201d At about two in the morning the tower of\nFrendraught house, in which these guests lay, took fire, and they with\nfour of their servants were burnt to death. This occurred on the eighth\n(ninth) of October.\n\nSo far Sir Robert Gordon, uncle of the lady of Frendraught and cousin of\nthe Marquis of Huntly, who was perfectly acquainted with all the parties\nand circumstances. He goes on to say, with entire fairness: \u201cThe rumor\nof this unhappy accident did speedily spread itself throughout the whole\nkingdom, every man bewailing it, and constructing it diversly as their\naffections led them; some laying an aspersion upon Frendraught, as if he\nhad wilfully destroyed his guests, who had come thither to defend him\nagainst his enemies; which carried no appearance of truth; for, besides\nthe improbability of the matter, he did lose therein a great quantity of\nsilver, both coined and uncoined, and likewise all his writs and\nevidents were therein burnt.\u201d[20]\n\nThe monstrous wickedness of this act would not, in the light of the\nhistory of those times, afford an argument that would of itself avail to\nclear Frendraught; but what words could describe his recklessness and\nfolly! Supposing him willing to set fire to his own house, and sacrifice\nhis silver and securities, for the gratification of burning young\nRothiemay with the rest, he knew very well what consequences he had to\nexpect. He had been glad to compound his feud with the Rothiemays by the\npayment of money (some say the considerable sum of 50,000 merks). He had\nbeen alarmed, and with good reason, at the prospect of a feud with the\nLeslies. But what were these to a feud with the Marquis of Huntly, which\nwould bring down upon him, and did bring down upon him, not only the\nreprisals of the Gordons, but spoliation from all the brigands of the\ncountry?[21]\n\n \u2018Lewed people demen gladly to the badder ende,\u2019\n\nsays Chaucer, and so it was with ballad-makers, and sometimes even with\nclerks; John Spalding, for instance, the other contemporary authority\nupon this subject, who gives a lively and detailed account of the\nburning of the tower, as follows.[22]\n\n\u201cThe viscount was laid in a bed in the Old Tower, going off the hall,\nand standing upon a vault, wherein there was a round hole, devised of\nold, just under Aboyne\u2019s[23] bed. Robert Gordon, born in Sutherland, his\nservitor, and English Will, his page, was both laid beside him in the\nsame chamber. The laird of Rothiemay, with some servants beside him, was\nlaid in an upper chamber just above Aboyne\u2019s chamber; and in another\nroom above that chamber was laid George Chalmer of Noth, and George\nGordon, another of the viscount\u2019s servants; with whom also was laid\nCaptain Rollok, then in Frendraught\u2019s own company. Thus all being at\nrest, about midnight that dolorous tower took fire in so sudden and\nfurious manner, yea, and in a clap, that this noble viscount, the laird\nof Rothiemay, English Will, Colin Ivat, another of Aboyne\u2019s servitors,\nand other two, being six in number, were cruelly burnt and tormented to\nthe death, but help or relief; the laird of Frendraught, his lady and\nwhole household looking on, without moving or stirring to deliver them\nfrom the fury of this fearful fire, as was reported. Robert Gordon,\ncalled Sutherland Robert, being in the viscount\u2019s chamber, escaped this\nfire with his life. George Chalmer and Captain Rollok, being in the\nthird room, escaped also this fire, and, as was said, Aboyne might have\nsaved himself also if he had gone out of doors, which he would not do,\nbut suddenly ran up stairs to Rothiemay\u2019s chamber, and wakened him to\nrise, and as he is wakening him, the timber passage and lofting of the\nchamber hastily takes fire, so that none of them could win down stairs\nagain; so they turned to a window looking to the close, where they\npiteously cried help, help, many times, for God\u2019s cause! the laird and\nthe lady, with their servants, all seeing and hearing this woeful\ncrying, but made no help nor manner of helping;[24] which they\nperceiving, they cried oftentimes mercy at God\u2019s hands for their sins,\nsyne clasped in other arms, and cheerfully suffered this cruel\nmartyrdom. Thus died this noble viscount, of singular expectation,\nRothiemay, a brave youth, and the rest, by this doleful fire never\nenough to be deplored, to the great grief and sorrow of their kin,\nfriends, parents, and whole country people, especially to the noble\nmarquis, who for his goodwill got this reward.\u201d\n\nSpalding tells us that it was reported that, the morning after the fire,\nLady Frendraught, riding on a small nag, and with no attendants but a\nboy to lead her horse, came weeping to the Bog, desiring to speak with\nthe marquis, but was refused. The Huntly-Gordons, the Earl of Errol\n(brother of Viscountess Melgum), and many other friends held a council,\nand after serious consideration came to the conclusion that the fire\n\u201ccould not come by chance, sloth, or accident, but was plotted and\ndevised of set purpose;\u201d Frendraught, his lady, his friends and\nservants, one or other, knowing thereof. The marquis, however, was\nresolved not to revenge himself \u201cby way of deed,\u201d but to invoke the\nlaws. Frendraught, as far as we can see, desired a legal inquiry no less\nthan Huntly. He addressed himself to the Lord Chancellor and to the\nPrivy Council, and offered to undergo any form of trial, and, delays\noccurring, he repeated to the Council his wish to have \u201cthat hidden\nmystery brought to a clear light.\u201d Examinations and prosecutions,\nextended to the middle of the year 1634, failed to fix the guilt of the\nfire on him or anybody, although John Meldrum, on the strength of some\nthreats which he had uttered, was wrongfully convicted of the act and\nwas executed.[25]\n\n#A.# The date is the eighteenth of October, new style for the eighth.\nWhen Gordon and Rothiemay (having convoyed Frendraught safely home) are\non the point of returning, Lady Frendraught urges them to stay, in token\nof good feeling between Huntly and her husband. Lord John is quite\ndisposed to comply, but Rothiemay says that his horse has been tampered\nwith since their coming, and he fears that he is fey. After the regular\nevening-mass of ballads (which would have suited Lady Frendraught, a\nconcealed Catholic, but not her husband), Lord John and Rothiemay are\nlaid in one chamber, an arrangement which would have allowed both to\nescape, as Robert Gordon did, who slept in his master\u2019s room. Lord John\nwakes with the smoke and heat, and rouses Rothiemay. The doors and\nwindows are fastened. Rothiemay goes to the \u2018wire-window,\u2019 and finds the\nstanchions too strong to be dealt with. He sees Lady Frendraught below,\nand cries to her for mercy; her husband killed the father, and now she\nis burning the son. Lady Frendraught is sorry that she must burn Lord\nJohn in order to burn Rothiemay, but there is no help; the keys are cast\nin the deep draw-well.[26] [Robert] Gordon, who has escaped though the\nkeys were in the well, calls to his master to jump from the window; he\nwill catch him in his arms. His master answers that no fire shall part\nhim and Rothiemay, and besides, the window is fast. He throws his\nfinger-rings down, to be given to his lady. When the servant goes home\nto his mistress, she reproaches him for coming back alive and leaving\nhis master dead. She tears off the clothes which her maid puts on her,\nexclaiming that she won a sore heart the day she was married, and that\nthat day has returned (which is not easy to understand: see Appendix).\n\n#B.# This fragment represents Lady Frendraught as being very importunate\nwith Lord John: she presses him three times over to stay, and promises\nhim a morning-gift of lands if he will comply; by a perversion of\ntradition, Strathbogie, which had been in his family three hundred\nyears, and which, further on, he offers to give her if she will let him\nout. Finding that he cannot escape (perhaps stanza 7 should come later),\nLord John takes out his psalm-book and sings three verses, with \u2018God end\nour misery\u2019 at each verse\u2019s end. In 9 he sees his elder brother, Lord\nGeorge, from the window, and asks what news he has, but a defect\nconceals from us the point of this passage. Stanza 16 seems to belong to\nLord John\u2019s wife.\n\n#C.# When the gentlemen are in their saddles, ready to ride away, Lady\nFrendraught, on her bare knees, begs them to remain, and promises them a\nfirlot of red gold if they will. When everybody has gone to bed, the\ndoors are locked and the windows shut. The reek begins to rise and the\njoists to crack; Lord John betakes himself to the window, and finds the\nstanchions too strong to break. He goes back and wakens Rothiemay, and\nproposes to him to praise the Lord in the fifty-third psalm,[27] for\nthere is treason about them. He calls to Lady Frendraught, walking on\nthe green, for mercy; she replies that the keys are in the well, and the\ndoors were locked yesterday. He reproaches her for burning her own\nflesh. George Chalmers (who really escaped, though lodged in the third\nstory) is described as leaping the ditches and coming, from without, to\nRothiemay\u2019s help, and Colin Irving (the Colin Ivat of Spalding, who was\nburnt) as doing the same in behalf of Lord John, to whom he calls to\njump into his arms. Lord John is burning, and there is little more left\nof him than his spirit; but he throws down a purse of gold for the poor\nand his rings for his wife. Lady Rothiemay comes in the morning to cry\nvengeance on Frendraught, who has betrayed the gay Gordons, killed her\nlord, and burnt her son.[28]\n\n#D.# \u201c\u2018There are some intermediate particulars,\u2019 Mr Boyd says,\n\u2018respecting the lady\u2019s lodging her victims in a turret or flanker which\ndid not communicate with the castle.\u2019 \u2018This,\u2019 adds he, \u2018I only have from\ntradition, as I never heard any other stanzas besides the foregoing.\u2019\nThe author of the original, we may perceive, either through ignorance or\ndesign, had deviated from the fact in supposing Lady Frennet\u2019s husband\nto have been slain by Lord John\u2019s father.\u201d Ritson, p. 36.@\n\nIt may be noted that three of the most tragical of the Scottish\nhistorical ballads are associated with the name of Gordon: the Burning\nof Towie, as we might call \u2018Captain Car,\u2019 No 178, through Adam Gordon,\nuncle of the first marquis of Huntly; the Burning of Donibristle, known\nas \u2018The Bonny Earl of Murray,\u2019 No 181, of which the responsibility is\nput upon the marquis (then earl) himself; and the Burning of\nFrendraught, in which his son perished.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n #a.# Motherwell\u2019s Minstrelsy, p. 161, from a MS. of Charles\n Kirkpatrick Sharpe. #b.# Maidment\u2019s North Countrie Garland, p. 4;\n \u201clong preserved by tradition in Aberdeenshire, and procured from an\n intelligent individual resident in that part of Scotland.\u201d\n\n 1\n The eighteenth of October,\n A dismal tale to hear\n How good Lord John and Rothiemay\n Was both burnt in the fire.\n\n 2\n When steeds was saddled and well bridled,\n And ready for to ride,\n Then out it came her false Frendraught,\n Inviting them to bide.\n\n 3\n Said, \u2018Stay this night untill we sup,\n The morn untill we dine;\n \u2018Twill be a token of good greement\n \u2019Twixt your good lord and mine.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018We\u2019ll turn again,\u2019 said good Lord John;\n \u2018But no,\u2019 said Rothiemay,\n \u2018My steed\u2019s trapand, my bridle\u2019s broken,\n I fear the day I\u2019m fey.\u2019\n\n 5\n When mass was sung, and bells was rung,\n And all men bound for bed,\n Then good Lord John and Rothiemay\n In one chamber was laid.\n\n 6\n They had not long cast off their cloaths,\n And were but now asleep.\n When the weary smoke began to rise,\n Likewise the scorching heat.\n\n 7\n \u2018O waken, waken, Rothiemay!\n O waken, brother dear!\n And turn you to our Saviour;\n There is strong treason here.\u2019\n\n 8\n When they were dressed in their cloaths,\n And ready for to boun,\n The doors and windows was all secur\u2019d,\n The roof-tree burning down.\n\n 9\n He did him to the wire-window,\n As fast as we could gang;\n Says, Wae to the hands put in the stancheons!\n For out we\u2019ll never win.\n\n 10\n When he stood at the wire-window,\n Most doleful to be seen,\n He did espy her Lady Frendraught,\n Who stood upon the green.\n\n 11\n Cried, Mercy, mercy, Lady Frendraught!\n Will ye not sink with sin?\n For first your husband killed my father,\n And now you burn his son.\n\n 12\n O then out spoke her Lady Frendraught,\n And loudly did she cry;\n \u2018It were great pity for good Lord John,\n But none for Rothiemay;\n But the keys are casten in the deep draw-well,\n Ye cannot get away.\u2019\n\n 13\n While he stood in this dreadful plight,\n Most piteous to be seen,\n There called out his servant Gordon,\n As he had frantic been:\n\n 14\n \u2018O loup, O loup, my dear master!\n O loup and come to me!\n I\u2019ll catch you in my arms two,\n One foot I will not flee.\n\n 15\n \u2018O loup, O loup, my dear master!\n O loup and come away!\n I\u2019ll catch you in my arms two,\n But Rothiemay may lie.\u2019\n\n 16\n \u2018The fish shall never swim in the flood,\n Nor corn grow through the clay,\n Nor the fiercest fire that ever was kindled\n Twin me and Rothiemay.\n\n 17\n \u2018But I cannot loup, I cannot come,\n I cannot win to thee;\n My head\u2019s fast in the wire-window,\n My feet burning from me.\n\n 18\n \u2018My eyes are seething in my head,\n My flesh roasting also,\n My bowels are boiling with my blood;\n Is not that a woeful woe?\n\n 19\n \u2018Take here the rings from my white fingers,\n That are so long and small,\n And give them to my lady fair,\n Where she sits in her hall.\n\n 20\n \u2018So I cannot loup, I cannot come,\n I cannot loup to thee;\n My earthly part is all consumed,\n My spirit but speaks to thee.\u2019\n\n 21\n Wringing her hands, tearing her hair,\n His lady she was seen,\n And thus addressed his servant Gordon,\n Where he stood on the green.\n\n 22\n \u2018O wae be to you, George Gordon!\n An ill death may you die!\n So safe and sound as you stand there,\n And my lord bereaved from me.\u2019\n\n 23\n \u2018I bad him loup, I bad him come,\n I bad him loup to me;\n I\u2019d catch him in my arms two,\n A foot I should not flee. &c.\n\n 24\n \u2018He threw me the rings from his white fingers,\n Which were so long and small,\n To give to you, his lady fair,\n Where you sat in your hall.\u2019 &c.\n\n 25\n Sophia Hay, Sophia Hay,\n O bonny Sophia was her name,\n Her waiting maid put on her cloaths,\n But I wot she tore them off again.\n\n 26\n And aft she cried, Ohon! alas! alas!\n A sair heart\u2019s ill to win;\n I wan a sair heart when I married him,\n And the day it\u2019s well returnd again.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n Kinloch MSS, V, 399, in the handwriting of John Hill Burton.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 1\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll stay this night wi me, Lord John,\n Ye\u2019ll stay this night wi me,\n For there is appearence of good greement\n Betwixt Frendraught and thee.\u2019\n\n 2\n \u2018How can I bide, or how shall I bide,\n Or how can I bide wi thee,\n Sin my lady is in the lands of Air,\n And I long till I her see?\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018Oh stay this night wi me, Lord John,\n Oh stay this night wi me,\n And bonny[\u2019s] be the morning-gift\n That I will to you gie.\n\n 4\n \u2018I\u2019ll gie you a Strathboggie lands,\n And the laigh lands o Strathray,\n . . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . . .\n\n 5\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll stay this night wi me, Lord John,\n Ye\u2019ll stay this night wi me,\n And I\u2019ll lay you in a bed of down,\n And Rothiemay you wi.\u2019\n\n 6\n When mass was sung, and bells were rung,\n And a\u2019 men bun to bed,\n Gude Lord John and Rothiemay\n In one chamber were laid.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 7\n Out hes he taen his little psalm-buik,\n And verses sang he three,\n And aye at every verse\u2019s end,\n \u2018God end our misery!\u2019\n\n 8\n The doors were shut, the keys were thrown\n Into a vault of stone,\n . . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . . .\n\n 9\n He is dune him to the weir-window,\n The stauncheons were oer strong;\n There he saw him Lord George Gordon\n Come haisling to the town.\n\n 10\n \u2018What news, what news now, George Gordon?\n Whats news hae you to me?\n . . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . . .\n\n 11\n He\u2019s dune him to the weir-window,\n The stauncheons were oer strang;\n And there he saw the Lady Frendraught,\n Was walking on the green.\n\n 12\n \u2018Open yer doors now, Lady Frendraught,\n Ye\u2019ll open yer doors to me;\n And bonny\u2019s be the mornin-gift\n That I shall to you gie.\n\n 13\n \u2018I\u2019ll gie you a\u2019 Straboggie lands,\n And the laigh lands o Strathbrae,\n . . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . . .\n\n 14\n \u2018Now there\u2019s the rings frae my fingers,\n And the broach frae my breast-bone;\n Ye\u2019ll gae that to my gude ladye\n . . . . . . .\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 15\n \u2018How can I loup, or how shall I loup?\n How can I loup to thee?\n When the blood is boiling in my body,\n And my feet burnin frae me?\u2019\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 16\n \u2018If I was swift as any swallow,\n And then had wings to fly,\n I could fly on to fause Frendraught\n And cry vengeance till I die.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n C\n\n From a note-book of Dr Joseph Robertson: \u201cprocured in the parish of\n Forgue by A. Scott; communicated to me by Mr John Stuart, Aberdeen,\n 11 October, 1832.\u201d\n\n 1\n It was in October the woe began\u2014\n It lasts for now and aye,\u2014\n The burning o the bonny house o fause Frendraught,\n Lord John and Rothiemay.\n\n 2\n When they were in their saddles set,\n And ready to ride away,\n The lady sat down on her bare knees,\n Beseeching them to stay.\n\n 3\n \u2018Ye\u2019s hae a firlot o the gude red gowd,\n Well straiket wi a wan;\n And if that winna please you well,\n I\u2019ll heap it wi my han.\u2019\n\n 4\n Then out it spake the gude Lord John,\n And said to Rothiemay,\n \u2018It is a woman that we\u2019re come o,\n And a woman we\u2019ll obey.\u2019\n\n 5\n When a\u2019 man was well drunken,\n And a\u2019 man bound for bed,\n The doors were lockd, the windows shut,\n And the keys were casten by.\n\n 6\n When a\u2019 man was well drunken,\n And a\u2019 man bound for sleep,\n The dowy reek began to rise,\n And the joists began to crack.\n\n 7\n He\u2019s deen him to the wire-window,\n And ruefu strack and dang;\n But they would neither bow nor brack,\n The staunchions were so strang.\n\n 8\n He\u2019s deen him back and back again,\n And back to Rothiemay;\n Says, Waken, waken, brother dear!\n Waken, Rothiemay!\n\n 9\n \u2018Come let us praise the Lord our God,\n The fiftieth psalm and three;\n For the reek and smoke are us about,\n And there\u2019s fause treason tee.\n\n 10\n \u2018O mercy, mercy, Lady Frendraught!\n As ye walk on the green:\u2019\n \u2018The keys are in the deep draw-well,\n The doors were lockt the streen.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018O woe be to you, Lady Frendraught!\n An ill death may you die!\n For think na ye this a sad torment\n Your own flesh for to burn?\u2019\n\n 12\n George Chalmers was a bonny boy;\n He leapt the stanks so deep,\n And he is on to Rothiemay,\n His master for to help.\n\n 13\n Colin Irving was a bonny boy,\n And leapt the stanks so deep:\n \u2018Come down, come down, my master dear!\n In my arms I\u2019ll thee kep.\u2019\n\n 14\n \u2018Come down? come down? how can I come?\n How can I come to thee?\n My flesh is burning me about,\n And yet my spirit speaks to thee.\u2019\n\n 15\n He\u2019s taen a purse o the gude red gowd,\n And threw it oer the wa:\n \u2018It\u2019s ye\u2019ll deal that among the poor,\n Bid them pray for our souls a\u2019.\u2019\n\n 16\n He\u2019s taen the rings off his fingers,\n And threw them oer the wa;\n Says, Ye\u2019ll gie that to my lady dear,\n From me she\u2019ll na get more.\n\n 17\n \u2018Bid her make her bed well to the length,\n But no more to the breadth,\n For the day will never dawn\n That I\u2019ll sleep by her side.\u2019\n\n 18\n Ladie Rothiemay came on the morn,\n She kneeled it roun and roun:\n \u2018Restore your lodgers, fause Frendraught,\n That ye burnd here the streen.\n\n 19\n \u2018O were I like yon turtle-dove,\n Had I wings for to flie,\n I\u2019d fly about fause Frendraught\n Crying vengeance till I die.\n\n 20\n \u2018Frendraught fause, all thro the ha\u2019s,\n Both back and every side;\n For ye\u2019ve betrayd the gay Gordons,\n And lands wherein they ride.\n\n 21\n \u2018Frendraught fause, all thro the ha\u2019s;\n I wish you\u2019d sink for sin;\n For first you killd my own good lord,\n And now you\u2019ve burnd my son.\n\n 22\n \u2018I caredna sae muckle for my good lord\n I saw him in battle slain,\n But a\u2019 is for my own son dear,\n The heir o a\u2019 my lan.\n\n 23\n \u2018I caredna sae muckle for my good lord\n I saw him laid in clay,\n But a\u2019 is for my own son dear,\n The heir o Rothiemay.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n D\n\n Ritson\u2019s Scotish Songs, 1794, II, 35; remembered by the Rev. Mr\n Boyd, translator of Dante, and communicated to the editor by J. C.\n Walker.\n\n 1\n The reek it rose, and the flame it flew,\n And oh! the fire augmented high,\n Until it came to Lord John\u2019s chamber-window,\n And to the bed where Lord John lay.\n\n 2\n \u2018O help me, help me, Lady Frennet!\n I never ettled harm to thee;\n And if my father slew thy lord,\n Forget the deed and rescue me.\u2019\n\n 3\n He looked east, he looked west,\n To see if any help was nigh;\n At length his little page he saw,\n Who to his lord aloud did cry:\n\n 4\n \u2018Loup doun, loup doun, my master dear!\n What though the window\u2019s dreigh and his?\n I\u2019ll catch you in my arms twa,\n And never a foot from you I\u2019ll flee.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018How can I loup, you little page?\n How can I leave this window hie?\n Do you not see the blazing low,\n And my twa legs burnt to my knee?\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n E\n\n Kinloch MSS, VI, 27, in the handwriting of Joseph Robertson when a\n youth.\n\n Now wake, now wake you, Rothiemay!\n I dread you sleep oer soun;\n The bed is burnin us about\n And the curtain\u2019s faain down.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A. a.#\n\n 23, 24. _The_ &c. _at the end denote that the servant repeated the\n substance of 15\u201318 and of 20, which, however, was not written\n out._\n\n#b.#\n\n 1^1. day of.\n\n 1^4. Were. 2^1, 5^1, 5^4, 8^3. were.\n\n 2^3. out there came the.\n\n 6^2. but new.\n\n 6^3. the _wanting_.\n\n 7^3. to your.\n\n 8^1. dressed wi.\n\n 9^1. did flee to.\n\n 10^1. While he.\n\n 10^3, 12^1. the _for_ her.\n\n 11^1. Cried _wanting_.\n\n 12^5. The keys were casten.\n\n 12^6. win away.\n\n 13^3. Then called.\n\n 15^4. may lay.\n\n 17^1. But _wanting_.\n\n 18^1. are southering.\n\n 19^2. Which are.\n\n 20^1. So _wanting_.\n\n 20^4. but _wanting_.\n\n 21^2. fair _for_ she.\n\n 21^3. Calling unto his.\n\n 22^4. lord burned.\n\n 23^2. come to.\n\n 23^4. would not: _no_ &c.\n\n 24^4. sit: _no_ &c.\n\n 25^2. O _wanting_.\n\n 25^4. I wat _wanting_.\n\n 26^1. _One_ alas _wanting._\n\n 26^2. heart\u2019s easy wan.\n\n 26^4. And, well _wanting_.\n\n _Some readings of #b# are preferable, as in 6^2, 18^1, 21^3, 22^4;\n others also, which may be editorial improvements._\n\n#B.#\n\n 16. \u201cThis is another stanza which I afterwards received.\u201d\n\n#C.#\n\n 4^1. _A small stroke between_ out _and_ it.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n APPENDIX\n\n #A# 26\n And aft she cried, \u2018Ohon! alas! alas!\n A sair heart\u2019s ill to win;\n I wan a sair heart when I married him,\n And the day it\u2019s well returned again.\u2019\n\n My friend the late Mr Norval Clyne thought that this obscure\n stanza might perhaps be cleared up by the following verses,\n communicated to him in 1873 by the Rev. George Sutherland,\n Episcopal clergyman at Tillymorgan, Aberdeenshire.\n\n\n YOUNG TOLQUHON\n\n Word has come to Young Tolquhon,\n In his chamber where he lay,\n That Sophia Hay, his first fair love,\n Was wedded and away.\n\n \u2018Sophia Hay, Sophia Hay,\n My love, Sophia Hay,\n I wish her anes as sair a heart\n As she\u2019s gien me the day.\n\n \u2018She thinks she has done me great wrang,\n But I don\u2019t think it so;\n I hope to live in quietness\n When she shall live in woe.\n\n \u2018She\u2019ll live a discontented life\n Since she is gone from me;\n Ower seen, ower seen, a wood o green\n Will shortly cover me.\n\n \u2018When I am dead and in my grave,\n Cause write upon me so:\n \u201cHere lies a lad who died for love,\n And who can blame my woe.\u201d\u2019\n\n Mr Sutherland wrote: This fragment I took down from the recitation\n of my mother, twenty or twenty-five years ago. She was born in\n 1790, and her great-grandmother was a servant of the last Forbes\n of Tolquhon. She had a tradition that Sophia Hay was one of the\n Errol family, and married Lord John Gordon, who was burned at\n Frendraught. Mr Clyne remarked: The Young Tolquhon at the time\n of this marriage, about 1628, was Alexander Forbes, eldest son\n of William Forbes of Tolquhon. Alexander is recorded to have\n died without issue, and the following additional particulars,\n singularly suggestive of a determination on the unfortunate\n lover\u2019s part to renounce the world, have been communicated to me\n by Dr John Stuart. In 1631 William Forbes granted a charter of\n the lands of Tolquhon to his second son Walter and his heirs\n male, and in 1632 another deed of the same sort to Walter, with\n the express consent of Alexander, his elder brother. In 1641\n Alexander is supposed to have been dead, as Walter is then\n styled \u201cof Tolquhon.\u201d The lady\u2019s somewhat enigmatical\n exclamation,\n\n \u2018I wan a sair heart when I married him,\n And the day it\u2019s well returned again,\u2019\n\n may have its explanation in the words of Young Tolquhon,\n\n \u2018I wish her anes as sair a heart\n As she\u2019s gien me the day.\u2019\n\n Mr Clyne did not fail to observe that Father Blakhal has recorded\n of Lady Melgum that he had often heard her say that she had\n never loved anybody but her husband, and never would love\n another (Narration, p. 92). This testimony, if not decisive, may\n be considered not less cogent as to the matter of fact than\n anything in \u2018Young Tolquhon\u2019 to the contrary. But it may be that\n stanza 24 became attached to the Frendraught ballad in\n consequence of the coexistence of this or some similar ballad of\n Young Tolquhon.\n\n\n\n\n 197\n\n JAMES GRANT\n\n Motherwelll\u2019s MS., p. 470, communicated apparently by\n Buchan; \u2018The Gordons and the Grants,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s Ballads\n\n of the North of Scotland, II, 220.\n\n\n There was an implacable feud between the Grants of Ballindalloch\n and the Grants of Carron, \u201cfor divers ages,\u201d Sir Robert Gordon\n says, certainly for ninety years after 1550. This fragment has\n to do with the later stage of their enmity. In 1628, John Grant\n of Ballindalloch killed John Grant of Carron. James Grant of\n Carron, uncle of the slain man, burnt all the corn, barns, and\n byres of Ballindalloch young and old, and took to the hills\n (1630). The Ballindallocbs complained to Murray, the lieutenant,\n and he, \u201cto gar ane devil ding another,\u201d set the Clanchattan\n upon James Grant. They laid siege to a house where he was with a\n party of his men; he made his way out, was pursued, and was\n taken after receiving eleven arrow-wounds. When he was well\n enough to travel, he was sent to Edinburgh, and, as everybody\n supposed, to his death; but after a confinement of more than a\n year he broke ward (October, 1632). Large sums were offered for\n him, alive or dead; but James Grant was hard to keep and hard to\n catch, and in November, 1633, he began to kythe again in the\n north. A gang of the forbidden name of McGregor, who had been\n brought into the country by Ballindalloch to act against James\n Grant, beset him in a small house in Carron where he was\n visiting his wife, having only his son and one other man with\n him; but he defended himself with the spirit of another\n Cloudesly, shot the captain, and got off to the bog with his\n men.[29]\n\n \u201cThe year of God one thousand six hundred thirty-six, some of\n the Marquis of Huntly\u2019s followers and servants did invade the\n rebel James Grant and some of his associates, hard by\n Strathbogy. They burnt the house wherein he was, but, the night\n being dark and windy, he and his brother, Robert Grant,\n escaped.\u201d[30]\n\n This last escapade of James Grant may perhaps be the one to\n which this fragment has reference, though Ballindalloch was not\n personally engaged in the assault on the house, and I know of no\n Douglas having sheltered Grant of Carron. One almost wonders\n that this mettlesome and shifty outlaw was not celebrated in a\n string of ballads.\n\n Early in 1639, James Grant got his peace from the king; later in\n the year, he joined the \u201cbarons\u201d at Aberdeen with five hundred\n men, and in 1640, we are told, \u201che purchased his remission\n orderly and went home to his own country peaceably (against all\n men\u2019s expectation, being such a blood-shedder and cruel\n oppressor) after he had escaped so many dangers.\u201d[31]\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1\n \u2018Away with you, away with you, James de Grant!\n And, Douglas, ye\u2019ll be slain;\n For Baddindalloch\u2019s at your gates,\n With many brave Highland men.\u2019\n\n 2\n \u2018Baddindalloch has no feud at me,\n And I have none at him;\n Cast up my gates baith broad and wide,\n Let Baddindalloch in.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018James de Grant has made a vaunt,\n And leaped the castle-wa;\n But, if he comes this way again,\n He\u2019ll no win sae well awa.\n\n 4\n \u2018Take him, take him, brave Gordons,\n O take him, fine fellows a\u2019!\n If he wins but ae mile to the Highland hills,\n He\u2019ll defy you Gordons a\u2019.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n _As printed by Buchan:_\n\n 1^3, 2^{1,4}. Balnadallach.\n\n 1^4. man.\n\n 2^4 come in.\n\n 3^4. nae won.\n\n 4^3. on the Highland hill.\n\n\n\n\n 198\n\n BONNY JOHN SETON\n\n #A.# \u2018Bonny John Seton,\u2019 Maidment\u2019s North Countrie Garland, p. 15;\n Buchan\u2019s Gleanings, p. 161; Maidment\u2019s Scotish Ballads and Songs,\n Historical and Traditionary, I, 280.\n\n #B.# \u2018The Death of John Seton,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of\n Scotland, II, 136.\n\n\nBuchan had another copy, sent him in manuscript by a young lady in\nAberdeen, in which the Earl Marischal was made prominent: Ballads, II,\n321. Aytoun, I, 139, had a copy which had been annotated by C. K.\nSharpe, and from this he seems to have derived a few variations. The New\nDeeside Guide [1832], p. 5 (nominally by James Brown, but written by Dr\nJoseph Robertson), gives #A#, with a few trifling improvements which\nseem to be editorial.\n\n#A, B, 1\u20138.# The ballad is accurate as to the date, not commonly a good\nsign for such things. On Tuesday, the eighteenth of June, 1639, Montrose\nbegan an attack on the bridge of Dee, which had been fortified and\nmanned by the royalists of Aberdeen to stop his advance on the city. The\nbridge was bravely defended that day and part of the next by\nLieutenant-Colonel Johnston (not Middleton; Middleton was of the\nassailants). The young Lord of Aboyne, just made the king\u2019s lieutenant\nin the north, had a small body of horse on the north side of the river.\nMontrose\u2019s cavalry were sent up the south side as if to cross (though\nthere was no ford), and Aboyne\u2019s were moved along the opposite bank to\nresist a passage. This exposed the latter to Montrose\u2019s cannon, and the\nCovenanters let fly some shot at them, one of which killed \u201ca gallant\ngentleman, John Seton of Pitmeddin, most part of his body above the\nsaddle being carried away.\u201d Johnston\u2019s leg was crushed by stones brought\ndown from one of the turrets of the bridge by a cannon-shot, and he had\nto be carried off. The loss of their commander and the disappearance of\nAboyne\u2019s horse discouraged the now small party who were holding the\nbridge, and they abandoned it. Aboyne rode off, and left Aberdeen to to\nshift for itself.[32]\n\n#A 9\u201312, B 9\u201313.# The spoiling of John Seton by order of Sir William\nForbes of Craigievar is not noticed by Gordon and Spalding, though other\nmatters of not greater proportion are.\n\n#A 13\u201315.# The reference is to the affair called the Raid of Stonehaven,\nJune 15, three days before that of the Bridge of Dee. Aboyne\u2019s\nHighlanders, a thousand or more, were totally unused to artillery, and a\nfew shots from Montrose\u2019s cannon lighting among them so frightened them\nthat \u201cthey did run off, all in a confusion, never looking behind them,\ntill they were got into a moss.\u201d[33]\n\n#B 14\u201317.# \u201cWhen Montrose entered Aberdeen,\u201d says James Gordon, \u201cthe\nEarl Marischal and Lord Muchall pressed him to burn the town, and urged\nhim with the Committee of Estates\u2019 warrant for that effect. He answered\nthat it were best to advise a night upon it, since Aberdeen was the\nLondon of the north, and would prejudice themselves by want of it. So it\nwas taken to consideration for that night, and next day the Earl\nMarischal and Lord Muchall came protesting he would spare it. He\nanswered he was desirous so to do, but durst not except they would be\nhis warrant. Whereupon they drew up a paper, signed with both their\nhands, declaring that they had hindered it, and promising to interpose\nwith the Committee of Estates for him. Yet the next year, when he was\nmade prisoner and accused, this was objected to Montrose, that he had\nnot burned Aberdeen, as he had orders from the Committee of Estates.\nThen he produced Marischal and Muchall\u2019s paper, which hardly satisfied\nthe exasperated committee.\u201d[34]\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n Maidment\u2019s North Countrie Garland, p. 15.\n\n 1\n Upon the eighteenth day of June,\n A dreary day to see,\n The southern lords did pitch their camp\n Just at the bridge of Dee.\n\n 2\n Bonny John Seton of Pitmeddin,\n A bold baron was he,\n He made his testament ere he went out,\n The wiser man was he.\n\n 3\n He left his land to his young son,\n His lady her dowry,\n A thousand crowns to his daughter Jean,\n Yet on the nurse\u2019s knee.\n\n 4\n Then out came his lady fair,\n A tear into her ee;\n Says, Stay at home, my own good lord,\n O stay at home with me!\n\n 5\n He looked over his left shoulder,\n Cried, Souldiers, follow me!\n O then she looked in his face,\n An angry woman was she:\n \u2018God send me back my steed again,\n But neer let me see thee!\u2019\n\n 6\n His name was Major Middleton\n That manned the bridge of Dee,\n His name was Colonel Henderson\n That let the cannons flee.\n\n 7\n His name was Major Middleton\n That manned the bridge of Dee,\n And his name was Colonel Henderson\n That dung Pitmeddin in three.\n\n 8\n Some rode on the black and grey,\n And some rode on the brown,\n But the bonny John Seton\n Lay gasping on the ground.\n\n 9\n Then bye there comes a false Forbes,\n Was riding from Driminere;\n Says, Here there lies a proud Seton;\n This day they ride the rear.\n\n 10\n Cragievar said to his men,\n \u2018You may play on your shield;\n For the proudest Seton in all the lan\n This day lies on the field.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018O spoil him! spoil him!\u2019 cried Cragievar,\n \u2018Him spoiled let me see;\n For on my word,\u2019 said Cragievar,\n \u2018He had no good will at me.\u2019\n\n 12\n They took from him his armour clear,\n His sword, likewise his shield;\n Yea, they have left him naked there,\n Upon the open field.\n\n 13\n The Highland men, they\u2019re clever men\n At handling sword and shield,\n But yet they are too naked men\n To stay in battle field.\n\n 14\n The Highland men are clever men\n At handling sword or gun,\n But yet they are too naked men\n To bear the cannon\u2019s rung.\n\n 15\n For a cannon\u2019s roar in a summer night\n Is like thunder in the air;\n There\u2019s not a man in Highland dress\n Can face the cannon\u2019s fire.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 136.\n\n 1\n It fell about the month of June,\n On Tuesday, timouslie,\n The northern lords hae pitchd their camps\n Beyond the brig o Dee.\n\n 2\n They ca\u2019ed him Major Middleton\n That mand the brig o Dee;\n They ca\u2019ed him Colonel Henderson\n That gard the cannons flee.\n\n 3\n Bonny John Seton o Pitmedden,\n A brave baron was he;\n He made his tesment ere he gaed,\n And the wiser man was he.\n\n 4\n He left his lands unto his heir,\n His ladie her dowrie;\n Ten thousand crowns to Lady Jane,\n Sat on the nourice knee.\n\n 5\n Then out it speaks his lady gay,\n \u2018O stay my lord wi me;\n For word is come, the cause is won\n Beyond the brig o Dee.\u2019\n\n 6\n He turned him right and round about,\n And a light laugh gae he;\n Says, I wouldna for my lands sae broad\n I stayed this night wi thee.\n\n 7\n He\u2019s taen his sword then by his side,\n His buckler by his knee,\n And laid his leg in oer his horse,\n Said, Sodgers, follow me!\n\n 8\n So he rade on, and further on,\n Till to the third mile corse;\n The Covenanters\u2019 cannon balls\n Dang him aff o his horse.\n\n 9\n Up then rides him Cragievar,\n Said, Wha\u2019s this lying here?\n It surely is the Lord o Aboyne,\n For Huntly was not here.\n\n 10\n Then out it speaks a fause Forbes,\n Lived up in Druminner;\n \u2018My lord, this is a proud Seton,\n The rest will ride the thinner.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018Spulyie him, spulyie him,\u2019 said Craigievar,\n \u2018O spulyie him, presentlie;\n For I could lay my lugs in pawn\n He had nae gude will at me.\u2019\n\n 12\n They\u2019ve taen the shoes frae aff his feet,\n The garters frae his knee,\n Likewise the gloves upon his hands;\n They\u2019ve left him not a flee.\n\n 13\n His fingers they were sae sair swelld\n The rings would not come aff;\n They cutted the grips out o his ears,\n Took out the gowd signots.\n\n 14\n Then they rade on, and further on,\n Till they came to the Crabestane,\n And Craigievar, he had a mind\n To burn a\u2019 Aberdeen.\n\n 15\n Out it speaks the gallant Montrose,\n Grace on his fair body!\n \u2018We winna burn the bonny burgh,\n We\u2019ll even laet it be.\u2019\n\n 16\n Then out it speaks the gallant Montrose,\n \u2018Your purpose I will break;\n We winna burn the bonny burgh,\n We\u2019ll never build its make.\n\n 17\n \u2018I see the women and their children\n Climbing the craigs sae hie;\n We\u2019ll sleep this night in the bonny burgh,\n And even lat it be.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n#B.#\n\n 11^{1,2}. Spulzie.\n\n_Readings in Aytoun which may have been derived from Sharpe:_\n\n#A.#\n\n 4^2. The tear stood in.\n\n 8^3. But bonny John Seton o Pitmeddin.\n\n#B.#\n\n 8^3. And there the Covenanters\u2019 shot.\n\n 8^4. It dang him frae his.\n\n 10^2. Was riding frae D.\n\n 10^3. This is the proudest Seton of a\u2019.\n\n 14^3. And wha sae ready as Craigievar.\n\n 15^1. Then up and spake the gude.\n\n 16^2. As he rade owre the field.\n\n 16^3. Why should we burn the bonny.\n\n 16^4. When its like we couldna build.\n\n_Readings in The New Deeside Guide:_\n\n#A.#\n\n 1^3. lords their pallions pitched.\n\n 2^2. A baron bold.\n\n 3^1. To his.\n\n 4^1. and came.\n\n 5^5. your steed.\n\n 11^4. He bore: to me.\n\n 15^4. cannon\u2019s rair.\n\n\n\n\n 199\n\n THE BONNIE HOUSE O AIRLIE\n\n #A. a.# Sharpe\u2019s Ballad Book, p. 59, No 20. #b.# \u2018The Bonnie House o\n Airly,\u2019 Finlay\u2019s Ballads, II, 25. #c.# Skene MS., pp. 28, 54. #d.#\n \u2018The Bonny House of Airly,\u2019 Campbell MSS, II, 113. #e.# \u2018The Bonny\n House of Airly,\u2019 an Aberdeen stall-copy, without date. #f.# \u2018The\n Bonny House o Airly,\u2019 another Aberdeen stall-copy, without date.\n #g.# Hogg\u2019s Jacobite Relics, II, 152. #h.# Kinloch MSS, VI, 5, one\n stanza.\n\n #B.# Kinloch MSS, V, 273.\n\n #C. a.# \u2018The Bonny House of Airley,\u2019 Kinloch MSS, V, 205. #b.# \u2018Young\n Airly,\u2019 Cromek\u2019s Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, p. 226.\n #c.# \u2018The Bonny House o Airlie,\u2019 Smith\u2019s Scottish Minstrel, II, 2.\n #d.# \u2018The Bonny House o Airlie,\u2019 Christie\u2019s Traditional Ballad Airs,\n II, 276, 296.\n\n #D.# Kinloch MSS, V, 106; Kinloch MSS, VII, 207; Kinloch\u2019s Ancient\n Scottish Ballads, p. 104.\n\n\nThe earliest copy of this ballad hitherto found is a broadside of about\n1790 (a hundred and fifty years later than the event celebrated), which\nFinlay combined with two others, derived from recitation, for his\nedition (#A b#). #C b#, #c#, #d#, are not purely traditional texts, and\n#A g# has borrowed some stanzas from #C b#. #C b# is transcribed into\nthe Campbell MSS, I, 184. Aytoun\u2019s edition, 1859, II, 270, is compounded\nfrom #A a#, #A b#, with half a dozen words changed, and it is not quite\nclear how the editor means to be understood when he says, \u201cthe\nfollowing, I have reason to believe, is the original.\u201d\n\n\nOne summer day, Argyle, who has a quarrel with Airlie, sets out to\nplunder the castle of that name. The lord of the place is at the time\nwith the king. Argyle (something in the style of Captain Car) summons\nLady Ogilvie to come down and kiss him; else he will not leave a\nstanding stone in Airlie. This she will not do, for all his threat.\nArgyle demands of the lady where her dowry is (as if it were tied up in\na handkerchief). She gives no precise information: it is east and west,\nup and down the water-side. Sharp search is made, and the dowry is found\nin a plum-tree (balm-tree, cherry-tree, palm-tree, #A a#, #b#, #d#, #e#,\n#g#). Argyle lays or leads the lady down somewhere while the plundering\ngoes forward. She tells him that no Campbell durst have taken in hand\nsuch a thing if her lord had been at home. She has born seven (ten)\nsons, and is expecting another; but had she as many more (a hundred\nmore), she would give them all to King Charles.\n\nIn #A d# 7 Lady Ogilvie asks the favor of Argyle that he will take her\nto a high hill-top that she may _not_ see the burning of Airlie; the\npassage is of course corrupt. In #A g# 7 she more sensibly asks that her\nface may not be turned that way. In #C a# 5, 6, #b# 5, 6, the rational\nrequest is made that she may be taken to some dark dowey glen[35] to\navoid the sight; but Argyle leads her \u201cdown to the top of the town,\u201d and\nbids her look at the plundering, #a#; sets her upon a bonnie knowe-tap,\nand bids her look at Airlie fa\u2019ing, #b#. #D# 7, 8, goes a step further.\nThe lady asks that she may be thrown over the castle-wall rather than\nsee the plundering; Argyle lifts her up \u2018sae rarely\u2019 and throws her\nover, and she never saw it.\n\nIn #C a# 8 Argyle would have Lord Airlie informed that one kiss from his\nlady would have saved all the plundering. In #D# 5 he tells Lady Ogilvie\nthat if she had surrendered on the first demand there would have been no\nplundering; and this assurance he repeats to \u2018Captain\u2019 Ogilvie, whom he\nmeets on his way home.\n\n#A b# 2, #D# 1, 2, represent Argyle to be acting under the orders of\nMontrose, or in concert with him.\n\nA piece in five or six stanzas which appears, with variations, in\nCromek\u2019s Remains, p. 195, Hogg\u2019s Jacobite Relics, II, 151, Cunningham\u2019s\nSongs of Scotland, III, 218, under the caption of \u2018Young Airly\u2019 (the\ntitle of #C b# also in Cromek), moves forward the burning of Airlie to\n\u201cthe 45;\u201d not very strangely (if there is anything traditional in these\nverses), when we consider the prominence of the younger Lord Ogilvie and\nhis wife among the supporters of Charles Edward. (The first three of\nCromek\u2019s stanzas are transcribed into Campbell MSS, I, 187.) No doubt\nthe Charlie and Prince Charlie of some versions of our ballad were\nunderstood by the reciters to be the Young Chevalier.\n\nThe Committee of Estates, June 12, 1640, gave commission to the Earl of\nArgyle to rise in arms against certain people, among whom was the Earl\nof Airlie, as enemies to religion and unnatural to their country, and to\npursue them with fire and sword until they should be brought to their\nduty or else utterly subdued and rooted out. The Earl of Airlie had gone\nto England, fearing lest he should be pressed to subscribe the Covenant,\nand had left his house to the keeping of his eldest son, Lord Ogilvie.\nMontrose, who had signed the commission as one of the Committee, but was\nnot inclined to so strenuous proceedings, invested Airlie, forced a\nsurrender, and put a garrison in the place to hold it for the \u201cpublic.\u201d\nArgyle did not interpret his commission in this mild way. He took Airlie\nin hand in the beginning of July, and caused both this house and that of\nForthar, belonging to Lord Ogilvie, to be pillaged, burned, and\ndemolished. Thereafter he fell upon the lands both of the proprietor and\nhis tenantry, and carried off or destroyed \u201ctheir whole goods, gear,\ncorns, cattle, horse, nolt, sheep,\u201d and left nothing but bare bounds.\n\nAccording to one writer, Lady Ogilvie was residing at Forthar, and,\nbeing big with child, asked leave of Argyle to stay till she was brought\nto bed; but this was not allowed, and she was put out, though she knew\nnot whither to go. By another account, Argyle accused Montrose of having\nsuffered the lady to escape.[36]\n\nThe ballad puts Lady Airlie in command of the house or castle, but none\nof the family were there at the time it was sacked. She is called Lady\nMargaret in #A b# 4, but her name was Elizabeth. The earl, James, is\ncalled the great Sir John in #C a# 9. #A# 10 and the like elsewhere are\napplicable to the younger Lady Ogilvie in respect to the unborn child.\nChambers says that Lady Airlie had three children and Lady Ogilvie but\none, and \u201cthe poet must be wrong.\u201d \u201cThe poet,\u201d besides being inaccurate,\ndoes not tell the same story in all the versions, and this inconsistency\nis again observable in \u2018Geordie,\u2019 #A# 9, #B# 18, #C# 8, etc.\n\n\u2018Gleyd Argyle\u2019 is \u201cgenerally described as of mean stature, with red hair\nand squinting eyes.\u201d[37] His morals appear to some disadvantage again in\n\u2018Geordie,\u2019 #I a# 23.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n #a.# Sharpe\u2019s Ballad Book, p. 59, No 20, 1823. #b.# Finlay\u2019s\n Ballads, II, 25, 1808, from two recited copies and \u201cone printed\n about twenty years ago on a single sheet.\u201d #c.# Skene MS., pp. 28,\n 54, from recitation in the north of Scotland, 1802\u20133. #d.# Campbell\n MSS, II, 113, probably from a stall-copy. #e, f.# Aberdeen stall\n copies, \u201cprinted for the booksellers.\u201d #g.# Hogg\u2019s Jacobite Relics,\n II, 152, No 76, \u201cCromek and a street ballad collated, 1821.\u201d #h.#\n Kinloch MSS, VI, 5, one stanza, taken down from an old woman\u2019s\n recitation by J. Robertson.\n\n 1\n It fell on a day, and a bonny simmer day,\n When green grew aits and barley,\n That there fell out a great dispute\n Between Argyll and Airlie.\n\n 2\n Argyll has raised an hunder men,\n An hunder harnessd rarely,\n And he\u2019s awa by the back of Dunkell,\n To plunder the castle of Airlie.\n\n 3\n Lady Ogilvie looks oer her bower-window.\n And oh, but she looks weary!\n And there she spy\u2019d the great Argyll,\n Come to plunder the bonny house of Airlie.\n\n 4\n \u2018Come down, come down, my Lady Ogilvie,\n Come down, and kiss me fairly:\u2019\n \u2018O I winna kiss the fause Argyll,\n If he should na leave a standing stane in Airlie.\u2019\n\n 5\n He hath taken her by the left shoulder,\n Says, Dame where lies thy dowry?\n \u2018O it\u2019s east and west yon wan water side,\n And it\u2019s down by the banks of the Airlie.\u2019\n\n 6\n They hae sought it up, they hae sought it down,\n They hae sought it maist severely,\n Till they fand it in the fair plumb-tree\n That shines on the bowling-green of Airlie.\n\n 7\n He hath taken her by the middle sae small,\n And O but she grat sairly!\n And laid her down by the bonny burn-side,\n Till they plundered the castle of Airlie.\n\n 8\n \u2018Gif my gude lord war here this night,\n As he is with King Charlie,\n Neither you, nor ony ither Scottish lord,\n Durst avow to the plundering of Airlie.\n\n 9\n \u2018Gif my gude lord war now at hame,\n As he is with his king,\n There durst nae a Campbell in a\u2019 Argyll\n Set fit on Airlie green.\n\n 10\n \u2018Ten bonny sons I have born unto him,\n The eleventh neer saw his daddy;\n But though I had an hundred mair,\n I\u2019d gie them a\u2019 to King Charlie.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n Kinloch MSS, V, 273.\n\n 1\n It fell on a day, a clear summer day,\n When the corn grew green and bonny,\n That there was a combat did fall out\n \u2018Tween Argyle and the bonny house of Airly.\n\n 2\n Argyle he did raise five hundred men,\n Five hundred men, so many,\n And he did place them by Dunkeld,\n Bade them shoot at the bonny house of Airly.\n\n 3\n The lady looked over her own castle-wa,\n And oh, but she looked weary!\n And there she espied the gleyed Argyle,\n Come to plunder the bonny house of Airly.\n\n 4\n \u2018Come down the stair now, Madam Ogilvie,\n And let me kiss thee kindly;\n Or I vow and I swear, by the sword that I wear,\n That I winna leave a standing stone at Airly.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018O how can I come down the stair,\n And how can I kiss thee kindly,\n Since you vow and you swear, by the sword that you wear,\n That you winna leave a standing stone on Airly?\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018Come down the stair then, Madam Ogilvie,\n And let me see thy dowry;\u2019\n \u2018O \u2019tis east and it is west, and \u2019tis down by yon burn-side,\n And it stands at the planting sae bonny.\n\n 7\n \u2018But if my brave lord had been at hame this day,\n As he is wi Prince Charlie,\n There durst na a Campbell in all Scotland\n Set a foot on the bowling-green of Airly\n\n 8\n \u2018O I hae born him seven, seven sons,\n And an eighth neer saw his daddy,\n And tho I were to bear him as many more,\n They should a\u2019 carry arms for Prince Charlie.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n C\n\n #a.# Kinloch MSS, V, 205, recited by John Rae. #b.# Cromek\u2019s Remains\n of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, p. 226, 1810. #c.# Smith\u2019s Scottish\n Minstrel, II, 2. #d.# Christie\u2019s Traditional Ballad Airs, II, 276,\n \u201cfrom the recitation of a relative.\u201d\n\n 1\n It fell on a day, on a bonny summer day,\n When the corn grew green and yellow,\n That there fell out a great dispute\n Between Argyle and Airley.\n\n 2\n The great Argyle raised five hundred men,\n Five hundred men and many,\n And he has led them down by the bonny Dunkeld,\n Bade them shoot at the bonny house of Airley.\n\n 3\n The lady was looking oer her castle-wa,\n And O but she looked weary!\n And there she spied the great Argyle,\n Came to plunder the bonny house of Airley.\n\n 4\n \u2018Come down stairs now, Madam,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018Now come down and kiss me fairly;\u2019\n \u2018I\u2019ll neither come down nor kiss you,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018Tho you should na leave a standing stane in Airley.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018I ask but one favour of you, Argyle,\n And I hope you\u2019ll grant me fairly\n To tak me to some dark dowey glen,\n That I may na see the plundering of Airley.\u2019\n\n 6\n He has taen her by the left shoulder,\n And O but she looked weary!\n And he has led her down to the top of the town,\n Bade her look at the plundering of Airley.\n\n 7\n \u2018Fire on, fire on, my merry men all,\n And see that ye fire clearly;\n For I vow and I swear by the broad sword I wear\n That I winna leave a standing stane in Airley.\n\n 8\n \u2018You may tell it to your lord,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018You may tell it to Lord Airley,\n That one kiss o his gay lady\n Wad hae sav\u2019d all the plundering of Airley.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018If the great Sir John had been but at hame,\n As he is this night wi Prince Charlie,\n Neither Argyle nor no Scottish lord\n Durst hae plundered the bonny house of Airley.\n\n 10\n \u2018Seven, seven sons hae I born unto him,\n And the eight neer saw his dady,\n And altho I were to have a hundred more,\n The should a\u2019 draw their sword for Prince Charlie.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n D\n\n Kinloch MSS, V, 106, in the handwriting of James Beattie, and from\n the recitation of Elizabeth Beattie.\n\n 1\n O gleyd Argyll has written to Montrose\n To see gin the fields they were fairly,\n And to see whether he sh_oul_d stay at hame,\n \u2018Or come to plunder bonnie Airly.\n\n 2\n Then great Montrose has written to Argyll\n And that the fields they were fairly,\n And not to keep his men at hame,\n But to come and plunder bonnie Airly.\n\n 3\n The lady was looking oer her castle-wa,\n She was carrying her courage sae rarely,\n And there she spied him gleyd Arguill,\n Was coming for to plunder bonnie Airly.\n\n 4\n \u2018Wae be to ye, gleyd Argyll!\n And are ye there sae rarely?\n Ye might hae kept your men at hame,\n And not come to plunder bonnie Airly.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018And wae be to ye, Lady Ogilvie!\n And are ye there sae rarely?\n Gin ye had bowed when first I bade,\n I never wad hae plunderd bonnie Airly.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018But gin my guid lord had been at hame,\n As he is wi Prince Charlie,\n There durst not a rebel on a\u2019 Scotch ground\n Set a foot on the bonnie green of Airly.\n\n 7\n \u2018But ye\u2019ll tak me by the milk-white hand,\n And ye\u2019ll lift me up sae rarely,\n And ye\u2019ll throw me outoure my [ain] castle-wa,\n Let me neuer see the plundering of Airly.\u2019\n\n 8\n He\u2019s taen her by the milk-white hand,\n And he\u2019s lifted her up sae rarely,\n And he\u2019s thrown her outoure her ain castle-wa,\n And she neuer saw the plundering of Airly.\n\n 9\n Now gleyd Argyll he has gane hame,\n Awa frae the plundering of Airly,\n And there he has met him Captain Ogilvie,\n Coming over the mountains sae rarely.\n\n 10\n \u2018O wae be to ye, gleyd Argyll!\n And are you there sae rarely?\n Ye might hae kept your men at hame,\n And no gane to plunder bonnie Airly.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018O wae be to ye, Captain Ogilvie!\n And are you there sae rarely?\n Gin ye wad hae bowed when first I bade,\n I neer wad hae plunderd bonnie Airly.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018But gin I had my lady gay,\n Bot and my sister Mary,\n One fig I wad na gie for ye a\u2019,\n Nor yet for the plundering of Airly.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A. b.#\n\n 1^2. When the corn grew green and yellow.\n\n 2^{1,2}. The Duke o Montrose has written to Argyle To come in the\n morning early.\n\n 2^3. An lead in his men by.\n\n 2^4. the bonnie house o Airly.\n\n 3^1. The lady lookd oer her window sae hie.\n\n 4^1. down Lady Margaret he says.\n\n 4^{2,3}. (_cf._ #f.#).\n\n \u2018Or before the morning clear day light,\n I\u2019ll no leave a standing stane in Airly.\u2019\n\n \u2018I wadna kiss thee, great Argyle,\n I wadna kiss thee fairly,\n I wadna kiss thee, great Argyle,\n Gin you shoudna leave a standing stane in Airly.\u2019\n\n 5^1. by the middle sae sma.\n\n 5^2. Says, Lady, where is your drury?\n\n 5^{3,4}. It\u2019s up and down by the bonnie burn-side, Amang the\n planting of Airly.\n\n 6^2. They sought it late and early.\n\n 6^3. And found: bonnie balm-tree.\n\n 7^1. by the left shoulder.\n\n 7^3. And led: to yon green bank.\n\n 8^1 (10^1). lord had been at hame.\n\n 8^2 (10^2). As this night he is wi C.\n\n 8^3 (10^3). There durst na a Campbell in a\u2019 the west.\n\n 8^4 (10^4). Hae plundered the bonnie house.\n\n 9. _Wanting._\n\n 10^1 (9^1). O it\u2019s I hae seven braw sons, she says.\n\n 10^2 (9^2). And the youngest.\n\n 10^3 (9^3). had as mony mae.\n\n 10^4 (9^4). to Charlie.\n\n#c.#\n\n _1\u20135^1 are repeated at p. 54, with some differences._\n\n 1^1. fell about a [the] Lammass time.\n\n 1^2. corn [the corn] grew green and yellow.\n\n 2^1. has gathered three hunder.\n\n 2^2. Three hunder men and mair O.\n\n 2^3. is on to.\n\n 2^4. the bonnie house o A.\n\n 3^1. The lady lookit oure the castle-wa.\n\n 3^2. she was sorry.\n\n 3^3. Whan she saw gleyd Argyle an his [300] men.\n\n 4^1. Come down the stair, Lady Airly [he says].\n\n 4^2. An it\u2019s ye maun kiss [An kiss me fairly].\n\n 4^3. I wad na kiss ye, gleyd Argyll.\n\n 4^4. Atho [Tho] ye leave na.\n\n 5^1. Come down the stair, Lady Airly, he says.\n\n 5^2. An tell whar.\n\n 5^3. Up and down the bonnie.\n\n 5^4. And by the bonnie bowling-green o.\n\n 6. _Wanting._\n\n 7^1. took: the milk-white hand.\n\n 7^2. And led her fairly.\n\n 7^3. Up an down the bonnie water-side.\n\n 7^4. the bonnie house o Airly.\n\n 8^1. But an: were at hame (=9^1).\n\n 8^2. awa wi Charley.\n\n 8^3. The best Campbell in a\u2019 your kin.\n\n 8^4. Durst na plunder the b. h. o. A.\n\n 9. _Wanting._\n\n 10^1 (7^1). Seven sons have I born, she says.\n\n 10^2 (7^2). The eight: its.\n\n 10^3 (7^3). Altho: as many mare.\n\n 10^4 (7^4). a\u2019 to fight for Charley.\n\n#d.#\n\n 1^2. When corn grew green.\n\n 2^1. has hired.\n\n 2^2. A hundred men and mairly.\n\n 2^3. to the.\n\n 2^4. the b. h. of A.\n\n 3^1. The lady lookit over her window.\n\n 3^2. lookit waely.\n\n 3^3. she saw.\n\n 3^4. Coming.\n\n 4^3. I wadna kiss the great.\n\n 4^4. Tho you.\n\n 5^1. by the milk-white hand.\n\n 5^2. Lady, where\u2019s your.\n\n 5^3. It\u2019s up and down yon bonny burn-side.\n\n 5^4. It shines in the bowling-green of A.\n\n 6^2. sought it late and early.\n\n 6^3. They\u2019ve found: the bonny cherry-tree.\n\n 6^4. That grows in.\n\n _Between 6 and 7_:\n\n There is ae favour I ask of thee,\n I beg but ye\u2019ll grant it fairly:\n That ye will take me to yon high hill-top,\n That I maunna see the burning of Airly.\n\n 7^1. by the left shoulder.\n\n 7^2. lookit queerly.\n\n 7^4. he\u2019s led.\n\n 7^4. the b. h. of A.\n\n _Between 7 and 8_:\n\n He\u2019s taen her by the milk-white hand,\n He\u2019s led her right and fairly;\n He\u2019s led her to yon high hill-top,\n Till they\u2019ve burned the bonny house of Airly.\n\n 8^2. away wi Prince Charlie.\n\n 8^3. The great Argyle and a\u2019 his men.\n\n 8^4. Wadna hae plunderd the b. h. of A.\n\n 9. _Wanting._\n\n 10^3. And if I had a hundred men.\n\n 10^4. to Prince.\n\n#e.#\n\n 1^2. When the corn grew green and yellow.\n\n 2^2. A hundred men and mairly.\n\n 2^3. he has gone to.\n\n 2^4. the bonny house of Airly.\n\n 3^1. The lady looked over her window.\n\n 3^2. looked.\n\n 3^4. Coming.\n\n 4^1. down, madam, he says.\n\n 4^3. thee, great Argyle.\n\n 4^4. If you.\n\n 5^1. by the middle so small.\n\n 5^2. Says, Lady, where is your.\n\n 5^3. It is up and down the bonny burn-side.\n\n 5^4. Among the plantings of A.\n\n 6^2. They sought it late and early.\n\n 6^3. And found it in the bonny palm-tree.\n\n 7^1. by the left shoulder.\n\n 7^2. she looked weary.\n\n 7^3. down on the green bank.\n\n 7^4. he plundered the b. h. of A.\n\n 8^1. O if my lord was at home: this night _wanting_.\n\n 8^2. As this night he\u2019s wi Charlie.\n\n 8^{3,4}. Great Argyle and all his men Durst not plunder the b. h.\n of A.\n\n 9. _Wanting._\n\n 10^1. \u2019Tis ten: unto him _wanting_.\n\n 10^3. But though.\n\n 10^4. to Charlie.\n\n#f.#\n\n 1^2. When the clans were a\u2019 wi Charlie.\n\n 2^1. has called a hundred o his men.\n\n 2^2. To come in the morning early.\n\n 2^3. And they hae gane down by.\n\n 2^4. plunder the b. h. of A.\n\n 3^1. L. O. looked frae her window sae hie.\n\n 3^2. she grat sairly.\n\n 3^3. To see Argyle and a\u2019 his men.\n\n 4^1. down, Lady Ogilvie, he cried.\n\n 4^{3,4}. Or ere the morning\u2019s clear daylight I\u2019ll no leave a\n standing.\n\n _After 4_:\n\n I wadna come doon, great Argyle, she cried,\n I wadna kiss thee fairly,\n I wadna come doon, false Argyle, she cried,\n Though you shouldna leave a standing stane in Airly.\n\n 5\u20137. _Wanting._\n\n 8.\n But were my ain guid lord at hame,\n As he is noo wi Charlie,\n The base Argyle and a his men\n Durstna enter the bonny house o Airly.\n\n 9. _Wanting._\n\n 10^1. O I hae seven bonny sons, she said.\n\n 10^2. And the youngest has neer seen.\n\n 10^3. had ane as mony mae.\n\n 10^4. They\u2019d a\u2019 be followers o Charlie.\n\n _After 10 this spurious stanza_:\n\n Then Argyle and his men attacked the bonny ha,\n And O but they plundered it fairly!\n In spite o the tears the lady let fa,\n They burnt doon the bonny house o Airly.\n\n#g.#\n\n 1^2. When the flowers were blooming rarely.\n\n 2^2. An hundred men and mairly.\n\n 2^4. the b. h. of A.\n\n 3^1. The lady lookd oer her w.\n\n 3^2. she sighd sairly.\n\n 4^3. No, I winna kiss thee.\n\n 4^4. Though ye.\n\n 5^1. by the middle sae sma.\n\n 5^2. Says _wanting_: Lady where is your.\n\n 5^{3,4}.\n It\u2019s up and down by the bonny burn-side,\n Amang the plantings o Airly.\n\n 6^2. it late and early.\n\n 6^3. under the bonny palm-tree.\n\n 6^4. That stands i.\n\n _After 6 (cf. #A d#, #C# 5):_\n\n A favour I ask of thee, Argyle,\n If ye will grant it fairly;\n O dinna turn me wi my face\n To see the destruction of Airly!\n\n _The remainder of #g# is taken from #C b#, with two or three\n slight variations._\n\n#h.#\n\n 8.\n An my gude lord had been at hame,\n As he\u2019s awa wi Charlie,\n There durstna a gleyd duke in a\u2019 Argyle\n Set a coal to the bonnie house o Airlie.\n\n #B.#\n\n 5^1, 8^1. Oh.\n\n#C. b.#\n\n _No reliance can be placed upon the genuineness of this copy, and\n a particular collation is not required._\n\n 1^{1,2}. It fell in about the Martinmas time, An the leaves were\n fa\u2019ing early.\n\n 4. _Two stanzas, much as in #A b#, #f#._\n\n 5.\n But take me by the milk-white hand,\n An lead me down right hoolie,\n An set me in a dowie, dowie glen,\n That I mauna see the fall o Airly.\n\n 6.\n He has taen her by the shouther-blade\n An thurst her down afore him,\n Syne set her upon a bonnie knowe-tap,\n Bad her look at Airly fa\u2019ing.\n\n _Here follows a stanza (6) not found elsewhere, no doubt\n Cunningham\u2019s_:\n\n Haste! bring to me a cup o gude wine,\n As red as ony cherrie;\n I\u2019ll tauk the cup, an sip it up;\n Here\u2019s a health to bonnie Prince Charlie!\n\n 7, 8. _Wanting: found only in #a#._\n\n 9. _Nearly #e#, #f#, 8._\n\n 10^1. I hae born me eleven braw sons.\n\n _A concluding stanza may be assigned to Cunningham._\n\n Were my gude lord but here this day,\n As he\u2019s awa wi Charlie,\n The dearest blude o a\u2019 thy kin\n Wad sloken the lowe o Airly.\n\n _Another copy is said in the editor\u2019s preface to begin thus_:\n\n The great Argyle raised ten thousand men,\n Eer the sun was waukening early,\n And he marched them down by the back o Dunkel,\n Bade them fire on the bonnie house o Airlie.\n\n#c.#\n\n _Made over from a copy resembling #B#, #C a#._\n\n 4. _Two stanzas here, as in #B#: kisses are dropped for\n propriety._\n\n 5, 6. _The last half of these is substantially preserved in #c# 7,\n 8._\n\n#d.#\n\n _A blending, perhaps not accidental, of various copies; mainly of\n #A g#, #C b#, #C c#._\n\n 1, 2. _Nearly #A g# 1, 2._\n\n 3. _Nearly #c# 3._\n\n 4^{1,2}. _Nearly #A g# 4^{1,2}._\n\n 4^{3,4}. _Nearly #c# 4^{3,4}._\n\n 5. _Nearly a compound of #A b#_ (Finlay) _5_ and _#c# 5; cf. #B#\n 5._\n\n 6. _Cf. #b# 4 (5 above), #c# 7._\n\n 7. _Nearly #c# 8._\n\n 8. _#b# 6 altered_.\n\n _The stanza cited by Christie at p. 296 is the spurious\n conclusion_ of _#c#._\n\n\n\n\n 200\n\n THE GYPSY LADDIE\n\n #A.# \u2018Johny Faa, the Gypsy Laddie,\u2019 Ramsay\u2019s Tea-Table Miscellany,\n vol. iv, 1740. Here from the edition of 1763, p. 427.\n\n #B. a.# The Edinburgh Magazine and Literary Miscellany (vol. lxxx of\n the Scots Magazine), November, 1817, p. 309. #b.# A fragment recited\n by Miss Fanny Walker, of Mount Pleasant, near Newburgh-on-Tay.\n\n #C.# \u2018Davie Faw,\u2019 Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 381; \u2018Gypsie Davy,\u2019\n Motherwell\u2019s Minstrelsy, 1827, p. 360.\n\n #D.# \u2018The Egyptian Laddy,\u2019 Kinloch MSS, V, 331.\n\n #E.# \u2018The Gypsie Laddie,\u2019 Mactaggart\u2019s Scottish Gallovidian\n Encyclopedia, 1824, p. 284.\n\n #F.# \u2018Johnny Faa, the Gypsey Laddie,\u2019 The Songs of England and\n Scotland [P. Cunningham], London, 1835, II, 346.\n\n #G. a.# \u2018The Gypsie Loddy,\u2019 a broadside, Roxburghe Ballads, III, 685.\n #b.# A recent stall-copy, Catnach, 2 Monmouth Court, Seven Dials.\n\n #H.# \u2018The Gipsy Laddie,\u2019 Shropshire Folk-Lore, edited by Charlotte\n Sophia Burne, p. 550.\n\n #I.# Communicated by Miss Margaret Reburn, as sung in County Meath,\n Ireland, about 1860.\n\n #J. a.# \u2018The Gipsey Davy,\u2019 from Stockbridge, Massachusetts. #b.# From\n a lady born in Maine.\n\n #K.# \u2018Lord Garrick,\u2019 #a#, #b#, communicated by ladies of New York.\n\n\nThe English ballad, though derived from the Scottish, may perhaps have\nbeen printed earlier. A conjectural date of 1720 is given, with\nhesitation, to #G a#, in the catalogue of the British Museum.\n\nThe Scottish ballad appears to have been first printed in the fourth\nvolume of the Tea-Table Miscellany, 1740, but no copy of that edition\nhas been recovered. From the Tea-Table Miscellany it was repeated, with\nvariations, some traditional, some arbitrary, in: Herd\u2019s Ancient and\nModern Scots Songs, 1769, \u2018Gypsie Laddie,\u2019 p. 88, ed. 1776, II, 54; The\nFond Mother\u2019s Garland, not dated, but earlier than 1776; Pinkerton\u2019s\nSelect Scotish Ballads, 1783, I, 67; Johnson\u2019s Museum, \u2018Johny Faa, or,\nThe Gypsie Laddie,\u2019 No 181, p. 189; Ritson\u2019s Scotish Songs, 1794, II,\n176; and in this century, Cromek\u2019s Select Scotish Songs, 1810, II, 15;\nCunningham\u2019s Songs of Scotland, 1825, II, 175. A transcript in the\nCampbell MSS, \u2018The Gypsies,\u2019 I, 16, is from Pinkerton.\n\n\u201cThe people in Ayrshire begin this song,\n\n \u2018The gypsies cam to my lord Cassilis\u2019 yett.\u2019\n\nThey have a great many more stanzas ... than I ever yet saw in any\nprinted.\u201d Burns, in Cromek\u2019s Reliques, 1809, p. 161. (So Sharpe, in the\nMusical Museum, 1853, IV, 217, but perhaps repeating Burns.) #B#, from\nGalloway, has eight more stanzas than #A#, and #E#, also from Galloway,\nfourteen more, but quite eight of the last are entirely\nuntraditional,[38] and the hand of the editor is frequently to be\nrecognized elsewhere.\n\nFinlay, Scottish Ballads, 1808, II, 39, inserted two stanzas after #A#\n2, the first of which is nearly the same as 5, and the second as #B# 3,\n#C# 3. The variations of his text, and others in his notes, are given\nunder #A#. Kinloch MSS, V, 299; Chambers, Scottish Ballads, 1829, p.\n143; Aytoun, 1859, I, 187, repeat Finlay, with a few slight changes. The\nBallads and Songs of Ayrshire, I, 9, follows Chambers.\n\nThe copy in Smith\u2019s Scotish Minstrel, III, 90, is derived from #B a#,\nbut has readings of other texts, and is of no authority. That in\nMaidment\u2019s Scotish Ballads and Songs, 1868, II, 185, is #B a# with\nchanges. Ten stanzas in a manuscript of Scottish songs and ballads,\ncopied 1840 or 1850 by a granddaughter of Lord Woodhouselee, p. 46, are\nfrom #B a#. This may be true also of #B b#, which, however, has not\nCassilis in 1^1.\n\n#C# is from a little further north, from Renfrewshire; #D# from\nAberdeenshire. #F# is from the north of England, and resembles #C#. The\nfinal stanza of #G a# is cited by Ritson, Scotish Songs, II, 177, 1794.\n\u2018The Rare Ballad of Johnnie Faa and the Countess o Cassilis,\u2019 Sheldon\u2019s\nMinstrelsy of the English Border, p. 326, which the editor had \u201cheard\nsung repeatedly by Willie Faa,\u201d and of which he \u201cendeavored to preserve\nas much as recollection would allow,\u201d has the eleven stanzas of the\nEnglish broadside, and twelve more of which Sheldon must have been\nunable to recollect anything. #H-K# are all varieties of the broadside.\n\nThe Rev. S. Baring-Gould has most obligingly sent me a ballad, taken\ndown by him from the singing of an illiterate hedger in North Devon, in\nwhich \u2018The Gypsy Laddie,\u2019 recomposed (mostly with middle rhyme in the\nthird verse, as in #A# 1, 8), forms the sequel to a story of an earl\nmarrying a very reluctant gypsy maid. When the vagrant who has been made\na lady against nature hears some of her tribe singing at the\ncastle-gate, the passion for a roving life returns, and she deserts her\nnoble partner, who pursues her, and, not being able to induce her to\nreturn to him, smites her \u201clily-white\u201d throat with his sword. This\nlittle romance, retouched and repaired, is printed as No 50 of Songs and\nBallads of the West, now publishing by Baring-Gould and Sheppard. Mr\nBaring-Gould has also given me a defective copy of the second part of\n\u2018The Gipsy Countess\u2019 (exhibiting many variations), which he obtained\nfrom an old shoemaker of Tiverton.\n\nAmong the Percy papers there is a set of ballads made over by the\nBishop, which may have been intended for the contemplated extension of\nhis Reliques. \u2018The Gipsie Laddie,\u2019 in eighteen stanzas, and not quite\nfinished, is one of these. After seven stanzas of #A#, not much altered,\nthe husband ineffectually pursues the lady, who adopts the gipsy trade,\nwith her reid cheek stained wi yallow. Seven years pass, during which\nthe laird has taken another wife. At Yule a wretched carline begs\ncharity at his gate, who, upon questioning, reveals that she had been a\nlady gay, with a comely marrow, but had proved false and ruined herself.\n\n\n#A.# Gypsies sing so sweetly at our lord\u2019s gate as to entice his lady to\ncome down; as soon as she shows herself, they cast the glamour on her\n(so #B-F#, #G b#). She gives herself over to the chief gypsy, Johny Faa\nby name, without reserve of any description. Her lord, upon returning\nand finding her gone, sets out to recover her, and captures and hangs\nfifteen gypsies. (It is extremely likely that this version has lost\nseveral stanzas.)\n\nOur lord, unnamed in #A#, is Lord Cassilis in #B#, #C#, #F# (so Burns,\nand Johnson\u2019s Museum). Cassilis has become Cassle, Castle in #E#, #G#,\nCorsefield[39] in #D#, Cashan in Irish #I#, Garrick[40] in American #K#.\nThe Gypsy Laddie is again Johnie, Jockie, Faa in #B#, #D#, #E#; but\nGipsy Davy in #C# (where Lady Cassilis is twice called Jeanie Faw), and\nin American #I a b#; and seems to be called both Johnnie Faw and Gypsie\nGeordie in #F#. The lady gives the gypsies the good wheat bread #B#, #E#\n(beer and wine, Finlay); they give her (sweetmeats, #C#) ginger, nutmeg,\nor both, and she gives them the ring (rings) off her finger (fingers),\n#B#, #C#, #E#, #G#, #I#, (and Finlay).\n\n#B a# has a full story from this point on. The gypsy asks the lady to go\nwith him, and swears that her lord shall never come near her. The lady\nchanges her silk mantle for a plaid, and is ready to travel the world\nover with the gypsy, #B a# 5, #A# 3, #C# 4, #D# 3, #E# 4, #F# 4, (#B a#\n6 is spurious). They wander high and low till they come to an old barn,\nand by this time she is weary. The lady begins to find out what she has\nundertaken: last night she lay with her lord in a well-made bed, now she\nmust lie in an old barn, #B a# 7, 8, #A# 4, #C# 6, #D# 7, #F# 5 (reeky\nkill #E# 8, on a straw bed #H# 7, in the ash-corner #I# 6). The gypsy\nbids her hold her peace, her lord shall never come near her. They wander\nhigh and low till they come to a wan water, and by this time she is\nweary. Oft has she ridden that wan water with her lord; now she must set\nin her white feet and wade, #B a# 11, #C# 5, #D# 5, 6, #E# 7, (and carry\nthe gipsie laddie, #B a# 11, badly; follow, #B b#). The lord comes home,\nis told that his lady is gone off with the gypsy, and immediately sets\nout to bring her back (so all). He finds her at the wan water, #B a# 14;\nin Abbey Dale, drinking wi Gipsey Davy, #C# 10; near Strabogie, drinking\nwi Gypsie Geordie, #F# 10;[41] by the riverside, #J a# 4; at the Misty\nMount, #K# 5, 6. He asks her tenderly if she will go home, #B a# 15, #E#\n15, #F# 12, he will shut her up so securely that no man shall come near,\n#B a# 15, #E# 15; he expostulates with her, more or less reproachfully,\n#C# 11, #F# 11, #G# 9, #H# 5, #J# 5. She will not go home; as she has\nbrewed, so will she drink, #B a# 16, #G# 10; she cares not for houses or\nlands or babes (baby) #G# 10, #H# 6, #J# 6. But she swears to him that\nshe is as free of the gypsies as when her mother bare her, #B a# 17, #E#\n16.\n\nFifteen gypsies are hanged, or lose their lives, #A# 10, #B# 18, #D# 14;\nsixteen, all sons of one mother, #C# 12, 13; seven, #F# 13, #G# 11, (cf.\n#I# 1).[42]\n\n#D# 8\u201311 is ridiculously perverted in the interest of morals: compare #B\na# 17, #E# 16. \u2018I swear that my hand shall never go near thee,\u2019 #D# 8,\nis transferred to the husband in #I# 5: \u2018A hand I\u2019ll neer lay on you\u2019\n(in the way of correction).\n\nIn #G# 4 the lady, in place of exchanging her silk mantle for a plaidie,\npulls off her high-heeled shoes, of Spanish leather, and puts on\nHighland brogues. In #I# 7 gypsies take off her high-heeled shoes, and\nshe puts on Lowland brogues. The high-heeled shoes, to be sure, are not\nadapted to following the Gypsy Laddie, but light may perhaps be derived\nfrom #C# 12, where the gypsies \u2018drink her stockings and her shoon.\u2019 In\n#K# these high-heeled shoes of Spanish leather are wrongly transferred\nto Lord Garrick in the copy as delivered, but have been restored to the\nlady.\n\nIt is not said (except in the spurious portions of #E#) that the lady\nwas carried back by her husband, but this may perhaps be inferred from\nhis hanging the gypsies. In #D# and #K# we are left uncertain as to her\ndisposition, which is elsewhere, for the most part, to stick to the\ngypsy. #J#, a copy of very slight authority, makes the lord marry again\nwithin six months of his wife\u2019s elopement.\n\nThe earliest edition of the ballad styles the gypsy Johny Faa, but gives\nno clew to the fair lady. Johnny Faa was a prominent and frequent name\namong the gypsies. Johnn\u00eb Faw\u2019s right and title as lord and earl of\nLittle Egypt were recognized by James V in a document under the Privy\nSeal, February 15, 1540, and we learn from this paper that, even before\nthis date, letters had been issued to the king\u2019s officers, enjoining\nthem to assist Johnn\u00eb Faw \u201cin execution of justice upon his company and\nfolks, conform to the laws of Egypt, and in punishing of all them that\nrebels against him.\u201d But in the next year, by an act of the Lords of\nCouncil, June 6, Egyptians are ordered to quit the realm within thirty\ndays on pain of death, notwithstanding any other letters or privileges\ngranted them by the king, his grace having discharged the same. The\ngypsies were expelled from Scotland by act of Parliament in 1609.\nJohnn\u00eb, _alias_ Willie, Faa, with three others of the name, remaining\nnotwithstanding, were sentenced to be hanged, 1611, July 31. In 1615,\nJanuary 25, a man was delated for harboring of Egyptians, \u201cspecially of\nJohnn\u00eb Fall, a notorious Egyptian and chieftain of that unhappy sort of\npeople.\u201d In 1616, July 24, Johnn\u00eb Faa, Egyptian, his son, and two others\nwere condemned to be hanged for contemptuous repairing to the country\nand abiding therein. Finally, in 1624, January 24, Captain Johnn\u00eb Faa\nand seven others were sentenced to be hanged for the same offence, and\non the following 29th Helen Faa, relict of the late Captain Johnn\u00eb Faa,\nwith ten other women, was sentenced to be drowned, but execution was\nstayed. Eight men were executed, but the rest, \u201cbeing either children\nand of less-age and women with child or giving suck to children,\u201d were,\nafter imprisonment, banished the country under pain of death, to be\ninflicted without further process should they be found within the\nkingdom after a day fixed.[43] The execution of the notorious Egyptian\nand chieftain Johnny Faa must have made a considerable impression, and\nit is presumable that this ballad may have arisen not long after.\nWhether this were so or not, Johnny Faa acquired popular fame, and\nbecame a personage to whom any adventure might plausibly be imputed. It\nis said that he has even been foisted into \u2018The Douglas Tragedy\u2019 (\u2018Earl\nBrand\u2019), and Scott had a copy of \u2018Captain Car\u2019 in which, as in #F#, #G#,\nof that ballad, the scene was transferred to Ayrshire, and the\nincendiary was called Johnny Faa.[44]\n\nToward the end of the last century we begin to hear that the people in\nAyrshire make the wife of the Earl of Cassilis the heroine of the\nballad. This name, under the instruction of Burns, was adopted into the\ncopy in Johnson\u2019s Museum (which, as to the rest, is Ramsay\u2019s), and in\nthe index to the second volume of the Museum, 1788, we read,\n\u201cneighboring tradition strongly vouches for the truth of this story.\u201d\nAfter this we get the tradition in full, of course with considerable\nvariety in the details, and sometimes with criticism, sometimes\nwithout.[45]\n\nThe main points in the traditional story are that John, sixth earl of\nCassilis, married, for his first wife, Lady Jean Hamilton, whose\naffections were pre\u00ebngaged to one Sir John Faa, of Dunbar. Several years\nafter, when Lady Cassilis had become the mother of two children,[46] Sir\nJohn Faa took the opportunity of the earl\u2019s absence from home (while\nLord Cassilis was attending the Westminster Assembly, say some) to\npresent himself at the castle, accompanied by a band of gypsies and\nhimself disguised as a gypsy, and induced his old love to elope with\nhim. But the earl returned in the nick of time, went in pursuit,\ncaptured the whole party, or all but one,[47] who is supposed to tell\nthe story, and hanged them, on the dule tree, \u201ca most umbrageous plane,\nwhich yet flourishes upon a mound in front of the castle gate.\u201d The\nfugitive wife was banished from board and bed, and confined for life in\na tower at Maybole, built for the purpose. \u201cEight heads carved in stone\nbelow one of the turrets are said to be the effigies of so many of the\ngypsies.\u201d[48] The ford by which the lady and her lover crossed the River\nDoon is still called The Gypsies\u2019 Steps.\n\nSeveral accounts put the abduction at the time when the Earl of Cassilis\nwas attending the Assembly of Divines at Westminster. This was in\nSeptember, 1643. It is now known that Lady Cassilis died in December,\n1642. What is much more important, it is known from two letters written\nby the earl immediately after her death that nothing could have occurred\nof a nature to alienate his affection, for in the one he speaks of her\nas a \u201cdear friend\u201d and \u201cbeloved yoke-fellow,\u201d and in the other as his\n\u201cdear bed-fellow.\u201d[49]\n\n\u201cSeldom, when stripped of extraneous matter, has tradition been better\nsupported than it has been in the case of Johnie Faa and the Countess of\nCassilis:\u201d Maidment, Scotish Ballads, 1868, II, 184. In a sense not\nintended, this is quite true; most of the traditions which have grown\nout of ballads have as slight a foundation as this. The connection of\nthe ballad with the Cassilis family (as Mr Macmath has suggested to me)\nmay possibly have arisen from the first line of some copy reading, \u2018The\ngypsies came to the castle-gate.\u2019 As #F# 1^3 has perverted Earl of\nCassilis to Earl of Castle, so Castle may have been corrupted into\nCassilis.[50]\n\nKnortz, Schottische Balladen, p. 28, translates freely eight stanzas\nfrom Aytoun.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n Ramsay\u2019s Tea-Table Miscellany, vol. iv, 1740. Here from the London\n edition of 1763, p. 427.\n\n 1\n The gypsies came to our good lord\u2019s gate,\n And wow but they sang sweetly!\n They sang sae sweet and sae very compleat\n That down came the fair lady.\n\n 2\n And she came tripping down the stair,\n And a\u2019 her maids before her;\n As soon as they saw her well-far\u2019d face,\n They coost the glamer oer her.\n\n 3\n \u2018Gae tak frae me this gay mantile,\n And bring to me a plaidie;\n For if kith and kin and a\u2019 had sworn,\n I\u2019ll follow the gypsie laddie.\n\n 4\n \u2018Yestreen I lay in a well-made bed,\n And my good lord beside me;\n This night I\u2019ll ly in a tenant\u2019s barn,\n Whatever shall betide me.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018Come to your bed,\u2019 says Johny Faa,\n \u2018Oh come to your bed, my deary;\n For I vow and I swear, by the hilt of my sword,\n That your lord shall nae mair come near ye.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018I\u2019ll go to bed to my Johny Faa,\n I\u2019ll go to bed to my deary;\n For I vow and I swear, by what past yestreen,\n That my lord shall nae mair come near me.\n\n 7\n \u2018I\u2019ll mak a hap to my Johnny Faa,\n And I\u2019ll mak a hap to my deary;\n And he\u2019s get a\u2019 the coat gaes round,\n And my lord shall nae mair come near me.\u2019\n\n 8\n And when our lord came hame at een,\n And speir\u2019d for his fair lady,\n The tane she cry\u2019d, and the other reply\u2019d,\n \u2018She\u2019s away with the gypsie laddie.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018Gae saddle to me the black, black steed,\n Gae saddle and make him ready;\n Before that I either eat or sleep,\n I\u2019ll gae seek my fair lady.\u2019\n\n 10\n And we were fifteen well-made men,\n Altho we were nae bonny;\n And we were a\u2019 put down for ane,\n A fair young wanton lady.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n #a.# The Edinburgh Magazine and Literary Miscellany, being a new\n series of the Scots Magazine (vol. lxxx of the entire work),\n November, 1817, p. 309, communicated by Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe,\n as taken down from the recitation of a peasant in Galloway. #b.# A\n fragment recited by Miss Fanny Walker, of Mount Pleasant, near\n Newburgh-on-Tay, as communicated by Mr Alexander Laing, 1873.\n\n 1\n The gypsies they came to my lord Cassilis\u2019 yett,\n And O but they sang bonnie!\n They sang sae sweet and sae complete\n That down came our fair ladie.\n\n 2\n She came tripping down the stairs,\n And all her maids before her;\n As soon as they saw her weel-far\u2019d face,\n They coost their glamourie owre her.\n\n 3\n She gave to them the good wheat bread,\n And they gave her the ginger;\n But she gave them a far better thing,\n The gold ring off her finger.\n\n 4\n \u2018Will ye go with me, my hinny and my heart?\n Will ye go with me, my dearie?\n And I will swear, by the staff of my spear,\n That your lord shall nae mair come near thee.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018Sae take from me my silk mantel,\n And bring to me a plaidie,\n For I will travel the world owre\n Along with the gypsie laddie.\n\n 6\n \u2018I could sail the seas with my Jockie Faa,\n I could sail the seas with my dearie;\n I could sail the seas with my Jockie Faa,\n And with pleasure could drown with my dearie.\n\n 7\n They wandred high, they wandred low,\n They wandred late and early,\n Untill they came to an old tenant\u2019s-barn,\n And by this time she was weary.\n\n 8\n \u2018Last night I lay in a weel-made bed,\n And my noble lord beside me,\n And now I must ly in an old tenant\u2019s-barn,\n And the black crew glowring owre me.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018O hold your tongue, my hinny and my heart,\n O hold your tongue, my dearie,\n For I will swear, by the moon and the stars,\n That thy lord shall nae mair come near thee.\u2019\n\n 10\n They wandred high, they wandred low,\n They wandred late and early,\n Untill they came to that wan water,\n And by this time she was wearie.\n\n 11\n \u2018Aften have I rode that wan water,\n And my lord Cassilis beside me,\n And now I must set in my white feet and wade,\n And carry the gypsie laddie.\u2019\n\n 12\n By and by came home this noble lord,\n And asking for his ladie,\n The one did cry, the other did reply,\n \u2018She is gone with the gypsie laddie.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018Go saddle to me the black,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018The brown rides never so speedie,\n And I will neither eat nor drink\n Till I bring home my ladie.\u2019\n\n 14\n He wandred high, he wandred low,\n He wandred late and early,\n Untill he came to that wan water,\n And there he spied his ladie.\n\n 15\n \u2018O wilt thou go home, my hinny and my heart,\n O wilt thou go home, my dearie?\n And I\u2019ll close thee in a close room,\n Where no man shall come near thee.\u2019\n\n 16\n \u2018I will not go home, my hinny and my heart,\n I will not go home, my dearie;\n If I have brewn good beer, I will drink of the same,\n And my lord shall nae mair come near me.\n\n 17\n \u2018But I will swear, by the moon and the stars,\n And the sun that shines so clearly,\n That I am as free of the gypsie gang\n As the hour my mother did bear me.\u2019\n\n 18\n They were fifteen valiant men,\n Black, but very bonny,\n And they lost all their lives for one,\n The Earl of Cassillis\u2019 ladie.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n C\n\n Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 381, from the recitation of Agnes Lyle,\n Kilbarchan, 27 July, 1825.\n\n 1\n There cam singers to Earl Cassillis\u2019 gates,\n And oh, but they sang bonnie!\n They sang sae sweet and sae complete,\n Till down cam the earl\u2019s lady.\n\n 2\n She cam tripping down the stair,\n And all her maids before her;\n As soon as they saw her weel-faurd face,\n They coost their glamourye owre her.\n\n 3\n They gave her o the gude sweetmeats,\n The nutmeg and the ginger,\n And she gied them a far better thing,\n Ten gold rings aff her finger.\n\n 4\n \u2018Tak from me my silken cloak,\n And bring me down my plaidie;\n For it is gude eneuch,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018To follow a Gipsy Davy.\n\n 5\n \u2018Yestreen I rode this water deep,\n And my gude lord beside me;\n But this nicht I maun set in my pretty fit and wade,\n A wheen blackguards wading wi me.\n\n 6\n \u2018Yestreen I lay in a fine feather-bed,\n And my gude lord beyond me;\n But this nicht I maun lye in some cauld tenant\u2019s-barn,\n A wheen blackguards waiting on me.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018Come to thy bed, my bonny Jeanie Faw,\n Come to thy bed, my dearie,\n For I do swear, by the top o my spear,\n Thy gude lord\u2019ll nae mair come near thee.\u2019\n\n 8\n When her good lord cam hame at nicht,\n It was asking for his fair ladye;\n One spak slow, and another whisperd out,\n \u2018She\u2019s awa wi Gipsey Davy!\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018Come saddle to me my horse,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018Come saddle and mak him readie!\n For I\u2019ll neither sleep, eat, nor drink\n Till I find out my lady.\u2019\n\n 10\n They socht her up, they socht her doun,\n They socht her thro nations many,\n Till at length they found her out in Abbey dale,\n Drinking wi Gipsey Davy.\n\n 11\n \u2018Rise, oh rise, my bonnie Jeanie Faw,\n Oh rise, and do not tarry!\n Is this the thing ye promised to me\n When at first I did thee marry?\u2019\n\n 12\n They drank her cloak, so did they her goun,\n They drank her stockings and her shoon,\n And they drank the coat that was nigh to her smock,\n And they pawned her pearled apron.\n\n 13\n They were sixteen clever men,\n Suppose they were na bonny;\n They are a\u2019 to be hangd on ae tree,\n For the stealing o Earl Cassilis\u2019 lady.\n\n 14\n \u2018We are sixteen clever men,\n One woman was a\u2019 our mother;\n We are a\u2019 to be hanged on ae day,\n For the stealing of a wanton lady.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n D\n\n Kinloch MSS, V, 331, in the handwriting of John Hill Burton; from a\n reciter who came from the vicinity of Craigievar.\n\n 1\n There came Gyptians to Corse Field yeats,\n Black, tho they warna bonny;\n They danced so neat and they danced so fine,\n Till down came the bonny lady.\n\n 2\n She came trippin down the stair,\n And her nine maidens afore her;\n But up and starts him Johny Fa,\n And he cast the glamour oer her.\n\n 3\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll take frae me this gay mantle,\n And ye\u2019ll gie to me a plaidie;\n For I shall follow Johny Fa,\n Lat weel or woe betide me.\u2019\n\n 4\n They\u2019ve taen frae her her fine mantle,\n And they\u2019ve gaen to her a plaidie,\n And she\u2019s awa wi Johny Fa,\n Whatever may betide her.\n\n 5\n When they came to a wan water,\n I wite it wasna bonny,\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n 6\n \u2018Yestreen I wade this wan water,\n And my good lord was wi me;\n The night I man cast aff my shoes and wide,\n And the black bands widen wi me.\n\n 7\n \u2018Yestreen I lay in a well made bed,\n And my good lord lay wi me;\n The night I maun ly in a tenant\u2019s barn,\n And the black bauds lyin wi me.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018Come to yer bed,\u2019 says Johnie Fa,\n \u2018Come to yer bed, my dearie,\n And I shall swer, by the coat that I wear,\n That my hand it shall never go near thee.\n\n 9\n \u2018I will never come to yer bed,\n I will never be yer dearie;\n For I think I hear his horse\u2019s foot\n That was once called my dearie.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018Come to yer bed,\u2019 says Johny Fa,\n \u2018Come to yer bed, my dearie,\n And I shall swear, by the coat that I wear,\n That my hand it shall never go oer thee.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018I will niver come to yer bed,\n I will niver be yer dearie;\n For I think I hear his bridle ring\n That was once called my dearie.\u2019\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 12\n When that good lord came hame at night,\n He called for his lady;\n The one maid said, and the other replied,\n \u2018She\u2019s aff wi the Gyptian laddy.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll saddle to me the good black steed,\n Tho the brown it was never so bonny;\n Before that ever I eat or drink,\n I shall have back my lady.\u2019\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 14\n \u2018Yestreen we were fifteen good armed men;\n Tho black, we werena bonny;\n The night we a\u2019 ly slain for one,\n It\u2019s the Laird o Corse Field\u2019s lady.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n E\n\n The Scottish Gallovidian Encyclopedia, by John Mactaggart, 1824, p.\n 284.\n\n 1\n The gypsies they came to Lord Cassle\u2019s yet,\n And O but they sang ready!\n They sang sae sweet and sae complete\n That down came the lord\u2019s fair lady.\n\n 2\n O she came tripping down the stair,\n Wi a\u2019 her maids afore her,\n And as soon as they saw her weelfared face\n They cuist their glaumry owre her.\n\n 3\n She gaed to them the gude white bread,\n And they gaed to her the ginger,\n Then she gaed to them a far brawer thing,\n The gowd rings af her finger.\n\n 4\n Quo she to her maids, There\u2019s my gay mantle,\n And bring to me my plaidy,\n And tell my lord whan he comes hame\n I\u2019m awa wi a gypsie laddie.\n\n 5\n For her lord he had to the hounting gane,\n Awa in the wild green wuddie,\n And Jockie Faw, the gypsie king,\n Saw him there wi his cheeks sae ruddy.\n\n 6\n On they mounted, and af they rade,\n Ilk gypsie had a cuddy,\n And whan through the stincher they did prance\n They made the water muddy.\n\n 7\n Quo she, Aft times this water I hae rade,\n Wi many a lord and lady,\n But never afore did I it wade\n To follow a gypsie laddie.\n\n 8\n \u2018Aft hae I lain in a saft feather-bed,\n Wi my gude lord aside me,\n But now I maun sleep in an auld reeky kilt,\n Alang wi a gypsie laddie.\u2019\n\n 9\n Sae whan that the yirl he came hame,\n His servants a\u2019 stood ready;\n Some took his horse, and some drew his boots,\n But gane was his fair lady.\n\n 10\n And whan he came ben to the parlour-door,\n He asked for his fair lady,\n But some denied, and ithers some replied,\n \u2018She\u2019s awa wi a gypsie laddie.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018Then saddle,\u2019 quoth he, \u2018my gude black naig,\n For the brown is never sae speedy;\n As I will neither eat nor drink\n Till I see my fair lady.\n\n 12\n \u2018I met wi a cheel as I rade hame,\n And thae queer stories said he;\n Sir, I saw this day a fairy queen\n Fu pack wi a gypsie laddie.\n\n 13\n \u2018I hae been east, and I hae been west,\n And in the lang town o Kircadie,\n But the bonniest lass that ever I saw\n Was following a gypsie laddie.\u2019\n\n 14\n Sae his lordship has rade owre hills and dales,\n And owre mony a wild hie mountain,\n Until that he heard his ain lady say,\n \u2018Now my lord will be hame frae the hounting.\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018Than will yon come hame, my hinnie and my love?\u2019\n Quoth he to his charming dearie,\n \u2018And I\u2019ll keep ye aye in a braw close room,\n Where the gypsies will never can steer ye.\u2019\n\n 16\n Said she, \u2018I can swear by the sun and the stars,\n And the moon whilk shines sae clearie,\n That I am as chaste for the gypsie Jockie Faw\n As the day my minnie did bear me.\u2019\n\n 17\n \u2018Gif ye wad swear by the sun,\u2019 said he,\n \u2018And the moon, till ye wad deave me,\n Ay and tho ye wad take a far bigger aith,\n My dear, I wadna believe ye.\n\n 18\n \u2018I\u2019ll tak ye hame, and the gypsies I\u2019ll hang,\n Ay, I\u2019ll make them girn in a wuddie,\n And afterwards I\u2019ll burn Jockie Faw,\n Wha fashed himself wi my fair lady.\n\n 19\n Quoth the gypsies, We\u2019re fifteen weel-made men,\n Tho the maist o us be ill bred ay,\n Yet it wad be a pity we should a\u2019 hang for ane,\n Wha fashed himself wi your fair lady.\n\n 20\n Quoth the lady, My lord, forgive them a\u2019,\n For they nae ill eer did ye,\n And gie ten guineas to the chief, Jockie Faw,\n For he is a worthy laddie.\n\n 21\n The lord he hearkened to his fair dame,\n And O the gypsies war glad ay!\n They danced round and round their merry Jockie Faw,\n And roosed the gypsie laddie.\n\n 22\n Sae the lord rade hame wi his charming spouse,\n Owre the hills and the haughs sae whunnie,\n And the gypsies slade down by yon bonny burn-side,\n To beek themsells there sae sunnie.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n F\n\n The Songs of England and Scotland [by P. Cunningham], London, 1835,\n II, 346, taken down, as current in the north of England, from the\n recitation of John Martin, the painter.\n\n 1\n The gypsies came to the Earl o Cassilis\u2019 gate,\n And O but they sang bonnie!\n They sang sae sweet and sae complete\n That down cam our fair ladie.\n\n 2\n And she cam tripping down the stair,\n Wi her twa maids before her;\n As soon as they saw her weel-far\u2019d face,\n They coost their glamer oer her.\n\n 3\n \u2018O come wi me,\u2019 says Johnnie Faw,\n \u2018O come wi me, my dearie,\n For I vow and swear, by the hilt of my sword,\n Your lord shall nae mair come near ye.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018Here, tak frae me this gay mantile,\n And gie to me a plaidie;\n Tho kith and kin and a\u2019 had sworn,\n I\u2019ll follow the gypsie laddie.\n\n 5\n \u2018Yestreen I lay in a weel-made bed,\n And my gude lord beside me;\n This night I\u2019ll lie in a tenant\u2019s barn,\n Whatever shall betide me.\n\n 6\n \u2018Last night I lay in a weel-made bed,\n Wi silken hangings round me;\n But now I\u2019ll lie in a farmer\u2019s barn,\n Wi the gypsies all around me.\n\n 7\n \u2018The first ale-house that we come at,\n We\u2019ll hae a pot o brandie;\n The next ale-house that we came at,\n We\u2019ll drink to gypsie Geordie.\u2019\n\n 8\n Now when our lord cam home at een,\n He speir\u2019d for his fair lady;\n The ane she cried, [the] tither replied,\n \u2018She\u2019s awa wi the gypsie laddie.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018Gae saddle me the gude black steed;\n The bay was neer sae bonnie;\n For I will neither eat nor sleep\n Till I be wi my lady.\u2019\n\n 10\n Then he rode east, and he rode west,\n And he rode near Strabogie,\n And there he found his ain dear wife,\n Drinking wi gypsie Geordie.\n\n 11\n \u2018And what made you leave your houses and land?\n Or what made you leave your money?\n Or what made you leave your ain wedded lord,\n To follow the gypsie laddie?\n\n 12\n \u2018Then come thee hame, my ain dear wife,\n Then come thee hame, my hinnie,\n And I do swear, by the hilt of my sword,\n The gypsies nae mair shall come near thee.\u2019\n\n 13\n Then we were seven weel-made men,\n But lack! we were nae bonnie,\n And we were a\u2019 put down for ane,\n For the Earl o Cassilis\u2019 ladie.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n G\n\n #a.# A broadside in the Roxburghe Ballads, III, 685, entered in the\n catalogue, doubtfully, as of Newcastle upon Tyne, 1720. #b.# A\n recent stall-copy, Catnach, 2 Monmouth Court, Seven Dials.\n\n 1\n There was seven gypsies all in a gang,\n They were brisk and bonny; O\n They rode till they came to the Earl of Castle\u2019s house,\n And there they sang most sweetly. O\n\n 2\n The Earl of Castle\u2019s lady came down,\n With the waiting-maid beside her;\n As soon as her fair face they saw,\n They called their grandmother over.\n\n 3\n They gave to her a nutmeg brown,\n And a race of the best ginger;\n She gave to them a far better thing,\n \u2019Twas the ring from off her finger.\n\n 4\n She pulld off her high-heeld shoes,\n They was made of Spanish leather;\n She put on her highland brog[u]es,\n To follow the gypsey loddy.\n\n 5\n At night when my good lord came home,\n Enquiring for his lady,\n The waiting-maid made this reply,\n \u2018She\u2019s following the gypsey loddy.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018Come saddle me my milk-white steed,\n Come saddle it so bonny,\n As I may go seek my own wedded wife,\n That\u2019s following the gypsey loddy.\n\n 7\n \u2018Have you been east? have you been west?\n Or have you been brisk and bonny?\n Or have you seen a gay lady,\n A following the gypsey loddy?\u2019\n\n 8\n He rode all that summer\u2019s night,\n And part of the next morning;\n At length he spy\u2019d his own wedded wife,\n She was cold, wet, and weary.\n\n 9\n \u2018Why did you leave your houses and land?\n Or why did you leave your money?\n Or why did you leave your good wedded lord,\n To follow the gypsey loddy?\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018O what care I for houses and land?\n Or what care I for money?\n So as I have brewd, so will I return;\n So fare you well, my honey!\u2019\n\n 11\n There was seven gypsies in a gang,\n And they was brisk and bonny,\n And they\u2019re to be hanged all on a row,\n For the Earl of Castle\u2019s lady.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n H\n\n Shropshire Lolk-Lore, edited by Charlotte Sophia Burne, p. 550, as\n sung May 23, 1885, by gypsy children.\n\n 1\n There came a gang o gipsies by,\n And they was singing so merry, O\n Till they gained the heart o my lady gay,\n . . . . . . .\n\n 2\n As soon as the lord he did come in,\n Enquired for his lady, O\n And some o the sarvants did-a reply,\n \u2018Her\u2019s away wi the gipsy laddie.\u2019 O\n\n 3\n \u2018O saddle me the bay, and saddle me the grey,\n Till I go and sarch for my lady;\u2019\n And some o the sarvants did-a reply,\n \u2018Her\u2019s away wi the gipsy laddie.\u2019\n\n 4\n And he rode on, and he rode off,\n Till he came to the gipsies\u2019 tentie,\n And there he saw his lady gay,\n By the side o the gipsy laddie.\n\n 5\n \u2018Didn\u2019t I leave you houses and land?\n And didn\u2019t I leave you money?\n Didn\u2019t I leave you three pretty babes\n As ever was in yonder green island?\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018What care I for houses and land?\n And what care I for money?\n What do I care for three pretty babes?\u2019\n . . . . . . .\n\n 7\n \u2018The tother night you was on a feather bed,\n Now you\u2019re on a straw one,\u2019\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n I\n\n From Miss Margaret Reburn, \u201cas sung in County Meath, Ireland, about\n 1860.\u201d\n\n 1\n There come seven gypsies on a day,\n Oh, but they sang bonny! O\n And they sang so sweet, and they sang so clear,\n Down cam the earl\u2019s ladie. O\n\n 2\n They gave to her the nutmeg,\n And they gave to her the ginger;\n But she gave to them a far better thing,\n The seven gold rings off her fingers.\n\n 3\n When the earl he did come home,\n Enquiring for his ladie,\n One of the servants made this reply,\n \u2018She\u2019s awa with the gypsie lad[d]ie.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018Come saddle for me the brown,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018For the black was neer so speedy,\n And I will travel night and day\n Till I find out my ladie.\n\n 5\n \u2018Will you come home, my dear?\u2019 he said,\n \u2018Oh will you come home, my honey?\n And, by the point of my broad sword,\n A hand I\u2019ll neer lay on you.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018Last night I lay on a good feather-bed,\n And my own wedded lord beside me,\n And tonight I\u2019ll lie in the ash-corner,\n With the gypsies all around me.\n\n 7\n \u2018They took off my high-heeled shoes,\n That were made of Spanish leather,\n And I have put on coarse Lowland brogues,\n To trip it oer the heather.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018The Earl of Cashan is lying sick;\n Not one hair I\u2019m sorry;\n I\u2019d rather have a kiss from his fair lady\u2019s lips\n Than all his gold and his money.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n J\n\n #a.# Written down by Newton Pepoun, as learned from a boy with whom\n he went to school in Stockbridge, Massachusetts, about 1845. #b.#\n From the singing of Mrs Farmer, born in Maine, as learned by her\n daughter, about 1840.\n\n 1\n There was a gip came oer the land,\n He sung so sweet and gaily;\n He sung with glee, neath the wild wood tree,\n He charmed the great lord\u2019s lady.\n Ring a ding a ding go ding go da,\n Ring a ding a ding go da dy,\n Ring a ding a ding go ding go da,\n She\u2019s gone with the gipsey Davy.\n\n 2\n The lord he came home late that night;\n Enquiring for his lady,\n \u2018She\u2019s gone, she\u2019s gone,\u2019 said his old servant-man,\n \u2018She\u2019s gone with the gipsey Davy.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018Go saddle me my best black mare;\n The grey is neer so speedy;\n For I\u2019ll ride all night, and I\u2019ll ride all day,\n Till I overtake my lady.\u2019\n\n 4\n Riding by the river-side,\n The grass was wet and dewy;\n Seated with her gipsey lad,\n It\u2019s there he spied his lady.\n\n 5\n \u2018Would you forsake your house and home?\n Would you forsake your baby?\n Would you forsake your own true love,\n And go with the gipsey Davy?\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018Yes, I\u2019ll forsake my house and home,\n Yes, I\u2019ll forsake my baby;\n What care I for my true love?\n I love the gipsey Davy.\u2019\n\n 7\n The great lord he rode home that night,\n He took good care of his baby,\n And ere six months had passed away\n He married another lady.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n K\n\n #a.# From Mrs Helena Titus Brown of New York. #b.# From Miss Emma A.\n Clinch of New York. Derived, 1820, or a little later, #a# directly,\n #b# indirectly, from the singing of Miss Ph\u0153be Wood, Huntington,\n Long Island, and perhaps learned from English soldiers there\n stationed during the Revolutionary war.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 1\n \u2018Go bring me down my high-heeled shoes,\n Made of the Spanish leather,\n And I\u2019ll take off my low-heeled shoes,\n And away we\u2019ll go together.\u2019\n Lumpy dumpy linky dinky day\n Lumpy dumpy linky dinky daddy\n\n 2\n They brought her down her high-heeled shoes,\n Made of the Spanish leather,\n And she took off her low-heeled shoes,\n And away they went together.\n\n 3\n And when Lord Garrick he got there,\n Inquiring for his lady,\n Then up steps his best friend:\n \u2018She\u2019s gone with a gipsy laddie.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018Go saddle me my bonny brown,\n For the grey is not so speedy,\n And away we\u2019ll go to the Misty Mount,\n And overtake my lady.\u2019\n\n 5\n They saddled him his bonny brown,\n For the grey was not so speedy,\n And away they went to the Misty Mount,\n And overtook his lady.\n\n 6\n And when Lord Garrick he got there,\n \u2019Twas in the morning early,\n And there he found his lady fair,\n And she was wet and weary.\n\n 7\n \u2018And it\u2019s fare you well, my dearest dear,\n And it\u2019s fare you well for ever,\n And if you don\u2019t go with me now,\n Don\u2019t let me see you never.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A.#\n\n _Variations of Finlay_, II, 39 ff.\n\n _Inserted after 2:_\n\n \u2018O come with me,\u2019 says Johnie Faw,\n \u2018O come with me, my dearie;\n For I vow and I swear, by the hilt of my sword,\n That your lord shall nae mair come near ye.\u2019\n\n Then she gied them the beer and the wine,\n And they gied her the ginger;\n But she gied them a far better thing,\n The goud ring aff her finger.\n\n 4^2. Wi my.\n\n 4^3. But this.\n\n 6^3. For I vow and I swear, by the fan in my hand.\n\n 7^2. _And wanting._\n\n 9^2. _Otherwise_: The brown was neer sae ready.\n\n 10^3. but ane.\n\n 10^4. For a.\n\n _Herd has in 10^{3,4}_ but ane, For. _Pinkerton follows Herd, with\n changes of his own in 1, 10, and the omission of 7. The copy in\n Johnson\u2019s Museum is Herd\u2019s, with changes: in 10^{3,4},_ are a\u2019\n put down for ane, The Earl of Cassilis\u2019 lady. _Ritson follows\n Ramsay, except that in 6^2 he has_ And I\u2019ll, _found in Herd;\n perhaps also in some edition of the Tea-Table Miscellany._\n\n#B. a.#\n\n \u201cSome lines have been omitted on account of their indelicacy:\u201d p.\n 308 b. _The reference is no doubt to a stanza corresponding to\n #A# 7, or perhaps to a passage like 5\u20137._\n\n#b.#\n\n _Only 1, 2, 5, 10\u201313, are preserved._\n\n 1^1. gipsies cam to oor ha-door.\n\n 1^4. doon stairs cam oor gay leddie.\n\n 2^2. afore.\n\n 2^3. An whan they.\n\n 2^4. cuist the glamour.\n\n 5^1. my gay mantle.\n\n 5^2. me my.\n\n 5^3. For I maun leave my guid lord at hame.\n\n 5^4. An follow the.\n\n 10^1. They travelld east, they travelld wast.\n\n 10^2. They travelld.\n\n 10^3. to the.\n\n 10^4. By that time she.\n\n 11^1. I crost this.\n\n 11^2. An my guid man.\n\n 11^3. Noo I maun put.\n\n 11^4. An follow.\n\n 12^1. Whan her guid lord cam hame at nicht.\n\n 12^2. He spierd for his gay.\n\n 12^3. The tane she cried an the ither replied.\n\n 12^4. She\u2019s aff.\n\n 13^1. the brown, he said.\n\n 13^2. The black neer rides.\n\n 13^3. For I.\n\n 13^4. Till I\u2019ve brought back.\n\n#C.#\n\n 4^1. _Originally_ plaid _was written for_ cloak; _evidently by\n accidental anticipation._\n\n 5^3. fit _altered perhaps from_ fut; _printed_ fit.\n\n _Motherwell has made several verbal changes in printing, and has\n inserted three stanzas to fill out the ballad._\n\n _After 3_,\n\n \u2018Come with me, my bonnie Jeanie Faw,\n O come with me, my dearie;\n For I do swear, by the head o my spear,\n Thy gude lord\u2019ll nae mair come near thee.\u2019\n\n _After 7_,\n\n \u2018I\u2019ll go to bed,\u2019 the lady she said,\n \u2018I\u2019ll go to bed to my dearie;\n For I do swear, by the fan in my hand,\n That my lord shall nae mair come near me.\n\n \u2018I\u2019ll mak a hap,\u2019 the lady she said,\n \u2018I\u2019ll mak a hap to my dearie,\n And he\u2019s get a\u2019 this petticoat gaes round,\n And my lord shall nae mair come near me.\u2019\n\n#E.#\n\n 12, 13. _After 9 of #A#, says Finlay, some copies insert_:\n\n And he\u2019s rode east, and he\u2019s rode west,\n Till he came near Kirkaldy;\n There he met a packman-lad,\n And speir\u2019d for his fair lady.\n\n \u2018O cam ye east? or cam ye west?\n Or cam ye through Kirkaldy?\n O saw na ye a bonny lass,\n Following the gypsie laddie?\u2019\n\n \u2018I cam na east, I cam na west,\n Nor cam I through Kirkaldy;\n But the bonniest lass that eer I saw\n Was following the gypsie laddie!\u2019\n\n _See also #G# 7._\n\n#G. a.#\n\n 4^3. br oges.\n\n#b.#\n\n _In stanzas of eight lines._\n\n 1^1. There were.\n\n 2^2. With her.\n\n 2^3. fair _wanting_.\n\n 2^4. They cast the glamer over her.\n\n 3^2. Which was of the belinger.\n\n 3^4. \u2019Twas _wanting_.\n\n 4^2. They were.\n\n 4^3. brogues.\n\n 4^4. laddy, _and always_.\n\n 6^1. me _wanting_.\n\n 6^3. That I may go and seek.\n\n 6^4. Who\u2019s.\n\n 7^4. Following a.\n\n 8^1. all the summer.\n\n 8^3. espied.\n\n 8^4. and wet.\n\n 9^1. O why.\n\n 9^3. your own.\n\n 10^1. lands.\n\n 10^3. will I remain.\n\n 11^1. There were.\n\n 11^2. They were.\n\n 11^3. all in.\n\n#H.#\n\n 2^1. the lawyer did.\n\n#J. b.#\n\n 1.\n The gypsy came tripping over the lea,\n The gypsy he sang boldly;\n He sang till he made the merry woods ring,\n And he charmed the heart of the lady.\n\n _Order_: 1, 5, 6, 2, 3.\n\n 2 (_as 4_).\n The lord came home that self-same night,\n Inquired for his lady;\n The merry maid made him this reply,\n \u2018She\u2019s gone with the gypsy Davy.\u2019\n\n 3 (_as 5_).\n \u2018O bring me out the blackest steed;\n The brown one\u2019s not so speedy;\n I\u2019ll ride all day, and I\u2019ll ride all night,\n Till I overtake my lady.\u2019\n\n 4 (_as 7_).\n He rode along by the river-side,\n The water was black and rily,\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . .\n\n 5 (_as 2_).\n\n 5^{1,2}. Will you.\n\n 5^3. Will you forsake your own wedded lord.\n\n 6 (_as 3_).\n\n 6^2. And I\u2019ll.\n\n 6^3. I will forsake my own wedded lord.\n\n 6^4. And go with the gypsy Davy.\n\n 7. _Wanting._\n\n #b# 6. I lay last night. _The rest wanting._\n\n #b# 8. _Puts the question whether she will go back._\n\n #b# 9. I lay last night. _The rest wanting._\n\n#K. a.#\n\n _The order as delivered was 3, 1, 2,_ etc., _and the_ high-heeled\n shoes _were attributed to Lord Garrick._ Him, his, he _in 2 have\n been changed to_ her, her, she. _But a further change should be\n made for sense,_ in _1, 2: the lady should take off her\n high-heeled shoes and put on her low-heeled shoes; see #G# 4, I\n 8._\n\n _Burden given also_:\n\n Lal dee dumpy dinky diddle dah day\n\n #b.# _Burden_:\n\n Rump a dump a dink a dink a day\n Rump a dump a dink a dink a dady.\n\n _Or_,\n\n Rink a dink a dink a dink a day\n Rink a dink a dink a dink a day dee.\n\n _Order as in_ #a#.\n\n 1^1. fetch me.\n\n 1^3. And take away.\n\n 2^1. fetched him down his.\n\n 2^3. And they took away his.\n\n 3^1. got home.\n\n 3^4. with the.\n\n 4^1. Go fetch me out.\n\n 4^3. And we\u2019ll away to.\n\n 4^4. To _for_ And.\n\n 5^1. They fetched him out.\n\n 5^4. To overtake my.\n\n 6^3. lady bright.\n\n 7^3. you won\u2019t.\n\n\n\n\n 201\n\n BESSY BELL AND MARY GRAY\n\n #a.# Sharpe\u2019s Ballad Book, 1823, p. 62. #b.# Lyle\u2019s Ancient Ballads\n and Songs, 1827, p. 160, \u201ccollated from the singing of two aged\n persons, one of them a native of Perthshire.\u201d #c.# Scott\u2019s\n Minstrelsy, 1833, I, 45, two stanzas.\n\n\nA squib on the birth of the Chevalier St George, beginning\n\n Bessy Bell and Mary Grey,\n Those famous bonny lasses,\n\nshows that this little ballad, or song, was very well known in the last\nyears of the seventeenth century.[51] The first stanza was made by\nRamsay the beginning of a song of his own, and stands thus in Ramsay\u2019s\nPoems, Edinburgh, 1721, p. 80:[52]\n\n O Bessy Bell and Mary Gray,\n They are twa bonny lasses;\n They biggd a bower on yon Burn-brae,\n And theekd it oer wi rashes.\n\nCunningham, Songs of Scotland, III, 60, gives, as recited to him by Sir\nWalter Scott, four stanzas which are simply #a# with \u2018Lyndoch brae\u2019\nsubstituted in the third for Sharpe\u2019s \u2018Stronach haugh.\u2019 \u2018Dranoch haugh,\u2019\nnearly as in #b#, is, as will presently appear, the right reading.\nSharpe\u2019s third stanza, with the absurd variation of _royal_ kin, occurs\nin a letter of his of the date November 25, 1811 (Letters, ed.\nAllardyce, I, 504), and is printed in the Musical Museum, IV, *203, ed.\n1853.\n\nIn the course of a series of letters concerning the ballad in The\nScotsman (newspaper), August 30 to September 8, 1886, several verses are\ncited with trivial variations from the texts here given.\n\n\u2018Bessy Bell\u2019 was made into this nursery-song in England (Halliwell\u2019s\nNursery Rhymes of England, 1874, p. 246, No 484):\n\n Bessy Bell and Mary Gray,\n They were two bonny lasses;\n They built their house upon the lea,\n And covered it with rashes.\n\n Bessy kept the garden-gate,\n And Mary kept the pantry;\n Bessy always had to wait,\n While Mary lived in plenty.\n\nThe most important document relating to Bessy Bell and Mary Gray is a\nletter written June 21, 1781, by Major Barry, then proprietor of\nLednock, and printed in the Transactions of the Society of the\nAntiquaries of Scotland, II, 108, 1822.[53]\n\n\u201cWhen I came first to Lednock,\u201d says Major Barry, \u201cI was shewn in a part\nof my ground (called the Dranoch-haugh) an heap of stones almost covered\nwith briers, thorns and fern, which they assured me was the burial place\nof Bessie Bell and Mary Gray.\n\n\u201cThe tradition of the country relating to these ladys is, that Mary\nGray\u2019s father was laird of Lednock and Bessie Bell\u2019s of Kinvaid, a place\nin this neighbourhood; that they were both very handsome, and an\nintimate friendship subsisted between them; that while Miss Bell was on\na visit to Miss Gray, the plague broke out, in the year 1666; in order\nto avoid which they built themselves a bower about three quarters of a\nmile west from Lednock House, in a very retired and romantic place\ncalled Burn-braes, on the side of Brauchie-burn. Here they lived for\nsome time; but the plague raging with great fury, they caught the\ninfection, it is said, from a young gentleman who was in love with them\nboth. He used to bring them their provision. They died in this bower,\nand were buried in the Dranoch-haugh, at the foot of a brae of the same\nname, and near to the bank of the river Almond. The burial-place lies\nabout half a mile west from the present house of Lednock.[54]\n\n\u201cI have removed all the rubbish from this little spot of classic ground,\ninclosed it with a wall, planted it round with flowering shrubs, made up\nthe grave double, and fixed a stone in the wall, on which is engraved\nthe names of Bessie Bell and Mary [Gray].\u201d\n\nThe estate passed by purchase to Thomas Graham, afterwards Lord\nLynedoch, who replaced the wall, which had become dilapidated in the\ncourse of half a century, with a stone parapet and iron railing, and\ncovered the grave with a slab inscribed, \u201cThey lived, they loved, they\ndied.\u201d This slab is now hidden under a cairn of stones raised by\nsuccessive pilgrims.\n\nMajor Barry\u2019s date of 1666 should be put back twenty years. Perth and\nthe neighborhood (Lednock is seven miles distant) were fearfully ravaged\nby the plague in 1645 and a year or two following. Three thousand people\nare said to have perished. Scotland escaped the pestilence of\n1665\u20136.[55]\n\nThe young gentleman who is said to have brought food to Bessy and Mary\nis sometimes described as the lover of both, sometimes as the lover of\none of the pair. Pennant says that the ballad was \u201ccomposed by a lover\ndeeply stricken with the charms of both.\u201d In the course of tradition,\nthe lover is said to have perished with the young women, which we might\nexpect to happen if he brought the contagion to the bower. But this\nlover, who ought to have had his place in the song, appears only in\ntradition, and his reality may be called in question. It is not rational\nthat the young women should seclude themselves to avoid the pest and\nthen take the risk of the visits of a person from the seat of the\ninfection.[56] To be sure it may be doubted, notwithstanding the tenor\nof the ballad, whether the retirement of these young ladies was\nvoluntary, or at least whether they had not taken the plague before they\nremoved to their bower. In that case the risk would have been for the\nlover, and would have been no more than he might naturally assume.[57]\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1\n O Bessie Bell and Mary Gray,\n They war twa bonnie lasses;\n They bigget a bower on yon burn-brae,\n And theekit it oer wi rashes.\n\n 2\n They theekit it oer wi rashes green,\n They theekit it oer wi heather;\n But the pest cam frae the burrows-town,\n And slew them baith thegither.\n\n 3\n They thought to lye in Methven kirk-yard,\n Amang their noble kin;\n But they maun lye in Stronach haugh,\n To biek forenent the sin.\n\n 4\n And Bessy Bell and Mary Gray,\n They war twa bonnie lasses;\n They biggit a bower on yon burn-brae,\n And theekit it oer wi rashes.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#a.#\n\n _In eight-line stanzas._\n\n#b.#\n\n 1^3. house _for_ bower.\n\n 2^1. wi birk and brume.\n\n 2^3. Till the: frae the neibrin.\n\n 2^4. An streekit.\n\n 3^1. They were na buried in.\n\n 3^2. Amang the rest o their kin.\n\n 3^3. they were buried by Dornoch-haugh.\n\n 3^4. On the bent before.\n\n 4^1. Sing _for_ And.\n\n 4^3. Wha _for_ They.\n\n 4^4. wi thrashes.\n\n#c.#\n\n 1^1. O _wanting._\n\n 2. _Wanting._\n\n 3^1. They wadna rest in Methvin kirk.\n\n 3^2. gentle kin.\n\n 3^3. But they wad lie in Lednoch braes.\n\n 3^4. beek against.\n\n 4. _Wanting._\n\n\n\n\n 202\n\n THE BATTLE OF PHILIPHAUGH\n\n Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, III, 153, 1803, II, 166, 1833;\n \u201cpreserved by tradition in Selkirkshire.\u201d\n\n\nAfter six brilliant victories, at Tipper-muir, Aberdeen, Inverlochy,\nAuldearn, Alford, Kilsyth, gained in less than a year, September 1,\n1644\u2013August 15, 1645, Montrose was surprised by David Leslie at\nPhiliphaugh, September 13 following, and his army cut to pieces or\ndispersed. This army, consisting of only five hundred Irish foot and\ntwelve hundred Scottish horse, the last all gentry, was lying at\nPhiliphaugh, a meadow on the west side of the Ettrick, and at Selkirk,\non and above the opposite bank. Leslie came down from the north with\nfour thousand cavalry and some infantry, was less than four miles from\nSelkirk the night of the twelfth, and on the morrow, favored by a heavy\nmist, had advanced to about half a mile\u2019s distance before his approach\nwas reported. A hundred and fifty of Montrose\u2019s horse received and\nrepulsed two charges of greatly superior numbers; the rest stood off and\npresently took to flight. The foot remained firm. Two thousand of\nLeslie\u2019s horse crossed the river and got into Montrose\u2019s rear, and made\nresistance vain. Montrose and a few friends hewed their way through the\nenemy.[58]\n\n1. Harehead wood is at the western end of the plain of Philiphaugh.\n\n2, 3. Leslie had come up from Berwick along the eastern coast as far as\nTranent, and then suddenly turned south. His numbers are put too low,\nand Montrose\u2019s, in 10, about nine times too high.\n\n4. The Shaw burn is a small stream that flows into the Ettrick from the\nsouth, a little north of the town.\n\n5. Lingly burn falls into the Ettrick from the north, a little above the\nShaw burn.\n\nThe \u2018aged father,\u2019 6, to accept a tradition reported by Sir Walter\nScott, was one \u201cBrydone, ancestor to several families in the parish of\nEttrick.\u201d This is probably the personage elsewhere called Will, upon\nwhose advice Leslie (according to tradition again) \u201csent a strong body\nof horse over a dip in the bank that separated his advanced guard from\nthe river Ettrick, and still known as \u201cWill\u2019s Nick,\u201d with instructions\nto follow their guide up Netley burn, wheel to the left round Linglee\nhill, and then fall upon the flank of Montrose\u2019s army at\nPhiliphaugh.\u201d[59] It does not appear that Leslie adopted that portion of\nthe aged father\u2019s recommendation which is conveyed in stanzas 11, 12,\nnotwithstanding the venerable man\u2019s unusual experience, which, as Scott\npoints out, extended from Solway Moss, 1542, to Dunbar, where, in 1650,\nfive years after Philiphaugh, Leslie was defeated by Cromwell.\n\nOther pieces of popular verse relating, in part or wholly, to Montrose\nare \u2018The Gallant Grahams,\u2019 Roxburghe collection, III, 380, Douce, III,\n39 back, Ebsworth, Roxburghe Ballads, VI, 587, Scott\u2019s Minstrelsy, III,\n371, 1803, II, 183, 1833; \u2018The Haughs o Cromdale,\u2019 Ritson\u2019s Scotish\nSongs, 1794, II, 40, Johnson\u2019s Museum, No 488, Maidment\u2019s Scotish\nBallads and Songs, 1868, I, 299, Hogg\u2019s Jacobite Relics, I, 157 ff; \u2018The\nBattle of Alford,\u2019 Laing\u2019s Thistle of Scotland, p. 68.\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1\n On Philiphaugh a fray began,\n At Hairheadwood it ended;\n The Scots outoer the Gr\u00e6mes they ran,\n Sae merrily they bended.\n\n 2\n Sir David frae the Border came,\n Wi heart an hand came he;\n Wi him three thousand bonny Scots,\n To bear him company.\n\n 3\n Wi him three thousand valiant men,\n A noble sight to see!\n A cloud o mist them weel conceald,\n As close as eer might be.\n\n 4\n When they came to the Shaw burn,\n Said he, Sae weel we frame,\n I think it is convenient\n That we should sing a psalm.\n\n 5\n When they came to the Lingly burn,\n As daylight did appear,\n They spy\u2019d an aged father,\n And he did draw them near.\n\n 6\n \u2018Come hither, aged father,\u2019\n Sir David he did cry,\n \u2018And tell me where Montrose lies,\n With all his great army.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018But first you must come tell to me,\n If friends or foes you be;\n I fear you are Montrose\u2019s men,\n Come frae the north country.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018No, we are nane o Montrose\u2019s men,\n Nor eer intend to be;\n I am Sir David Lesly,\n That\u2019s speaking unto thee.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018If you\u2019re Sir David Lesly,\n As I think weel ye be,\n I am sorry ye hae brought so few\n Into your company.\n\n 10\n \u2018There\u2019s fifteen thousand armed men\n Encamped on yon lee;\n Ye\u2019ll never be a bite to them,\n For aught that I can see.\n\n 11\n \u2018But halve your men in equal parts,\n Your purpose to fulfill;\n Let ae half keep the\n water-side,\n The rest gae round the hill.\n\n 12\n \u2018Your nether party fire must,\n Then beat a flying drum;\n And then they\u2019ll think the day\u2019s their ain,\n And frae the trench they\u2019ll come.\n\n 13\n \u2018Then, those that are behind them maun\n Gie shot, baith grit and sma;\n And so, between your armies twa,\n Ye may make them to fa.\u2019\n\n 14\n \u2018O were ye ever a soldier?\u2019\n Sir David Lesly said;\n \u2018O yes; I was at Solway Flow,\n Where we were all betrayd.\n\n 15\n \u2018Again I was at curst Dunbar,\n And was a prisner taen,\n And many weary night and day\n In prison I hae lien.\u2019\n\n 16\n \u2018If ye will lead these men aright,\n Rewarded shall ye be;\n But, if that ye a traitor prove,\n I\u2019ll hang thee on a tree.\u2019\n\n 17\n \u2018Sir, I will not a traitor prove;\n Montrose has plunderd me;\n I\u2019ll do my best to banish him\n Away frae this country.\u2019\n\n 18\n He halvd his men in equal parts,\n His purpose to fulfill;\n The one part kept the water-side,\n The other gaed round the hill.\n\n 19\n The nether party fired brisk,\n Then turnd and seemd to rin;\n And then they a\u2019 came frae the trench,\n And cry\u2019d, The day\u2019s our ain!\n\n 20\n The rest then ran into the trench,\n And loosd their cannons a\u2019:\n And thus, between his armies twa,\n He made them fast to fa.\n\n 21\n Now let us a\u2019 for Lesly pray,\n And his brave company,\n For they hae vanquishd great Montrose,\n Our cruel enemy.\n\n * * * * *\n\n 4^4. _Var._ That we should take a dram: _Scott. Probably a jocose\n suggestion._\n\n\n\n\n 203\n\n THE BARON OF BRACKLEY\n\n #A. a.# \u2018The Baronne of Braikley,\u2019 [Alexander Laing\u2019s] Scarce Ancient\n Ballads, 1822, p. 9. #b.# \u2018The Baron of Braikley,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s\n Gleanings, 1825, p. 68. #c.# \u2018The Barrone of Brackley,\u2019 The New\n Deeside Guide, by James Brown (pseudonym for Joseph Robertson),\n Aberdeen, [1832[60]], p. 46.\n\n #B.# \u2018The Baron of Brackley,\u2019 Kinloch MSS, V, 379; in the handwriting\n of John Hill Burton.\n\n #C. a.# \u2018The Baron of Braikly,\u2019 Jamieson-Brown MS., Appendix, p. viii.\n #b.# \u2018The Baron of Brackley,\u2019 Jamieson\u2019s Popular Ballads, 1806, I,\n 102.\n\n #D.# \u2018The Baron of Breachell,\u2019 Skene MS., p. 110.\n\n\nFirst printed by Jamieson (#C b#) in 1806, who says: \u201cFor the copy of\nthe ballad here given I am indebted to Mrs Brown. I have also collated\nit with another, less perfect, but not materially different, so far as\nit goes, with which I was favored by the editor of the Border\nMinstrelsy, who took it down from the recitation of two ladies,\ngreat-grandchildren of Farquharson of Inverey; so that the ballad, and\nthe notices that accompany it, are given upon the authority of a Gordon\n[Anne Gordon, Mrs Brown] and a Farquharson.\u201d[61] #A c# is also a\ncompounded copy: see the notes.\n\nThe text in The Thistle of Scotland, p. 46, is #C b#. That which is\ncited in part in the Fourth Report on Historical Manuscripts, 1874, p.\n534, is #A c#. The ballad is rewritten by Allan Cunningham, Songs of\nScotland, II, 208.\n\n#A.# Inverey comes before day to Brackley\u2019s gate, and calls to him to\nopen and have his blood spilled. Brackley asks over the wall whether the\npeople below are gentlemen or hired gallows-birds; if gentlemen, they\nmay come in and eat and drink; in the other case, they may go on to the\nLowlands and steal cattle. His wife urges him to get up; the men are\nnothing but hired gallows-birds. Brackley will go out to meet Inverey\n(both know it is he, 12, 19), but these same gallows-birds will prove\nthemselves men. His wife derisively calls on her maids to bring their\ndistaffs; if Brackley is not man enough to protect his cattle, she will\ndrive off the robbers with her women. Brackley says he will go out, but\nhe shall never come in. He arms and sallies forth, attended by his\nbrother William, his uncle, and his cousin; but presently bids his\nbrother turn back because he is a bridegroom. William refuses, and in\nturn, but equally to no effect, urges Brackley to turn back for his\nwife\u2019s and his son\u2019s sake. The Gordons are but four against four hundred\nof Inverey\u2019s, and are all killed. Brackley\u2019s wife, so far from tearing\nher hair, braids it, welcomes Inverey, and makes him a feast. The son,\non the nurse\u2019s knee, vows to be revenged if he lives to be a man. (Cf.\n\u2018Johnie Armstrong,\u2019 III, 367, where this should have been noted.)\n\nThe other versions agree with #A a# in the material points. Inverey\u2019s\nnumbers are diminished. In #B# 10, #C# 11, Brackley has only his brother\nwith him, meaning, perhaps, when he leaves his house. The fight was not\nsimply at the gates, but was extended over a considerable distance (#A#\n33, #B# 11), and other men joined the Gordons in the course of it. In\n#B# 12 we learn that the miller\u2019s four sons (#D# 10, the miller and his\nthree sons) were killed with the Gordons (and William Gordon\u2019s wife, or\nbride, in #A# 25, is \u2018bonnie Jean, the maid o the mill\u2019). In #B# 15, #D#\n12, Craigevar comes up with a party, and might have saved Brackley\u2019s\nlife had he been there an hour sooner. In #A a#, #b#, #C#, #D#,\nBrackley\u2019s wife is Peggy (Peggy Dann, wrongly, #D# 14, 15); in #B# 19\n(wrongly) Catharine Fraser. #D# makes Catharine the wife of Gordon of\nGlenmuick (Alexander Gordon, #A a# 35), who rives her hair, as\nBrackley\u2019s wife does not (14, 15, 18, 19). In #C#, Peggy Gordon, besides\nfeasting Inverey, keeps him till morning, and then shows him a road by\nwhich he may go safely home. #C b# adds, for poetical justice, that\nInverey at once let this haggard down the wind.\n\nThis affray occurred in September, 1666. The account of it given by the\nGordons (the son of the murdered laird and the Marquis of Huntly) was\nthat John Gordon of Brackley, having poinded cattle belonging to John\nFarquharson of Inverey, or his followers, Inverey \u201cconvoked his people,\nto revenge himself on Brackley for putting the law in execution; that he\ncame to the house of Brackley, and required the laird to restore his\ncattle which had been poinded; and that, although the laird gave a fair\nanswer, yet the Farquharsons, with the view of drawing him out of his\nhouse, drove away not only the poinded cattle but also Brackley\u2019s own\ncattle, and when the latter was thus forced to come out of his house,\nthe Farquharsons fell on him and murdered him and his brother.\u201d\n\nA memorandum for John Farquharson of Inverey and others, 24 January,\n1677, \u201csets forth that John Gordon of Brackley, having bought from the\nsheriff of Aberdeen the fines exigible from Inverey and others for\nkilling of black-fish, the said Brackley made friendly arrangements with\nothers, but declined to settle with Inverey; whereupon the latter, being\non his way to the market at Tullich,[62] sent Mr John Ferguson, minister\nat Glenmuick, John McHardy of Crathie, a notary, and Duncan Erskine,\nportioner of Invergelder, to the laird of Brackley, with the view of\nrepresenting to him that Inverey and his tenants were willing to settle\ntheir fines on the same terms as their neighbors. These proposals were\nreceived by Brackley with contempt, and during the time of the communing\nhe gathered his friends and attacked Inverey, and having \u2018loused\nseverall shotts\u2019 against Inverey\u2019s party, the return shots of the latter\nwere in self-defence. The result was that the laird of Brackley, with\nhis brother William and their cousin James Gordon in Cults, were killed\non the one side, and on the other Robert McWilliam in Inverey, John\nMcKenzie, sometime there, and Malcom Gordon the elder.\u201d The convocation\nof Inverey\u2019s friends is accounted for in the same document by the fact\nthat Inverey was captain of the watch for the time; that he and his\nancestors had been used to go to the market with men to guard it; and\nthat it is the custom of the country for people who are going to the\nmarket to join any numerous company that may be going the same way,\neither for their own security or out of \u201ckindness for the persons with\nwhom they go,\u201d and also the custom of that mountainous country to go\nwith arms, especially at markets. (Abstract, by Dr. John Stuart, of a\nMS. of Col. James Farquharson of Invercauld, Historical MSS Commission,\nFourth Report, p. 534).\n\nAnother account, agreeing in all important points with the last, is\ngiven in a history of the family of Macintosh.[63] It will be borne in\nmind that Inverey belonged to this clan, and that acts of his would\ntherefore be put in a favorable light. Brackley had seized the horses of\nsome of Inverey\u2019s people on account of fines alleged to be due by them\nfor taking salmon in the Dee out of season. Inverey represented to\nBrackley that the sufferers by this proceeding were men who had incurred\nno penalty, and offered, if the horses should be restored, to deliver\nthe guilty parties for punishment. Brackley would not return the horses\non these terms, and Inverey then proposed that the matter in dispute\nshould be left to friends. While Brackley was considering what to do,\nAlexander Gordon of Aberfeldy came to offer his services, with a body of\narmed men, and Brackley, now feeling himself strong, rejected the\nsuggestion of a peaceful solution, and set out to attack Inverey. When a\ncollision was impending, Inverey at first drew back, begging Brackley to\ndesist from violence, which only made Brackley and Aberfeldy the keener.\nTwo of Inverey\u2019s followers were slain; and then Inverey and his men, in\nself-defence, turned on their assailants, and killed Gordon of Brackley,\nhis brother William, and James Gordon of Cults.\n\nThe Gordons, this account further says, began a prosecution of Inverey\nand his party before the Court of Justiciary. Inverey had recourse to\nMacintosh, his chief, who exerted himself so effectually in behalf of\nhis kinsman that when the case was called no plaintiff appeared.\nNevertheless Dr John Stuart (Historical MSS, as above) produces a\nwarrant \u201cfor apprehending John Farquharson of Inverey and others his\nfollowers, who had been outlawed for not compearing to answer at their\ntrial, and had subsequently continued for many years in their outlawry,\nassociating with themselves a company of thieves, murderers, and\nsorners; therefore empowering James Innes, Serjeant, and Corporal\nRadnoch, commanding a party of troops at Kincardine O\u2019Neill, to\napprehend the said John Farquharson and his accomplices.\u201d From this\nwarrant Dr Stuart considers that we may infer that Inverey was the\naggressor in the affray with Brackley. But there is nothing to identify\nthe case, and the date of the warrant is February 12, 1685, nearly\ntwenty years from the affair which we are occupied with, during which\nspace, unless he were of an unusually peaceable habit, Inverey might\nhave had several broils on his hands.\n\nGordon of Brackley, as reported by Mrs Brown, from what she may have\nheard in her girlhood, a hundred years after his tragical end, was \u201ca\nman universally esteemed.\u201d[64] \u201cFarquharson of Inverey,\u201d says Jamieson,\nwithout giving his authority, \u201ca renowned freebooter on Deeside, was his\nrelation, and in habits of friendly intercourse with him. Farquharson\nwas fierce, daring, and active, exhibiting all the worst characteristics\nof a freebooter, with nothing of that blunt and partially just and manly\ngenerosity which were then not uncommonly met with among that\ndescription of men. The common people supposed him (as they did Dundee,\nand others of the same cast who were remarkable for their fortunate\nintrepidity and miraculous escapes) to be a warlock, and proof against\nsteel and lead. He is said to have been buried on the north side of a\nhill, which the sun could never shine upon, etc.\u201d All which, as far as\nappears, is merely the tradition of Jamieson\u2019s day, and will be taken at\ndifferent values by different readers.\n\nThe \u2018Peggy\u2019 of #A a#, #b#, #C#, #D# was Margaret Burnet, daughter of Sir\nThomas Burnet of Leys, and own cousin of Gilbert Burnet, Bishop of\nSalisbury.[65] This lady married Gordon of Brackley against her friends\u2019\nwishes, or without their consent, and so probably made a love-match.\nAfter Brackley\u2019s death she married one James Leslie, Doctor of\nMedicine,[66] a fact which will suffice to offset the unconfirmed\nscandal of the ballad.\n\nIt is now to be noted that a baron of Brackley had been murdered by\ncaterans towards the end of the preceding century. \u201cThe Clanchattan,\nwho, of all that faction, most eagerly endeavored to revenge the Earl of\nMurray his death, assembling their forces under Angus Donald Williamson\nhis conduct, entered Strathdee and Glenmuick, where they invaded the\nEarl of Huntly his lands, and killed four of the surname of Gordon,\nHenry Gordon of the Knock, Alexander Gordon of Teldow, Thomas Gordon of\nBlaircharrish, and the old baron of Breaghly, whose death and manner\nthereof was so much the more lamented because he was very aged, and much\ngiven to hospitality, and slain under trust. He was killed by them in\nhis own house after he had made them good cheer, without suspecting or\nexpecting any such reckoning for his kindly entertainment; which\nhappened the first day of November, 1592. In revenge whereof the Earl of\nHuntly assembled some of his forces and made an expedition into Pettie,\u201d\netc. (See No 183, III, 456.) So writes Sir Robert Gordon, before\n1630.[67]\n\nUpon comparing Sir Robert Gordon\u2019s description of the old baron of\nBrackley who was murdered in 1592 with what is said of the baron in the\nballad (#A#), there is a likeness for which there is no historical\nauthority in the instance of the baron of 1666. The ballad intimates the\nhospitality which is emphasized by Sir Robert Gordon, and also the\nbaron\u2019s unconsciousness of his having any foe to dread. (\u201cAn honest aged\nman,\u201d says Spotiswood, \u201cagainst whom they could pretend no quarrel.\u201d)\nOther details are not pertinent to the elder baron, but belong\ndemonstrably to the Brackley who had a quarrel with Farquharson.\n\nOf the two, the older Brackley would have a better chance of being\ncelebrated in a ballad. He was an aged and innocent man, slain while\ndispensing habitual hospitality, \u201cslain under trust.\u201d The younger\nBrackley treated Inverey\u2019s people harshly, there was an encounter,\nBrackley was killed, and others on both sides. His friends may have\nmourned for him, but there was no call for the feeling expressed in the\nballad; that would be more naturally excited by the death of the kindly\nold man, \u2018who basely was slain.\u2019 On the whole it may be surmised that\ntwo occurrences, or even two ballads, have been blended, and some slight\nitems of corroborative evidence may favor this conclusion.\n\n\u2018The Gordons may mourn him and bann Inverey,\u2019 says #B# 14. It appears\nthat the Earl of Aboyne sided with Inverey, though the Marquis of Huntly\nsupported the laird of Brackley\u2019s son;[68] whereas all the Gordons would\nhave mourned the older baron, and none would have maintained the\ncaterans who slew him.\n\nIn the affray with the Farquharsons in 1666 there were killed, of the\nGordons, besides Brackley, his brother William and his cousin James\nGordon of Cults. The Gordons killed by the Clanchattan in 1592 were\nBrackley, Henry Gordon of the Knock, an Alexander Gordon (also a\nThomas). According to #A# 34, 35, the Gordons killed were Brackley and\nhis brother William, his cousin James of the Knox [Knocks, Knock], and\nhis uncle Alexander Gordon; according to #B# 12, 13, there were killed,\nbesides Brackley, \u201cHarry Gordon and Harry of the Knock\u201d (one and the\nsame person), Brackley\u2019s brother, as we see from 10; in #D# 10, the\nkilled are Brackley, and Sandy Gordon o the Knock, called Peter in 21. A\nGordon of the Knock is named as killed in #A#, #B#, #D#, and it is Henry\nGordon in #B#; an Alexander Gordon is named in #A#, #B#. A William\nGordon and a James (of the Knocks, not of the Cults) are named in #A#.\nOn the whole, the names sort much better with the earlier story.\n\nIn #B# 15 we are told that if Craigievar had come up an hour sooner,\nBrackley had not been slain. Upon this Dr Joseph Robertson (who assigned\nthe ballad to 1592) has observed, Kinloch MSS, VI, 24, that Craigievar\npassed to a branch of the family of Forbes in 1625; so that Craigievar\nwould have done nothing to save Brackley in 1666, the Gordons and the\nForbeses having long been at feud. To make sense of this stanza we must\nsuppose an earlier date than 1625.\n\nThe fourth edition of Spotiswood\u2019s history, printed in 1677 (about forty\nyears after the author\u2019s death), calls Brackley of 1592 _John_ Gordon.\nFurther, there is this anonymous marginal note, not found in the\npreceding editions: \u201cI have read in a MS. called the Acts of the\nGordons, that Glenmuick, Glentaner, Strathdee and Birs were spoiled, and\nBrachlie, with his son-in-law, slain, by Mackondoquy [that is\nMaconochie, _alias_ Campbell] of Inner-Aw.\u201d[69]\n\nBrackley, on the Muick, is in close vicinity to the village of Ballater,\non the Dee, some forty miles westward from Aberdeen.\n\n\nTranslated by Knortz, Lieder u. Romanzen Alt-Englands, p. 156, after\nAllingham.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n #a.# Scarce Ancient Ballads [Alexander Laing], Aberdeen, 1822, p. 9.\n #b.# Buchan\u2019s Gleanings, p. 68. #c.# The New Deeside Guide, by James\n Brown (_i.e._ Joseph Robertson), Aberdeen [1832], p. 46.\n\n 1\n Inverey cam doun Deeside, whistlin and playin,\n He was at brave Braikley\u2019s yett ere it was dawin.\n\n 2\n He rappit fu loudly an wi a great roar,\n Cried, Cum doun, cum doun, Braikley, and open the door.\n\n 3\n \u2018Are ye sleepin, Baronne, or are ye wakin?\n Ther\u2019s sharpe swords at your yett, will gar your blood spin.\n\n 4\n \u2018Open the yett, Braikley, and lat us within,\n Till we on the green turf gar your bluid rin.\u2019\n\n 5\n Out spak the brave baronne, owre the castell-wa:\n \u2018Are ye cum to spulyie and plunder mi ha?\n\n 6\n \u2018But gin ye be gentlemen, licht and cum in:\n Gin ye drink o my wine, ye\u2019ll nae gar my bluid spin.\n\n 7\n \u2018Gin ye be hir\u2019d widifus, ye may gang by,\n Ye may gang to the lawlands and steal their fat ky.\n\n 8\n \u2018Ther spulyie like rievers o wyld kettrin clan,\n Who plunder unsparing baith houses and lan.\n\n 9\n \u2018Gin ye be gentlemen, licht an cum [in],\n Ther\u2019s meat an drink i my ha for every man.\n\n 10\n \u2018Gin ye be hir\u2019d widifus, ye may gang by,\n Gang doun to the lawlands, and steal horse and ky.\u2019\n\n 11\n Up spak his ladie, at his bak where she lay,\n \u2018Get up, get up, Braikley, and be not afraid;\n The\u2019r but young hir\u2019d widifus wi belted plaids.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018Cum kiss me, mi Peggy, I\u2019le nae langer stay,\n For I will go out and meet Inverey.\n\n 13\n \u2018But haud your tongue, Peggy, and mak nae sic din,\n For yon same hir\u2019d widifus will prove themselves men.\u2019\n\n 14\n She called on her marys, they cam to her hand;\n Cries, Bring me your rocks, lassies, we will them command.\n\n 15\n \u2018Get up, get up, Braikley, and turn bak your ky,\n Or me an mi women will them defy.\n\n 16\n \u2018Cum forth then, mi maidens, and show them some play;\n We\u2019ll ficht them, and shortly the cowards will fly.\n\n 17\n \u2018Gin I had a husband, whereas I hae nane,\n He woud nae ly i his bed and see his ky taen.\n\n 18\n \u2018Ther\u2019s four-and-twenty milk-whit calves, twal o them ky,\n In the woods o Glentanner, it\u2019s ther thei a\u2019 ly.\n\n 19\n \u2018Ther\u2019s goat i the Etnach, and sheep o the brae,\n An a\u2019 will be plunderd by young Inverey.\u2019\n\n 20\n \u2018Now haud your tongue, Peggy, and gie me a gun,\n Ye\u2019ll see me gae furth, but I\u2019ll never cum in.\n\n 21\n \u2018Call mi brother William, mi unkl also,\n Mi cousin James Gordon; we\u2019ll mount and we\u2019ll go.\u2019\n\n 22\n When Braikley was ready and stood i the closs,\n He was the bravest baronne that eer mounted horse.\n\n 23\n Whan all wer assembld o the castell green,\n No man like brave Braikley was ther to be seen.\n\n 24\n . . . . . . .\n \u2018Turn bak, brother William, ye are a bridegroom;\n\n 25\n \u2018Wi bonnie Jean Gordon, the maid o the mill;\n O sichin and sobbin she\u2019ll soon get her fill.\u2019\n\n 26\n \u2018I\u2019m no coward, brother, \u2019tis kend I\u2019m a man;\n I\u2019ll ficht i your quarral as lang\u2019s I can stand.\n\n 27\n \u2018I\u2019ll ficht, my dear brother, wi heart and gude will,\n And so will young Harry that lives at the mill.\n\n 28\n \u2018But turn, mi dear brother, and nae langer stay:\n What\u2019ll cum o your ladie, gin Braikley thei slay?\n\n 29\n \u2018What\u2019ll cum o your ladie and bonnie young son?\n O what\u2019ll cum o them when Braikley is gone?\u2019\n\n 30\n \u2018I never will turn: do you think I will fly?\n But here I will ficht, and here I will die.\u2019\n\n 31\n \u2018Strik dogs,\u2019 crys Inverey, \u2018and ficht till ye\u2019re slayn,\n For we are four hundered, ye are but four men.\n\n 32\n \u2018Strik, strik, ye proud boaster, your honour is gone,\n Your lands we will plunder, your castell we\u2019ll burn.\u2019\n\n 33\n At the head o the Etnach the battel began,\n At Little Auchoilzie thei killd the first man.\n\n 34\n First thei killd ane, and soon they killd twa,\n Thei killd gallant Braikley, the flour o them a\u2019.\n\n 35\n Thei killd William Gordon, and James o the Knox,\n And brave Alexander, the flour o Glenmu\u00efck.\n\n 36\n What sichin and moaning was heard i the glen,\n For the Baronne o Braikley, who basely was slayn!\n\n 37\n \u2018Cam ye bi the castell, and was ye in there?\n Saw ye pretty Peggy tearing her hair?\u2019\n\n 38\n \u2018Yes, I cam by Braikley, and I gaed in there,\n And there [saw] his ladie braiding her hair.\n\n 39\n \u2018She was rantin, and dancin, and singin for joy,\n And vowin that nicht she woud feest Inverey.\n\n 40\n \u2018She eat wi him, drank wi him, welcomd him in,\n Was kind to the man that had slayn her baronne.\u2019\n\n 41\n Up spake the son on the nourice\u2019s knee,\n \u2018Gin I live to be a man, revenged I\u2019ll be.\u2019\n\n 42\n Ther\u2019s dool i the kitchin, and mirth i the ha,\n The Baronne o Braikley is dead and awa.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n Kinloch MSS, V, 379, in the handwriting of John Hill Burton.\n\n 1\n \u2018Baron of Brackley, are ye in there?\n The\u2019re sharp swords at yer yetts, winna ye spear.\u2019\n\n 2\n \u2018If they be gentlemen, lat them cum in;\n But if they be reavers, we\u2019ll gar them be taen.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018It is na gentlemen, nor yet pretty lads,\n But a curn hir\u2019d widdifus, wears belted plaids.\u2019\n\n 4\n She called on her women and bade them come in:\n \u2018Tack a\u2019 yer rocks, lasses, and we\u2019ll them coman.\n\n 5\n \u2018We\u2019ll fecht them, we\u2019ll slight them, we\u2019ll do what we can,\n And I vow we will shoot them altho we shod bang.\n\n 6\n \u2018Rise up, John,\u2019 she said, \u2018and turn in yer kye,\n For they\u2019ll hae them to the Hielands, and you they\u2019l defie.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018Had your still, Catharine, and still yer young son,\n For ye\u2019ll get me out, but I\u2019ll never cum in.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018If I had a man, as I hae na nane,\n He wudna lye in his bed and see his kye tane.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll cum kiss me, my Peggy, and bring me my gun,\n For I\u2019m gaing out, but I\u2019ll never cum in.\u2019\n\n 10\n There was twenty wi Invery, twenty and ten;\n There was nane wi the baron but his brother and him.\n\n 11\n At the head of Reneeten the battle began;\n Ere they wan Auchoilzie, they killed mony a man.\n\n 12\n They killed Harry Gordon and Harry of the Knock,\n The mullertd\u2019s four sons up at Glenmuick.\n\n 13\n They killed Harry Gordon and Harry of the Knock,\n And they made the brave baron like kail to a pot.\n\n 14\n First they killed ane, and then they killed twa,\n Then they killed the brave baron, the flower o them a\u2019.\n\n 15\n Then up came Craigievar, and a party wi him;\n If he had come an hour sooner, Brackley had not been slain.\n\n 16\n \u2018Came ye by Brackley? and was ye in there?\n Or say ye his lady, was making great care?\u2019\n\n 17\n \u2018I came by Brackley, and I was in there,\n But I saw his lady no makin great care.\n\n 18\n \u2018For she eat wi them, drank wi them, welcomed them in;\n She drank to the villain that killed her guid man.\n\n 19\n \u2018Woe to ye, Kate Fraser! sorry may yer heart be,\n To see yer brave baron\u2019s blood cum to yer knee.\u2019\n\n 20\n There is dule in the kitchen, and mirth i the ha,\n But the Baron o B[r]ackley is dead and awa.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n C\n\n #a.# Jamieson-Brown MS., Appendix, p. viii, as transcribed for\n Jamieson by Rev. Andrew Brown, and sent him by Mrs. Brown in a\n letter of June 18, 1801. #b.# Jamieson\u2019s Popular Ballads, I, 102;\n Mrs. Brown\u2019s copy combined with an imperfect one taken down by Sir\n W. Scott \u201cfrom the recitation of two ladies, great-grandchildren of\n Farquharson of Inverey.\u201d\n\n 1\n O Inverey came down Dee side, whistling and playing;\n He\u2019s landed at Braikly\u2019s yates at the day dawing.\n\n 2\n Says, Baron of Braikly, are ye within?\n There\u2019s sharp swords at the yate will gar your blood spin.\n\n 3\n The lady raise up, to the window she went;\n She heard her kye lowing oer hill and oer bent.\n\n 4\n \u2018O rise up, John,\u2019 she says, \u2018turn back your kye;\n They\u2019re oer the hills rinning, they\u2019re skipping away.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018Come to your bed, Peggie, and let the kye rin,\n For were I to gang out, I would never get in.\u2019\n\n 6\n Then she\u2019s cry\u2019d on her women, they quickly came ben:\n \u2018Take up your rocks, lassies, and fight a\u2019 like men.\n\n 7\n \u2018Though I\u2019m but a woman, to head you I\u2019ll try,\n Nor let these vile Highland-men steal a\u2019 our kye.\u2019\n\n 8\n Then up gat the baron, and cry\u2019d for his graith;\n Says, Lady, I\u2019ll gang, tho to leave you I\u2019m laith.\n\n 9\n \u2018Come, kiss me, my Peggie, nor think I\u2019m to blame;\n For I may well gang out, but I\u2019ll never win in.\u2019\n\n 10\n When the Baron of Braikly rade through the close,\n A gallanter baron neer mounted a horse.\n\n 11\n Tho there came wi Inverey thirty and three,\n There was nane wi bonny Braikly but his brother and he.\n\n 12\n Twa gallanter Gordons did never sword draw;\n But against four and thirty, wae\u2019s me, what was twa?\n\n 13\n Wi swords and wi daggers they did him surround,\n And they\u2019ve pierc\u2019d bonny Braikly wi mony a wound.\n\n 14\n Frae the head of the Dee to the banks of the Spey,\n The Gordons may mourn him, and bann Inverey.\n\n 15\n \u2018O came ye by Braikly, and was ye in there?\n Or saw ye his Peggy dear riving her hair?\u2019\n\n 16\n \u2018O I came by Braikly, and I was in there,\n But I saw not his Peggy dear riving her hair.\u2019\n\n 17\n \u2018O fye on ye, lady! how could ye do sae?\n You opend your yate to the faus Inverey.\u2019\n\n 18\n She eat wi him, drank wi him, welcomd him in;\n She welcomd the villain that slew her baron.\n\n 19\n She kept him till morning, syne bad him be gane,\n And showd him the road that he woud na be tane.\n\n 20\n \u2018Thro Birss and Aboyne,\u2019 she says, \u2018lyin in a tour,\n Oer the hills of Glentanor you\u2019ll skip in an hour.\u2019\n\n 21\n There is grief in the kitchen, and mirth in the ha,\n But the Baron of Braikly is dead and awa.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n D\n\n Skene MS., p. 110; north of Scotland, 1802\u20133.\n\n 1\n \u2018Baron o Breachell, are ye within?\n The sharp souerd is at yer gate, Breachell, we\u2019ll gar yer blood spin.\u2019\n\n 2\n \u2018Thei\u2019r at yer gate, Breachel, thei\u2019r neither men nor lads,\n But fifty heard widifas, wi belted plaids.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018O if I had a man,\u2019 she says, \u2018as it looks I had nane,\n He widna sit in the house and see my kye tane.\n\n 4\n \u2018But lasses tak down yer rocks, and we will defend\n . . . . . . .\n\n 5\n \u2018O kiss me, dear Peggy, and gee me down my gun,\n I may well ga out, but I ll never come in.\u2019\n\n 6\n Out spak his brither, says, Gee me yer hand;\n I\u2019ll fight in yer cause sae lang as I may stand.\n\n 7\n Whan the Baron o Breachell came to the closs,\n A braver baron neir red upon horse.\n\n 8\n . . . . . . .\n I think the silly heard widifas are grown fighten men.\n\n 9\n First they killed ane, and syen they killed twa,\n And the Baron o Breachell is dead and awa.\n\n 10\n They killed Sandy Gordon, Sandy Gordon o the Knock,\n The miller and his three sons, that lived at Glenmuick.\n\n 11\n First they killed ane, and seyn they killed twa,\n And the Baron o Breachell is dead and awa.\n\n 12\n Up came Crigevar and a\u2019 his fighten men:\n \u2018Had I come an hour soonur, he sudna been slain.\u2019\n\n 13\n For first they killed ane, and seyn they killed twa,\n And the Baron o Breachell is dead and awa.\n\n 14\n \u2018O came ye by Breachell, lads? was ye in their?\n Saw ye Peggy Dann riving her hair?\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018We cam by Breachell, lads, we was in there,\n And saw Peggie Dann cairling her hair.\n\n 16\n \u2018She eat wi them, drank wi them, bad them come in\n To her house an bours that had slain her baron.\n\n 17\n \u2018Come in, gentlemen, eat and drink wi me;\n Tho ye ha slain my baron, I ha na a wite at ye.\u2019\n\n 18\n \u2018O was [ye] at Glenmuik, lads? was ye in theire?\n Saw ye Cathrin Gordon rivin her hair?\u2019\n\n 19\n \u2018We was at Glenmuik, lads, we was in there,\n We saw Cathrin Gordon rivin her hair.\n\n 20\n \u2018Wi the tear in her eye, seven bairns at her foot,\n The eighth on her knee....\n\n 21\n They killed Peter Gordon, Peter Gordon of the Knock,\n The miller and his three sons, that lived at Glenmuik.\n\n 22\n First they killed ane, and syn they killed twa,\n And the Baron of Breachell is dead and awa.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A.#\n\n _No division of stanzas. Both copies are probably from\n stall-prints or broadsides. #b# differs frequently from #a# in\n spelling._\n\n#a.#\n\n 5^2, 8^1. spulzie.\n\n 6^1. gentlmen.\n\n 11^3, 25^1, 40^1. we _for_ wi.\n\n 22^1. thee.\n\n 30^1. I will never.\n\n#b.#\n\n 11^1. laid.\n\n 11^3. young _wanting_.\n\n 13^2. prove to be men.\n\n 15^2. For me.\n\n 16^1. ply.\n\n 19^1. Ther are goats.\n\n 20^2. never return.\n\n 22^1. thee.\n\n 25^2. seen (_phonetic_).\n\n 26^1. it\u2019s kent.\n\n 30^1. I never will: ye.\n\n 30^2. No, here.\n\n 34^1. an syne.\n\n 36^1. was heard.\n\n 38^2. ther said.\n\n#c.#\n\n _This copy is to the extent of about two thirds taken from #a#;\n half a dozen stanzas are from Jamieson\u2019s text, #C b#; half a\n dozen more agree, nearly or entirely, with #B#, and may have\n been derived from Dr. J. H. Burton, or directly from some\n traditional source. The order has been regulated by the editor,\n who has also made a slight verbal change now and then._\n\n 1\u20133==#a# 1\u20133.\n\n 4\u20138==5\u20139.\n\n 9==11^{1,2}, _nearly_: (#c# 9^2, and face Inverey).\n\n 11^2==13^2.\n\n 12\u201314==18, 19, 17.\n\n 15==15, _nearly_: _cf._ #B# 6^1.\n\n 17^1==16^2.\n\n 18==20, _nearly_.\n\n 19==21.\n\n 22==31, _with different numbers_.\n\n 23==33: Reneatan _for_ Etnach, _cf._ #B# 11^1.\n\n 24==35.\n\n 25==34.\n\n 29==38.\n\n 30==39.\n\n 31^1==40^1.\n\n 32^2==40^2, #B# 18^2.\n\n 35==41.\n\n 36==42.\n\n 37==36.\n\n _From #C b#._\n\n 20==12.\n\n 21==13, _nearly_.\n\n 26==16.\n\n 33, 34==23, 24, _nearly_.\n\n 38==17.\n\n _10 (nearly #B# 6: cf. #c# 15^1)._\n\n Get up, get up Brackley, and turn back your kye,\n Or they\u2019ll hae them to the Highlands, and you they\u2019ll defy.\n\n _16 (nearly #B# 4: cf. #a# 14):_\n\n She called on her maidens, and bade them come in:\n Tak a\u2019 your rocks, lasses, we will them comman.\n\n _27 (nearly #B# 15: cf. #D# 12)._ Had he come one hour, _etc._\n\n 28==#B# 16.\n\n 31^2==#B# 18^2 (#a# 40^2). She drank to the villain that killed\n her barrone.\n\n 32==#B# 19, _nearly_. Wae to you, Kate Fraser, sad may your heart\n be.\n\n#B.#\n\n 11^1. Keneeten _perhaps_: #b.# Reneatan.\n\n 12^1. They _for_ The.\n\n#C. a.#\n\n _Not divided, but roughly marked off into stanzas of four verses._\n\n 6^2. frocks _for_ rocks.\n\n#b.#\n\n 1^1. Down Dee side came Inverey.\n\n 1^2. lighted at Brackley yates.\n\n 2^1. O are.\n\n 4^1. rise up, ye baron, and.\n\n 4^2.\n For the lads o Drumwharran are driving them bye.\n\n 5.\n \u2018How can I rise, lady, or turn them again?\n Whareer I have ae man, I wat they hae ten.\u2019\n\n 6.\n \u2018Then rise up, my lasses, tak rocks in your hand,\n And turn back the kye; I hae you at command.\n\n 7.\n \u2018Gin I had a husband, as I hae nane,\n He wadna lye in his bower, see his kye tane.\u2019\n\n 8^1. got.\n\n _After 8_:\n\n Come kiss me then, Peggy, and gie me my speir;\n I ay was for peace, tho I never feard weir.\n\n 9^1. me then, Peggy.\n\n 9^2. I weel may gae out.\n\n 10^1. When Brakley was busked and rade oer the closs.\n\n 10^2. neer lap to a.\n\n _After 10_:\n\n When Brackley was mounted and rade oer the green,\n He was as bald a baron as ever was seen.\n\n 12^2. what is.\n\n 15^1. by Brackley yates, was.\n\n 16^1. by Brackley yates, I.\n\n 16^2. And I saw his Peggy a-making good cheer.\n\n _After 16_:\n\n The lady she feasted them, carried them ben;\n She laughd wi the men that her baron had slain.\n\n 17^1. on you: could you.\n\n 17^2. yates.\n\n 19^2. shoudna.\n\n \u201cPoetical justice requires that I should subjoin the concluding\n stanza of the fragment, which could not be introduced into the\n text; as the reader cannot be displeased to learn that the\n unworthy spouse of the amiable, affectionate, and spirited baron\n of Brackley was treated by her unprincipled gallant as she\n deserved, and might have expected:\n\n Inverey spak a word, he spak it wrang;\n \u2018My wife and my bairns will be thinking lang.\u2019\n\n \u2018O wae fa ye, Inverey! ill mat ye die!\n First to kill Brackley, and then to slight me.\u2019\n\n#D.#\n\n _Title, 1^1, etc._ Breachell. _Perhaps miscopied by Skene from_\n Breachlie; _and so_ Crigeran, _12^1, for_ Crigevar.\n\n 17^2. at thee.\n\n\n\n\n 204\n\n JAMIE DOUGLAS\n\n #A.# \u2018Lord Douglas,\u2019 or, \u2018The Laird of Blackwood,\u2019 Kinloch MSS, I, 93.\n\n #B.# \u2018Jamie Douglas,\u2019 Kinloch MSS, V, 387.\n\n #C.# \u2018Lady Douglas and Blackwood,\u2019 Kinloch MSS, V, 207, I, 103.\n\n #D.# \u2018Jamie Douglas,\u2019 Kinloch MSS, I, 107.\n\n #E.# \u2018The Laird o Blackwood,\u2019 Kinloch MSS, VII, 127; Kinloch\u2019s Ancient\n Scottish Ballads, p. 58.\n\n #F.# \u2018Jamie Douglas,\u2019 Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 507.\n\n #G.# \u2018Lord Jamie Douglas,\u2019 Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 345.\n\n #H.# \u2018Jamie Douglas,\u2019 Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 297.\n\n #I.# \u2018Jamie Douglas,\u2019 Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 500.\n\n #J.# \u2018Jamie Douglas,\u2019 Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 299.\n\n #K.# \u2018Jamie Douglas,\u2019 Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 302.\n\n #L.# \u2018Jamie Douglas,\u2019 Finlay\u2019s Scottish Ballads, II, 4.\n\n #M.# Herd\u2019s MSS, I, 54; Herd\u2019s Scottish Songs, 1776, I, 144.\n\n #N.# \u2018Lord Jamie Douglas,\u2019 Motherwell\u2019s Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. v,\n the last three stanzas.\n\n #O.# \u2018Jamie Douglas,\u2019 Motherwell\u2019s Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xvii, IX,\n one stanza.\n\n\nThis ballad first appeared in print in the second edition of Herd\u2019s\nScottish Songs, 1776, but only as a fragment of five stanzas. Pinkerton\nrepeats three stanzas from Herd, very slightly \u201cpolished by the editor,\u201d\nTragic Ballads, 1781, pp. 83, 119. A stall-copy, says Motherwell, was\nprinted in 1798, under the title of \u2018Fair Orange Green.\u2019 #A# and #C#\nwere used by Aytoun for the copy given in his second edition, 1859, I,\n133, and #D# for Part Fourth of Chambers\u2019s compilation, Scottish\nBallads, p. 157. The \u201ctraditionary version,\u201d in thirty-four stanzas,\ngiven in the Appendix to Motherwell\u2019s Minstrelsy, p. v (see his\nIntroduction, p. lxiii, note 5), is made up, all but the fifth stanza\nand the three last, from #F#-#J# and #O#: see note to #N#.\n\nLady Barbara Erskine, eldest daughter of John, Earl of Mar, was married\nto James, second Marquis of Douglas, near the end of the year 1670. The\nmarriage did not prove to be happy, and the parties were formally\nseparated in 1681. They had had one child, James, Earl of Angus, and he\nhaving been killed in battle in the Netherlands in 1692, the Marquis of\nDouglas married again, and had two sons and a daughter. The second of\nthe sons was Archibald, the third marquis, and first and only duke of\nDouglas.\n\nIn an affectionate letter of December, 1676 (succeeding several others\nto which no answer had been returned), the Marchioness of Douglas writes\nto her husband: \u201cI am not such a stranger to myself to pretend to the\nexactness of obedience and duty that my humor or frowardness may not\nhave offended you, and all I can say is, that hereafter I shall so study\nyours and what may please you that I shall endeavor a conformity to your\ngood will so near as I can. This only I must (most) complain of, that\nyou should retain those in your service or company who takes the liberty\nof talking so much to the prejudice of your honor and mine. Sure I am I\nnever give the least occasion for it, neither do I think, my dear, that\nyou really believe it. If religion and virtue were not ties strong\nenough, sense of your honor and mine own, and of that noble family of\nyours and our posterity, could not but prevail against such base\nthoughts, and God, who knows my heart, knows my innocence and the malice\nof those who wounds us both by such base calumnies.\u201d In February, 1677,\nthe marchioness (not for the first time, as it appears) invokes the\ninterposition of the Privy Council in her domestic affairs, and applies\nfor an \u201caliment\u201d on which she may live apart from her husband, whom she\ncharges with shunning her company and treating her with contempt. The\nmarquis in his reply alleges that his wife had not treated him with due\nrespect, but seems to be averse to a separation. Four years after, a\nseparation was mutually agreed to, and in the contract to this effect\nthe ground is expressed to be \u201cgreat animosities, mistakes and\ndifferences betwixt the said marquis and his lady, which have risen to a\ngreat height, so as neither of them are satisfied longer to continue\ntogether.\u201d[70]\n\nThe blame of the alienation of Douglas from his wife is imputed by\ntradition to William Lawrie, the marquis\u2019s principal chamberlain or\nfactor, who was appointed to that place in 1670, the year of the\nmarriage. Lawrie married Marion Weir, of the family of Blackwood, then a\nwidow. He is often styled the laird of Blackwood, a title which belonged\nto his son by this marriage, his own proper designation being, after\nthat event, the Tutor of Blackwood. \u201cThe belief that Blackwood was the\nchief cause of this unhappy quarrel was current at the time among the\nDouglas tenantry, with whom he was very unpopular, and it is\ncorroborated by letters and other documents in the Douglas\ncharter-chest. The marchioness, indeed, evinces temper, but the marquis\nappears to have been morose and peevish, and incapable of managing his\nown affairs. In this matter he consulted, and was advised by, Blackwood\nat every step, sending him copies of the letters he wrote to his wife,\nand subscribing whatever document Blackwood thought fit to prepare.\nMembers of the family and dependents alike characterized Lawrie as\nhypocritical and double-dealing; but on the other hand, it is only fair\nto mention that on two occasions, Charles, Earl of Mar, wrote to\nBlackwood thanking him for his kindness to his sister, and assuring him\nof his esteem.\u201d[71]\n\nJohn, Earl of Mar, the father of Lady Barbara Erskine, died in 1668,\nbefore his daughter\u2019s marriage, and it would have been her brother\nCharles, the next earl, who took her home. He was colonel of a regiment\nof foot at the time of the separation, whence, probably, the drums,\ntrumpets, and soldiers in the ballad. Barbara Douglas died in 1690, two\nyears before the marquis\u2019s second marriage.\n\nThe reciter of #A#, who got her information from an old dey at Douglas\ncastle, as far back as 1770, told Kinloch that the ballad was a great\nfavorite with Archibald, Duke of Douglas, who lived till 1761. \u201cThe Duke\nused often to get the old dey to sing it to him while he wheeled round\nthe room in a gilded chair ... and muttered anathemas against Lourie,\nsaying, O that Blackwood must have been a damned soul!\u201d[72]\n\nThe story of the ballad is very simple. A lady, daughter of the Earl of\nMar, #B#, #I#, married to Lord James Douglas, Marquis of Douglas, #D#,\nlives happily with him until Blackwood (Blacklaywood, Blackly) makes her\nhusband believe that she has trespassed (with one Lockhart, #A#). Her\nprotestations of innocence and the blandishments with which she seeks to\nwin back her lord\u2019s affections are fruitless. Her father sends for her\nand takes her home. He offers to get a bill of divorce and make a better\nmatch for her, but she will listen to no such proposal.\n\nThe lady is daughter of the Earl of York, #D#; her brother is the Duke\nof York (a somewhat favorite personage in ballads), #B#; her mother is\ndaughter of the Duke of York, #G#, and her father is the Lord of Murray.\nHer husband is the Earl of March, #I# (and #F#?). Had she foreseen the\nevent of the marriage with Douglas, she would have staid at Lord\nTorchard\u2019s gates (Argyle\u2019s, Athol\u2019s, Lord Orgul\u2019s) and have been his\nlady, #G#, #H#, #I#, #L#, or in fair Orange green and have been his\n(Orange\u2019s?) #K#. (Orange gate appears in #D#, also, and so it may be\nOrange wine, and not orange, that Jamie Douglas is invited to drink in\n#I# 5.) A handsome nurse makes trouble in #F# 6, but nowhere else. It is\nnot Blackwood that whispers mischief into the husband\u2019s ear in #J# 4,\nbut a small bird; a black bird, fause bird, in two of Finlay\u2019s three\ncopies, a blackie in the other, #L#. In #E# 7 the lady will not wash her\nface, comb her hair, or have fire or light in her bower: cf. Nos 69, 92,\nII, 156, 317. In #I# 15, when the lady had returned to her father\u2019s and\nthe tenants came to see her, she could not speak, and \u201cthe buttons off\nher clothes did flee;\u201d \u201can affecting image of overpowering grief,\u201d says\nChambers. See also \u2018Andrew Lammie.\u2019\n\n#D# 10\u201315, #N#, are palpable and vulgar tags to a complete story. James\nDouglas comes to his father-in-law\u2019s house with his three children, and\nsends a soldier to the gate to bid his lady come down; he has hanged\nfalse Blackwood, and she is to come home: #N#. In #D# the hanging of\nBlackwood is not mentioned; Douglas calls for wine to drink to his gay\nlady, she takes a cup in her hand, but her heart breaks.[73]\n\n#A#-#M# have all from one stanza to four of a beautiful song, known from\nthe first quarter of the eighteenth century, and printed fifty years\nearlier than any copy of the ballad.[74] This song is the lament of an\nunmarried woman for a lover who has proved false, and, as we find by the\nlast stanza, has left her with an unborn babe. #A#, #C# have this last\nstanza, although the lady in these copies has born three children (as\nshe has in every version except the fragmentary #E#).[75]\n\n\n WALY, WALY, GIN LOVE BE BONY.\n\n #a.# Ramsay\u2019s Tea-Table Miscellany, the second volume, published\n before 1727; here from the Dublin edition of 1729, p. 176. #b.#\n Thomson\u2019s Orpheus Caledonius, second edition, 1733, I, 71; four\n stanzas in the first edition, 1725, No 34.[76]\n\n 1\n O waly, waly up the bank!\n And waly, waly, down the brae!\n And waly, waly yon burn-side,\n Where I and my love wont to gae!\n\n 2\n I leand my back unto an aik,\n I thought it was a trusty tree;\n But first it bowd, and syne it brak,\n Sae my true-love did lightly me.\n\n 3\n O waly, waly! but love be bony\n A little time, while it is new;\n But when \u2019tis auld, it waxeth cauld,\n And fades away like morning dew.\n\n 4\n O wherefore shoud I busk my head?\n Or wherfore shoud I kame my hair?\n For my true-love has me forsook,\n And says he\u2019ll never love me mair.\n\n 5\n Now Arthur-Seat shall be my bed,\n The sheets shall neer be fyl\u2019d by me;\n Saint Anton\u2019s well shall be my drink,\n Since my true-love has forsaken me.\n\n 6\n Martinmas wind, when wilt thou blaw,\n And shake the green leaves off the tree?\n O gentle death, when wilt thou come?\n For of my life I am weary.\n\n 7\n \u2019Tis not the frost that freezes fell,\n Nor blawing snaw\u2019s inclemency;\n \u2019Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry,\n But my love\u2019s heart grown cauld to me.\n\n 8\n When we came in by Glasgow town,\n We were a comely sight to see;\n My love was cled in the black velvet,\n And I my sell in cramasie.\n\n 9\n But had I wist, before I kissd,\n That love had been sae ill to win,\n I\u2019d lockd my heart in a case of gold,\n And pin\u2019d it with a silver pin.\n\n 10\n Oh, oh, if my young babe were born,\n And set upon the nurse\u2019s knee,\n And I my sell were dead and gane!\n For a maid again I\u2019ll never be.\n\nA stanza closely resembling the third of this song occurs in a Yule\nmedley in Wood\u2019s MSS, about 1620.[77]\n\n Hey trollie lollie, love is jolly\n A qhyll qhill it is new;\n Qhen it is old, it grows full cold,\n Woe worth the love untrew!\n\nThe Orpheus Caledonius has for the fourth stanza this, which is found\n(with variations) in #A#-#M#, excepting the imperfect copy #E#:\n\n When cockle-shells turn siller bells,\n And mussles grows on evry tree,\n When frost and snaw shall warm us a\u2019,\n Then shall my love prove true to me.\n\n Ed. 1725.\n\nSeveral stanzas occur in a song with the title \u2018Arthur\u2019s Seat shall be\nmy bed,\u2019 etc., which is thought to have been printed as early as the\nTea-Table Miscellany, or even considerably earlier. This song is given\nin an appendix.\n\nAytoun\u2019s ballad, 1859, I, 135, is loosely translated by Knortz,\nSchottische Balladen, p. 59.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n Kinloch MSS, I, 93; from the recitation of Mary Barr, Lesmahago,\n Lanarkshire, May, 1827, and learned by her about sixty years before\n from an old dey at Douglas Castle.\n\n 1\n I was a lady of high renown\n As lived in the north countrie;\n I was a lady of high renown\n Whan Earl Douglas loved me.\n\n 2\n Whan we came through Glasgow toun,\n We war a comely sight to see;\n My gude lord in velvet green,\n And I mysel in cramasie.\n\n 3\n Whan we cam to Douglas toun,\n We war a fine sight to behold;\n My gude lord in cramasie,\n And I myself in shining gold.\n\n 4\n Whan that my auld son was born,\n And set upon the nurse\u2019s knee,\n I was as happy a woman as eer was born,\n And my gude lord he loved me.\n\n 5\n But oh, an my young son was born,\n And set upon the nurse\u2019s knee,\n And I mysel war dead and gane,\n For a maid again I\u2019ll never be!\n\n 6\n There cam a man into this house,\n And Jamie Lockhart was his name,\n And it was told to my gude lord\n That I was in the bed wi him.\n\n 7\n There cam anither to this house,\n And a bad friend he was to me;\n He put Jamie\u2019s shoon below my bed-stock,\n And bade my gude lord come and see.\n\n 8\n O wae be unto thee, Blackwood,\n And ae an ill death may ye dee!\n For ye was the first and the foremost man\n That parted my gude lord and me.\n\n 9\n Whan my gude lord cam in my room,\n This grit falsehood for to see,\n He turnd about, and, wi a gloom,\n He straucht did tak farewell o me.\n\n 10\n \u2018O fare thee well, my once lovely maid!\n O fare thee well, once dear to me!\n O fare thee well, my once lovely maid!\n For wi me again ye sall never be.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018Sit doun, sit doun, Jamie Douglas,\n Sit thee doun and dine wi me,\n And Ill set thee on a chair of gold,\n And a silver towel on thy knee.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018Whan cockle-shells turn silver bells,\n And mussels they bud on a tree,\n Whan frost and snaw turns fire to burn,\n Then I\u2019ll sit down and dine wi thee.\u2019\n\n 13\n O wae be unto thee, Blackwood,\n And ae an ill death may ye dee!\n Ye war the first and the foremost man\n That parted my gude lord and me.\n\n 14\n Whan my father he heard word\n That my gude lord had forsaken me,\n He sent fifty o his brisk dragoons\n To fesh me hame to my ain countrie.\n\n 15\n That morning before I did go,\n My bonny palace for to leave,\n I went into my gude lord\u2019s room,\n But alas! he wad na speak to me.\n\n 16\n \u2018Fare thee well, Jamie Douglas!\n Fare thee well, my ever dear to me!\n Fare thee well, Jamie Douglas!\n Be kind to the three babes I\u2019ve born to thee.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n Kinloch MSS, V, 387, in the handwriting of John Hill Burton when a\n youth.\n\n 1\n Waly, waly up the bank!\n And waly, waly down the brae!\n And waly, waly to yon burn-side,\n Where me and my love wunt to gae!\n\n 2\n As I lay sick, and very sick,\n And sick was I, and like to die,\n And Blacklaywood put in my love\u2019s ears\n That he staid in bower too lang wi me.\n\n 3\n As I lay sick, and very sick,\n And sick was I, and like to die,\n And walking into my garden green,\n I heard my good lord lichtlie me.\n\n 4\n Now woe betide ye, Blacklaywood!\n I\u2019m sure an ill death you must die;\n Ye\u2019ll part me and my ain good lord,\n And his face again I\u2019ll never see.\n\n 5\n \u2018Come down stairs now, Jamie Douglas,\n Come down stairs and drink wine wi me;\n I\u2019ll set thee into a chair of gold,\n And not one farthing shall it cost thee.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018When cockle-shells turn silver bells,\n And muscles grow on every tree,\n When frost and snaw turn fiery baas,\n I\u2019ll come down the stair and drink wine wi thee.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018What\u2019s needs me value you, Jamie Douglas,\n More than you do value me?\n The Earl of Mar is my father,\n The Duke of York is my brother gay.\n\n 8\n \u2018But when my father gets word o this,\n I trow a sorry man he\u2019ll be;\n He\u2019ll send four score o his soldiers brave\n To tak me hame to mine ain countrie.\u2019\n\n 9\n As I lay owre my castell-wa,\n I beheld my father comin for me,\n Wi trumpets sounding on every side;\n But they werena music at a\u2019 for me.\n\n 10\n \u2018And fare ye weel now, Jamie Douglas!\n And fare ye weel, my children three!\n And fare ye weel, my own good lord!\n For my face again ye shall never see.\n\n 11\n \u2018And fare ye weel now, Jamie Douglas!\n And fare ye weel, my children three!\n And fare ye weel now, Jamie Douglas!\n But my youngest son shall gae wi me.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018What ails ye at yer youngest son,\n Sits smilin at the nurse\u2019s knee?\n I\u2019m sure he never knew any harm,\n Except it was from his nurse or thee.\u2019\n\n 13\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n And when I was into my coaches set,\n He made his trumpets a\u2019 to soun.\n\n 14\n I\u2019ve heard it said, and it\u2019s oft times seen,\n The hawk that flies far frae her nest;\n And a\u2019 the world shall plainly see\n It\u2019s Jamie Douglas that I love best.\n\n 15\n Ive heard it said, and [it\u2019s] oft times seen,\n The hawk that flies from tree to tree;\n And a\u2019 the world shall plainly see\n It\u2019s for Jamie Douglas I maun die.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n C\n\n Kinloch MSS, V, 207, I, 103; from John Rae, Lesmahago.\n\n 1\n O wally, wally up yon bank!\n And wally down yon brae!\n And wally, wally up yon burn-side,\n Where me and my lord wont to gae!\n\n 2\n I leand me on yon saugh sae sweet,\n I leand me on yon saugh sae sour,\n And my gude lord has forsaken me,\n And he swears he\u2019ll never loe me more.\n\n 3\n There came a young man to this town,\n And Jamie Lockhart was his name;\n Fause Blackwood lilted in my lord\u2019s ear\n That I was in the bed wi him.\n\n 4\n \u2018Come up, come up, Jamie Douglas,\n Come up, come up and dine wi me,\n And I\u2019ll set thee in a chair of gold,\n And use you kindly on my knee.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018When cockle-shells turn silver bells,\n And mussels hing on every tree,\n When frost and snow turn fire-brands,\n Then I\u2019ll come up and dine wi thee.\u2019\n\n 6\n When my father and mother they got word\n That my good lord had forsaken me,\n They sent fourscore of soldiers brave\n To bring me hame to my ain countrie.\n\n 7\n That day that I was forc\u2019d to go,\n My pretty palace for to leave,\n I went to the chamber were my lord lay,\n But alas! he wad na speak to me.\n\n 8\n \u2018O fare ye weel, Jamie Douglas!\n And fare ye weel, my children three!\n I hope your father will prove mair kind\n To you than he has been to me.\n\n 9\n \u2018You take every one to be like yoursel,\n You take every one that comes unto thee;\n But I could swear by the heavens high\n That I never knew anither man but thee.\n\n 10\n \u2018O foul fa ye, fause Blackwood,\n And an ill death now may ye die!\n For ye was the first occasioner\n Of parting my gude lord and me.\u2019\n\n 11\n Whan we gaed in by Edinburgh town,\n My father and mither they met me,\n Wi trumpets sounding on every side;\n But alas! they could na cherish me.\n\n 12\n \u2018Hold your tongue, daughter,\u2019 my father said,\n \u2018And with your weeping let me be;\n And we\u2019ll get out a bill of divorce,\n And I\u2019ll get a far better lord to thee.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018O hold your tongue, father,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018And with your talking let me be;\n I wad na gie a kiss o my ain lord\u2019s lips\n For a\u2019 the men in the west country.\u2019\n\n 14\n Oh an I had my baby born,\n And set upon the nurse\u2019s knee,\n And I myself were dead and gone!\n For a maid again I will never be.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n D\n\n Kinloch MSS, I, 107: \u201cWest-Country version.\u201d\n\n 1\n I fell sick, and very, very sick,\n Sick I was, and like to dee;\n A friend o mine cam frae the west,\n A friend o mine came me to see,\n And the black told it to my gude lord\n He was oure lang in the chamber wi me.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 2\n \u2018Come doun the stair, Jamie Douglas,\n Come doun and drink wine wi me;\n I\u2019ll set ye on a chair of gold,\n And not ae farthing will it cost thee.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018Whan cockle-shells turn siller bells,\n And fishes flee frae tree to tree,\n Whan frost and snaw turn fire-beams,\n I\u2019ll come doun and drink wine wi thee.\u2019\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 4\n \u2018What ails ye at your young son James,\n That sits upo the nurse\u2019s knee?\n I\u2019m sure he never did ye no harm,\n If it war na for the nurse or me.\n\n 5\n \u2018What care I for you, Jamie Douglas?\n Not a small pin I value thee;\n For my father he is the Earl of York,\n And of that my mither\u2019s the gay ladie;\n They will send fourscore of his soldiers bold\n For to tak me hame to my ain countrie.\u2019\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 6\n Whan I was set in my coach and six,\n Taking fareweel o my babies three,\n \u2018I beg your father\u2019s grace to be kind,\n For your face again I\u2019ll never see.\u2019\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 7\n As I was walking up London streets,\n My father was coming to meet me,\n Wi trumpets sounding on every side;\n But that was na music at a\u2019 for me.\n\n 8\n \u2018Hold your tongue, my dochter dear,\n And of your weeping let abee;\n A bill o divorcement I\u2019ll send to him,\n A far better match I\u2019ll get for thee.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018Hold your tongue, my father dear,\n And with your folly let abee;\n There\u2019ll never man sleep in my twa arms,\n Sin my gude lord has forsaken me.\u2019\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 10\n As I was sitting at my bouer-window,\n What a blythe sicht did I see!\n I saw four score of his soldiers bold,\n And I wishd that they were coming for me.\n\n 11\n Out bespeaks the foremost man,\n And what a weel-spoken man was he!\n \u2018If the Marquis o Douglas\u2019s lady be within,\n You\u2019ll bid her come doun and speak to me.\u2019\n\n 12\n It\u2019s out bespak my auld father then,\n I wat an angry man was he;\n \u2018Ye may gang back the road ye cam,\n For her face again ye\u2019ll never see.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018Hold your tongue, my father dear,\n And with your folly let abee;\n For I\u2019ll ga back, and I\u2019ll ne\u2019er return;\n Do ye think I love you as weel as he?\u2019\n\n 14\n As I cam in by the Orange gate,\n What a blythe sicht did I see!\n I saw Jamie Douglas coming me to meet,\n And at his foot war his babies three.\n\n 15\n \u2018Ga fetch, ga fetch a bottle of wine,\n That I may drink to my gay ladie;\u2019\n She took the cup into her hand,\n But her bonnie heart it broke in three.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n E\n\n Kinloch MSS, VII, 127; 24 April, 1826, from the recitation of Jenny\n Watson, Lanark, aged 73, who had it from her grandmother.\n\n 1\n I lay sick, and very sick,\n And I was bad, and like to dee;\n . . . . . . .\n A friend o mine cam to visit me,\n And Blackwood whisperd in my lord\u2019s ear\n That he was oure lang in chamber wi me.\n\n 2\n \u2018O what need I dress up my head,\n Nor what need I caim doun my hair,\n Whan my gude lord has forsaken me,\n And says he will na love me mair!\n\n 3\n \u2018But oh, an my young babe was born,\n And set upon some nourice knee,\n And I mysel war dead and gane!\n For a maid again I\u2019ll never be.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018Na mair o this, my dochter dear,\n And of your mourning let abee;\n For a bill of divorce I\u2019ll gar write for him,\n A mair better lord I\u2019ll get for thee.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018Na mair o this, my father dear,\n And of your folly let abee;\n For I wad na gie ae look o my lord\u2019s face\n For aw the lords in the haill cuntree.\n\n 6\n \u2018But I\u2019ll cast aff my robes o red,\n And I\u2019ll put on my robes o blue,\n And I will travel to some other land,\n To see gin my love will on me rue.\n\n 7\n \u2018There shall na wash come on my face,\n There shall na kaim come on my hair;\n There shall neither coal nor candle-licht\n Be seen intil my bouer na mair.\n\n 8\n \u2018O wae be to thee, Blackwood,\n And an ill death may ye dee!\n For ye\u2019ve been the haill occasion\n Of parting my lord and me.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n F\n\n Motherwell\u2019s MS, p. 507; from the recitation of old Mrs Brown,\n residing at Linsart, parish of Lochwinnoch, September, 1826.\n\n 1\n Waly, waly up yon bank!\n And waly, waly up yon brae!\n And waly, waly by yon river-side,\n Where me and my love were wont to gae!\n\n 2\n My mither tauld me when I was young\n That young men\u2019s love was ill to trow;\n But to her I would give nae ear,\n And alas! my ain wand dings me now.\n\n 3\n But gin I had wist or I had kisst\n That young man\u2019s love was sae ill to win,\n I would hae lockt my heart wi a key o gowd,\n And pinnd it wi a sillar pin.\n\n 4\n When lairds and lords cam to this toun,\n And gentlemen o a high degree,\n I took my auld son in my arms,\n And went to my chamber pleasantly.\n\n 5\n But when gentlemen come thro this toun,\n And gentlemen o a high degree,\n I must sit alane in the dark,\n And the babie on the nurse\u2019s knee.\n\n 6\n I had a nurse, and she was fair,\n She was a dearly nurse to me;\n She took my gay lord frae my side,\n And used him in her company.\n\n 7\n Awa! awa, thou false Blackwood!\n Ay and an ill death may thou die!\n Thou wast the first occasioner\n Of parting my gay lord and me.\n\n 8\n When I was sick, and very sick,\n Sick I was, and like to die,\n I drew me near to my stair-head,\n And I heard my own lord lichtly me.\n\n 9\n \u2018Come doun, come doun, thou Earl of March,\n Come doun, come doun and dine with me;\n I\u2019ll set thee on a chair of gowd,\n And treat thee kindly on my knee!\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018When cockle-shells grow sillar bells,\n And mussells grow on every tree,\n When frost and snaw turns fiery ba\u2019s,\n Then I\u2019ll come doun and dine with thee.\u2019\n\n 11\n When my father and mother got word\n That my gay lord had forsaken me,\n They sent three score of soldiers bold\n To bring me to my own countrie.\n\n 12\n When I in my coach was set,\n My tenants all was with me tane;\n They set them doun upon their knees,\n And they begd me to come back again.\n\n 13\n Fare ye weel, Jamie Douglas!\n And fare ye weel, my babies three!\n I wish your father may be kind\n To these three faces that I do see.\n\n 14\n When we cam in by Edinbro toun,\n My father and mother they met me;\n The cymbals sounded on every side,\n But alace! the gave no comfort to me.\n\n 15\n \u2018Hold your tongue, my daughter dear,\n And of your weeping let abee,\n And I\u2019ll give him a bill of divorce,\n And I\u2019ll get as good a lord to thee.\u2019\n\n 16\n \u2018Hold your tongue, my father dear,\n And of your scoffing let me bee;\n I would rather hae a kiss of my own lord\u2019s mouth\n As all the lords in the north countrie.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n G\n\n Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 345.\n\n 1\n O waly, waly up the bank!\n And waly, waly down the brae!\n And waly by yon river side,\n Where me and my lord was wont to gae!\n\n 2\n An I had wit what I wit now,\n Before I came over the river Tay,\n I would hae staid at Lord Torchard\u2019s yetts,\n And I micht hae been his own lady gay.\n\n 3\n When I lay sick, and was very sick,\n A friend of mine came me to see;\n When our Blacklywood told it in my lord\u2019s ears\n That he staid too long in chamber with me.\n\n 4\n Woe be to thee, thou Blacklywood!\n I wish an ill death may thou die;\n For thou\u2019s been the first and occasion last\n That put strife between my good lord and me.\n\n 5\n When my father he heard of this,\n His heart was like for to break in three;\n He sent fourscore of his soldiers brave\n For to take me home to mine own countree.\n\n 6\n In the morning when I arose,\n My bonnie palace for to see,\n I came unto my lord\u2019s room-door,\n But he would not speak one word to me.\n\n 7\n \u2018Come down the stair, my lord Jamie Douglas,\n Come down and speak one word with me;\n I\u2019ll set thee in a chair of gold,\n And the never a penny it will cost thee.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018When cockle-shells grow silver bells,\n And grass grows over the highest tree,\n When frost and snaw turns fiery bombs,\n Then will I come down and drink wine with thee.\u2019\n\n 9\n O what need I care for Jamie Douglas\n More than he needs to care for me?\n For the Lord of Murray\u2019s my father dear,\n And the Duke of York\u2019s daughter my mother be.\n\n 10\n Thou thocht that I was just like thyself,\n And took every one that I did see;\n But I can swear by the heavens above\n That I never knew a man but thee.\n\n 11\n But fare thee weel, my lord Jamie Douglas!\n And fare you weel, my sma childer three!\n God grant your father grace to be kind\n Till I see you all in my own countrie.\n\n 12\n Quickly, quickly then rose he up,\n And quickly, quickly came he down;\n When I was in my coaches set,\n He made his trumpets all to sound.\n\n 13\n As we came in by Edinburgh town,\n My loving father came to meet me,\n With trumpets sounding on every side;\n But it was not comfort at all to me.\n\n 14\n \u2018O hold your tongue, my daughter dear,\n And of your weeping pray let abee;\n A bill of divorcement I\u2019ll to him send,\n And a better lord I will chose for thee.\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018Hold your tongue, my father dear,\n And of your flattery pray let abee;\n I\u2019ll never lye in another man\u2019s arms,\n Since my Jamie Douglas has forsaken me.\u2019\n\n 16\n It\u2019s often said in a foreign land\n That the hawk she flies far from her nest;\n It\u2019s often said, and it\u2019s very true,\n He\u2019s far from me this day that I luve best.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n H\n\n Motherwell\u2019s MS, p. 297; from the recitation of Mrs Traill of\n Paisley.\n\n 1\n O waly, waly up the bank!\n And waly, waly doun the brae!\n And waly, waly by yon burn-side,\n Whare me and my luve was wont to gae!\n\n 2\n If I had kent what I ken now,\n I wud neer hae crossed the waters o Tay;\n For an I had staid at Argyle\u2019s yetts,\n I might hae been his lady gay.\n\n 3\n When I lay sick, and very sick,\n And very sick, just like to die,\n A gentleman, a friend of mine own,\n A gentleman came me to see;\n But Blackliewoods sounded in my luve\u2019s ears\n He was too long in chamer with me.\n\n 4\n O woe be to thee, Blackliewoods.\n But an an ill death may you die!\n Thou\u2019s been the first and occasion last\n That eer put ill twixt my luve and me.\n\n 5\n \u2018Come down the stairs now, Jamie Douglas,\n Come down the stairs and drink wine wi me;\n I\u2019ll set thee in a chair of gold,\n And it\u2019s not one penny it will cost thee.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018When cockle-shells grow silver bells,\n And gowd grows oer yon lily lea,\n When frost and snaw grows fiery bombs,\n I will come down and drink wine wi thee.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018What ails you at our youngest son,\n That sits upon the nurse\u2019s knee?\n I\u2019m sure he\u2019s never done any harm\n And it\u2019s not to his ain nurse and me.\u2019\n\n 8\n My loving father got word of this,\n But and an angry man was he;\n He sent three score of his soldiers brave\n To take me to my own countrie.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 9\n \u2018O fare ye weel now, Jamie Douglas!\n And fare ye weel, my children three!\n God grant your father may prove kind\n Till I see you in my own countrie.\u2019\n\n 10\n When she was set into her coach\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n 11\n \u2018Cheer up your heart, my loving daughter,\n Cheer up your heart, let your weeping bee!\n A bill of divorce I will write to him,\n And a far better lord I\u2019ll provide for thee.\u2019\n\n 12\n It\u2019s very true, and it\u2019s often said,\n The hawk she\u2019s flown and she\u2019s left her nest;\n But a\u2019 the warld may plainly see\n They\u2019re far awa that I luve best.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n I\n\n Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 500; from Mrs Notman.\n\n 1\n \u2018O waly, waly up yon bank!\n And waly, waly down yon brae!\n And waly, waly by yon burn-bank,\n Where me and my lord wont to gae!\n\n 2\n \u2018A gentleman of good account,\n A friend of mine, came to visit me,\n And Blackly whispered in my lord\u2019s ears\n He was too long in chamber with me.\n\n 3\n \u2018When my father came to hear \u2018t,\n I wot an angry man was he;\n He sent five score of his soldiers bright\n To take me safe to my own countrie.\n\n 4\n \u2018Up in the mornin when I arose,\n My bonnie palace for to lea,\n And when I came to my lord\u2019s door,\n The neer a word he would speak to me.\n\n 5\n \u2018Come down, come down, O Jamie Douglas,\n And drink the Orange wine with me;\n I\u2019ll set thee in a chair of gold,\n That neer a penny it cost thee.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018When sea and sand turns foreign land,\n And mussels grow on every tree,\n When cockle-shells turn silver bells,\n I\u2019ll drink the Orange wine with thee.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018Wae be to you, Blackly,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018Aye and an ill death may you die!\n You are the first, and I hope the last,\n That eer made my lord lichtly me.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018Fare ye weel then, Jamie Douglas!\n I value you as little as you do me;\n The Earl of Mar is my father dear,\n And I soon will see my own countrie.\n\n 9\n \u2018Ye thought that I was like yoursell,\n And loving each ane I did see;\n But here I swear, by the day I die,\n I never loved a man but thee.\n\n 10\n \u2018Fare ye weel, my servants all!\n And you, my bonny children three!\n God grant your father grace to be kind\n Till I see you safe in my own countrie.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018As I came into Edinburgh toune,\n With trumpets sounding my father met me;\n But no mirth nor musick sounds in my ear,\n Since the Earl of March has forsaken me.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018O hold your tongue, my daughter dear,\n And of your weeping let abee;\n I\u2019ll send a bill of divorce to the Earl of March,\n And get a better lord for thee.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018Hold your tongue, my father dear,\n And of your folly let abee;\n No other lord shall lye in my arms,\n Since the Earl of March has forsaken me.\n\n 14\n \u2018An I had known what I know now,\n I\u2019d never crossed the water o Tay,\n But stayed still at Atholl\u2019s gates;\n He would have made me his lady gay.\u2019\n\n 15\n When she came to her father\u2019s lands,\n The tenants a\u2019 came her to see;\n Never a word she could speak to them,\n But the buttons off her clothes did flee.\n\n 16\n \u2018The linnet is a bonnie bird,\n And aften flees far frae its nest;\n So all the warld may plainly see\n They\u2019re far awa that I luve best.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n J\n\n Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 299; from the recitation of Rebecca Dunse, a\n native of Galloway, 4 May, 1825. \u201cA song of her mother\u2019s, an old\n woman.\u201d\n\n 1\n O waly, waly up yon bank!\n And waly, waly doun yon brae!\n And waly, waly by yon burn-side,\n Where me and my luve used to gae!\n\n 2\n Oh Johnie, Johnie, but love is bonnie\n A little while, when it is new;\n But when love grows aulder, it grows mair caulder,\n And it fades awa like the mornin dew.\n\n 3\n I leaned my back against an aik,\n I thocht it was a trusty tree;\n But first [it] bowed, and syne it brak,\n And sae did my fause luve to me.\n\n 4\n Once I lay sick, and very sick,\n And a friend of mine cam to visit me,\n But the small bird whispered in my love\u2019s ears\n That he was ower lang in the room wi me.\n\n 5\n \u2018It\u2019s come down stairs, my Jamie Douglas,\n Come down stairs, luve, and dine wi me;\n I\u2019ll set you on a chair of gold,\n And court ye kindly on my knee.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018When cockle-shells grow silver bells,\n And gold it grows on every tree,\n When frost and snaw turns fiery balls,\n Then, love, I\u2019ll come down and dine wi thee.\u2019\n\n 7\n If I had known what I know now,\n That love it was sae ill to win,\n I should neer hae wet my cherry cheek\n For onie man or woman\u2019s son.\n\n 8\n When my father he cam to know\n That my first luve had sae slighted me,\n He sent four score of his soldiers bright\n To guard me home to my own countrie.\n\n 9\n Slowly, slowly rose I up,\n And slowly, slowly I came down,\n And when he saw me sit in my coach,\n He made his drums and trumpets sound.\n\n 10\n It\u2019s fare ye weel, my pretty palace!\n And fare ye weel, my children three!\n And I hope your father will get mair grace,\n And love you better than he\u2019s done to me.\n\n 11\n When we came near to bonnie Edinburgh toun,\n My father cam for to meet me;\n He made his drums and trumpets sound,\n But they were no comfort at all to me.\n\n 12\n \u2018It\u2019s hold your tongue, my daughter dear,\n And of your weeping pray let be;\n For a bill of divorcement I\u2019ll send to him,\n And a better husband I\u2019ll you supply.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018O hold your tongue, my father dear,\n And of your folly pray now let be;\n For there\u2019s neer a lord shall enter my bower,\n Since my first love has so slighted me.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n K\n\n Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 302; from Jean Nicol.\n\n 1\n O waly, waly up the bank!\n And waly, waly doun the brae!\n And waly by yon river-side,\n Where me and my love were wont to gae!\n\n 2\n A gentleman, a friend of mine,\n Came to the toun me for to see,\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n 3\n \u2018Come doun the stair, Jamie Douglas,\n Come doun the stair and drink wine wi me;\n For a chair of gold I will set thee in,\n And not one farthing it will cost thee.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018When cockle-shells grow siller bells,\n And mussels grow on ilka tree,\n When frost and snaw turns out fire-bombs,\n Then I\u2019ll come doun and drink wine wi thee.\u2019\n\n 5\n But when her father heard of this,\n O but an angry man was he!\n And he sent four score of his ain regiment\n To bring her hame to her ain countrie.\n\n 6\n O when she was set in her coach and six,\n And the saut tear was in her ee,\n Saying, Fare you weel, my bonnie palace!\n And fare ye weel, my children three!\n\n 7\n O when I came into Edinburgh toun,\n My loving father for to see,\n The trumpets were sounding on every side,\n But they were not music at all for me.\n\n 8\n \u2018O hold your tongue, my daughter dear,\n And of your folly I pray let be;\n For a bill of divorcement I\u2019ll send him,\n And a better lord I\u2019ll provide for thee.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018O hold your tongue, my father dear,\n And of your folly I pray let be;\n For if I had stayed in fair Orange Green,\n I might have been his gay ladye.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n L\n\n Finlay\u2019s Scottish Ballads, II, 1, a collation of three copies, one\n of which was #M#.\n\n 1\n When I fell sick, an very sick,\n An very sick, just like to die,\n A gentleman of good account\n He cam on purpose to visit me;\n But his blackie whispered in my lord\u2019s ear\n He was owre lang in the room wi me.\n\n 2\n \u2018Gae, little page, an tell your lord,\n Gin he will come and dine wi me\n I\u2019ll set him on a chair of gold\n And serve him on my bended knee.\u2019\n\n 3\n The little page gaed up the stair:\n \u2018Lord Douglas, dine wi your ladie;\n She\u2019ll set ye on a chair of gold,\n And serve you on her bended knee.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018When cockle-shells turn silver bells,\n When wine drieps red frae ilka tree,\n When frost and snaw will warm us a\u2019,\n Then I\u2019ll cum down an dine wi thee.\u2019\n\n 5\n But whan my father gat word o this,\n O what an angry man was he!\n He sent fourscore o his archers bauld\n To bring me safe to his countrie.\n\n 6\n When I rose up then in the morn,\n My goodly palace for to lea,\n I knocked at my lord\u2019s chamber-door,\n But neer a word wad he speak to me.\n\n 7\n But slowly, slowly, rose he up,\n And slowly, slowly, cam he down,\n And when he saw me set on my horse,\n He caused his drums and trumpets soun.\n\n 8\n \u2018Now fare ye weel, my goodly palace!\n And fare ye weel, my children three!\n God grant your father grace to love you\n Far more than ever he loved me.\u2019\n\n 9\n He thocht that I was like himsel,\n That had a woman in every hall;\n But I could swear, by the heavens clear,\n I never loved man but himsel.\n\n 10\n As on to Embro town we cam,\n My guid father he welcomed me;\n He caused his minstrels meet to sound,\n It was nae music at a\u2019 to me.\n\n 11\n \u2018Now haud your tongue, my daughter dear,\n Leave off your weeping, let it be;\n For Jamie\u2019s divorcement I\u2019ll send over;\n Far better lord I\u2019ll provide for thee.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018O haud your tongue, my father dear,\n And of such talking let me be;\n For never a man shall come to my arms,\n Since my lord has sae slighted me.\u2019\n\n 13\n O an I had neer crossed the Tweed,\n Nor yet been owre the river Dee,\n I might hae staid at Lord Orgul\u2019s gate,\n Where I wad hae been a gay ladie.\n\n 14\n The ladies they will cum to town,\n And they will cum and visit me;\n But I\u2019ll set me down now in the dark,\n For ochanie! who\u2019ll comfort me?\n\n 15\n An wae betide ye, black Fastness,\n Ay, and an ill deid may ye die!\n Ye was the first and foremost man\n Wha parted my true lord and me.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n M\n\n Herd\u2019s MSS, I, 54.\n\n 1\n Earl Douglas, than wham never knight\n Had valour moe ne courtesie,\n Yet he\u2019s now blamet be a\u2019 the land\n For lightlying o his gay lady.\n\n 2\n \u2018Go, little page, and tell your lord,\n Gin he will cum and dine wi me,\n I\u2019ll set him on a seat of gold,\n I\u2019ll serve him on my bended knee.\u2019\n\n 3\n The little page gaed up the stair:\n \u2018Lord Douglas, dyne wi your lady;\n She\u2019ll set ye on a seat of gold,\n And serve ye on her bended knee.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018When cockle-shells turn siller bells,\n When mussels grow on ilka tree,\n When frost and snow sall warm us a\u2019,\n Then I sall dyne wi my ladie.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018Now wae betide ye, black Fastness,\n Ay and an ill dead met ye die!\n Ye was the first and the foremost man\n Wha parted my true lord and me.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n N\n\n Motherwell\u2019s Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. v, the last three stanzas.\n\n 1\n She looked out at her father\u2019s window,\n To take a view of the countrie;\n Who did she see but Jamie Douglas,\n And along with him her children three!\n\n 2\n There came a soldier to the gate,\n And he did knock right hastilie:\n \u2018If Lady Douglas be within,\n Bid her come down and speak to me.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018O come away, my lady fair,\n Come away now alang with me,\n For I have hanged fause Blackwood,\n At the very place where he told the lie.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n O\n\n Motherwell\u2019s Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xvii, IX.\n\n \u2018O come down stairs, Jamie Douglas,\n O come down stairs and speak to me,\n And I\u2019ll set thee in a fine chair of gowd,\n And I\u2019ll kindly daut thee upon my knee.\n\n * * * * *\n\n _Variations of_ Waly, Waly, _etc._\n\n#a.#\n\n _Put among_ \u2018Auld Sangs brushd up\u2019 _in Ramsay\u2019s \u201cContents,\u201d_ p.\n 329. _ Printed in eight-line stanzas._\n\n 4. _Burns had heard this stanza \u201cin the west country\u201d thus\n (Cromek\u2019s Reliques,_ 1817, p. 245):\n\n O wherefore need I busk my head?\n Or wherefore need I kame my hair?\n Sin my fause luve has me forsook,\n And says he\u2019ll never luve me mair.\n\n 7^3. my cry: me _in the London edition of 1733_.\n\n#b.#\n\n 1^1. up yon bank.\n\n 1^2. down yon brea.\n\n 1^3. And waly by yon river\u2019s side.\n\n 1^4. Where my love and I was wont to gae.\n\n 2, 3 are 3, 2.\n\n 2^4. And sae did my fause love to me.\n\n 3^1. Waly, waly, gin love be bonny.\n\n 3^2. little while when.\n\n 3^3. it\u2019s: waxes.\n\n 3^4. wears away like.\n\n 4. _Already given._\n\n 6^1. O Martinmas.\n\n 6^4. And take a life that wearies me.\n\n#B.#\n\n 3^3. wlalking.\n\n 6^1. bells turn silver shells.\n\n#C.#\n\n _These variations in the second copy_ (I, 103) _are Kinloch\u2019s_:\n\n 4^3. on a.\n\n 9^2. to thee.\n\n 12^2. let abee.\n\n 12^4. for thee.\n\n 13^1. father, I said.\n\n 13^3. ae kiss.\n\n 14^4. I\u2019ll.\n\n#F.#\n\n 5^1. _For_ gentlemen _Motherwell queries,_ lairds and lords?\n\n 9^1. Earl of Marquis; March _queried by Motherwell. It is_ March\n _in #I#._\n\n#I.#\n\n 5^2, 6^4. Orange, _not_ orange, _in the MS._\n\n 6^1. _Motherwell queries_ far in _for_ foreign.\n\n#J.#\n\n 2^1. nonnie, nonny _is written in pencil by Motherwell between 1\n and 2; no doubt as a conjectural emendation of_ Johnie, Johnie.\n\n#L.#\n\n _2, 3, 4, 15 are #M# 2\u20135, with slight changes_.\n\n 1^5. _\u201cOne copy here bears_ black-bird _and another_ a fause\n bird.\u201d _(Finlay.)_\n\n 13^3. Lord Orgul. _\u201cThis name is differently given by reciters.\u201d\n (Finlay.)_\n\n 15^1. Fastness _as a proper name, but evidently meant for_\n faustness, falseness, _as Motherwell has observed._\n\n#M.#\n\n Quham, quhen, quha _are printed_ wham, when, wha; zet, ze, zour,\n _are printed_ yet, ye, your.\n\n#N.#\n\n Motherwell\u2019s ballad is \u201ctraditionary\u201d to the extent that it is\n substantially made up from traditionary material. The text of\n the recited copies is not always strictly adhered to. The fifth\n stanza happens not to occur in the texts used, but may have come\n in in some other recitation obtained by Motherwell, or may\n simply have been adopted from Ramsay. The three last stanzas\n (#N#) are from some recitation not preserved in Motherwell\u2019s\n relics. Neglecting unimportant divergencies, the constituent\n parts are as follows:\n\n 1==#H# 1^{1\u20133}, #G# 1^4.\n\n 2, 3==#J# 2, 3.\n\n 4==#F# 2.\n\n (5==Ramsay 4.)\n\n 6==#F# 3.\n\n 7==#I# 14.\n\n 8\u201310==#F# 4\u20136.\n\n 11==#F# 7^{1,2,4}, #H# 4^3.\n\n 12==#H# 3 (_see #E# 1^{4,5}, #L# 1^4_).\n\n 13==#F# 8.\n\n 14==#I# 5^{1\u20133}, #O#^4.\n\n 15==#I# 6.\n\n 16==#H# 7.\n\n 17==#J# 7.\n\n 18==#F# 11^2, #I# 3^{1,3,4}.\n\n 19, 20==#I# 4, 8.\n\n 21==#I# 9 (_see #L# 9^3_).\n\n 22==#J# 9.\n\n 23==#F# 12.\n\n 24==#J# 10.\n\n 25==#I# 10.\n\n 26==#I# 7^{1\u20133}, #G# 4^4.\n\n 27==#G# 13, #I# 11^{3,4}.\n\n 28==#F# 15, #G# 14.\n\n 29==#F# 16.\n\n 30, 31==#I# 15, 16.\n\n (_32 resembles #D# 10^{1,2}, 14^3,4; 33, #D# 11._)\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n APPENDIX\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n ARTHUR\u2019S SEAT SHALL BE MY BED, ETC., OR, LOVE IN DESPAIR\n\nA new song much in request, sung with its own proper tune.\n\n Laing, Broadsides Ballads, No. 61, not dated but considered to have\n been printed towards the end of the seventeenth or the beginning of\n the eighteenth century, and probably at Edinburgh.\n\n 1\n Come lay me soft, and draw me near,\n And lay thy white hand over me,\n For I am starving in the cold,\n And thou art bound to cover me.\n\n 2\n O cover me in my distress,\n And help me in my miserie,\n For I do wake when I should sleep,\n All for the love of my dearie.\n\n 3\n My rents they are but very small\n For to maintain my love withall,\n But with my labour and my pain\n I will maintain my love with them.\n\n 4\n O Arthur\u2019s Seat shall be my bed,\n And the sheets shall never be fil\u2019d for me,\n St Anthony\u2019s well shall be my drink,\n Since my true-love\u2019s forsaken me.\n\n 5\n Should I be bound, that may go free?\n Should I love them that loves not me?\n I\u2019le rather travel into Spain,\n Where I\u2019le get love for love again.\n\n 6\n And I\u2019le cast off my robs of black,\n And will put on the robs of blue,\n And I will to some other land\n Till I see my love will on me rue.\n\n 7\n It\u2019s not the cold that makes me cry,\n Nor is\u2019t the weet that wearies me,\n Nor is\u2019t the frost that freezes fell;\n But I love a lad, and I dare not tell.\n\n 8\n O faith is gone and truth is past,\n And my true-love\u2019s forsaken me;\n If all be true that I hear say,\n I\u2019le mourn until the day I die.\n\n 9\n Oh, if I had nere been born\n Than to have dy\u2019d when I was young!\n Then I had never wet my cheeks\n For the love of any woman\u2019s son.\n\n 10\n Oh, oh, if my young babe were born,\n And set upon the nurse\u2019s knee,\n And I my self were dead and gone!\n For a maid again I\u2019le never be.\n\n 11\n Martinmas wind, when wilt thou blow,\n And blow the green leafs off the tree\n O gentle Death, when wilt thou come!\n For of my life I am wearie.\n\n\n 1^1. darw.\n\n\n\n\n 205\n\n LOUDON HILL, OR, DRUMCLOG\n\n \u2018The Battle of Loudoun Hill,\u2019 Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border,\n III, 188, 1803; II, 206, 1833.\n\n\nThe \u201cgospel-lads,\u201d otherwise self-styled the true Presbyterian party,\nhad in 1679, May 29 (observed both as the king\u2019s birthday and the\nanniversary of the Restoration), begun their testimony against the\niniquity of the times by publishing a Declaration, putting out loyal\nbonfires, and burning all acts of Parliament obnoxious to Covenanters,\nin retaliation for the burning of the Covenant at London seventeen years\nbefore. They had intended to do this at Glasgow, but as Claverhouse had\nestablished himself there, the demonstration was made at Rutherglen, a\nlittle place two miles off. On the 31st Claverhouse laid hands on three\nof the rioters and an outlawed minister. The Covenanters had appointed a\ngreat meeting, an armed conventicle, for the next day, Sunday, June 1,\nat Loudon Hill, on the borders of the shires of Ayr and Lanark. Not so\nmany came as were expected, for Claverhouse had been heard of, but there\nwere at least two hundred and fifty armed men; and these numbers were\nsubsequently increased.[78] It was resolved to rescue the prisoners\ntaken the day before, if the Lord should enable them, and in prosecution\nof this object they moved on to Drumclog, a swampy farm two miles east\nof Loudon Hill. The chief of command was Robert Hamilton, and with him\nwere associated John Balfour of Kinloch, called Burly, Hackston of\nRathillet, and others. What ensued is told in a frank letter of\nClaverhouse, written the night of the same Sunday.\n\nThe prisoners were to be conveyed to Glasgow. \u201cI thought,\u201d says\nClaverhouse, \u201cthat we might make a little tour, to see if we could fall\nupon a conventicle; which we did, little to our advantage. For, when we\ncame in sight of them, we found them drawn up in battle, upon a most\nadvantageous ground, to which there was no coming but through mosses and\nlakes. They were not preaching, and had got away all their women and\nchildren. They consisted of four battalions of foot, and all well armed\nwith fusils and pitchforks, and three squadrons of horse. We sent, both,\nparties to skirmish, they of foot and we of dragoons; they run for it,\nand sent down a battalion of foot against them (the dragoons). We sent\nthreescore of dragoons, who made them run again shamefully. But in the\nend (they perceiving that we had the better of them in skirmish), they\nresolved a general engagement, and immediately advanced with their foot,\nthe horse following. They came through the loch, and the greatest body\nof all made up against my troop. We kept our fire till they were within\nten pace of us. They received our fire and advanced to shock. The first\nthey gave us brought down the cornet, Mr Crafford, and Captain Bleith.\nBesides that, with a pitchfork, they made such an opening in my sorrel\nhorse\u2019s belly that his guts hung out half an ell, and yet he carried me\noff a mile; which so discouraged our men that they sustained not the\nshock, but fell into disorder. Their horse took the occasion of this,\nand pursued us so hotly that we got no time to rally. I saved the\nstandards, but lost on the place about eight or ten men, besides\nwounded. But the dragoons lost many more. They are not come easily off\non the other side, for I saw several of them fall before we came to the\nshock. I made the best retreat the confusion of our people would\nsuffer.\u201d[79]\n\nThe cornet killed was Robert Graham, the \u201cnephew\u201d of Claverhouse, of\nwhom so much is made in \u201cOld Mortality.\u201d There is no evidence beyond the\nname to show that he was a near kinsman of his captain. The Covenanters\nthought they had killed Claverhouse himself, because of the name Graham\nbeing wrought into the cornet\u2019s shirt, and treated the body with much\nbrutality. In \u2018Bothwell Bridge,\u2019 st. 12, Claverhouse is represented as\nrefusing quarter to the Covenanters in revenge for \u2018his cornet\u2019s\ndeath.\u2019[80]\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1\n You\u2019l marvel when I tell ye o\n Our noble Burly and his train,\n When last he marchd up through the land,\n Wi sax-and-twenty westland men.\n\n 2\n Than they I neer o braver heard,\n For they had a\u2019 baith wit and skill;\n They proved right well, as I heard tell,\n As they cam up oer Loudoun Hill.\n\n 3\n Weel prosper a\u2019 the gospel-lads\n That are into the west countrie\n Ay wicked Claverse to demean,\n And ay an ill dead may he die!\n\n 4\n For he\u2019s drawn up i battle rank,\n An that baith soon an hastilie;\n But they wha live till simmer come.\n Some bludie days for this will see.\n\n 5\n But up spak cruel Claverse then,\n Wi hastie wit an wicked skill,\n \u2018Gae fire on you westlau men;\n I think it is my sovreign\u2019s will.\u2019\n\n 6\n But up bespake his cornet then,\n \u2018It\u2019s be wi nae consent o me;\n I ken I\u2019ll neer come back again,\n An mony mae as weel as me.\n\n 7\n \u2018There is not ane of a\u2019 yon men\n But wha is worthy other three;\n There is na ane amang them a\u2019\n That in his cause will stap to die.\n\n 8\n \u2018An as for Burly, him I knaw;\n He\u2019s a man of honour, birth, an fame;\n Gie him a sword into his hand,\n He\u2019ll fight thysel an other ten.\u2019\n\n 9\n But up spake wicked Claverse then\u2014\n I wat his heart it raise fu hie\u2014\n And he has cry\u2019d, that a\u2019 might hear,\n \u2018Man, ye hae sair deceived me.\n\n 10\n \u2018I never kend the like afore,\n Na, never since I came frae hame,\n That you sae cowardly here suld prove,\n An yet come of a noble Gr\u00e6me.\u2019\n\n 11\n But up bespake his cornet then,\n \u2018Since that it is your honour\u2019s will,\n Mysel shall be the foremost man\n That shall gie fire on Loudoun Hill.\n\n 12\n \u2018At your command I\u2019ll lead them on,\n But yet wi nae consent o me;\n For weel I ken I\u2019ll neer return,\n And mony mae as weel as me.\u2019\n\n 13\n Then up he drew in battle rank\u2014\n I wat he had a bonny train\u2014\n But the first time that bullets flew\n Ay he lost twenty o his men.\n\n 14\n Then back he came the way he gaed,\n I wat right soon an suddenly;\n He gave command amang his men,\n And sent them back, and bade them flee.\n\n 15\n Then up came Burly, bauld an stout,\n Wi \u2018s little train o westland men,\n Wha mair than either aince or twice\n In Edinburgh confind had been.\n\n 16\n They hae been up to London sent,\n An yet they\u2019re a\u2019 come safely down;\n Sax troop o horsemen they hae beat,\n And chased them into Glasgow town.\n\n\n\n\n 206\n\n BOTHWELL BRIDGE\n\n Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, III, 209, 1803; II, 226, 1833.\n From recitation.\n\n\nThe report of the success of the Covenanters at Drumclog brought four or\nfive thousand malcontents into the rising, many of whom, however, were\nnot radicals of the Hamilton type, but moderate Presbyterians. After not\na little moving up and down, they established their camp on the\nnineteenth of June at Hamilton, on the south side of the Clyde, near the\npoint where the river is crossed by Bothwell Bridge. They were deficient\nin arms and ammunition and in officers of military experience. \u201cBut,\u201d as\na historian of their own party says, \u201cthe greatest loss was their want\nof order and harmony among themselves; neither had they any person in\nwhom they heartily centred, nor could they agree upon the grounds of\ntheir appearance.\u201d Both before and after their final encampment at\nHamilton, they were principally occupied with debating what testimony\nthey should make against Popery, Prelacy, Erastianism, and the\nIndulgence, and whether their declaration should contain an\nacknowledgment of the king\u2019s authority. Dissension ran high, \u201cand\nenemies had it to observe and remark that ministers preached and prayed\nagainst one another.\u201d\n\nThe king named the Duke of Monmouth to command his army in Scotland.\nBoth the instructions which were given him and the duke\u2019s own temper\nwere favorable to an accommodation. The royal forces were at Bothwell\nMuir on the twenty-second of June, and their advanced guards within a\nquarter of a mile of the bridge. The duke marched his army to an\neminence opposite the main body of the enemy, who lay on the moor (st.\n10). The bridge was held by Hackston of Rathillet and other resolute\nmen. It was very defensible, being only twelve feet wide and rising from\neach end to the middle, where there was a gate, and it was also\nobstructed with stones. Early in the morning a deputation was sent by\nthe rebels to the duke to lay before him their demands. He heard them\npatiently, and expressed his willingness to do all that he could for\nthem with the king, but would engage himself to nothing until they laid\ndown their arms. He gave them an hour to make up their mind. The\nofficers of the insurgents were unable to come to an agreement.\nHamilton, who assumed the general command, was against any pacific\narrangement, and no answer was returned. In the interim four\nfield-pieces had been planted against the bridge. The defenders\nmaintained themselves under the fire of these and of the musketeers and\ndragoons until their own powder was exhausted, and then unwillingly\nwithdrew to the main body, by Hamilton\u2019s order. The bridge was cleared\nof obstructions, and the royal army crossed and advanced in order of\nbattle against the rebels on the moor. The first fire made the\nCovenanters\u2019 horse wheel about, and their retreat threw the nearest foot\ninto disorder; in consequence of which the whole army fell into\nconfusion. Twelve hundred surrendered without resistance, the rest fled,\nand several hundred were killed in the pursuit.[81]\n\n1\u20139. William Gordon of Earlston, a hot Covenanter, while on his way to\nHamilton on the twenty-second to join the insurgents, fell in with some\ndragoons who were pursuing his already routed copartisans, and,\nresisting their attempt to make him prisoner, was killed. His son\nAlexander, a man of more temperate views, was at Bothwell Bridge,[82]\nand escaped. Although Earlston in st. 4 is represented as bidding\nfarewell to his father, the grotesque narrative with which the ballad\nbegins can be understood only of the father; sts. 7, 8 make this\ncertain.\n\n9. It seems to be meant, as grammar would require, that it is the\n\u2018Lennox lad,\u2019 and a Covenanter, that sets up \u2018the flag of red set about\nwith blue.\u2019 In \u201cOld Mortality,\u201d Sir Walter Scott makes the Covenanters\nplant \u201cthe scarlet and blue colors of the Scottish covenant\u201d on the keep\nof Tillietudlem. Whether he had other authority than this ballad for the\nscarlet, I have not been able to ascertain. All the flags of the\ncovenant may not have been alike, but all would probably have a ground\nof blue, which is known to have been the Covenanters\u2019 color. One flag,\nwhich belonged to a Covenanter who figured at Drumclog and Bothwell\nBridge, has fortunately been preserved. It is of blue silk, with three\ninscriptions, one of which is, \u201cNo Quarters to y^e Active Enimies of y^e\nCovenant,\u201d first painted in some light color, afterwards repainted in a\ndull red. (Napier, I, xliv).\n\nThe last half of the stanza must be spoken by Monmouth, and the tone of\nit is more chivalrous than the circumstances call for.\n\n12\u201315. For Claverhouse\u2019s cornet, see the preceding ballad. Captain John\nGraham, for that was all he then was, was not conspicuous at Bothwell\nBridge. He commanded the horse on the right, and Captain Stuart the\ndragoons on the left, when the advance was made on the Covenanters. He\nwas as capable of insubordination as Robert Hamilton was of Erastianism,\nand it is nearly as unnecessary, at this day, to vindicate him from the\ncharge of cruelty as from that of procuring Monmouth\u2019s execution six\nyears in advance of the fates.[83]\n\n\u2018Earlistoun,\u2019 Chambers, Twelve Romantic Scottish Ballads, p. 26, is this\npiece with the battle omitted, or stanzas 1\u20136, 7^{1,2}, 8^{3,4}, 16.\n\nScott observes: \u201cThere is said to be another song upon this battle, once\nvery popular, but I have not been able to recover it.\u201d\n\nThere is a stall-ballad of Bothwell Brigg, not traditional, a very good\nballad of its sort, with a touching story and a kindly moral, which may\nor may not be later than Sir Walter Scott\u2019s day. It is of John Carr and\nhis wife Janet and a non-covenanting lady, who carries off John, badly\nwounded, from the field (where he had fought better than most of his\nparty), and nurses him in her lord\u2019s castle till he is well enough to be\nvisited by his wife.\n\n\nTranslated by Talvj, Charakteristik, p. 581.\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1\n \u2018O billie, billie, bonny billie,\n Will ye go to the wood wi me?\n We\u2019ll ca our horse hame masterless,\n An gar them trow slain men are we.\u2019\n\n 2\n \u2018O no, O no!\u2019 says Earlstoun,\n \u2018For that\u2019s the thing that mauna be;\n For I am sworn to Bothwell Hill,\n Where I maun either gae or die.\u2019\n\n 3\n So Earlstoun rose in the morning,\n An mounted by the break o day,\n An he has joind our Scottish lads,\n As they were marching out the way.\n\n 4\n \u2018Now, farewell, father! and farewell, mother!\n An fare ye weel, my sisters three!\n An fare ye well, my Earlstoun!\n For thee again I\u2014\u2018ll never see.\u2019\n\n 5\n So they\u2019re awa to Bothwell Hill,\n An waly, they rode bonnily!\n When the Duke o Monmouth saw them comin,\n He went to view their company.\n\n 6\n \u2018Ye\u2019re welcome, lads,\u2019 then Monmouth said,\n \u2018Ye\u2019re welcome, brave Scots lads, to me;\n And sae are you, brave Earlstoun,\n The foremost o your company.\n\n 7\n \u2018But yield your weapons ane an a\u2019,\n O yield your weapons, lads, to me;\n For, gin ye\u2019ll yield your weapons up,\n Ye\u2019se a\u2019 gae hame to your country.\u2019\n\n 8\n Out then spak a Lennox lad,\n And waly, but he spoke bonnily!\n \u2018I winna yield my weapons up,\n To you nor nae man that I see.\u2019\n\n 9\n Then he set up the flag o red,\n A\u2019 set about wi bonny blue:\n \u2018Since ye\u2019ll no cease, and be at peace,\n See that ye stand by ither true.\u2019\n\n 10\n They stelld their cannons on the height,\n And showrd their shot down in the how,\n An beat our Scots lads even down;\n Thick they lay slain on every know.\n\n 11\n As eer you saw the rain down fa,\n Or yet the arrow frae the bow,\n Sae our Scottish lads fell even down,\n An they lay slain on every know.\n\n 12\n \u2018O hold your hand,\u2019 then Monmouth cry\u2019d,\n \u2018Gie quarters to yon men for me;\u2019\n But wicked Claverhouse swore an oath\n His cornet\u2019s death revengd sud be.\n\n 13\n \u2018O hold your hand,\u2019 then Monmouth cry\u2019d,\n \u2018If ony thing you\u2019ll do for me;\n Hold up your hand, you cursed Gr\u00e6me,\n Else a rebel to our king ye\u2019ll be.\u2019\n\n 14\n Then wicked Claverhouse turnd about\u2014\n I wot an angry man was he\u2014\n And he has lifted up his hat,\n And cry\u2019d, God bless his Majesty!\n\n 15\n Than he\u2019s awa to London town,\n Ay een as fast as he can dree;\n Fause witnesses he has wi him taen,\n An taen Monmouth\u2019s head frae his body.\n\n 16\n Alang the brae beyond the brig,\n Mony brave man lies cauld and still;\n But lang we\u2019ll mind, and sair we\u2019ll rue,\n The bloody battle of Bothwell Hill.\n\n\n\n\n 207\n\n LORD DELAMERE\n\n #A.# \u2018The Long-armed Duke,\u2019 first printed, about 1843, in a periodical\n called the Story Teller; afterwards in Notes and Queries, First\n Series, V, 243, 1852.\n\n #B.# \u2018Devonshire\u2019s Noble Duel with Lord Danby, in the year 1687,\u2019\n Llewellynn Jewitt\u2019s Ballads and Songs of Derbyshire, p. 55, 1867.\n\n #C.# Llewellynn Jewitt\u2019s Ballads and Songs of Derbyshire, p. 57, two\n stanzas.\n\n #D.# \u2018Lord Delaware,\u2019 Thomas Lyle\u2019s Ancient Ballads and Songs, chiefly\n from tradition, manuscripts, and scarce works, etc., London, 1827,\n p. 125. \u2018Lord Delamare,\u2019 Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 539. Dixon, Ancient\n Poems, Ballads and Songs of the Peasantry of England, p. 80, Percy\n Society, vol. xvii, 1846; the same, ed. Robert Bell, 1857, p. 66.\n\n\nOf #D# the editor says: \u201cAn imperfect copy ... was noted down by us from\nthe singing of a gentleman in this city [Glasgow], which has necessarily\nbeen remodelled and smoothed down to the present measure, without any\nother liberties, however, having been taken with the original narrative,\nwhich is here carefully preserved as it was committed to us.\u201d The air,\nsays Lyle, was \u201cbeautiful, and peculiar to the ballad.\u201d\n\nE. Leigh, Ballads and Legends of Cheshire, p. 203, repeats #A#.\n\nMr E. Peacock had an imperfect manuscript copy with the title \u2018Lord\nDelamere,\u2019 beginning\n\n I wonder very much that our sovereign king\n So many large taxes upon this land should bring.\n\n Notes and Queries, First Series, II, 104, 1851.\n\nDr Rimbault remembered hearing a version sung at a village in\nStaffordshire, about 1842, in which Hereford was substituted for\nDevonshire: Notes and Queries, First Series, V, 348, 1852.\n\nLord Delamere, upon occasion of the imposition of some new taxes, begs a\nboon of the king, in the Parliament House; it is that he may have all\nthe poor men in the land down to Cheshire and hang them, since it would\nbe better for them to be hanged than to be starved. A French (Dutch)\nlord says that Delamere ought to be stabbed for publicly affronting the\nking. The Duke of Devonshire offers himself to fight for Delamere, and a\nstage is set up for a duel to the utterance. Devonshire\u2019s sword bends at\nthe first thrust and then breaks. An English lord who is standing by\n(Willoughby, #B#) gives him another, and advises him to play low, for\nthere is treachery. Devonshire drops on his knee and gives his\nantagonist his death-wound. The king orders the dead man to be taken\naway, but Devonshire insists on first examining the body. He finds that\nthe French lord had been wearing armor, and the king\u2019s armor, while he\nhimself was fighting bare. He reproaches the king with the purpose of\ntaking his life, and tells him that he shall not have his armor back\nuntil he wins it.\n\nAccording to the title of #B#, the duel was between Devonshire and Lord\nDanby, and in 1687. The other party is, however, called a Dutch lord in\nthe ballad. The king is James. Delamere is said to be under age (he was\nthirty-five in 1687).\n\nIn #D#, Delamere is changed to Delaware, of Lincolnshire; the Duke of\nDevonshire is called a Welsh lord, and fights a Dutch lord in defence of\n_young_ Delaware. When Devonshire\u2019s sword breaks, he springs from the\nstage, borrows another from a soldier in the ring, and leaps back to the\nstage.\n\nIt is scarcely necessary to say that the duel is on a par for historical\nverity with that in \u2018Johnie Scot\u2019 (No 99). If there was to be a duel,\nDevonshire (Earl, he was not created Duke till 1694, the last year of\nDelamere\u2019s life) was well chosen for the nonce. He had fought with Lord\nMohun, in 1676, and was credited with challenging Count K\u00f6nigsmark, in\n1682. What is true in the ballad is that Delamere was a strenuous and\nuncompromising advocate of constitutional government, and that he and\nDevonshire were political and personal friends. Both were particularly\nactive in bringing in the Prince of Orange; and so was Lord Danby, with\nwhom, according to the title of #B#, Devonshire was fighting the duel\nthe year before the revolution.\n\nIt has been suggested,[84] and it is barely conceivable, that the ballad\nmay have grown out of a perverted report of the affair of the Earl of\nDevonshire with Colonel Colepepper.\n\n\u201cOn Sunday the 24th of April, 1687, the said earl, meeting on Colonel\nCulpepper in the drawing-room in Whitehall (who had formerly affronted\nthe said earl in the king\u2019s palace, for which he had not received any\nsatisfaction), he spake to the said colonel to go with him into the next\nroom, who went with him accordingly; and when they were there, the said\nearl required of him to go down stairs, that he might have satisfaction\nfor the affront done him, as aforesaid; which the colonel refusing to\ndo, the said earl struck him with his stick, as is supposed.\u201d[85] For\nthis, Devonshire was summoned to the King\u2019s Bench and required to give\nsureties to the amount of \u00a330,000 that he would appear to stand trial.\nDelamere was surety for \u00a35,000. Devonshire was in the end fined \u00a330,000,\nand Delamere made a strong plea, apparently in the House of Lords,\nagainst the legality of the proceedings of the court.\n\nThere is the slightest possible similitude here to the facts of the\nballad. It is merely that one party stands up for the other; but\nDelamere appears as the champion of Devonshire, not Devonshire of\nDelamere. If Devonshire had testified for Delamere when the latter was\ntried for high treason in 1686, there would be something to go upon. A\nmore plausible explanation is desirable.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n Taken down from recitation in Derbyshire, and first printed, about\n 1843, in a periodical called The Story Teller; afterwards in Notes\n and Queries, First Series, V, 243, by C. W. G.\n\n 1\n Good people, give attention, a story you shall hear,\n It is of the king and my lord Delamere;\n The quarrel it arose in the Parliament House,\n Concerning some taxations going to be put in force.\n Ri toora loora la.\n\n 2\n Says my lord Delamere to his Majesty soon,\n \u2018If it please you, my liege, of you I\u2019ll soon beg a boon.\u2019\n \u2018Then what is your boon? let me it understand:\u2019\n \u2018It\u2019s to have all the poor men you have in your land.\n\n 3\n \u2018And I\u2019ll take them to Cheshire, and there I will sow\n Both hempseed and flaxseed, and [hang] them all in a row.\n Why, they\u2019d better be hanged, and stopped soon their breath,\n If it please you, my liege, than to starve them to death.\u2019\n\n 4\n Then up starts a French lord, as we do hear,\n Saying, \u2018Thou art a proud Jack,\u2019 to my lord Delamere;\n \u2018Thou oughtest to be stabbed\u2019\u2014then he turnd him about\u2014\n \u2018For affronting the king in the Parliament House.\u2019\n\n 5\n Then up starts his grace, the Duke of Devonshire,\n Saying, I\u2019ll fight in defence of my lord Delamere.\n Then a stage was erected, to battle they went,\n To kill or to be killed was our noble duke\u2019s intent.\n\n 6\n The very first push, as we do understand,\n The duke\u2019s sword he bended it back into his hand.\n He waited a while, but nothing he spoke,\n Till on the king\u2019s armour his rapier he broke.\n\n 7\n An English lord, who by that stage did stand,\n Threw Devonshire another, and he got it in his hand:\n \u2018Play low for your life, brave Devonshire,\u2019 said he,\n \u2018Play low for your life, or a dead man you will be.\u2019\n\n 8\n Devonshire dropped on his knee, and gave him his death-wound;\n O then that French lord fell dead upon the ground.\n The king called his guards, and he unto them did say,\n \u2018Bring Devonshire down, and take the dead man away.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018No, if it please you, my liege, no! I\u2019ve slain him like a man;\n I\u2019m resolved to see what clothing he\u2019s got on.\n Oh, fie upon your treachery, your treachery!\u2019 said he,\n \u2018Oh, king, \u2019twas your intention to have took my life away.\n\n 10\n \u2018For he fought in your armour, whilst I have fought in bare;\n The same thou shalt win, king, before thou does it wear.\u2019\n Then they all turned back to the Parliament House,\n And the nobles made obesiance with their hands to their mouths.\n\n 11\n \u2018God bless all the nobles we have in our land,\n And send the Church of England may flourish still and stand;\n For I\u2019ve injured no king, no kingdom, nor no crown,\n But I wish that every honest man might enjoy his own.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n Llewellynn Jewitt, Ballads and Songs of Derbyshire, 1867, p. 55,\n from a broad-sheet.\n\n 1\n Good people give attention to a story you shall hear:\n Between the king and my lord Delamere,\n A quarrel arose in the Parliament House,\n Concerning the taxes to be put in force.\n With my fal de ral de ra.\n\n 2\n I wonder, I wonder that James, our good king,\n So many hard taxes upon the poor should bring;\n So many hard taxes, as I have heard them say\n Makes many a good farmer to break and run away.\n\n 3\n Such a rout has been in the parliament, as I hear,\n Betwixt a Dutch lord and my lord Delamere.\n He said to the king, as he sat on the throne,\n \u2018If it please you, my liege, to grant me a boon.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018O what is thy boon? Come, let me understand.\u2019\n \u2018\u2019Tis to give me all the poor you have in the land;\n I\u2019ll take them down to Cheshire, and there I will sow\n Both hemp-seed and flax-seed, and hang them in a row.\n\n 5\n \u2018It\u2019s better, my liege, they should die a shorter death\n Than for your Majesty to starve them on earth.\u2019\n With that up starts a Dutch lord, as we hear,\n And he says, \u2018Thou proud Jack,\u2019 to my lord Delamere,\n\n 6\n \u2018Thou ought to be stabbed,\u2019 and he turned him about,\n \u2018For affronting the king in the Parliament House.\u2019\n Then up got a brave duke, the Duke of Devonshire,\n Who said, I will fight for my lord Delamere.\n\n 7\n \u2018He is under age, as I\u2019ll make it appear,\n So I\u2019ll stand in defence of my lord Delamere.\u2019\n A stage then was built, and to battle they went,\n To kill or be killed it was their intent.\n\n 8\n The very first blow, as we understand,\n Devonshire\u2019s rapier went back to his hand;\n Then he mused awhile, but not a word spoke,\n When against the king\u2019s armour his rapier he broke.\n\n 9\n O then he stept backward, and backward stept he,\n And then stept forward my lord Willoughby;\n He gave him a rapier, and thus he did say;\n Play low, Devonshire, there\u2019s treachery, I see.\n\n 10\n He knelt on his knee, and he gave him the wound,\n With that the Dutch lord fell dead on the ground:\n The king calld his soldiers, and thus he did say:\n Call Devonshire down, take the dead man away.\n\n 11\n He answered, My liege, I\u2019ve killed him like a man,\n And it is my intent to see what clothing he\u2019s got on.\n O treachery! O treachery! as I well may say,\n It was your intent, O king, to take my life away.\n\n 12\n \u2018He fought in your armour, while I fought him bare,\n And thou, king, shalt win it before thou dost it wear;\n I neither do curse king, parliament, or throne,\n But I wish every honest man may enjoy his own.\n\n 13\n \u2018The rich men do flourish with silver and gold,\n While poor men are starving with hunger and cold;\n And if they hold on as they have begun,\n They\u2019ll make little England pay dear for a king.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n C\n\n Llewellynn Jewitt\u2019s Ballads and Songs of Derbyshire, p. 57. \u201cAnother\n version, which I have in MS., has, besides many minor variations,\n these verses.\u201d\n\n 1\n O the Duchess of Devonshire was standing hard by;\n Upon her dear husband she cast her lovely eye:\n \u2018Oh, fie upon treachery! there\u2019s been treachery I say,\n It was your full intent to have taen my duke\u2019s life away.\u2019\n\n 2\n Then away to the parliament these votes all went again,\n And there they acted like just and honest men.\n I neither curse my king, nor kingdom, crown or throne,\n But I wish every honest man to enjoy but what is his own.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n D\n\n T. Lyle\u2019s Ancient Ballads and Songs, p. 135, 1827, as \u201cnoted down\n from the singing of a gentleman,\u201d and then \u201cremodelled and smoothed\n down\u201d by the editor.\n\n 1\n In the Parliament House a great rout has been there,\n Betwixt our good king and the lord Delaware:\n Says Lord Delaware to his Majesty full soon,\n \u2018Will it please you, my liege, to grant me a boon?\u2019\n\n 2\n \u2018What\u2019s your boon?\u2019 says the king, \u2018now let me understand.\u2019\n \u2018It\u2019s, give me all the poor men we\u2019ve starving in this land,\n And without delay I\u2019ll hie me to Lincolnshire,\n To sow hemp-seed and flax-seed, and hang them all there.\n\n 3\n \u2018For with hempen cord it\u2019s better to stop each poor man\u2019s breath\n Than with famine you should see your subjects starve to death.\u2019\n Up starts a Dutch lord, who to Delaware did say,\n Thou deservest to be stabbd! then he turnd himself away.\n\n 4\n \u2018Thou deservest to be stabbd, and the dogs have thine ears,\n For insulting our king, in this parliament of peers.\u2019\n Up sprang a Welsh lord, the brave Duke of Devonshire:\n \u2018In young Delaware\u2019s defence, I\u2019ll fight this Dutch lord, my sire.\n\n 5\n \u2018For he is in the right, and I\u2019ll make it so appear;\n Him I dare to single combat, for insulting Delaware.\u2019\n A stage was soon erected, and to combat they went;\n For to kill or to be killd, it was either\u2019s full intent.\n\n 6\n But the very first flourish, when the heralds gave command,\n The sword of brave Devonshire bent backward on his hand.\n In suspense he paused a while, scannd his foe before he strake,\n Then against the king\u2019s armour his bent sword he brake.\n\n 7\n Then he sprang from the stage to a soldier in the ring,\n Saying, Lend your sword, that to an end this tragedy we bring.\n Though he\u2019s fighting me in armour, while I am fighting bare,\n Even more than this I\u2019d venture for young Lord Delaware.\n\n 8\n Leaping back on the stage, sword to buckler now resounds,\n Till he left the Dutch lord a bleeding in his wounds.\n This seeing, cries the king to his guards without delay,\n Call Devonshire down! take the dead man away!\n\n 9\n \u2018No,\u2019 says brave Devonshire, \u2018I\u2019ve fought him as a man;\n Since he\u2019s dead, I will keep the trophies I have won.\n For he fought me in your armour, while I fought him bare,\n And the same you must win back, my liege, if ever you them wear.\n\n 10\n \u2018God bless the Church of England! may it prosper on each hand,\n And also every poor man now starving in this land.\n And while I pray success may crown our king upon his throne,\n I\u2019ll wish that every poor man may long enjoy his own.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A.#\n\n 4^1. Dutch _for_ French, _according to some reciters._\n\n 8^2. Oh.\n\n#B.#\n\n 4^1, 9^1. Oh.\n\n#C.#\n\n 1^1. Oh.\n\n#D.#\n\n _Printed by Lyle in stanzas of eight short lines._\n\n _The copy in Motherwell\u2019s MS. is not in Motherwell\u2019s handwriting.\n It may have been written down from recollection of Lyle, or may\n have been arbitrarily altered._\n\n _The variations are as follows:_\n\n 1^2. Delamare, _and always_.\n\n 2^1. pray let.\n\n 2^2. now _for_ we\u2019ve.\n\n 2^4. with flax seed.\n\n 3^1. the poor men\u2019s.\n\n 4^2. or _for_ our.\n\n 5^1. it _wanting_.\n\n 6^2. in his.\n\n 6^3. the stroke.\n\n 6^4. broke.\n\n 7^1. The sprang.\n\n 8^2. he laid.\n\n 8^3. to the.\n\n 9^4. must won: my liege _wanting_.\n\n 10^1. bliss.\n\n 10^3. the king.\n\n\n\n\n 208\n\n LORD DERWENTWATER\n\n #A.# \u2018Lord Dunwaters,\u2019 Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 331; \u2018Lord Derwentwater,\u2019\n Motherwell\u2019s Minstrelsy, p. 349.\n\n #B.# \u2018Lord Derwentwater,\u2019 Notes and Queries, First Series, XII, 492.\n\n #C.# Bell\u2019s Rhymes of Northern Bards, 1812, p. 225, three stanzas.\n\n #D.# \u2018Lord Derntwater,\u2019 Kinloch MSS, I, 323.\n\n #E.# \u2018Lord Derwentwater,\u2019 Notes and Queries, Fourth Series, XI, 499.\n\n #F.# \u2018Lord Arnwaters,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s MSS, II, 478.\n\n #G.# \u2018Lord Dunwaters,\u2019 Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 126.\n\n #H.# \u2018Lord Derwentwater\u2019s Death,\u2019 Shropshire Folk-Lore, edited by\n Charlotte Sophia Burne, p. 537.\n\n #I.# The Gentleman\u2019s Magazine, vol. xcv, 1825, Part First, p. 489.\n\n\nThree stanzas of this ballad were printed in 1812 (#C#). #I# followed in\n1825, a full copy, which would have been a very good one had it been\ngiven as taken down, and not restored \u201cto something like poetical\npropriety.\u201d[86] The editor of the \u201cold song\u201d observes that it was one of\nthe most popular in the north of England for a long period after the\nevent which it records, and a glance at what is here brought together\nwill show that the ballad was at least equally popular in Scotland. #I#\nis repeated in Richardson\u2019s Borderer\u2019s Table-Book, VI, 291, and in\nHarland and Wilkinson\u2019s Ballads and Songs of Lancashire, 1882, p. 265.\nMr J. H. Dixon, in Notes and Queries, 4th Series, XI, 389, says that the\nballad \u201coriginally appeared in the Town and Country Magazine.\u201d\n\n\u2018Lord Derwentwater\u2019s Goodnight,\u2019 Hogg\u2019s Jacobite Relics, II, 30, 268,\nwas both communicated and composed by Robert Surtees. \u2018Derwentwater,\u2019\nCromek\u2019s Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, 1810, p. 127, is from\nthe pen of Allan Cunningham. It is repeated in Hogg\u2019s Jacobite Relics,\n1821, II, 28, and in Cunningham\u2019s Songs of Scotland, 1825, III, 192,\netc.; also in Kinloch MSS, V, 413, with two lines to fill out an eighth\nstanza. (Translated by Lo\u00e8ve-Veimars, p. 375.) \u2018Young Ratcliffe,\u2019\nSheldon\u2019s Minstrelsy of the English Border, p. 400, is another ballad of\nthe same class.\n\n\nJames Ratcliffe, Earl of Derwentwater, being suspected or known to be\nengaged in concerting a rising in the north of England in behalf of the\nPretender, a warrant was issued by the Secretary of State for his\napprehension, towards the end of September, 1715. Hereupon he took arms,\nand he was one of the fifteen hundred English and Scots who were forced\nto an inglorious surrender at Preston, November 14. The more\ndistinguished prisoners were conveyed to London, where they had a\nboisterous reception from the mob. Derwentwater was committed to the\nTower, December 9; was impeached of high treason, and pleaded guilty, in\nJanuary; was sentenced to death, February 9, at Westminster Hall, and\nwas executed February 24 (1716). In a paper which he read from the\nscaffold he stated that he had regarded his plea of guilty as a\nformality consequent upon his \u201chaving submitted to mercy,\u201d and declared\nthat he had never had \u201cany other but King James the Third for his\nrightful and lawful sovereign.\u201d\n\nDerwentwater had not attained the age of twenty-seven at the time of his\ndeath. We may believe that the character given of him by the renegade\nPatten was not overcharged: \u201cThe sweetness of his temper and\ndisposition, in which he had few equals, had so secured him the\naffection of all his tenants, neighbors, and dependants that multitudes\nwould have lived and died with him. The truth is, he was a man formed by\nnature to be generally beloved, for he was of so universal a beneficence\nthat he seemed to live for others. As he lived among his own people,\nthere he spent his estate, and continually did offices of kindness and\ngood neighborhood to everybody, as opportunity offered. He kept a house\nof generous hospitality and noble entertainment, which few in that\ncountry do, and none come up to. He was very charitable to poor and\ndistressed families on all occasions, whether known to him or not, and\nwhether Papist or Protestant. His fate will be sensibly felt by a great\nmany who had no kindness for the cause he died in.\u201d\n\nThe king\u2019s letter, which, in the ballad, summons Derwentwater to London\n(to answer for his head, #D# 3), suggests the Secretary of State\u2019s\nwarrant of arrest, which his lordship, unhappily for himself, evaded.\nBut very probably the ballad-maker supposed Derwentwater to have gone\nhome after his less than six weeks in arms. As he is setting forth to\nobey the mandate, his wife calls to him from child-bed to make his will.\nThis business does not delay him long: one third of his estate is to be\nhis wife\u2019s, and the rest to go to his children. (He had a son not two\nyears old at the date of his execution, and a daughter who must have\nbeen born, at the earliest, not much before the rising. His very large\nestates first passed to the crown, and were afterwards bestowed on\nGreenwich hospital.) Bad omens attend his departure. As he mounts his\nhorse, his ring drops from his finger, or breaks, and his nose begins to\nbleed, #B# 5, #D# 6, #E# 8, #F# 9, #H# 7, #I# 10; presently his horse\nstumbles, #A# 8, #E# 9, #F# 10, #I# 11; it begins to rain, #H# 8. When\nhe comes to London, to Westminster Hall, #B# 6, #F# 11, to Whitehall,\n#D# 7, rides up Westminster Street, in sight of the White Hall, #I# 12,\nthe lords and knights, the lords and ladies, a mob, #H# 9, call him\n\u201ctraitor.\u201d How can that be, he answers, with surprise or indignation,\nexcept for keeping five hundred men (five thousand, seven thousand,\neight score), to fight for King Jamie? #A# 10, #D# 8, #E# 11, #F# 12,\n#H# 10, #I# 13. A man with an ax claims his life, which he ungrudgingly\nresigns, #B# 8, #D# 9, 10, #E# 12, 13, #F# 13, 14, #H# 11, 12, #I# 14,\n15, directing that a good sum of money which he has in his pockets shall\nbe given to the poor, #A# 12, #D# 11, #E# 14, #F# 15, #I# 17.\n\nIn #A# 2, #D# 12, Derwentwater seems to be taken for a Scot.\n\nEllis, Brand\u2019s Antiquities, 1813, II, 261, note, remarks that he had\nheard in Northumberland that when the Earl of Derwentwater was beheaded,\nthe stream (the Divelswater) that runs past his seat at Dilston Hall\nflowed with blood.[87]\n\nThe Northern Lights (perhaps the red-colored ones) were peculiarly vivid\non the night of February 16, 1716, and were long called Lord\nDerwentwater\u2019s Lights in the north of England, where, it is said, many\nof the people know (or knew) them by no other name. It was even a\npopular belief that the aurora borealis was first seen on that night:\nNotes and Queries, Third Series, IX, 154, 268; Gibson, Dilston Hall, p.\n111.\n\nThe omen of nose-bleed occurs in the ballad of \u2018The Mother\u2019s Malison,\u2019\nNo 216, #C#; both nose-bleed and horse-stumbling, as omens, in Webster\u2019s\nDutchess of Malfi, Act II, Scene 2, Dyce, 1859, p. 70, cited, with other\ncases, in Ellis\u2019s ed. of Brand\u2019s Antiquities, II, 497.\n\n\u2018Brig. Macintosh\u2019s Farewell to the Highlands,\u2019 or \u2018Macintosh was a\nSoldier Brave,\u2019 is one half a Derwentwater ballad: see Harland\u2019s Ballads\nand Songs of Lancashire, 1865, p. 75, Ritson\u2019s Northumberland Garland,\np. 85, Hogg\u2019s Jacobite Relics, II, 102, etc.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 331, July 19, 1825, \u201cfrom the recitation of\n Agnes Lile, Kilbarchan, a woman verging on fifty;\u201d learned from her\n father, who died fourteen years before, at the age of eighty.\n\n 1\n Our king has wrote a lang letter,\n And sealed it owre with gold;\n He sent it to my lord Dunwaters,\n To read it if he could.\n\n 2\n He has not sent it with a boy, with a boy,\n Nor with anie Scotch lord;\n But he\u2019s sent it with the noblest knight\n Eer Scotland could afford.\n\n 3\n The very first line that my lord did read,\n He gave a smirkling smile;\n Before he had the half o \u2018t read,\n The tears from his eyes did fall.\n\n 4\n \u2018Come saddle to me my horse,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018Come saddle to me with speed;\n For I must away to fair London town,\n For me was neer more need.\u2019\n\n 5\n Out and spoke his lady gay,\n In child-bed where she lay:\n \u2018I would have you make your will, my lord Dunwaters,\n Before you go away.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018I leave to yon, my eldest son,\n My houses and my land;\n I leave to you, my second son,\n Ten thousand pounds in hand.\n\n 7\n \u2018I leave to you, my lady gay\u2014\n You are my wedded wife\u2014\n I leave to you, the third of my estate;\n That\u2019ll keep you in a lady\u2019s life.\u2019\n\n 8\n They had not rode a mile but one,\n Till his horse fell owre a stane:\n \u2018It\u2019s warning gude eneuch,\u2019 my lord Dunwaters said,\n \u2018Alive I\u2019ll neer come hame.\u2019\n\n 9\n When they came into fair London town,\n Into the courtiers\u2019 hall,\n The lords and knichts in fair London town\n Did him a traitor call.\n\n 10\n \u2018A traitor! a traitor!\u2019 says my lord,\n \u2018A traitor! how can that be,\n An it was na for the keeping of five thousand men\n To fight for King Jamie?\n\n 11\n \u2018O all you lords and knichts in fair London town,\n Come out and see me die;\n O all you lords and knichts into fair London town,\n Be kind to my ladie.\n\n 12\n \u2018There\u2019s fifty pounds in my richt pocket,\n Divide it to the poor;\n There\u2019s other fifty pounds in my left pocket,\n Divide it from door to door.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n Notes and Queries, First Series, XII, 492, 1855; learned some forty\n five years before from an old gentleman, who, about 1773, got it by\n heart from an old washerwoman singing at her tub.\n\n 1\n The king he wrote a love-letter,\n And he sealed it up with gold,\n And he sent it to Lord Derwentwater,\n For to read it if he could.\n\n 2\n The first two lines that he did read,\n They made him for to smile;\n But the next two lines he looked upon\n Made the tears from his eyes to fall.\n\n 3\n \u2018Oh,\u2019 then cried out his lady fair,\n As she in child-bed lay,\n \u2018Make your will, make your will, Lord Derwentwater,\n Before that you go away.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018Then here\u2019s for thee, my lady fair,\n . . . . . . .\n A thousand pounds of beaten gold,\n To lead you a lady\u2019s life.\u2019\n\n 5\n . . . . . . .\n . . . his milk-white steed,\n The ring dropt from his little finger,\n And his nose it began to bleed.\n\n 6\n He rode, and he rode, and he rode along,\n Till he came to Westminster Hall,\n Where all the lords of England\u2019s court\n A traitor did him call.\n\n 7\n \u2018Oh, why am I a traitor?\u2019 said he;\n \u2018Indeed, I am no such thing;\n I have fought the battles valiantly\n Of James, our noble king.\u2019\n\n 8\n O then stood up an old gray-headed man,\n With a pole-axe in his hand:\n \u2018\u2019Tis your head, \u2019tis your head, Lord Derwentwater,\n \u2019Tis your head that I demand.\u2019\n\n 9\n . . . . . . .\n His eyes with weeping sore,\n He laid his head upon the block,\n And words spake never more.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n C\n\n Bell\u2019s Rhymes of Northern Bards, 1812, p. 225.\n\n 1\n The king has written a broad letter,\n And seald it up with gold,\n And sent it to the lord of Derwentwater,\n To read it if he would.\n\n 2\n He sent it with no boy, no boy,\n Nor yet with eer a slave,\n But he sent it with as good a knight\n As eer a king could have.\n\n 3\n When he read the three first lines,\n He then began to smile;\n And when he read the three next lines\n The tears began to sile.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n D\n\n Kinloch MSS, I, 323.\n\n 1\n The king has written a braid letter,\n And seald it up wi gowd,\n And sent it to Lord Derntwater,\n To read it if he coud.\n\n 2\n The first lines o \u2018t that he read,\n A blythe, blythe man was he;\n But ere he had it half read through,\n The tear blinded his ee.\n\n 3\n \u2018Go saddle to me my milk-white horse,\n Go saddle it with speed;\n For I maun ride to Lun[n]on town,\n To answer for my head.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018Your will, your will, my lord Derntwater,\n Your will before ye go;\n For you will leave three dochters fair,\n And a wife to wail and woe.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018My will, my will, my lady Derntwater?\n Ye are my wedded wife;\n Be kind, be kind to my dochters dear,\n If I should lose my life.\u2019\n\n 6\n He set his ae fit on the grund,\n The tither on the steed;\n The ring upon his finger burst,\n And his nose began to bleed.\n\n 7\n He rode till he cam to Lunnon town,\n To a place they ca Whiteha;\n And a\u2019 the lords o merry England\n A traitor him gan ca.\n\n 8\n \u2018A traitor! a traitor! O what means this?\n A traitor! what mean ye?\u2019\n \u2018It\u2019s a\u2019 for the keeping o five hundred men\n To fecht for bonny Jamie.\u2019\n\n 9\n Then up started a gray-headed man,\n Wi a braid axe in his hand:\n \u2018Your life, your life, my lord Derntwater,\n Your life\u2019s at my command.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018My life, my life, ye old gray-headed man,\n My life I\u2019ll freely gie;\n But before ye tak my life awa\n Let me speak twa words or three.\n\n 11\n \u2018I\u2019ve fifty pounds in ae pocket,\n Go deal it frae door to door;\n I\u2019ve fifty five i the other pocket,\n Go gie it to the poor.\n\n 12\n \u2018The velvet coat that I hae on,\n Ye may tak it for your fee;\n And a\u2019 ye lords o merry Scotland\n Be kind to my ladie!\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n E\n\n Communicated to Notes and Queries, Fourth Series, XI, 499, 1873, by\n Mr J. P. Morris, as taken down by him from the recitation of a woman\n nearly seventy years of age, at Ulverston, North Lancashire.\n\n 1\n The king wrote a letter to my lord Derwentwater,\n And he sealed it with gold;\n He sent it to my Lord Derwentwater,\n To read it if he could.\n\n 2\n He sent it by no boy,\n He sent it by no slave,\n But he sent it by as true a knight\n As heart could wish or have.\n\n 3\n The very first line that he looked upon\n Made him for to laugh and to smile;\n The very next line that he looked upon,\n The tears from his eyes did fall.\n\n 4\n He called to his stable-boy\n To saddle his bonny grey steed,\n \u2018That I unto loving London\n May ride away with speed.\u2019\n\n 5\n His wife heard him say so,\n In childbed as she lay;\n Says she, \u2018My lord Derwentwater,\n Make thy will before thou goest away.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018It\u2019s to my little son I give\n My houses and my land,\n And to my little daughter\n Ten thousand pounds in hand.\n\n 7\n \u2018And unto thee, my lady gay,\n Who is my wedded wife,\n The third part of my estate thou shalt have,\n To maintain thee through thy life.\u2019\n\n 8\n He set his foot in the level stirrup,\n And mounted his bonny grey steed;\n The gold rings from his fingers did break,\n And his nose began for to bleed.\n\n 9\n He had not ridden past a mile or two,\n When his horse stumbled over a stone;\n \u2018These are tokens enough,\u2019 said my lord Derwentwater,\n \u2018That I shall never return.\u2019\n\n 10\n He rode and he rode till he came to merry London,\n And near to that famous hall;\n The lords and knights of merry London,\n They did him a traitor call.\n\n 11\n \u2018A traitor! a traitor! a traitor!\u2019 he cried,\n \u2018A traitor! how can that be,\n Unless it\u2019s for keeping five hundred men\n For to fight for King Jamie?\u2019\n\n 12\n It\u2019s up yon steps there stands a good old man,\n With a broad axe in his hand;\n Says he, \u2018Now, my lord Derwentwater,\n Thy life\u2019s at my command.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018My life, my life, thou good old man,\n My life I\u2019ll give to thee,\n And the green coat of velvet on my back\n Thou mayst take it for thy fee.\n\n 14\n \u2018There\u2019s fifty pounds and five in my right pocket,\n Give that unto the poor;\n There\u2019s twenty pounds and five in my left pocket,\n Deal that from door to door.\u2019\n\n 15\n Then he laid his head on the fatal block,\n\n * * * * * *\n\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n F\n\n Buchan\u2019s MSS, II, 478.\n\n 1\n The king has written a broad letter,\n And seald it with his hand,\n And sent it on to Lord Arnwaters,\n To read and understand.\n\n 2\n Now he has sent it by no boy,\n No boy, nor yet a slave,\n But one of England\u2019s fairest knights,\n The one that he would have.\n\n 3\n When first he on the letter lookd,\n Then he began to smile;\n But ere he read it to an end,\n The tears did trickling fall.\n\n 4\n He calld upon his saddle-groom\n To saddle his milk-white steed,\n \u2018For I unto London must go,\n For me there is much need.\u2019\n\n 5\n Out then speaks his gay lady,\n In child-bed where she lay:\n \u2018Make your will, make your will, my knight,\n For fear ye rue the day.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018I\u2019ll leave unto my eldest son\n My houses and my lands;\n I\u2019ll leave unto my youngest son\n Full forty thousand pounds.\n\n 7\n \u2018I\u2019ll leave unto my gay lady,\n And to my loving wife,\n The second part of my estate,\n To maintain a lady\u2019s life.\u2019\n\n 8\n He kissd her on the pillow soft,\n In child-bed where she lay,\n And bade farewell, neer to return,\n Unto his lady gay.\n\n 9\n He put his foot in the stirup,\n His nose began to bleed;\n The ring from \u2018s finger burst in two\n When he mounted on his steed.\n\n 10\n He had not rode a mile or two\n Till his horse stumbled down;\n \u2018A token good,\u2019 said Lord Arnwaters,\n \u2018I\u2019ll never reach London town.\u2019\n\n 11\n But when into Westminster Hall,\n Amongst the nobles all,\n \u2018A traitor, a traitor, Lord Arnwaters,\n A traitor,\u2019 they did him call.\n\n 12\n \u2018A traitor? a traitor how call ye me?\n And a traitor how can I be\n For keeping seven thousand valiant men\n To fight for brave Jamie?\u2019\n\n 13\n Up then came a brave old man,\n With a broad ax in his hand:\n \u2018Your life, your life, Lord Arnwaters,\n Your life\u2019s at my command.\u2019\n\n 14\n \u2018My life, my life, my brave old man,\n My life I\u2019ll give to thee,\n And the coat of green that\u2019s on my back\n You shall have for your fee.\n\n 15\n \u2018There\u2019s fifty pounds in one pocket,\n Pray deal \u2018t among the poor;\n There\u2019s fifty and four in the other pocket,\n Pray deal \u2018t from door to door.\n\n 16\n \u2018There\u2019s one thing more I have to say,\n This day before I die;\n To beg the lords and nobles all\n To be kind to my lady.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n G\n\n Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 126, from the recitation of Mrs Trail, Paisley,\n July 9, 1825: a song of her mother\u2019s.\n\n 1\n The king has wrote a long letter,\n And sealed it with his han,\n And he has sent it to my lord Dunwaters,\n To read it if he can.\n\n 2\n The very first line he lookit upon,\n It made him to lauch and to smile;\n The very next line he lookit upon,\n The tear from his eye did fall.\n\n 3\n \u2018As for you, my auldest son,\n My houses and my land;\n And as for you, my youngest son,\n Ten thousand pound in hand.\n\n 4\n \u2018As for you, my gay lady,\n You being my wedded wife,\n The third of my estate I will leave to you,\n For to keep you in a lady\u2019s life.\u2019\n\n\n * * * * * *\n\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n H\n\n Shropshire Folk-Lore, edited by Charlotte Sophia Burne, p. 537; as\n recited in 1881 by Mrs Dudley, of Much Wenlock.\n\n 1\n The king he wrote a letter,\n And seal\u00ebd it with gold,\n And sent it to Lor Derwentwater,\n To read it if he could.\n\n 2\n The first three lines he looked upon,\n They made him to smile;\n And the next three lines he looked upon\n Made tears fall from his eyes.\n\n 3\n O then bespoke his gay lady,\n As she on a sick-bed lay:\n \u2018Make your will, my lord,\n Before you go away.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018O there is for my eldest son\n My houses and my land,\n And there is for my youngest son\n Ten thousand pounds in hand.\n\n 5\n \u2018There is for you, my gay lady,\n My true and lawful wife,\n The third part of my whole estate,\n To maintain you a lady\u2019s life.\u2019\n\n 6\n Then he called to his stable-groom\n To bring him his gray steed;\n For he must to London go,\n The king had sent indeed.\n\n 7\n When he put his foot in the stirrup,\n To mount his grey steed,\n His gold ring from his finger burst,\n And his nose began to bleed.\n\n 8\n He had not gone but half a mile\n When it began to rain;\n \u2018Now this is a token,\u2019 his lordship said,\n \u2018That I shall not return again.\u2019\n\n 9\n When he unto London came,\n A mob did at him rise,\n And they call\u00ebd him a traitor,\n Made the tears fall from his eyes.\n\n 10\n \u2018A traitor, a traitor!\u2019 his lordship said,\n . . . . . . .\n Is it for keeping eight score men\n To fight for pretty Jimmee?\u2019\n\n 11\n O then bespoke a grave man,\n With a broad axe in his hand:\n \u2018Hold your tongue, Lord Derwentwater,\n Your life lies at my command.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018My life, my life,\u2019 his lordship said,\n \u2018My life I will give to thee,\n And the black velvet coat upon my back,\n Take it for thy fee.\u2019\n\n 13\n Then he laid his head upon the block,\n He did such courage show,\n And asked the executioner\n To cut it off at one blow.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n I\n\n The Gentleman\u2019s Magazine, 1825, vol. xcv, Part First, p. 489, taken\n down by G. H., apparently in Westmoreland, from the dictation of an\n old person who had learned it from her father; restored \u201cto\n something like poetical propriety\u201d by the assistance of \u201ca poetical\n friend.\u201d\n\n 1\n King George he did a letter write,\n And sealed it up with gold,\n And sent it to Lord Derwentwater,\n To read it if he could.\n\n 2\n He sent his letter by no post,\n He sent it by no page,\n But sent it by a gallant knight\n As eer did combat wage.\n\n 3\n The first line that my lord lookd on\n Struck him with strong surprise;\n The second, more alarming still,\n Made tears fall from his eyes.\n\n 4\n He called up his stable-groom,\n Saying, Saddle me well my steed,\n For I must up to London go,\n Of me there seems great need.\n\n 5\n His lady, hearing what he said,\n As she in child-bed lay,\n Cry\u2019d, My dear lord, pray make your will\n Before you go away.\n\n 6\n \u2018I\u2019ll leave to thee, my eldest son,\n My houses and my land;\n I\u2019ll leave to thee, my younger son,\n Ten thousand pounds in hand.\n\n 7\n \u2018I\u2019ll leave to thee, my lady gay,\n My lawful married wife,\n A third part of my whole estate,\n To keep thee a lady\u2019s life.\u2019\n\n 8\n He knelt him down by her bed-side,\n And kissed her lips so sweet;\n The words that passd, alas! presaged\n They never more should meet.\n\n 9\n Again he calld his stable-groom,\n Saying, Bring me out my steed,\n For I must up to London go,\n With instant haste and speed.\n\n 10\n He took the reins into his hand,\n Which shook with fear and dread;\n The rings from off his fingers dropt,\n His nose gushd out and bled.\n\n 11\n He had but ridden miles two or three\n When stumbling fell his steed;\n \u2018Ill omens these,\u2019 Derwentwater said,\n \u2018That I for James must bleed.\u2019\n\n 12\n As he rode up Westminster street,\n In sight of the White Hall,\n The lords and ladies of London town\n A traitor they did him call.\n\n 13\n \u2018A traitor!\u2019 Lord Derwentwater said,\n \u2018A traitor how can I be,\n Unless for keeping five hundred men\n Fighting for King Jemmy?\u2019\n\n 14\n Then started forth a grave old man,\n With a broad-mouthd axe in hand:\n \u2018Thy head, thy head, Lord Derwentwater,\n Thy head\u2019s at my command.\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018My head, my head, thou grave old man,\n My head I will give thee;\n Here\u2019s a coat of velvet on my back\n Will surely pay thy fee.\n\n 16\n \u2018But give me leave,\u2019 Derwentwater said,\n \u2018To speak words two or three;\n Ye lords and ladies of London town,\n Be kind to my lady.\n\n 17\n \u2018Here\u2019s a purse of fifty sterling pounds,\n Pray give it to the poor;\n Here\u2019s one of forty-five beside\n You may dole from door to door.\u2019\n\n 18\n He laid his head upon the block,\n The axe was sharp and strong,\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A.#\n\n 2^4. Ere.\n\n 7^3. the 3rd.\n\n _Motherwell has made a few changes in his printed copy._\n\n 12. _This stanza is given in Notes and Queries, First Series, I,\n 318, by a scholar of Christ\u2019s Hospital, who informs us that the\n ballad was there current about 1785\u20131800:_\n\n There\u2019s fifty pounds in my right pocket,\n To be given to the poor;\n There\u2019s fifty pounds in my left pocket,\n To be given from door to door.\n\n#E.#\n\n 1^2. And seal\u00ebd it with gold _in Mr J. P. Morris\u2019s communication\n to Notes and Queries, the same volume_, p. 333.\n\n#F.#\n\n 2^1. by and by: _cf._ #E# 2.\n\n 2^2. No one, no not a slave: _cf._ #E# 2.\n\n#I.#\n\n 18. _The remainder of four stanzas appended by_ G. H. _is\n omitted._\n\n\n\n\n 209\n\n GEORDIE\n\n #A.# \u2018Geordie,\u2019 Johnson\u2019s Musical Museum, No. 346, p. 357, 1792.\n\n #B.# \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d Abbotsford,\n 1802.\n\n #C. a.# \u2018The Laird of Geight, or Gae.\u2019 #b.# \u2018The Laird of Geight.\u2019\n \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d Abbotsford,\n 1813\u201315.\n\n #D.# \u2018The Laird of Gigh, or Gae,\u2019 \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for\n Border Minstrelsy,\u201d Abbotsford, 1813\u201315.\n\n #E. a.# Kinloch MSS, V, 130. #b.# \u2018Geordie,\u2019 Kinloch\u2019s Ancient\n Scottish Ballads, p. 192.\n\n #F.# \u2018Geordie Lukely,\u2019 Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 367.\n\n #G.# \u2018Geordie,\u2019 \u2018Geordie Lukelie,\u2019 Motherwell\u2019s Note-Book, p. 17, p.\n 10.\n\n #H.# \u2018Will ye go to the Hielans, Geordie?\u2019 Christie, Traditional\n Ballad Airs, II, 44.\n\n #I. a.# \u2018Gight\u2019s Lady,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s MSS, II, 143. #b.# \u2018Laird (Lord?) of\n Gight,\u2019 Kinloch MSS, VI, 1.\n\n #J.# \u2018Gight\u2019s Lady,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I,\n 133.\n\n #K.# Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 400, two stanzas.\n\n #L.# \u2018Geordie,\u2019 Cunningham\u2019s Songs of Scotland, II, 186, two stanzas.\n\n #M.# \u2018Geordie,\u2019 \u2018Geordie Lukely,\u2019 Motherwell\u2019s Note-Book, p. 2, one\n stanza.\n\n #N.# \u2018Geordie,\u2019 Motherwell\u2019s Note-Book, p. 20, one stanza.\n\n\n\u201cOf this,\u201d says Motherwell, \u201cmany variations exist among reciters,\u201d and\nhis remark is borne out by what is here given.\n\nThe copy in Cunningham\u2019s Songs of Scotland, II, 186, is #A# retouched,\nwith st. 5 dropped and two stanzas (#L#) inserted from recitation. The\ntexts of Christie, #I#, 52, 84, are #J# abridged and #E b#. Of #J#\nChristie says that he heard in 1848 a version sung by a native of\nBuchan, Aberdeenshire, who had it through her grandmother and\ngreat-grandmother, which differed only in being more condensed and\nwanting the catastrophe, and in having Badenoch\u2019s lady for Bignet\u2019s, and\nKeith-Hall and Gartly for Black Riggs and Kincraigie.\n\n\nGeordie Gordon, #A#, of Gight (Gigh), #B b#, #C#, #D#, #I#, of the Bog o\nGight, #H#, is in prison, on a charge endangering his life. He sends a\nmessage to his wife to come to Edinburgh. She rides thither with the\nutmost haste, and finds Geordie in extremity. She is told that his life\nmay be redeemed by the payment of a large sum of money. She raises a\ncontribution on the spot, pays the ransom, and rides off with her\nhusband.\n\nKinloch and others incline to take Geordie to be George Gordon, fourth\nearl of Huntly, who incurred the Queen Regent\u2019s displeasure for failing\nto execute a commission against a Highland robber in 1554. Huntly was\ncommitted to Edinburgh Castle, and some of his many enemies urged that\nhe should be banished to France, others that he should be put to death.\nThe Earl of Cassilis, though a foe to Huntly, resisted these measures on\ngrounds of patriotism, and proposed that he should be deprived of\ncertain honors and offices and fined. A fine was exacted, and the places\nwhich had been taken from him were restored.[88] With regard to this\nhypothesis, it may at least be said that, if it should be accepted, the\nballad would be quite as faithful to history as many others.\n\n#A#-#E# are the purer forms of the ballad; #F#-#J# are corrupted by\nadmixture.\n\nGeordie is Geordie Lukely of Stirling in #F#. In #G#, he is the Earl of\nCassilis, \u2018of Hye,\u2019 as if some singer of the Gordons had turned the\ntables on Huntly\u2019s enemy. In #H#, Geordie lives at the Bog o Gight, and\nshould be the Earl, or Marquis, of Huntly; but writers of peerages will\nconsult st. 17.\n\nThere has been a battle in the North in #A#-#E#. Sir Charles Hay[89] has\nbeen killed, and Geordie is in custody for this, #A#, #B#. Geordie has\nkilled a man and is to die, #C#; the man is his wife\u2019s brother, #D#. In\n#E#, Geordie is a rebel.\n\n#F# begins with two stanzas from a vulgar last-dying-speech, of which\nmore by and by: otherwise the story is not essentially injured, though\nthe style is lowered. Geordie (in the first two stanzas) has done many\nan ill deed, but no murder or slaughter; he has stolen fifteen of the\nking\u2019s horse and sold them in Bohemia. Earl Cassilis, likewise, in #G#,\ncould not keep his hand off horses; he has stolen three geldings out of\na park and sold them to Balleny (Balveny). Huntly, if it be he, in #H#,\nhas only made free with the king\u2019s deer. In #I#, #J#, Geordie has had an\nintrigue with Bignet\u2019s (Pilbagnet\u2019s, Badenoch\u2019s) lady, for which the\nhusband has thrown him into prison, and he is to die. But he owns to\nmore than this in #J#. Beginning with an acknowledgment of one of the\nking\u2019s best steeds stolen and sold in \u2018Bevany,\u2019 upon being pressed, he\nconfesses to a woman abused and five orphan babes killed for their\nmoney.\n\nGeordie points his message to his wife in #C# 2, #D# 4, by begging her\nto sew him or bring him his linen shirt (shirts), a good side shirt,\nwhich will be the last he shall need, and a lang side sark is equally\nprominent in the lady\u2019s thoughts in #I# 8.\n\nThe lady stops for nothing in her ride to Edinburgh. She will not, and\ndoes not, eat or drink all the way, #A# 4, 5. When she comes to the\nwater-side, finding no boat ready, she swims the Queen\u2019s Ferry, #B# 7,\n#C# 5, #D# 9, #J# 13, #L# 1; or pays a boatman prodigally to take her\nover, #H# 9, #I# 9, #J# 14.\n\nWhen the lady gaes oer the pier of Leith, comes to Edinburgh, to the\nWest Port, the Canongate, the Parliament Close, the tolbooth-stair, the\nprison-door, she deals out crowns and ducatoons, makes the handfus o red\ngold fly, among the numerous poor, and bids them pray for Geordie. She\nhas the prudence, in #G# 5, to do the same among the nobles many at the\ntolbooth-gate, that they may plead for Geordie.\n\nThe block and axe are in sight, and Geordie, in chains, is coming down\nthe stair, #A#; the napkin is laid over his face, and the gallows is\nmaking ready, #B# (so #F#, but put further on), his head is to go, #C#;\nthe rest of the nobles sit (stand) hat on head, but hat in hand stands\nGeordie, #D#, #E#, #H#, #I#, #J#, #L#.\n\nThe lady makes a plea for her husband\u2019s life. She is the mother of many\nchildren (the tale ranges from six to eleven) and is going with yet\nanother, #B#, #C#, #K#, #N#. She would bear them all over again for the\nlife of Geordie, #C#, #D#, or see them all streekit before her eyes,\n#B#; and for his life she will part with all that she owns, #A# 10, #B#\n11, 16, #D# 14.\n\nThe king in #A# is moved by neither of these appeals. The number of her\nchildren is so far from affecting him that he orders the heading-man to\nmake haste. But the Gordons collect and pass the word to be ready. There\nwould have been bloody bouks upon the green.[90]\n\nThe lady is told that by paying a good round sum, 5,000 (500) pounds,\n10,000 (1000) crowns, she can redeem Geordie\u2019s life. An aged lord\nprompts the king to offer these terms in #A#; in the other versions,\nthey are proposed directly; by the king himself, #F#, #G#, #I#; by the\nqueen, #B#, #I#; by the good Argyle, #D#; by an English lord, #H#. The\nbystanders contribute handsomely; she pays the ransom down, and wins the\nlife of Geordie, #A#-#D#, #G#-#J#.\n\nIn #E#, which is a mere fragment, there is no fine or collection: a bold\nbaron says, such true lovers shall not be parted, and she gets her\nGeordie forthwith. In #F#, no contribution is required, because the\nlady, after scattering the red gold among the poor, is still in a\ncondition to produce the five thousand pound from her own pocket. For\nthis she receives a \u2018remit,\u2019 with which she hies to the gallows and\nstops the impending execution. In #I b#, which is defective, the money\ncollected is to pay the jailer\u2019s fee. After the discharge has been\nsecured (in two or three copies earlier), Lord Corstorph, #B a#, the\nLaird o Logie, #B b#, an Irish lord, #C#, #H#, an English lord, #D#, the\n_gleid_ Argyle, #I#, Lord Montague, #J#, expresses a wish that Geordie\u2019s\nhead were off, because he might have succeeded to the lady. The lady\nchecks this aspiration, sometimes in very abusive language.\n\nThe pair now ride off together, and when she is set in her saddle, no\nbird in bush or on briar ever sang so sweet as she, #B#, #C#, #E#, #F#,\n#H#, #I#. If we were to trust some of those who recite her story, the\nlady who has shown so much spirit and devotion was not one of those who\nblush to find good deeds fame. \u2018Gar print me ballants that I am a worthy\nlady,\u2019 #B# 30 makes her say; \u2018Hae me to some writer\u2019s house, that I may\nwrite down Gight\u2019s lament and how I borrowed Geordie,\u2019 #I a# 25; \u2018Call\nfor one of the best clerks, that he may write all this I\u2019ve done for\nGeordie,\u2019 #J# 36. What she really did say is perhaps faithfully given in\n#D# 18: \u2018Where is there a writer\u2019s house, that I may write to the north\nthat I have won the life of Geordie?\u2019\n\n#I# and #J# are probably from stall-prints, and it has not been thought\nnecessary to notice some things which may have been put into these to\neke them out to a convenient length. #J# has an entirely spurious\nsupplement. When the pair are riding away, and even as the wife is\nprotesting her affection, Geordie turns round and says, A finger of\nBignet\u2019s lady\u2019s hand is worth a\u2019 your fair body. A dispute ensues, and\nGeordie pulls out a dagger and stabs his lady; he then takes to flight,\nand never is found. Another set, mentioned by Motherwell, makes Geordie\ndrown his deliverer in the sea, in a fit of jealousy (Minstrelsy, p.\nlxxvi, 46).\n\nThere is an English broadside ballad, on the death of \u201cGeorge Stoole\u201d\nwhich seemed to Motherwell \u201cevidently imitated from the Scottish song.\u201d\nThis was printed by H. Gosson, whose time is put at 1607\u201341.[91] This\nballad was to be sung \u201cto a delicate Scottish tune;\u201d Georgy comes in as\na rhyme at the end of stanzas not seldom; Georgy writes to his lady,\nbewailing his folly; he never stole no oxe nor cow, nor ever murdered\nany, but fifty horse he did receive of a merchant\u2019s man of Gory, for\nwhich he was condemned to die, and did die. These are the data for\ndetermining the question of imitation.\n\nThere is a later \u2018Georgy\u2019 ballad, of the same general cast, on the life\nand death of \u201cGeorge of Oxford,\u201d a professed and confessed highwayman, a\nbroadside printed in the last quarter of the seventeenth century. In\nthis, Lady Gray hastens to Newcastle to beg Georgy\u2019s life of the judge,\nand offers gold and land to save him, after the fashion of Lady Ward in\n\u2018Hughie Graham;\u2019 to no purpose, as in \u2018Hughie Graham.\u2019 This Georgy owns\nand boasts himself a thief, but with limitations much the same as those\nwhich are made a point of by the other; he never stole horse, mare, or\ncloven-foot, with one exception\u2014the king\u2019s white steeds, which he sold\nto Bohemia.\n\nBoth of these ballads are given in an appendix.\n\nWhether the writers of these English ballads knew of the Scottish\n\u2018Geordie,\u2019 I would not undertake to affirm or deny; it is clear that\nsome far-back reciter of the Scottish ballad had knowledge of the later\nEnglish broadside. The English ballads, however, are mere \u201cgoodnights.\u201d\nThe Scottish ballads have a proper story, with a beginning, middle, and\nend, and (save one late copy), a good end, and they are most certainly\noriginal and substantially independent of the English. The Scottish\nGeordie is no thief, nor even a Johnie Armstrong. There are certain\npassages in certain versions which give that impression, it is true, but\nthese are incongruous with the story, and have been adopted from some\ncopy of the broadside, the later rather than the earlier. These are, the\nfirst two stanzas of #F#, utterly out of place, where we have the king\u2019s\nhorses stolen and sold in Bohemia, almost exactly as in the ballad of\n\u2018George of Oxford,\u2019 15; #G# 7, where the Earl of Cassilis is made to\nsteal geldings and sell them in Balleny; and #J# 23, in which the Laird\nof Gight steals one of the king\u2019s steeds (precisely as in \u2018George of\nOxford\u2019) and sells it in Bevany. That is to say, we have the very\nfamiliar case of the introduction (generally accidental and often\ninfelicitous) of a portion of one ballad into another; which, if\naccidental in the present instance, would easily be accounted for by a\nGeorge being the hero in each. Further; the burden of #E#, embodied in\nthe ballad in two versions, #I# 27, #J# 35, has a general resemblance to\nthat of \u2018George Stoole,\u2019 and could hardly have been original with the\nScottish ballad. There was probably a \u2018Geordie Luklie,\u2019 a Scottish\nvariety of one of the English broadsides.\n\n\n#G# is translated by Gerhard, p. 56; #A#, in part, by Knortz,\nSchottische Balladen, p. 101.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n Johnson\u2019s Museum, No 346, p. 357, 1792; communicated by Robert\n Burns.\n\n 1\n There was a battle in the north,\n And nobles there was many,\n And they hae killd Sir Charlie Hay,\n And they laid the wyte on Geordie.\n\n 2\n O he has written a lang letter,\n He sent it to his lady:\n \u2018Ye maun cum up to Enbrugh town,\n To see what word\u2019s o Geordie.\u2019\n\n 3\n When first she lookd the letter on,\n She was baith red and rosy;\n But she had na read a word but twa\n Till she wallowt like a lily.\n\n 4\n \u2018Gar get to me my gude grey steed,\n My menyie a\u2019 gae wi me,\n For I shall neither eat nor drink\n Till Enbrugh town shall see me.\u2019\n\n 5\n And she has mountit her gude grey steed,\n Her menyie a\u2019 gaed wi her,\n And she did neither eat nor drink\n Till Enbrugh town did see her.\n\n 6\n And first appeard the fatal block,\n And syne the aix to head him,\n And Geordie cumin down the stair,\n And bands o airn upon him.\n\n 7\n But tho he was chaind in fetters strang,\n O airn and steel sae heavy,\n There was na ane in a\u2019 the court\n Sae bra a man as Geordie.\n\n 8\n O she\u2019s down on her bended knee,\n I wat she\u2019s pale and weary:\n \u2018O pardon, pardon, noble king,\n And gie me back my dearie!\n\n 9\n \u2018I hae born seven sons to my Geordie dear,\n The seventh neer saw his daddie;\n O pardon, pardon, noble king,\n Pity a waefu lady!\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018Gar bid the headin-man mak haste,\u2019\n Our king reply\u2019d fu lordly:\n \u2018O noble king, tak a\u2019 that\u2019s mine,\n But gie me back my Geordie!\u2019\n\n 11\n The Gordons cam, and the Gordons ran,\n And they were stark and steady,\n And ay the word amang them a\u2019\n Was, Gordons, keep you ready!\n\n 12\n An aged lord at the king\u2019s right hand\n Says, Noble king, but hear me;\n Gar her tell down five thousand pound,\n And gie her back her dearie.\n\n 13\n Some gae her marks, some gae her crowns,\n Some gae her dollars many,\n And she\u2019s telld down five thousand pound,\n And she\u2019s gotten again her dearie.\n\n 14\n She blinkit blythe in her Geordie\u2019s face,\n Says, Dear I\u2019ve bought thee, Geordie;\n But there sud been bluidy bouks on the green\n Or I had tint my laddie.\n\n 15\n He claspit her by the middle sma,\n And he kist her lips sae rosy:\n \u2018The fairest flower o woman-kind\n Is my sweet, bonie lady!\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n #a.# \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 13,\n Abbotsford. Sent to Scott by William Laidlaw, September 11, 1802\n (Letters, vol. i, No 73), as written down by Laidlaw from the\n recitation of Mr Bartram of Biggar. #b.# Variations received by\n Laidlaw from J. Scott.\n\n 1\n \u2018There was a battle i the north\n Amang our nobles many,\n And they have killed Sir Charles Hay,\n And they\u2019ve taen thrae me my Geordie.\u2019\n\n 2\n \u2018O where\u2019ll I gett a wi bit boy,\n A bonnie boy that\u2019s ready,\n That will gae in to my biggin\n With a letter to my ladie?\u2019\n\n 3\n Then up and startit a wi bit boy,\n An a bonnie boy was ready:\n \u2018It\u2019s I\u2019ll gae in to your biggin\n Wi a letter to your ladie.\u2019\n\n 4\n When the day was fair an the way was clear,\n An the wi bit boy was ready,\n An he\u2019s gane in to his biggin,\n Wi a letter to his ladie.\n\n 5\n When she lookd the letter on,\n She was no a wearit ladie;\n But when she lookit the other side,\n She mourned for her Geordie.\n\n 6\n \u2018Gar sadle to me the black,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018For the brown rade neer sey bonnie,\n An I\u2019ll gae down to Enbro town,\n An see my true-love Geordie.\u2019\n\n 7\n When she cam to the water-side,\n The cobles war na ready;\n She\u2019s turnd her horse\u2019s head about,\n An in by the Queen\u2019s Ferry.\n\n 8\n When she cam to the West Port,\n There war poor folks many;\n She dealt crowns an the ducatdowns,\n And bade them pray for Geordie.\n\n 9\n When she cam to the Parliament Closs,\n There amang our nobles many,\n Cravats an caps war standing there,\n But low, low lay her Geordie.\n\n 10\n When she gaed up the tolbooth-stairs,\n Amang our nobles manie,\n The napkin\u2019s tyed oer Geordie\u2019s face,\n And the gallows makin ready.\n\n 11\n \u2018O wad ye hae his lands or rents?\n Or wad ye hae his monie?\n Take a\u2019, a\u2019 frae him but his sark alone,\n Leave me my true-love Geordie.\u2019\n\n 12\n The captain pu\u2019d her on his knee,\n An ca\u2019d her heart an honey:\n \u2018An ye wad wait se\u2019en years for me,\n Ye wad never jump for Geordie.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018O hold your tongue, you foolish man,\n Your speech it\u2019s a\u2019 but folly;\n For an ye wad wait till the day ye die,\n I wad neer take John for Geordie.\u2019\n\n 14\n \u2019Twas up an spak the Lord Corstarph,\n The ill gae wi his body!\n \u2018O Geordie\u2019s neck it war on a block,\n Gif I had his fair ladie!\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018O haud yer tongue, ye foolish man,\n Yer speech is a\u2019 but folly;\n For if Geordie\u2019s neck war on a block,\n Ye sould neer enjoy his ladie.\n\n 16\n \u2018It\u2019s I hae se\u2019en weel gawn mills,\n I wait they a\u2019 gang daily;\n I\u2019ll gie them a\u2019 an amang ye a\u2019\n For the sparin o my Geordie.\n\n 17\n \u2018I hae ele\u2019en bairns i the wast,\n I wait the\u2019re a\u2019 to Geordie;\n I\u2019d see them a\u2019 streekit afore mine eyes\n Afore I lose my Geordie.\n\n 18\n \u2018I hae ele\u2019en bairns i the wast,\n The twalt bears up my body;\n The youngest\u2019s on his nurse\u2019s knee,\n An he never saw his dadie.\n\n 19\n \u2018I hae se\u2019en uncles in the north,\n They gang baith proud an lordly;\n I\u2019d see them a\u2019 tread down afore my eyes\n Afore I lose my Geordie.\u2019\n\n 20\n Then out an spak an English lord,\n The ill gae wi his bodie!\n \u2018It\u2019s I gard hang Sir Francie Grey,\n An I\u2019ll soon gar hang your Geordie.\u2019\n\n 21\n It\u2019s out an spak than a Scottish lord,\n May the weel gae wi his body!\n \u2018It\u2019s I\u2019ll cast of my coat an feght\n Afore ye lose your Geordie.\u2019\n\n 22\n It\u2019s out then spak an English lord,\n May the ill gae wi his bodie!\n \u2018Before the morn at ten o\u2019clock,\n I\u2019s hae the head o Geordie.\u2019\n\n 23\n Out then spak the Scottish lord,\n May the weel gae wi his body!\n \u2018I\u2019ll fight i bluid up to the knees\n Afore ye lose your Geordie.\u2019\n\n 24\n But out an spak the royal king,\n May the weel gae wi his body!\n \u2018There\u2019s be bluidie heads among us a\u2019\n Afore ye lose your Geordie.\u2019\n\n 25\n \u2019Twas up than spak the royal queen,\n \u2018May the weel gae wi his body!\n Tell down, tell down five hunder pound,\n An ye\u2019s get wi you yer Geordie.\u2019\n\n 26\n Some gae her gold, some gae her crowns,\n Some gae her ducats many,\n An she\u2019s telld down five hundred pound,\n An she\u2019s taen away her Geordie.\n\n 27\n An ay she praisd the powers above,\n An a\u2019 the royal family,\n An ay she blessed the royal queen,\n For sparin o her Geordie.\n\n 28\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n Nae bird sang sweeter in the bush\n Than she did wi her Geordie.\n\n 29\n \u2018It\u2019s wo be to my Lord Costorph,\n It\u2019s wo be to him daily!\n For if Geordie\u2019s neck had been on the block\n He had neer enjoyd his ladie.\n\n 30\n \u2018Gar print me ballants weel,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018Gar print me ballants many,\n Gar print me ballants weel,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018That I am a worthy ladie.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n C\n\n #a.# \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d Abbotsford,\n No 38, MS. of Thomas Wilkie, 1813\u201315, p. 16; taken down from the\n singing of Miss Christy Robertson, Dunse. #b.# \u201cScotch Ballads,\u201d\n etc., No 108, in a lady\u2019s hand, and perhaps obtained directly from\n Miss Robertson.\n\n 1\n There was a battle in the north,\n Among the nobles many;\n The Laird of Geight he\u2019s killd a man,\n And there\u2019s nane to die but Geordie.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 2\n \u2018What news? what news, my bonny boy?\n What news hae ye frae Geordie?\u2019\n \u2018He bids ye sew his linen shirts,\n For he\u2019s sure he\u2019ll no need many.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018Go saddle the black, go saddle the brown,\n Go saddle to me the bonny;\n For I will neither eat nor drink\n Until I see my Geordie.\u2019\n\n 4\n They\u2019ve saddled the black, they\u2019ve saddled the brown,\n They\u2019ve saddled her the bonny,\n And she is away to Edinborough town,\n Straight away to see her Geordie.\n\n 5\n When she came to the sea-side,\n The boats they were nae ready;\n She turned her horse\u2019s head about,\n And swimd at the Queen\u2019s Ferry.\n\n 6\n And when she came to the prison-door,\n There poor folks they stood many;\n She dealt the red guineas them among,\n And bade them pray weel for Geordie.\n\n 7\n And when she came into the hall,\n Amang the nobles many,\n The napkin\u2019s tied on Geordie\u2019s face,\n And the head\u2019s to gae frae Geordie.\n\n 8\n \u2018I have born ten bonny sons,\n And the eleventh neer sa his dadie,\n And I will bear them all oer again\n For the life o bonny Geordie.\n\n 9\n \u2018I have born the Laird of Gight,\n And the Laird of bonny Pernonnie;\n And I will gie them all to thee\n For the life of my bonny Geordie.\u2019\n\n 10\n Up then spoke [a kind-hearted man],\n Wha said, He\u2019s done good to many;\n If ye\u2019ll tell down ten hundred crowns\n Away ye shall hae yer Geordie.\n\n 11\n Some telld shillings, and some telld crowns,\n But she telld the red guineas many,\n Till they\u2019ve telld down ten hundred crowns,\n And away she\u2019s got her Geordie.\n\n 12\n [It\u2019s up then spoke an Irish lord,\n And O but he spoke bauldly!]\n \u2018I wish his head had been on the block,\n That I might hae got his fair lady.\u2019\n\n 13\n She turned about . . . .\n And O but she spoke boldly!\n \u2018A pox upon your nasty face!\n Will ye eer be compared to my Geordie?\u2019\n\n 14\n She set him on a milk-white steed,\n Herself upon another;\n The thrush on the briar neer sang so clear\n As she sang behind her Geordie.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n D\n\n \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 64, MS. of\n Thomas Wilkie, 1813\u201315, p. 50, Abbotsford. \u201cI took this down from\n the recitation of Janet Scott, Bowden, who sung it to a beautiful\n plaintive old air.\u201d\n\n 1\n There was a battle i the north\n Among the nobles many,\n The Laird of Gigh he\u2019s killd a man,\n The brother of his lady.\n\n 2\n \u2018Where will I get a man or boy,\n That will win both goud and money,\n That will run into the north,\n And fetch to me my lady?\u2019\n\n 3\n Up then spake a bonny boy,\n He was both blythe and merry;\n \u2018O I will run into the north,\n And fetch to you your lady.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018You may tell her to sew me a gude side shirt,\n She\u2019ll no need to sew me mony;\n Tell her to bring me a gude side shirt,\n It will be the last of any.\u2019\n\n 5\n He has written a broad letter.\n And he\u2019s seald it sad and sorry;\n He\u2019s gaen it to that bonny boy,\n To take to his fair lady.\n\n 6\n Away the bonny boy he\u2019s gaen,\n He was both blythe and merrie;\n He\u2019s to that fair lady gane,\n And taen her word frae Geordie.\n\n 7\n When she looked the letter on,\n She was both sad and sorrie:\n \u2018O I\u2019ll away to fair Edinburgh town\n Myself and see my Geordie.\n\n 8\n \u2018Gar saddle to me the black,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018The brown was neer sae bonny;\n And I\u2019ll straight to Edinburgh\n Myself and see my Geordie.\u2019\n\n 9\n When she came to that wan water,\n The boats was not yet ready;\n She wheeld her horse\u2019s head around,\n And swimd at the Queen\u2019s Ferry.\n\n 10\n When she came to the Parliament Close,\n Amang the poor folks many,\n She dealt the crowns with duckatoons,\n And bade them pray for Geordy.\n\n 11\n When she came to the Parliament House,\n Among the nobles many,\n The rest sat all wi hat on head,\n But hat in hand sat Geordie.\n\n 12\n Up bespake an English lord,\n And he spake blythe and merrie;\n \u2018Was Geordie\u2019s head upon the block,\n I am sure I would have his lady.\u2019\n\n 13\n Up bespake that lady fair,\n And O but she was sorrie!\n \u2018If Geordie\u2019s head were on the block,\n There\u2019s never a man gain his lady.\n\n 14\n \u2018I have land into the north,\n And I have white rigs many,\n And I could gie them a\u2019 to you\n To save the life of Geordie.\n\n 15\n \u2018I have seven children in the north,\n And they seem very bonnie,\n And I could bear them a\u2019 over again\n For to win the life o Geordie.\u2019\n\n 16\n Up bespake the gude Argyle;\n He has befriended many;\n \u2018If ye\u2019ll tell down ten hundred crowns,\n Ye\u2019s win the life o Geordie.\u2019\n\n 17\n Some gaed her shillings, and some her crowns,\n And some gaed her guineas many,\n And she\u2019s telld down ten hundred crowns,\n And she\u2019s wone the life o Geordie.\n\n 18\n When she came down through Edinborough,\n And Geordie in her hand, O,\n \u2018Where will I get a writer\u2019s [house],\n A writer\u2019s house so ready,\n That I may write into the north\n I have wone the life o Geordie\u2019?\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n E\n\n #a.# Kinloch MSS, V, 130; in the handwriting of James Beattie. #b.#\n Kinloch\u2019s Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 192.\n\n 1\n There was a battle in the north,\n And rebels there were many,\n And they were a\u2019 brought before the king,\n And taken was my Geordie.\n My Geordie O, O my Geordie O,\n O the love I bear to Geordie!\n For the very ground I walk upon\n Bears witness I love Geordie.\n\n 2\n As she went up the tolbooth-stair,\n The cripples there stood many,\n And she dealt the red gold them among,\n For to pray for her love Geordie.\n\n 3\n And when she came unto the hall\n The nobles there stood many,\n And every one stood hat on head,\n But hat in hand stood Geordie.\n\n 4\n O up bespoke a baron bold,\n And O but he spoke bonnie!\n \u2018Such lovers true shall not parted be,\u2019\n And she\u2019s got her true-love Geordie.\n\n 5\n When she was mounted on her high horse,\n And on behind her Geordie,\n Nae bird on the brier eer sang sae clear\n As the young knight and his lady.\n O my Geordie O, O my Geordie O,\n O the love I bear to Geordie!\n The very stars in the firmament\n Bear tokens I love Geordie.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n F\n\n Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 367; from the recitation of Agnes Lyle,\n Kilbarchan.\n\n 1\n \u2018Geordie Lukely is my name,\n And many a one doth ken me; O\n Many an ill deed I hae done,\n But now death will owrecome me. O\n\n 2\n \u2018I neither murdered nor yet have I slain,\n I never murdered any;\n But I stole fyfteen o the king\u2019s bay horse,\n And I sold them in Bohemia.\n\n 3\n \u2018Where would I get a pretty little boy,\n That would fain win gold and money,\n That would carry this letter to Stirling town,\n And give it to my lady?\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018Here am I, a pretty little boy,\n That wud fain win gold and money;\n I\u2019ll carry your letter to Stirling town,\n And give it to your lady.\u2019\n\n 5\n As he came in by Stirling town\n He was baith weet and weary;\n The cloth was spread, and supper set,\n And the ladies dancing merry.\n\n 6\n When she read the first of it,\n She was baith glad and cheery;\n But before she had the half o \u2018t read,\n She was baith sad and sorry.\n\n 7\n \u2018Come saddle to me the bonnie dapple gray,\n Come saddle to me the wee poney;\n For I\u2019ll awa to the king mysell,\n And plead for my ain love Geordie.\u2019\n\n 8\n She gaed up the Cannogate,\n Amang the puir folk monie;\n She made the handfus o red gold fly,\n And bade them pray for Geordie,\n And aye she wrang her lily-white hands,\n Saying, I am a wearyd lady!\n\n 9\n Up and spoke the king himsell,\n And oh, but he spok bonnie!\n \u2018It\u2019s ye may see by her countenance\n That she is Geordie\u2019s lady.\u2019\n\n 10\n Up and spoke a bold bluidy wretch,\n And oh, but he spoke boldly!\n \u2018Tho [thou] should pay ten thousand pounds,\n Thou\u2019ll never get thy own love Geordie.\n\n 11\n \u2018For I had but ae brother to mysell,\n I loved him best of any;\n They cutted his head from his fair bodie,\n And so will they thy love Geordie.\u2019\n\n 12\n Up and spoke the king again,\n And oh, but he spak bonnie!\n \u2018If thou\u2019ll pay me five thousand pound,\n I\u2019ll gie thee hame thy love Geordie.\u2019\n\n 13\n She put her hand in her pocket,\n She freely paid the money,\n And she\u2019s awa to the Gallows Wynd,\n To get her nain love Geordie.\n\n 14\n As she came up the Gallows Wynd,\n The people was standing many;\n The psalms was sung, and the bells was rung,\n And silks and cords hung bonnie.\n\n 15\n The napkin was tyed on Geordie\u2019s face,\n And the hangman was just readie:\n \u2018Hold your hand, you bluidy wretch!\n O hold it from my Geordie!\n For I\u2019ve got a remit from the king,\n That I\u2019ll get my ain love Geordie.\u2019\n\n 16\n When he heard his lady\u2019s voice,\n He was baith blythe and merry:\n \u2018There\u2019s many ladies in this place;\n Have not I a worthy ladie?\u2019\n\n 17\n She mounted him on the bonnie dapple grey,\n Herself on the wee poney,\n And she rode home on his right hand,\n All for the pride o Geordie.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n G\n\n Motherwell\u2019s Note-Book, p. 17, p. 10; from Mrs Rule, Paisley, August\n 16, 1825. Apparently learned from a blind aunt, pp. 1, 3.\n\n 1\n The weather it is clear, and the wind blaws fair,\n And yonder a boy rins bonnie,\n And he is awa to the gates of Hye,\n With a letter to my dear ladie.\n\n 2\n The first line that she lookit on,\n She was baith red and rosy;\n She droppit down, and she dropt in a swoon,\n Crys, Och and alace for Geordie!\n\n 3\n \u2018Gar saddle to me the black, black horse;\n The brown is twice as bonnie;\n But I will neither eat nor drink\n Till I relieve my Geordie.\u2019\n\n 4\n When she cam to the canny Cannygate,\n Amang the puir folk many,\n She made the dollars flee amang them a\u2019,\n And she bade them plead for Geordie.\n\n 5\n When she came to the tolbooth-gate,\n Amang the nobles many,\n She made the red gold flee amang them a\u2019,\n And she bade them plead for Geordie.\n\n 6\n Out and spoke the king himsell,\n \u2018Wha\u2019s aught this weary lady?\u2019\n Out and spoke a pretty little page,\n \u2018She\u2019s the Earl o Cassilis lady.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018Has he killed? or has he slain?\n Or has he ravishd any?\u2019\n \u2018He stole three geldings out o yon park,\n And sold them to Balleny.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018Pleading is idle,\u2019 said the king,\n \u2018Pleading is idle with any;\n But pay you down five hundred pund,\n And tak you hame your Geordie.\u2019\n\n 9\n Some gave marks, and som gave crowns,\n Some gave dollars many;\n She\u2019s paid down the five hundred pund,\n And she\u2019s relieved her Geordie.\n\n 10\n The lady smiled in Geordie\u2019s face:\n \u2018Geordie, I have bocht thee;\n But down in yon green there had been bluidy breeks\n Or I had parted wi thee.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n H\n\n Christie\u2019s Traditional Ballad Airs, II, 44; \u201clong favorite in the\n counties of Aberdeen and Banff.\u201d\n\n 1\n \u2018Will ye go to the Hielans, my bonny lad?\n Will ye go to the Hielans, Geordie?\n Though ye tak the high road and I tak the low,\n I will be in the Hielans afore ye.\u2019\n\n 2\n He hadna been in the high Hielans\n A month but barely twa, O,\n Till he was laid in prison strong,\n For hunting the king\u2019s deer and rae, O.\n\n 3\n \u2018O where will I get a bonny, bonny boy,\n That will run my errand cannie,\n And gae quickly on to the bonny Bog o Gight,\n Wi a letter to my lady?\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018O here am I, a bonny, bonny boy,\n That will run your errand cannie,\n And will gae on to the bonny Bog o Gight,\n Wi a letter to your lady.\u2019\n\n 5\n When she did get this broad letter,\n A licht, licht laugh gae she, O;\n But before she read it to an end\n The saut tear was in her ee, O.\n\n 6\n \u2018O has he robbd? or has he stown?\n Or has he kill\u00ebd ony?\n Or what is the ill that he has done,\n That he\u2019s gaun to be hangd sae shortly?\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018He hasna robbd, he hasna stown,\n He hasna kill\u00ebd ony;\n But he has hunted the king\u2019s deer and rae,\n And he will be hang\u00ebd shortly.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018Come saddle to me the bonny brown steed,\n For the black never rade sae bonny,\n And I will gae on to Edinboro town\n To borrow the life o my Geordie.\u2019\n\n 9\n The first water-side that she cam to,\n The boatman wasna ready;\n She gae anither skipper half-a-crown,\n To boat her oer the ferry.\n\n 10\n When she cam on to Edinboro town,\n The poor stood thick and mony;\n She dealt them money roun and roun,\n Bade them pray for the life o her Geordie.\n\n 11\n When she gaed up the tolbooth-stair,\n She saw there nobles mony,\n And ilka noble stood hat on head,\n But hat in hand stood Geordie.\n\n 12\n Then out it spak an English lord,\n And vow, but he spake bonny!\n \u2018If ye pay down ten thousand crouns,\n Ye\u2019ll get the life o your Geordie.\u2019\n\n 13\n Some gae her marks, some gae her crouns,\n Some gae her guineas rarely,\n Till she paid down ten thousand crouns,\n And she got the life o her Geordie.\n\n 14\n Then out it spak an Irish lord,\n O wae befa his body!\n \u2018It\u2019s a pity the knicht didna lose his head,\n That I micht hae gotten his lady.\u2019\n\n 15\n But out it spak the lady hersel,\n And vow, but she spak bonny!\n \u2018The pock-marks are on your Irish face,\n You could not compare wi my Geordie!\u2019\n\n 16\n When she was in the saddle set,\n And on ahint her Geordie,\n The bird on the bush neer sang sae sweet,\n As she sung to her love Geordie.\n\n 17\n \u2018First I was mistress o bonny Auchindown,\n And I was lady o a\u2019 Carnie,\n But now I have come to the bonny Bog o Gight,\n The wife o my true-love Geordie.\n\n 18\n \u2018If I were in the high Hielans,\n I would hear the white kye lowing;\n But I\u2019d rather be on the bonny banks o Spey,\n To see the fish-boaties rowing.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n I\n\n #a.# Buchan\u2019s MSS, II, 143. #b.# Kinloch MSS, VI, 1, in the\n handwriting of Joseph Robertson.\n\n 1\n \u2018I choosed my love at the bonny yates of Gight,\n Where the birks an the flowers spring bony,\n But pleasures I had never one,\n But crosses very mony.\n\n 2\n \u2018First I was mistress of Pitfan\n And madam of Kincraigie,\n And now my name is bonny Lady Anne,\n And I am Gight\u2019s own lady.\n\n 3\n \u2018He does not use me as his wife,\n Nor cherish me as his lady,\n But day by day he saddles the grey,\n And rides off to Bignet\u2019s lady.\u2019\n\n 4\n Bignet he got word of this,\n That Gight lay wi his lady;\n He swore a vow, and kept it true,\n To be revengd on\u2019s body.\n\n 5\n \u2018Where will I get a bonny boy\n Will run my errand shortly,\n That woud run on to the bonny yates o Gight\n Wi a letter to my lady?\u2019\n\n 6\n Gight has written a broad letter,\n And seald it soon and ready,\n And sent it on to Gight\u2019s own yates,\n For to acquaint his lady.\n\n 7\n The first of it she looked on,\n O dear! she smiled bonny;\n But as she read it till an end\n The tears were thick an mony.\n\n 8\n \u2018Come saddle to me the black,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018Come saddle him soon and shortly,\n Ere I ride down to Edinburgh town,\n Wi a lang side sark to Geordy.\u2019\n\n 9\n When she came to the boat of Leith,\n I wad she did na tarry;\n She gave the boatman a guinea o gold\n To boat her oer the ferry.\n\n 10\n As she gaed oer the pier of Leith,\n Among the peerls many,\n She dealt the crowns and dukedoons,\n Bade them a\u2019 pray for Geordy.\n\n 11\n As she gaed up the tolbooth-stair,\n Among the nobles many,\n Every one sat hat on head,\n But hat in hand stood Geordy.\n\n 12\n \u2018Has he brunt? or has he slain?\n Or has he robb\u00ebd any?\n Or has he done any other crime,\n That gars you head my Geordy?\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018He hasna brunt, he hasna slain,\n He hasna robbed any;\n But he has done another crime,\n For which he will pay dearly.\u2019\n\n 14\n In it comes him First Lord Judge,\n Says, George, I\u2019m sorry for you;\n You must prepare yourself for death,\n For there\u2019ll be nae mercy for you.\n\n 15\n In it comes him Second Lord Judge,\n Says, George I\u2019m sorry for you;\n You must prepare yourself for death,\n For there\u2019ll be nae mercy for you.\n\n 16\n Out it speaks Gight\u2019s lady herself,\n And vow, but she spake wordy!\n \u2018Is there not a lord among you all\n Can plead a word for Geordy?\u2019\n\n 17\n Out it speaks the first Lord Judge:\n \u2018What lady\u2019s that amang you\n That speaks to us so boldly here,\n And bids us plead for Geordy?\u2019\n\n 18\n Out then spake a friend, her own,\n And says, It\u2019s Gight\u2019s own lady,\n Who is come to plead her own lord\u2019s cause,\n To which she\u2019s true and steady.\n\n 19\n The queen, looking oer her shott-window,\n Says, Ann, I\u2019m sorry for you;\n If ye\u2019ll tell down ten thousand crowns,\n Ye shall get home your Geordy.\n\n 20\n She\u2019s taen the hat out of his hand,\n And dear! it set her bonny;\n She\u2019s beggd the red gold them among,\n And a\u2019 to borrow Geordy.\n\n 21\n She turnd her right and round about\n Among the nobles many;\n Some gave her dollars, some her crowns,\n And some gave guineas many.\n\n 22\n She spread her mantle on the floor,\n O dear! she spread it bonny,\n And she told down that noble sum;\n Says, Put on your hat, my Geordy.\n\n 23\n But out it speaks him gleid Argyle,\n Says, Woe be to your body!\n I wish that Gight had lost his head,\n I should enjoyd his lady.\n\n 24\n She looked oer her left shoulder,\n A proud look and a saucy;\n Says, Woe be to you, gleid Argyle!\n Ye\u2019ll neer be like my Geordy.\n\n 25\n \u2018You\u2019ll hae me to some writer\u2019s house,\n And that baith seen and shortly,\n That I may write down Gight\u2019s lament,\n And how I borrowed Geordy.\u2019\n\n 26\n When she was in her saddle set,\n And aye behind her Geordy,\n Birds neer sang blyther in the bush\n Than she behind her Geordy.\n\n 27\n \u2018O bonny George, but I love thee well,\n And O sae dear as I love thee!\n The sun and moon and firmament above\n Bear witness how I love thee!\u2019\n\n 28\n \u2018O bonny Ann, but I love thee well,\n And O but sae dear as I love thee!\n The birds in the air, that fly together pair and pair,\n Bear witness, Ann, that I love thee!\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n J\n\n Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 133.\n\n 1\n \u2018First I was lady o Black Riggs,\n And then into Kincraigie;\n Now I am the Lady o Gight,\n And my love he\u2019s ca\u2019d Geordie.\n\n 2\n \u2018I was the mistress o Pitfan,\n And madam o Kincraigie;\n But now my name is Lady Anne,\n And I am Gight\u2019s own lady.\n\n 3\n \u2018We courted in the woods o Gight,\n Where birks and flowrs spring bonny;\n But pleasures I had never one,\n But sorrows thick and mony.\n\n 4\n \u2018He never ownd me as his wife,\n Nor honourd me as his lady,\n But day by day he saddles the grey,\n And rides to Bignet\u2019s lady.\u2019\n\n 5\n When Bignet he got word of that,\n That Gight lay wi his lady,\n He\u2019s casten him in prison strong,\n To ly till lords were ready.\n\n 6\n \u2018Where will I get a little wee boy,\n That is baith true and steady,\n That will run on to bonny Gight,\n And bring to me my lady?\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018O here am I, a little wee boy,\n That is baith true and steady,\n That will run to the yates o Gight,\n And bring to you your lady.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll bid her saddle the grey, the grey,\n The brown rode neer so smartly;\n Ye\u2019ll bid her come to Edinbro town,\n A\u2019 for the life of Geordie.\u2019\n\n 9\n The night was fair, the moon was clear,\n And he rode by Bevany,\n And stopped at the yates o Gight,\n Where leaves were thick and mony.\n\n 10\n The lady lookd oer castle-wa,\n And dear, but she was sorry!\n \u2018Here comes a page frae Edinbro town;\n A\u2019 is nae well wi Geordie.\n\n 11\n \u2018What news, what news, my little boy?\n Come tell me soon and shortly;\u2019\n \u2018Bad news, bad news, my lady,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018They\u2019re going to hang your Geordie.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll saddle to me the grey, the grey,\n The brown rade neer so smartly;\n And I\u2019ll awa to Edinbro town,\n Borrow the life o Geordie.\u2019\n\n 13\n When she came near to Edinbro town,\n I wyte she didna tarry,\n But she has mounted her grey steed,\n And ridden the Queen\u2019s Ferry.\n\n 14\n When she came to the boat of Leith,\n I wat she didna tarry;\n She gae the boatman a guinea o gowd\n To boat her ower the ferry.\n\n 15\n When she came to the pier o Leith,\n The poor they were sae many;\n She dealt the gowd right liberallie,\n And bade them pray for Geordie.\n\n 16\n When she gaed up the tolbooth-stair,\n The nobles there were many:\n And ilka ane stood hat on head,\n But hat in hand stood Geordie.\n\n 17\n She gae a blink out-ower them a\u2019,\n And three blinks to her Geordie;\n But when she saw his een fast bound,\n A swoon fell in this lady.\n\n 18\n \u2018Whom has he robbd? What has he stole?\n Or has he killed ony?\n Or what\u2019s the crime that he has done,\n His foes they are sae mony?\u2019\n\n 19\n \u2018He hasna brunt, he hasna slain,\n He hasna robbed ony;\n But he has done another crime,\n For which he will pay dearly.\u2019\n\n 20\n Then out it speaks Lord Montague,\n O wae be to his body!\n \u2018The day we hangd young Charles Hay,\n The morn we\u2019ll head your Geordie.\u2019\n\n 21\n Then out it speaks the king himsell,\n Vow, but he spake bonny!\n \u2018Come here, young Gight, confess your sins,\n Let\u2019s hear if they be mony.\n\n 22\n \u2018Come here, young Gight, confess your sins,\n See ye be true and steady;\n And if your sins they be but sma,\n Then ye \u2018se win wi your lady.\u2019\n\n 23\n \u2018Nane have I robbd, nought have I stown,\n Nor have I killed ony;\n But ane o the king\u2019s best brave steeds,\n I sold him in Bevany.\u2019\n\n 24\n Then out it speaks the king again,\n Dear, but he spake bonny!\n \u2018That crime\u2019s nae great; for your lady\u2019s sake,\n Put on your hat now, Geordie.\u2019\n\n 25\n Then out it speaks Lord Montague,\n O wae be to his body!\n \u2018There\u2019s guilt appears in Gight\u2019s ain face,\n Ye\u2019ll cross-examine Geordie.\u2019\n\n 26\n \u2018Now since it all I must confess,\n My crimes\u2019 baith great and mony:\n A woman abused, five orphan babes,\n I killd them for their money.\u2019\n\n 27\n Out it speaks the king again,\n And dear, but he was sorry!\n \u2018Your confession brings confusion,\n Take aff your hat now, Geordie.\u2019\n\n 28\n Then out it speaks the lady hersell,\n Vow, but she was sorry!\n \u2018Now all my life I\u2019ll wear the black,\n Mourn for the death o Geordie.\u2019\n\n 29\n Lord Huntly then he did speak out,\n O fair mot fa his body!\n \u2018I there will fight doublet alane\n Or ony thing ails Geordie.\u2019\n\n 30\n Then out it speaks the king again,\n Vow, but he spake bonny!\n \u2018If ye\u2019ll tell down ten thousand crowns,\n Ye\u2019ll buy the life o Geordie.\u2019\n\n 31\n She spread her mantle on the ground,\n Dear, but she spread it bonny!\n Some gae her crowns, some ducadoons,\n And some gae dollars mony:\n Then she tauld down ten thousand crowns,\n \u2018Put on your hat, my Geordie.\u2019\n\n 32\n Then out it speaks Lord Montague,\n Wae be to his body!\n \u2018I wisht that Gight wanted the head;\n I might enjoyd his lady.\u2019\n\n 33\n Out it speaks the lady hersell,\n \u2018Ye need neer wish my body;\n O ill befa your wizzend snout!\n Woud ye compare wi Geordie?\u2019\n\n 34\n When she was in her saddle set,\n Riding the leys sae bonny,\n The fiddle and fleet playd neer sae sweet\n As she behind her Geordie.\n\n 35\n \u2018O Geordie, Geordie, I love you well,\n Nae jealousie coud move me;\n The birds in air, that fly in pairs,\n Can witness how I love you.\n\n 36\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll call for one, the best o clerks,\n Ye\u2019ll call him soon and shortly,\n As he may write what I indite,\n A\u2019 this I\u2019ve done for Geordie.\u2019\n\n 37\n He turned him right and round about,\n And high, high looked Geordie:\n \u2018A finger o Bignet\u2019s lady\u2019s hand\n Is worth a\u2019 your fair body.\u2019\n\n 38\n \u2018My lands may a\u2019 be masterless,\n My babes may want their mother;\n But I\u2019ve made a vow, will keep it true,\n I\u2019ll be bound to no other.\u2019\n\n 39\n These words they causd a great dispute,\n And proud and fierce grew Geordie;\n A sharp dagger he pulled out,\n And pierced the heart o \u2018s lady.\n\n 40\n The lady\u2019s dead, and Gight he\u2019s fled,\n And left his lands behind him;\n Altho they searched south and north,\n There were nane there coud find him.\n\n 41\n Now a\u2019 that lived into Black Riggs,\n And likewise in Kincraigie,\n For seven years were clad in black,\n To mourn for Gight\u2019s own lady.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n K\n\n Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 370, as sung by Agnes Lyle\u2019s father.\n\n 1\n \u2018I have eleven babes into the north,\n And the twelfth is in my body, O\n And the youngest o them\u2019s in the nurse\u2019s arms,\n He neer yet saw his daddy.\u2019 O\n\n 2\n Some gied her ducks, some gied her drakes,\n And some gied her crowns monie,\n And she\u2019s paid him down five thousand pound,\n And she\u2019s gotten hame her Geordie.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n L\n\n Cunningham\u2019s Songs of Scotland, II, 186, 188; \u201cfrom the recitation\n of Mrs Cunningham.\u201d\n\n 1\n And soon she came to the water broad,\n Nor boat nor barge was ready;\n She turned her horse\u2019s head to the flood,\n And swam through at Queensferry.\n\n 2\n But when she to the presence came,\n \u2018Mang earls high and lordlie,\n There hat on head sat every man,\n While hat in hand stood Geordie.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n M\n\n Motherwell\u2019s Note-Book, pp. 2, 1; from Miss Brown, sister of Dr\n James Brown, of Glasgow.\n\n When he came out at the tolbooth-stair,\n He was baith red and rosy;\n But gin he cam to the gallows-fit,\n He was wallourt like the lily.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n N\n\n Motherwell\u2019s Note-Book, p. 20.\n\n I have nine children in the west,\n The tenth ane\u2019s in my bodie;\n The eldest o them she never knew a man,\n And she knows not wha\u2019s her daddy.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A.#\n\n 4^2, 5^2. menzie.\n\n#B. a.#\n\n 8^3, 9^3, 19^2, 21^3. & _for_ an.\n\n 13^2. for _struck out before_ Your.\n\n 14^3. O _has been altered from_ If, _and is not very distinct._\n\n 25^2. wi her?\n\n 25^3. Tell down, tell tell down.\n\n 26. _Or_,\n\n She\u2019s put her hand to her pocket,\n She\u2019s pulld out ducats many,\n An she\u2019s telld down, etc.\n\n 27^1. _Var._ she blessd.\n\n 28^{3,4}. _No indication that this is an imperfect stanza. The\n last line is nearly bound in, and not easy to read._\n\n 30^3. Gar print, etc.\n\n#b.#\n\n _Variations written on the margin of #a#._\n\n 1^3. The Laird of Gigh has killd a man.\n\n 2^3. That will gae rin to the yates of Gigh.\n\n 7^1. Burntisland sands _for_ the water-side.\n\n 8^1. the water-yate.\n\n 8^3. dealt the red gold them amang.\n\n 14.\n \u2019Twas up than spak a gentleman,\n Was ca\u2019d the Laird of Logie,\n War Gighie\u2019s head but on the blo[ck],\n If I had his fair ladie!\u2019\n\n 21^1. the gude Argyle _for_ a Scottish lord.\n\n 21^2. He\u2019s been a friend to many.\n\n#C. a.#\n\n \u201cThis song was taken down from a Miss Christy Robertson, Dunse,\n who sung it to a very pretty old tune. Being an old maid\n herself, she did not let it want any of the original plainture\n which I suppose the original air would have.\u201d\n\n _The MS. of Thomas Wilkie is inscribed, at the beginning,_\n Gattonside, 4th Sept., 1813; _at the end,_ Bowden, 2d Sept.,\n 1815.\n\n 6^3. goud _written over_ guineas.\n\n 8^{1,2}. _Var._ six _for_ ten, seventh _for_ eleventh.\n\n 10^1. a kind-hearted man, _wanting in #b#, has evidently been\n supplied._\n\n 12^{1,2}. _Supplied: originally only_ A man spoke loud.\n\n 12^3. Geordie\u2019s _written over_ his; were _over_ had been.\n\n#b.#\n\n 2^3. shirt.\n\n 4^2. And they saddled to her.\n\n 6^3. red goud.\n\n 7^1. When she.\n\n 9^1. Geight.\n\n 10^1. a kind-hearted man _wanting_.\n\n 12^{1,2}. A man spoke loud.\n\n 13^4. my _wanting_.\n\n 14^2 And herself.\n\n#D.#\n\n 2^2. goud and money _substituted for_ hose and shoon _struck out_.\n\n 9^2. they _struck out before_ was.\n\n 18^{3\u20136}. _Written in two lines._\n\n#E. b.#\n\n _No account is given of the variations of the printed copy from\n the manuscript, but it is presumed that the larger ones were\n traditional._\n\n 1^3. And monie ane got broken heads.\n\n 2^1. she gaed.\n\n 2^4. To pray.\n\n 3^1. into.\n\n 3^3. And ilka ane.\n\n _After 3:_\n\n Up bespak a Norlan lord,\n I wat he spak na bonnie;\n \u2018If ye\u2019ll stay here a little while,\n Ye\u2019ll see Geordie hangit shortly.\u2019\n\n 4^1. Then up bespak.\n\n 4^{3,4}.\n If ye\u2019ll pay doun five hundred crowns,\n Ye \u2018se get your true-love Geordie.\n\n _After 4:_\n\n Some lent her guineas, some lent her crowns,\n Some lent her shillings monie,\n And she\u2019s paid doun five hundred crowns,\n And she\u2019s gotten her bonnie love Geordie.\n\n 5^1. hie steed.\n\n 5^2. ahint.\n\n_Burden, first line_: My Geordie O, my Geordie O.\n\n#F.#\n\n \u201cSung to a tune something similar to \u2018My Nannie O.\u2019\u201d\n\n 10^3. 10000.\n\n 12^3. 5000.\n\n#G.#\n\n 8^3, 9^3. 500.\n\n 10^3. breeks _is a corruption, for_ bouks, _#A# 14^3._\n\n#I. a.#\n\n 10^3. crowns like duke o Downs: _cf._ #b# 21^3, #G# 31^3.\n\n 12^4. gars your.\n\n#b.#\n\n 1^1. I was courted a wife in the bonny woods of Fife.\n\n 1^2. and flowers.\n\n 1^3. And pleasures I\u2019ve had never nane.\n\n 1^4. I\u2019ve had mony.\n\n 2^1. was lady of bonny Pitfauns.\n\n 2^2. Then.\n\n 2^3. is Lady.\n\n 2^4. I\u2019m even.\n\n 3^1. He never owns me.\n\n 3^2. Nor loves me.\n\n 3^3. But every day.\n\n 3^4. rides to Pilbagnet\u2019s.\n\n 4^1. Pilbagnet he\u2019s.\n\n 4^2. has lien wi.\n\n 4^3. And he\u2019s put him in prison strang.\n\n 4^4. _Wanting._\n\n 5^3. That will rin on to Ythan side.\n\n 5^4. Wi letters.\n\n 6.\n Now here am I, a bonny boy,\n Will rin your errand shortly,\n That will rin on to Ythan side\n Wi letters to your ladye.\n\n 7^1. But when she looked the letter on.\n\n 7^3. But ere: to an.\n\n 7^4. tears fell.\n\n 8^1. Ye\u2019ll saddle: said.\n\n 8^2. Tho the brown should ride never so bonny.\n\n 8^3. I\u2019ll go on to.\n\n 8^4. To see how they\u2019re using my.\n\n 9.\n As she rode down by the pier of Leith,\n The poor met her never so mony,\n And she dealt the red gold right liberally,\n And bade them pray well for her Geordie.\n\n 10.\n As she rode down by Edinbro town,\n The poor met her never so mony,\n And she dealt the red gold right liberallie,\n And bade them pray weel for her Geordie.\n\n _After 10:_\n\n The king looked ower his castle-wa,\n And he spak seen and shortly;\n \u2018Now who is this,\u2019 said our liege the king,\n \u2018Deals the red gold sae largely?\u2019\n\n Then up bespak a bonny boy,\n Was richt nigh to her Geordie;\n \u2018I\u2019ll wager my life and a\u2019 my lan\n That it is Gicht\u2019s own ladye.\u2019\n\n 11^1. Then she went down the toolbooth-stair.\n\n 11^2. all the nobles so.\n\n 11^3. And every one had his hat on.\n\n 12\u201320. _Wanting._\n\n 21.\n Then she went down the toolbooth-stair,\n Among all the nobles so many;\n Some gave her guineas, some gave her crowns,\n Some gave her dukedoons many,\n And she has paid down the jailor\u2019s fee,\n And now she enjoys her Geordie.\n\n 22\u201326. _Wanting._\n\n 27.\n \u2018O bonnie George, I love you weel!\n O dear George, as I love you!\n The sun and the moon, go together roun and roun,\n Bear witness, dear George, how I love you!\u2019\n\n 28.\n \u2018O bonnie Anne, I love you weel!\n Oh dear Anne, how I love you!\n The birds of the air, fly together pair and pair,\n Bear witness, dear Anne, how I love you!\u2019\n\n#J.#\n\n 13^4. the queen\u2019s berry.\n\n 26^2. crimes. _I suppose_ crimes is _to be meant_.\n\n#K.#\n\n \u201cOf the preceding ballad [#F#], Agnes Lile says she has heard her\n father sing a different set, all of which she forgets except\n this, that there was nothing said of \u2018a bold bluidy wretch,\u2019 and\n in place of what is given to him in this version [#F# 10, 11],\n there were the two following stanzas.\u201d _Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 370\n f._\n\n 2^3. 5000.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n APPENDIX\n\n\u201cA lamentable new ditty, made upon the death of a worthy gentleman named\nGeorge Stoole, dwelling sometime on Gate-side Moore, and sometime at\nNew-Castle in Northumberland: with his penitent end. To a delicate\nScottish tune.\u201d Roxburghe Collection, I, 186, 187. Roxburghe Ballads,\ned. W. Chappell, I, 576. Previously printed by [Ritson], Northumberland\nGarland, Newcastle, 1793, p. 33 (p. 43 of Haslewood\u2019s reprint, London,\n1809), and in Bell\u2019s Rhymes of Northern Bards, p. 162.\n\n 1\n Come, you lusty northerne lads,\n That are so blith and bonny,\n Prepare your hearts to be full sad,\n To hear the end of Georgey.\n Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, my bon[n]y love,\n Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, my bonny!\n Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, my owne deare love,\n And God be with my Georgie!\n\n 2\n When Georgie to his triall came,\n A thousand hearts were sorry;\n A thousand lasses wept full sore,\n And all for love of Georgy.\n\n 3\n Some did say he would escape,\n Some at his fall did glory;\n But these were clownes and fickle friends,\n And none that lov\u00ebd Georgy.\n\n 4\n Might friends have satisfide the law,\n Then Georgie would find many;\n Yet bravely did he plead for life,\n If mercy might be any.\n\n 5\n But when this doughty carle was cast,\n He was full sad and sorry;\n Yet boldly did he take his death,\n So patiently dyde Georgie.\n\n 6\n As Georgie went up to the gate,\n He tooke his leave of many;\n He tooke his leave of his lard\u2019s wife,\n Whom he lovd best of any.\n\n 7\n With thousand sighs and heavy lookes,\n Away from thence he parted\n Where he so often blith had beene,\n Though now so heavy-hearted.\n\n 8\n He writ a letter with his owne hand,\n He thought he writ it bravely;\n He sent to New-castle towne,\n To his belov\u00ebd lady.\n\n 9\n Wherein he did at large bewaile\n The occasion of his folly,\n Bequeathing life unto the law,\n His soule to heaven holy.\n\n 10\n \u2018Why, lady, leave to weepe for me!\n Let not my ending grieve ye!\n Prove constant to the man you love,\n For I cannot releeve ye.\n\n 11\n \u2018Out upon the, Withrington!\n And fie upon the, Ph\u0153nix!\n Thou hast put downe the doughty one\n That stole the sheepe from Anix.\n\n 12\n \u2018And fie on all such cruell carles\n Whose crueltie\u2019s so fickle\n To cast away a gentleman,\n In hatred, for so little!\n\n 13\n \u2018I would I were on yonder hill,\n Where I have beene full merry,\n My sword and buckeler by my side,\n To fight till I be weary.\n\n 14\n \u2018They well should know, that tooke me first,\n Though hopes be now forsaken,\n Had I but freedome, armes, and health,\n I\u2019de dye ere I\u2019de be taken.\n\n 15\n \u2018But law condemns me to my grave,\n They have me in their power;\n Ther\u2019s none but Christ that can mee save\n At this my dying houre.\u2019\n\n 16\n He calld his dearest love to him,\n When as his heart was sorry,\n And speaking thus, with manly heart,\n \u2018Deare sweeting, pray for Georgie.\u2019\n\n 17\n He gave to her a piece of gold,\n And bade her give \u2018t her barnes,\n And oft he kist her rosie lips,\n And laid him into her armes.\n\n 18\n And comming to the place of death,\n He never chang\u00ebd colour;\n The more they thought he would looke pale,\n The more his veines were fuller.\n\n 19\n And with a cheerefull countenance,\n Being at that time entreated\n For to confesse his former life,\n These words he straight repeated.\n\n 20\n \u2018I never stole no oxe nor cow,\n Nor never murdered any;\n But fifty horse I did receive\n Of a merchant\u2019s man of Gory.\n\n 21\n \u2018For which I am condemnd to dye,\n Though guiltlesse I stand dying;\n Deare gracious God, my soule receive!\n For now my life is flying.\u2019\n\n 22\n The man of death a part did act\n Which grieves mee tell the story;\n God comfort all are comfortlesse,\n And did[e] so well as Georgie!\n Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, my bonny love,\n Heigh-ho, heigh[-ho], my bonny,\n Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, mine own true love,\n Sweet Christ receive my Georgie!\n\n\n 1. _Burden to st. 1_: honny _in the second line_.\n\n 10^3. the ney.\n\n 14^2. whoops.\n\n 14^4. dye are.\n\n\n\u201cThe Life and Death of George of Oxford. To a pleasant tune, called Poor\nGeorgy.\u201d Roxburghe Collection, IV, 53, Pepys, II, 150, Jersey, I, 86,\nHuth, I, 150, according to Mr J. W. Ebsworth, Roxburghe Ballads, VII,\n70, 1890. It was printed for P. Brooksby, whose time Mr Ebsworth gives\nas between 1671 and 1692.\n\n 1\n As I went over London Bridge,\n All in a misty morning,\n There did I see one weep and mourn,\n Lamenting for her Georgy.\n His time it is past, his life it will not last,\n Alack and alas, there is no rem\u00e9dy!\n Which makes the heart within me ready to burst in three,\n To think on the death of poor Georgy.\n\n 2\n \u2018George of Oxford is my name,\n And few there\u2019s but have known me;\n Many a mad prank have I playd,\n But now they\u2019ve overthrown me.\u2019\n\n 3\n O then bespake the Lady Gray;\n \u2018I\u2019le haste me in the morning,\n And to the judge I\u2019le make my way,\n To save the life of Georgy.\n\n 4\n \u2018Go saddle me my milk-white steed,\n Go saddle me my bonny,\n That I may to New-Castle speed,\n To save the life of Georgy.\u2019\n\n 5\n But when she came the judge before,\n Full low her knee she bended;\n For Georgy\u2019s life she did implore,\n That she might be befriended.\n\n 6\n \u2018O rise, O rise, fair Lady Gray,\n Your suit cannot be granted;\n Content your self as well you may,\n For Georgy must be hanged.\u2019\n\n 7\n She wept, she waild, she [w]rung her hands,\n And ceas\u00ebd not her mourning;\n She offerd gold, she offerd lands,\n To save the life of Georgy.\n\n 8\n \u2018I have travelld through the land,\n And met with many a man, sir,\n But, knight or lord, I bid him stand;\n He durst not make an answer.\n\n 9\n \u2018The Brittain bold that durst deny\n His money for to tender,\n Though he were stout as valiant Guy,\n I forced him to surrender.\n\n 10\n \u2018But when the money I had got,\n And made him cry _peccavi_,\n To bear his charge and pay his shot,\n A mark or noble gave I.\n\n 11\n \u2018The ladies, when they had me seen,\n Would ner have been affrighted;\n To take a dance upon the green\n With Georgy they delighted.\n\n 12\n \u2018When I had ended this our wake,\n And fairly them bespoken,\n Their rings and jewels would I take,\n To keep them for a token.\u2019\n\n 13\n The hue-and-cry for George is set,\n A proper handsome fellow,\n With diamond eyes as black as jet,\n And locks like gold so yellow.\n\n 14\n Long it was, with all their art,\n Ere they could apprehend him,\n But at the last his valiant heart\n No longer could defend him.\n\n 15\n \u2018I ner stole horse nor mare in my life,\n Nor cloven foot, or any,\n But once, sir, of the king\u2019s white steeds,\n And I sold them to Bohemia.\u2019\n\n 16\n Georgy he went up the hill,\n And after followed many;\n Georgy was hanged in silken string,\n The like was never any.\n\n * * * * *\n\n _The burden (here given with only the first stanza) is from time\n to time varied._\n\n 3^1, 6^1. Oh.\n\n _After 7._ George\u2019s Confession.\n\n\n\n\n 210\n\n BONNIE JAMES CAMPBELL\n\n #A.# Herd\u2019s MSS, I, 40, II, 184.\n\n #B.# Finlay\u2019s Scottish Ballads, 1808, I, xxxiii.\n\n #C.# \u2018Bonnie George Campbell,\u2019 Smith\u2019s Scotish Minstrel, V, 42.\n\n #D.# Cunningham\u2019s Songs of Scotland, III, 2.\n\n\n#A# was copied by Sir Walter Scott (with slight variations) into a MS.\nat Abbotsford, \u2018Scottish Songs,\u2019 fol. 68 (1795\u20131806). The first half is\nprinted from notes of Scott in Laing\u2019s edition of Sharpe\u2019s Ballad Book,\npp. 143, 156 f, and to these two stanzas, nearly as here printed, there\nare added in the second case, p. 157, the following verses, which are\nevidently modern, with the exception of the last:\n\n His hawk and his hounds they are wandered and gane,\n His lady sits dowie and weary her lane,\n His bairns wi greetin hae blinded their een,\n His croft is unshorn, and his meadow grows green.\n\nScott subjoins, \u201cI never heard more of this.\u201d He was familiar with\nHerd\u2019s MSS.\n\n#C#, like many things in the Scotish Minstrel, has passed through\neditorial hands, whence the \u2018never return\u2019 of st. 4, and \u2018A plume in his\nhelmet, a sword at his knee,\u2019 st. 5. This copy furnished the starting\npoint for Allan Cunningham, III, 1, who, however, substitutes Finlay\u2019s\n\u2018wife\u2019 for the Minstrel\u2019s \u2018bryde,\u2019 and presents her with three bairns.\n\nMotherwell made up his \u2018Bonnie George Campbell\u2019 (Minstrelsy, p. 44) from\n#B#, #C#, #D#. In a manuscript copied out by a granddaughter of Lord\nWoodhouselee (1840\u201350), #D# is combined with Cunningham\u2019s ballad.\n\nMotherwell says that this ballad \u201cis probably a lament for one of the\nadherents of the house of Argyle who fell in the battle of Glenlivet,\nstricken on Thursday, the third day of October, 1594.\u201d Sir Robert Gordon\nobserves that Argyle lost in this battle his two cousins, Archibald and\nJames Campbell: Genealogical History of Sutherland, p. 229. Maidment,\nScotish Ballads, 1868, I, 240, chooses to think that \u201cthere can be\nlittle doubt\u201d that the ballad refers to the murder of Sir John Campbell\nof Calder by one of his own surname, in 1591, and alters the title\naccordingly to \u2018Bonnie John Campbell.\u2019 Motherwell has at least a name to\nfavor his supposition. But Campbells enow were killed, in battle or\nfeud, before and after 1590, to forbid a guess as to an individual James\nor George grounded upon the slight data afforded by the ballad.\n\nMotherwell\u2019s ballad is translated by Wolff, Halle der V\u00f6lker, I, 79,\nHausschatz, p. 225.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n Herd\u2019s MSS, I, 40, II, 184.\n\n 1\n O it\u2019s up in the Highlands,\n and along the sweet Tay,\n Did bonie James Campbell\n ride monie a day.\n\n 2\n Sadled and bridled,\n and bonie rode he;\n Hame came horse, hame came sadle,\n but neer hame cam he.\n\n 3\n And doun cam his sweet sisters,\n greeting sae sair,\n And down cam his bonie wife,\n tearing her hair.\n\n 4\n \u2018My house is unbigged,\n my barn\u2019s unbeen,\n My corn\u2019s unshorn,\n my meadow grows green.\u2019\n\n * * * * * *\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n Finlay\u2019s Scottish Ballads, 1808, I, xxxiii.\n\n 1\n Saddled and briddled\n and booted rade he;\n Toom hame cam the saddle,\n but never cam he.\n\n 2\n Down cam his auld mither,\n greetin fu sair,\n And down cam his bonny wife,\n wringin her hair.\n\n 3\n Saddled and briddled\n and booted rade he;\n Toom hame cam the saddle,\n but never cam he.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n C\n\n Smith\u2019s Scotish Minstrel, V, 42.\n\n 1\n Hie upon Hielands,\n and laigh upon Tay,\n Bonnie George Campbell\n rode out on a day.\n\n 2\n He saddled, he bridled,\n and gallant rode he,\n And hame cam his guid horse,\n but never cam he.\n\n 3\n Out cam his mother dear,\n greeting fu sair,\n And out cam his bonnie bryde,\n riving her hair.\n\n 4\n \u2018The meadow lies green,\n the corn is unshorn,\n But bonnie George Campbell\n will never return.\u2019\n\n 5\n Saddled and bridled\n and booted rode he,\n A plume in his helmet,\n a sword at his knee.\n\n 6\n But toom cam his saddle,\n all bloody to see,\n Oh, hame cam his guid horse,\n but never cam he!\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n D\n\n Cunningham\u2019s Songs of Scotland, III, 2, communicated by Mr\n Yellowlees.\n\n 1\n High upon Highlands,\n and low upon Tay,\n Bonnie George Campbell\n rode out on a day.\n\n 2\n \u2018My meadow lies green,\n and my corn is unshorn,\n My barn is to build,\n and my babe is unborn.\n\n * * * * *\n\n _#A# is written, and #C# printed, in stanzas of four long lines._\n\n #A.# 1^1. _Sharpe_, 143, O _wanting_.\n\n 1^2. _Scottish Songs and Sharpe_, and _wanting_.\n\n 2^2. _Scottish Songs_, and gallant, _as in_ #C#.\n\n 2^4. _Sharpe_, but hame cam na he.\n\n 4^4. _Scottish Songs_, meadows grow green.\n\n\n\n\n 211\n\n BEWICK AND GRAHAM\n\n #a.# \u2018The Song of Bewick and Grahame,\u2019 a stall-copy, in octavo,\n British Museum, 11621. e. 1. (4.) #b.# \u2018A Remarkable and Memorable\n Song of Sir Robert Bewick and the Laird Graham,\u2019 broadside,\n Roxburghe Ballads, III, 624. #c.# \u2018A Remarkable and Memorable Song\n of Sir Robert Bewick and the Laird Graham,\u2019 broadside, Percy papers.\n #d.# \u2018Bewick and Graham\u2019s Garland,\u2019 M. Angus and Son, Newcastle,\n Bell Ballads, Abbotsford Library, P. 5, vol. i, No 60. #e.#\n Broadside, in \u201cA Jolly Book of Garlands collected by John Bell in\n Newcastle,\u201d No 29, Abbotsford Library, E. 1. #f.# \u2018Bewick and\n Graham,\u2019 chapbook, Newcastle, W. Fordyce. #g.# \u201cScotch Ballads,\n Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 145, Abbotsford. #h.# \u2018Chirstie\n Gr\u00e6me,\u2019 the same, No 89.\n\n\nNo copy of this ballad earlier than the last century is known to me. The\nMuseum Catalogue gives a conjectural date of 1740 to #a# and of 1720 to\n#b#, and, conjecturally again, assigns both to Newcastle. #c#, #d#, #e#\nare also without date. #c# may be as old as #b#; #d#, #e# are at least\nnot old, and #f# is of this century. The ballad was given under the\ntitle \u2018Gr\u00e6me and Bewick,\u2019 in Scott\u2019s Minstrelsy, 1803, III, 93, \u201cfrom\nthe recitation of a gentleman\u201d who remembered it but imperfectly. In a\nsucceeding edition, III, 66, 1833, deficiencies were partly supplied and\nsome different readings adopted \u201cfrom a copy obtained by the recitation\nof an ostler in Carlisle.\u201d The first copy (entitled \u2018Chirstie Gr\u00e6me\u2019)\nwas sent Scott by William Laidlaw, January 3, 1803 (Letters, vol. i, No\n78), as taken down by him from the singing of Mr Walter Grieve, in\nCraik, on Borthwick Water. It is preserved in \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials\nfor Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 89, Abbotsford (#h#); and in the same volume,\nNo 145, is what is shown by internal evidence to be the ostler\u2019s copy\n(#g#). Both copies were indisputably derived from print, though #h# may\nhave passed through several mouths. #g# agrees with #b-f# closely as to\nminute points of phraseology which it is difficult to believe that a\nreciter would have retained. It looks more like an immediate, though\nfaulty, transcript from print. Of many deviations, though most may be\ncharge-able to a bad copyist, or, if one pleases, a bad memory, others\nindicate an original which differed in some particulars from #b-f#; and\nthe same may perhaps be true of #h#, which is, however, of only very\ntrifling value.[92]\n\n\u2018The Brothers-in-Arms,\u2019 Maidment, Scotish Ballads and Songs, 1868, II,\n150, is Scott\u2019s later copy.\n\nOld Graham and old Bewick are drinking together at Carlisle. Graham\nproposes the health of their respective sons. Bewick demurs. Young\nGraham is no peer for young Bewick, who is good at both books and arms,\nwhereas Graham is no scholar. Old Graham goes home mortified and angry,\nrepeats to his son Christy what Bewick had said, and bids him, as he\nwould have his blessing, prove that he can at least hold his own in a\nfight with young Bewick. Christy is \u2018faith and troth,\u2019 or sworn-brother,\nto young Bewick, and begs his father to forbear. The father insists;\nChristy may make his choice, to fight with young Bewick or with himself.\nChristy, upon reflection, concludes that it would be a less crime to\nkill his sworn-brother than to kill his father, but swears that, should\nit be his lot to kill his friend, he will never come home alive. He arms\nhimself and goes to seek his comrade. Bewick, who has been teaching his\nfive scholars their fence, and apparently also their psalms, is walking\nin his father\u2019s close, with his sword under his arm, and sees a man in\narmor riding towards him. Recognizing Graham, he welcomes him\naffectionately. Graham informs him that he has come to fight with him,\nrehearses the scene with old Graham, and puts by all his friend\u2019s\nremonstrances and the suggestion that the fathers may be reconciled\nthrough arbitrators. Forced to fight, Bewick vows, as Graham had done,\nthat, if it be his fortune to kill his brother, he will never go home\nalive. Graham throws off his armor that he may have no advantage; they\nfight two hours with no result, and then Graham gives Bewick one of\nthose \u2018ackward\u2019 strokes which have determined several duels in foregoing\nballads. The wound is deadly; Bewick intreats Graham to fly the country;\nGraham swears that his vow shall be kept, leaps on his sword and is the\nfirst to die. Old Bewick comes up and is disposed to congratulate his\nson on his victory. Young Bewick begs him to make one grave for both,\nand to lay young Graham on the sunny side, for he had been the better\nman. The two fathers indulge in exclamations of grief.\n\nI am persuaded that there was an older and better copy of this ballad\nthan those which are extant. The story is so well composed, proportion\nis so well kept, on the whole, that it is reasonable to suppose that\ncertain passages (as stanzas 3, 4, 50) may have suffered some injury.\nThere are also phrases which are not up to the mark of the general\nstyle, as the hack-rhymester lines at 7^3, 19^2. But it is a\nfine-spirited ballad as it stands, and very infectious.\n\n\u201cThe ballad is remarkable,\u201d observes Sir Walter Scott, \u201cas containing\nprobably the very latest allusion to the institution of brotherhood in\narms.\u201d And he goes on to say: \u201cThe quarrel of the two old chieftains\nover their wine is highly in character. Two generations have not elapsed\n[1803] since the custom of drinking deep and taking deadly revenge for\nslight offences produced very tragical events on the border; to which\nthe custom of going armed to festive meetings contributed not a little.\u201d\n\n\nScott\u2019s later edition is translated by Lo\u00e8ve-Veimars, p. 323; by Rosa\nWarrens, Schottische Volkslieder der Vorzeit, p. 99, No 22.\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1\n Old Grahame [he] is to Carlisle gone,\n Where Sir Rob_ert_ Bewick there met he;\n In arms to the wine they are gone,\n And drank till they were both merry.\n\n 2\n Old Grahame he took up the cup,\n And said, \u2018Brother Bewick, here\u2019s to thee;\n And here\u2019s to our two sons at home,\n For they live best in our country.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018Nay, were thy son as good as mine,\n And of some books he could but read,\n With sword and buckler by his side,\n To see how he could save his head,\n\n 4\n \u2018They might have been calld two bold brethren\n Where ever they did go or ride;\n They might [have] been calld two bold brethren,\n They might have crackd the Border-side.\n\n 5\n \u2018Thy son is bad, and is but a lad,\n And bully to my son cannot be;\n For my son Bewick can both write and read,\n And sure I am that cannot he.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018I put him to school, but he would not learn,\n I bought him books, but he would not read;\n But my blessing he\u2019s never have\n Till I see how his hand can save his head.\u2019\n\n 7\n Old Grahame called for an account,\n And he askd what was for to pay;\n There he paid a crown, so it went round,\n Which was all for good wine and hay.\n\n 8\n Old Grahame is into the stable gone,\n Where stood thirty good steeds and three;\n He\u2019s taken his own steed by the head,\n And home rode he right wantonly.\n\n 9\n When he came home, there did he espy,\n A loving sight to spy or see,\n There did he espy his own three sons,\n Young Christy Grahame, the foremost was he.\n\n 10\n There did he espy his own three sons,\n Young Christy Grahame, the foremost was he:\n \u2018Where have you been all day, father,\n That no counsel you would take by me?\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018Nay, I have been in Carlisle town,\n Where Sir Robert Bewick there met me;\n He said thou was bad, and calld thee a lad,\n And a baffled man by thou I be.\n\n 12\n \u2018He said thou was bad, and calld thee a lad,\n And bully to his son cannot be;\n For his son Bewick can both write and read,\n And sure I am that cannot thee.\n\n 13\n \u2018I put thee to school, but thou would not learn.\n I bought thee books, but thou would not read;\n But my blessing thou\u2019s never have\n Till I see with Bewick thou can save thy head.\u2019\n\n 14\n \u2018Oh, pray forbear, my father dear;\n That ever such a thing should be!\n Shall I venture my body in field to fight\n With a man that\u2019s faith and troth to me?\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018What\u2019s that thou sayst, thou limmer loon?\n Or how dare thou stand to speak to me?\n If thou do not end this quarrel soon,\n Here is my glove thou shalt fight me.\u2019\n\n 16\n Christy stoopd low unto the ground,\n Unto the ground, as you\u2019ll understand:\n \u2018O father, put on your glove again,\n The wind hath blown it from your hand.\u2019\n\n 17\n \u2018What\u2019s that thou sayst, thou limmer loon?\n Or how dare thou stand to speak to me?\n If thou do not end this quarrel soon,\n Here is my hand thou shalt fight me.\u2019\n\n 18\n Christy Grahame is to his chamber gone,\n And for to study, as well might be,\n Whether to fight with his father dear,\n Or with his bully Bewick he.\n\n 19\n \u2018If it be [my] fortune my bully to kill,\n As you shall boldly understand,\n In every town that I ride through,\n They\u2019ll say, There rides a brotherless man!\n\n 20\n \u2018Nay, for to kill my bully dear,\n I think it will be a deadly sin;\n And for to kill my father dear,\n The blessing of heaven I neer shall win.\n\n 21\n \u2018O give me your blessing, father,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018And pray well for me for to thrive;\n If it be my fortune my bully to kill,\n I swear I\u2019ll neer come home alive.\u2019\n\n 22\n He put on his back a good plate-jack,\n And on his head a cap of steel,\n With sword and buckler by his side;\n O gin he did not become them well!\n\n 23\n \u2018O fare thee well, my father dear!\n And fare thee well, thou Carlisle town!\n If it be my fortune my bully to kill,\n I swear I\u2019ll neer eat bread again.\u2019\n\n 24\n Now we\u2019ll leave talking of Christy Grahame,\n And talk of him again belive;\n But we will talk of bonny Bewick,\n Where he was teaching his scholars five.\n\n 25\n Now when he had learnd them well to fence,\n To handle their swords without any doubt,\n He\u2019s taken his own sword under his arm,\n And walkd his father\u2019s close about.\n\n 26\n He lookd between him and the sun,\n To see what farleys he coud see;\n There he spy\u2019d a man with armour on,\n As he came riding over the lee.\n\n 27\n \u2018I wonder much what man yon be\n That so boldly this way does come;\n I think it is my nighest friend,\n I think it is my bully Grahame.\n\n 28\n \u2018O welcome, O welcome, bully Grahame!\n O man, thou art my dear, welcome!\n O man, thou art my dear, welcome!\n For I love thee best in Christendom.\u2019\n\n 29\n \u2018Away, away, O bully Bewick,\n And of thy bullyship let me be!\n The day is come I never thought on;\n Bully, I\u2019m come here to fight with thee.\u2019\n\n 30\n \u2018O no! not so, O bully Grahame!\n That eer such a word should spoken be!\n I was thy master, thou was my scholar:\n So well as I have learn\u00ebd thee.\u2019\n\n 31\n \u2018My father he was in Carlisle town,\n Where thy father Bewick there met he;\n He said I was bad, and he calld me a lad,\n And a baffled man by thou I be.\u2019\n\n 32\n \u2018Away, away, O bully Grahame,\n And of all that talk, man, let us be!\n We\u2019ll take three men of either side\n To see if we can our fathers agree.\u2019\n\n 33\n \u2018Away, away, O bully Bewick,\n And of thy bullyship let me be!\n But if thou be a man, as I trow thou art,\n Come over this ditch and fight with me.\u2019\n\n 34\n \u2018O no! not so, my bully Grahame!\n That eer such a word should spoken be!\n Shall I venture my body in field to fight\n With a man that\u2019s faith and troth to me?\u2019\n\n 35\n \u2018Away, away, O bully Bewick,\n And of all that care, man, let us be!\n If thou be a man, as I trow thou art,\n Come over this ditch and fight with me.\u2019\n\n 36\n \u2018Now, if it be my fortune thee, Grahame, to kill,\n As God\u2019s will\u2019s, man, it all must be;\n But if it be my fortune thee, Grahame, to kill,\n \u2019Tis home again I\u2019ll never gae.\u2019\n\n 37\n \u2018Thou art of my mind then, bully Bewick,\n And sworn-brethren will we be;\n If thou be a man, as I trow thou art,\n Come over this ditch and fight with me.\u2019\n\n 38\n He flang his cloak from [off] his shoulders,\n His psalm-book out of his hand flang he,\n He clapd his hand upon the hedge,\n And oer lap he right wantonly.\n\n 39\n When Grahame did see his bully come,\n The salt tear stood long in his eye:\n \u2018Now needs must I say that thou art a man,\n That dare venture thy body to fight with me.\n\n 40\n \u2018Now I have a harness on my back;\n I know that thou hath none on thine;\n But as little as thou hath on thy back,\n Sure as little shall there be on mine.\u2019\n\n 41\n He flang his jack from off his back,\n His steel cap from his head flang he;\n He\u2019s taken his sword into his hand,\n He\u2019s tyed his horse unto a tree.\n\n 42\n Now they fell to it with two broa[d swords],\n For two long hours fought Bewick [and he];\n Much sweat was to be seen on them both,\n But never a drop of blood to see.\n\n 43\n Now Grahame gave Bewick an ackward stroke,\n An ackward stroke surely struck he;\n He struck him now under the left breast,\n Then down to the ground as dead fell he.\n\n 44\n \u2018Arise, arise, O bully Bewick,\n Arise, and speak three words to me!\n Whether this be thy deadly wound,\n Or God and good surgeons will mend thee.\u2019\n\n 45\n \u2018O horse, O horse, O bully Grahame,\n And pray do get thee far from me!\n Thy sword is sharp, it hath wounded my heart,\n And so no further can I gae.\n\n 46\n \u2018O horse, O horse, O bully Grahame,\n And get thee far from me with speed!\n And get thee out of this country quite!\n That none may know who\u2019s done the deed.\u2019\n\n 47\n \u2018O if this be true, my bully dear,\n The words that thou dost tell to me,\n The vow I made, and the vow I\u2019ll keep;\n I swear I\u2019ll be the first that die.\n\n 48\n Then he stuck his sword in a moody-hill,\n Where he lap thirty good foot and three;\n First he bequeathed his soul to God,\n And upon his own sword-point lap he.\n\n 49\n Now Grahame he was the first that died,\n And then came Robin Bewick to see;\n \u2018Arise, arise, O son!\u2019 he said,\n \u2018For I see thou\u2019s won the victory.\n\n 50\n \u2018Arise, arise, O son!\u2019 he said,\n \u2018For I see thou\u2019s won the victory:\u2019\n \u2018[Father, co]uld ye not drunk your wine at home,\n [And le]tten me and my brother be?\n\n 51\n \u2018Nay, dig a grave both low and wide,\n And in it us two pray bury;\n But bury my bully Grahame on the sun-side,\n For I\u2019m sure he\u2019s won the victory.\u2019\n\n 52\n Now we\u2019ll leave talking of these two brethren,\n In Carlisle town where they lie slain,\n And talk of these two good old men,\n Where they were making a pitiful moan.\n\n 53\n With that bespoke now Robin Bewick:\n \u2018O man, was I not much to blame?\n I have lost one of the liveliest lads\n That ever was bred unto my name.\u2019\n\n 54\n With that bespoke my good lord Grahame:\n \u2018O man, I have lost the better block;\n I have lost my comfort and my joy,\n I have lost my key, I have lost my lock.\n\n 55\n \u2018Had I gone through all Ladderdale,\n And forty horse had set on me,\n Had Christy Grahame been at my back,\n So well as he woud guarded me.\u2019\n\n 56\n I have no more of my song to sing,\n But two or three words to you I\u2019ll name;\n But \u2018twill be talk\u2019d in Carlisle town\n That these two [old] men were all the blame.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#a.#\n\n The Song of Bewick and Grahame: containing an account how the Lord\n Grahame met with Sir Robert Bewick in the town of Carlisle, and,\n going to the tavern, a dispute happened betwixt them which of\n their sons was the better man; how Grahame rode away in a\n passion, and, meeting with his son, persuaded him to go and\n fight young Bewick, which he did accordingly; and how it prov\u2019d\n both their deaths.\n\n Licensd and enterd according to order.\n\n 2^4. love, #b-g# _have_ live; #h#, like us.\n\n 11^4. thou. _Cf._ 31^4.\n\n 13^4. you can.\n\n 18^2. might he.\n\n 25^1, 36^1, 40^1, 42^1, 43^1, 49^1. Nay _for_ Now.\n\n 37^1. art in mind then. #b#, #c#, #e#, #f#. art then of my mind.\n\n 40^{2,4}. of _for_ on.\n\n 41^3. spear _for_ sword: so #b-f#, _but_ #g#, #k#, sword.\n\n 42^{1,2}, 50^{3,4}. _The top corner is torn off: cf._ #b-f#.\n\n#b-f.#\n\n A remarkable and memorable Song [#f#, Remarkable and memorable\n History] of Sir Robert Bewick and the Laird Graham, giving an\n account of Laird Graham\u2019s meeting with Sir Robert Bewick in the\n town of Carlisle, and, they going to a tavern, a dispute\n happened betwixt them which of their sons was the best man. How\n Graham rode home in a passion, and caused his son to fight young\n Bewick, which proved their deaths.\n\n 1^1. #b#, #c#, #d#, #e#. he is. #f.# he has.\n\n 1^4. #b.# drink.\n\n 2^1. #d.# he _wanting_.\n\n 2^4. live best.\n\n 3^4. #b.# safe.\n\n 4^2. do go.\n\n 4^3. might have.\n\n 5^1. he is. 5^{3,4}. _Wanting_.\n\n 6^4. how he can.\n\n 7^1. he calld.\n\n 7^2. what there was to.\n\n 7^4. #b#, #d#, #e#, #f#. good _wanting._\n\n 8^1. is to.\n\n 9^1. came there he did.\n\n 9^3. #d.# spy.\n\n 10^{1,2}. _Wanting._\n\n 10^4. you\u2019ll take.\n\n 11^1. been at.\n\n 11^{3,4}. #d.# _Wanting._\n\n 11^3. #f.# wast. #b.# calld thou. #e.# he called.\n\n 11^4. #b.# a _wanting_. #b#, #c#, #e#, #f#. by thee.\n\n 12^1. #d#, #f#. wast. #e.# he called.\n\n 12^4. #b#, #c#, #d#, #e#. cannot be.\n\n 13^1. #b#, #d#, #f#. wouldst.\n\n 13^2. #b#, #d#, #e#, #f#. wouldst.\n\n 13^3. #e.# blessings.\n\n 13^4. d, e. see if with. b, d, e, f. thou canst.\n\n 14^3. #d.# in a.\n\n 15^1. #d.# you say, you. #e.# thou says.\n\n 15^2. #d#, #e#, #f#. dare you.\n\n 16^1. #d#, #e#. Christy he.\n\n 17^2. dare you. #f.# Or _wanting_.\n\n 17^3. If you.\n\n 18^2. might be. #c.# for no study, _wrongly_.\n\n 19^1. be my.\n\n 19^3. #d.# town as.\n\n 20^1. my brother.\n\n 20^2. it were.\n\n 20^4. #d.# blessings.\n\n 21^2. me then to.\n\n 21^4. #b#, #d#, #e#, #f#. I shall, #b#-#f#. never.\n\n 22^1. good old. #b#, #d#, #e#, #f#. jacket. #c.# jack.\n\n 22^4. weel.\n\n 23^1. #b.# O fare the _torn away_. #d.# weel.\n\n 23^2. #b.# And fa _torn away_.\n\n 23^4. #c#, #d#, #e#. I\u2019ll swear.\n\n 24^1. leave off. #d#, #e#, #f#. we leave.\n\n 24^2. #b#, #c#, #f#. of them.\n\n 25^1. #b#, #d#, #e#, #f#. Now, #c.# Nay. #b#-#f#. learned: well\n _wanting_.\n\n 25^3. own _wanting_.\n\n 26^1. #b#, #c#. between them.\n\n 26^3. #b#, #c#, #d#, #e#. espy\u2019d. #f.# And espied.\n\n 27^2. doth.\n\n 27^3. #b.# is _wanting_.\n\n 28^1. my bully.\n\n 29^3. #b#, #c#, #e#, #f#. come that I neer. #d.# come neer.\n\n 29^4. #b#, #c#, #d#, #e#. come hither.\n\n 30^1. #d.# my bully.\n\n 30^3. #b#, #d#, #e#, #f#. and thou wast. #c.# and thou was.\n\n 30^4. #b#, #c#, #d#. as _wanting_, #b.# have _wanting_.\n\n 31^3. #d#, #e#, #f#. he _wanting_.\n\n 31^4. #d.# a _wanting_. #f.# by you.\n\n 32^2. all _wanting_.\n\n 32^3. on either. #b#, #c.# make.\n\n 33^3, 35^3, 37^3. #b#, #c#, #e#. I true.\n\n 33^3. #d.# thou be.\n\n 34^3. #d.# in a.\n\n 34^4. #b.# truth.\n\n 35^1. thou _for_ O.\n\n 35^2. all that _wanting_.\n\n 36^1. #b#, #c#, #d#, #e#. Nay. #f.# Now.\n\n 36^2. will. #b#, #c#. almost.\n\n 36^3. #f.# But _wanting_.\n\n 36^4. #d.# I\u2019d.\n\n 37^1. #b#, #c#, #e#, #f#. art then of my mind. #d.# then\n _wanting_.\n\n 37^2. #d#, #e#, #f#. we will.\n\n 38^1. from off. #d.# flung. #b.# shoulder.\n\n 38^2. #b#, #c#, #d#, #e#. book from off (#d#, from) his shoulders.\n\n 39^2. tears.\n\n 39^3. that _wanting_.\n\n 40^1. Nay.\n\n 40^2. none on. #f.# hast.\n\n 40^3. #c#, #d#, #f#. hast.\n\n 40^4. be on. #f#. Sure _wanting_.\n\n 41^1. jacket.\n\n 41^2. #b#, #c#, #d#, #e#. from off. #f.# cap of steel.\n\n 41^3. his spear.\n\n 42^1. #b#, #d#, #e#, #f#. Now. #c.# Nay. #b#-#f#. broad swords.\n\n 42^2. and he.\n\n 43^1. #b#, #d#, #e#, #f#. Now. #c.# Nay.\n\n 43^3. #f.# now _wanting_.\n\n 44^3. #d#, #e#. Were this to be.\n\n 45^3. #b#, #c#, #f#. it is. #d.# has wounded.\n\n 46^4. That not one.\n\n 47^1. Oh.\n\n 47^2. #b#, #d#, #e#. doth.\n\n 47^4. #d#, #e#, #f#. first to.\n\n 48^1. #b#, #c#. struck, #b#-#f#. mould hill.\n\n 48^2. #b#, #c#, #d#, #e#. Then he leapd. #f.# And he leapt.\n #b#-#f#. feet.\n\n 48^4. sword leapd he.\n\n 49^1. #b#, #d#, #e#, #f#. Now. #c.# Nay.\n\n 49^2. then Robert (#d#, #e#, #f#, Sir Robert) Bewick came. #c.#\n see _wanting_.\n\n 50^{1,2}. #d#, #f#. _Wanting_.\n\n 50^3. #b#, #c#, #d#, #e#. Father, could you not drink. #f.# could\n not you drink.\n\n 50^4. And letten: my bully.\n\n 51^1. #f.# Now.\n\n 52^1. leave of, off: these bold.\n\n 52^2. they were.\n\n 53^1. #b#, #c#, #d#, #e#. Robert, #b.# Berwick.\n\n 54^1. #d#, #e#, #f#. laird.\n\n 55^1. Lauderdale.\n\n 55^2. #d.# horses set.\n\n 55^4. well he would have.\n\n 56^2. #b#, #d#, #e#, #f#. to you _wanting_. #f.# I will.\n\n 56^3. #f.# But _wanting_.\n\n 56^4. #b#, #c#. two old.\n\n _Readings found only in #f# which have an editorial character._\n\n 6^3. he shall.\n\n 12^4. And sure I cannot say that of thee.\n\n 13^3. thou shalt.\n\n 13^4. Till with Bewick thou canst.\n\n 22^4. And O he did become.\n\n 29^4. Bully _wanting_: I\u2019m hither come to fight with thee.\n\n 38^2. psalm-book from his pouch.\n\n 44^3. Is this to be thy deadly wound.\n\n 53^1. And now up spake Sir Robert Bewick.\n\n 54^1. With that up spake my good laird.\n\n#g.#\n\n(_Only partially collated._)\n\n 1^2. he is.\n\n 2^2. Billy Bewick.\n\n 2^4. leave (==live).\n\n 5^2. billy, _and always_.\n\n 5^{3,4}. _Wanting._\n\n 6^4. see with Bewick he can. _Cf._ 13^4.\n\n 7^4. good wine, _as in_ #a#, #c#.\n\n 10^{1,2}. _Wanting._\n\n 10^4. you will take.\n\n 12^4. cannot be.\n\n 13^{1,2}. would.\n\n 13^3. thou shall.\n\n 14^2. should spoken be. _Cf._ 30^2.\n\n 20^1. my brother.\n\n 20^2. think that were.\n\n 22^1. good ould jack.\n\n 24^1. leave of.\n\n 25^1, 36^1, 40^1, 42^1, 43^1, 44^1. Nay.\n\n 25^1. had teacht.\n\n 28^1. my billey.\n\n 30^1. my billy.\n\n 30^4. have teacht.\n\n 31^4. by thou.\n\n 35^1. thou _for_ O.\n\n 36^2. will.\n\n 36^3. Nay _for_ But.\n\n 37^1. then _wanting_.\n\n 38^1. from of his back.\n\n 38^2. book from his shoulders.\n\n 39^2. tear.\n\n 39^4. in feald to fight.\n\n 40^4. Sure _wanting_.\n\n 41^1. jacket from.\n\n 41^3. sword _for_ spear: _much better_.\n\n 48^1. mould hill.\n\n 48^2. feet.\n\n 48^4. lept.\n\n 50^4. my billy.\n\n 51^3. sunney side.\n\n 52^1. leave of: thease bould.\n\n 52^2. they were.\n\n 53^4. was born.\n\n 55^4. well he would a.\n\n 56^4. two old.\n\n#h.#\n\n 2^4. like us best.\n\n 5^2. billie, _and always_.\n\n 41^3. he stuck his sword into the grund.\n\n 48^1. moudie hill.\n\n 51^3. on the sunny side.\n\n\n The Common Place Book of Ancient and Modern Ballad, etc., p. 292,\n _gives_ 18 _thus_:\n\n Then Christie Graham\u2019s to his chamber gane,\n And his thoughts within him made him sick,\n Whether he suld fight wi his auld father,\n Or wi his billie, learnd Bewick.\n\n\n\n\n 212\n\n THE DUKE OF ATHOLE\u2019S NURSE\n\n #A.# Cromek\u2019s Select Scotish Songs, 1810, II, 196.\n\n #B.# Skene MS., p. 10.\n\n #C.# \u2018Duke of Athole\u2019s Gates,\u2019 Kinloch MSS, I, 335.\n\n #D.# \u2018Duke of Athole\u2019s Nurse,\u2019 Kinloch MSS, I, 337.\n\n #E.# #a.# \u2018Duke o Athole\u2019s Nourice,\u2019 Kinloch MSS, VII, 171. #b.# \u2018The\n Duke of Athol\u2019s Nourice,\u2019 Kinloch\u2019s Ancient Scottish Ballads, p.\n 127.\n\n #F.# \u2018The Duke of Athole\u2019s Nurse.\u2019 #a.# Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North\n of Scotland, II, 23. #b.# Christie\u2019s Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 80.\n\n\n#M#, #N# of No 214 have stanzas belonging here. #M# 1, 3 = #A# 3, 5; #N#\n4, 6, 7 = #A# 2, 4, 5. #A# 1^{1,2}, 2 nearly, are found in No 213, \u2018Sir\nJames the Rose,\u2019 4^{1,2}, 5, where also there is a treacherous leman.\n\n#B.# The \u2018new-come darling\u2019 of the Duke of Athole offers the duke\u2019s\nnurse a ring if she will carry a word to her leman. This leman had\npreviously been the nurse\u2019s lover, and comes to tell her that another\nhas now possession of his heart. The nurse plans revenge, but\ndissimulates; she tells the faithless fellow to go for the night to an\nale-house, and she will meet him there in the morning. But instead of\nthe nurse he sees a band of men, her seven brothers (nine brothers,\n#F#), coming towards the house, and easily divines that they are come to\nslay him. He appeals to the landlady to save him; she dresses him in\nwoman\u2019s clothes and sets him to her baking. The seven brothers ask the\nlandlady if she had a lodger last night; they are come to pay his\nreckoning. A lodger had been there, but he did not stay till morning.\nThey search the house and stab the beds, often passing the sham\nbaking-maid without detecting the disguise.\n\n#C-F# have nothing about the \u2018new-come darling,\u2019 but begin at once with\nthe nurse, who longs for her lover, and would give her half-year\u2019s fee\nto see him. He appears, and avows to her that another woman has gained\nhis heart.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n Cromek\u2019s Select Scotish Songs, 1810, II, 196, 194; sent, with other\n fragments, by Robert Burns to William Tytler, August, 1790; stanzas\n 2\u20136.\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1\n \u2018Where shall I gang, my ain true love?\n Where shall I gang to hide me?\n For weel ye ken i yere father\u2019s bowr\n It wad be death to find me.\u2019\n\n 2\n \u2018O go you to yon tavern-house,\n An there count owre your lawin,\n An, if I be a woman true,\n I\u2019ll meet you in the dawin.\u2019\n\n 3\n O he\u2019s gone to yon tavern-house,\n An ay he counted his lawin,\n An ay he drank to her guid health\n Was to meet him in the dawin.\n\n 4\n O he\u2019s gone to yon tavern-house,\n An counted owre his lawin,\n When in there cam three armed men,\n To meet him in the dawin.\n\n 5\n \u2018O woe be unto woman\u2019s wit!\n It has beguiled many;\n She promised to come hersel,\n But she sent three men to slay me.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n Skene MS., p. 10; taken down in the north of Scotland, 1802\u20133.\n\n 1\n \u2018Ye are the Duke of Athol\u2019s nurse,\n And I\u2019m the new-come darling;\n I\u2019ll gie you my gay gold rings\n To get ae word of my leman.\u2019\n\n 2\n \u2018I am the Duke of Athol\u2019s nurse,\n And ye\u2019re the new-come darling;\n Keep well your gay gold rings,\n Ye sall get twa words o your leman.\u2019\n\n 3\n He leand oure his saddle-bow,\n It was not for to kiss her:\n \u2018Anither woman has my heart,\n And I but come here to see ye.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018If anither woman has your heart,\n O dear, but I am sorry!\n Ye hie you down to yon ale house,\n And stay untill \u2018t be dawing,\n And if I be a woman true\n I\u2019ll meet you in the dawing.\u2019\n\n 5\n He did him down to yon ale-house,\n And drank untill \u2019twas dawing;\n He drank the bonnie lassie\u2019s health\n That was to clear his lawing.\n\n 6\n He lookit out of a shot-window,\n To see if she was coming,\n And there he seed her seven brithers,\n So fast as they were running!\n\n 7\n He went up and down the house,\n Says, \u2018Landlady, can you save me?\n For yonder comes her seven brithers,\n And they are coming to slay me.\u2019\n\n 8\n So quick she minded her on a wile\n How she might protect him!\n She dressd him in a suit of woman\u2019s attire\n And set him to her baking.\n\n 9\n \u2018Had you a quarterer here last night,\n Or staid he to the dawing?\n Shew us the room the squire lay in,\n We are come to clear his lawing.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018I had a quarterer here last night,\n But he staid not to the dawing;\n He called for a pint, and paid as he went,\n You have nothing to do with his lawing.\u2019\n\n 11\n They searchd the house baith up and down,\n The curtains they spaird not to rive em,\n And twenty times they passd\n The squire at his baking.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n C\n\n Kinloch MSS, I, 335.\n\n 1\n As I went down by the Duke of Athole\u2019s gates,\n Where the bells of the court were ringing,\n And there I heard a fair maid say,\n O if I had but ae sight o my Johnie!\n\n 2\n \u2018O here is your Johnie just by your side;\n What have ye to say to your Johnie?\n O here is my hand, but anither has my heart,\n So ye\u2019ll never get more o your Johnie.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018O ye may go down to yon ale-house,\n And there do sit till the dawing;\n And call for the wine that is very, very fine,\n And I\u2019ll come and clear up your lawing.\u2019\n\n 4\n So he\u2019s gane down to yon ale-house,\n And he has sat till the dawing;\n And he\u2019s calld for the wine that\u2019s very, very fine,\n But she neer cam to clear up his lawing.\n\n 5\n Lang or the dawing he oure the window looks,\n To see if his true-love was coming,\n And there he spied twelve weel armd boys,\n Coming over the plainstanes running.\n\n 6\n \u2018O landlady, landlady, what shall I do?\n For my life it\u2019s not worth a farthing!\u2019\n \u2018O young man,\u2019 said she, \u2018tak counsel by me,\n And I will be your undertaking.\n\n 7\n \u2018I will clothe you in my own body-clothes\n And I\u2019ll send you like a girl to the baking:\u2019\n And loudly, loudly they rapped at the door,\n And loudly, loudly they rapp\u00ebd.\n\n 8\n \u2018O had you any strangers here late last night?\n Or were they lang gane or the dawing?\n O had you any strangers here late last night?\n We are now come to clear up his lawing.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018O I had a stranger here late last night,\n But he was lang gane or the dawing;\n He called for a pint, and he paid it as he went,\n And ye\u2019ve no more to do with his lawing.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018O show me the room that your stranger lay in,\n If he was lang gane or the dawing:\u2019\n She showed them the room that her stranger lay in,\n But he was lang gane or the dawing.\n\n 11\n O they stabbed the feather-bed all round and round,\n And the curtains they neer stood to tear them;\n And they gade as they cam, and left a\u2019 things undone,\n And left the young squire by his baking.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n D\n\n Kinloch MSS, I, 337.\n\n 1\n As I cam in by the Duke of Athole\u2019s gate,\n I heard a fair maid singing,\n Wi a bonny baby on her knee,\n And the bells o the court were ringing.\n\n 2\n \u2018O it\u2019s I am the Duke of Athole\u2019s nurse,\n And the place does well become me;\n But I would gie a\u2019 my half-year\u2019s fee\n Just for a sight o my Johnie.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 3\n \u2018If ye\u2019ll gae down to yon ale-house,\n And stop till it be dawing,\n And ca for a pint o the very, very best,\n And I\u2019ll come and clear up your lawing.\u2019\n\n 4\n O he\u2019s gane down to yon ale-house,\n And stopt till it was dawing;\n He ca\u2019d for a pint o the very, very best,\n But she cam na to clear up his lawing.\n\n 5\n He looked out at the chamber-window,\n To see if she was coming;\n And there he spied ten armed men,\n Across the plain coming running.\n\n 6\n \u2018O landlady, landlady, what shall I do?\n For my life is not worth a farthing;\n I paid you a guinea for my lodging last night,\n But I fear I\u2019ll never see sun shining.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018If ye will be advised by me,\n I\u2019ll be your undertaking;\n I\u2019ll dress you up in my ain body-clothes\n And set you to the baking.\u2019\n\n 8\n So loudly at the door they rapt,\n So loudly are they calling,\n \u2018O had you a stranger here last night,\n Or is he within your dwalling?\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018O I had a stranger here last night,\n But he wos gane or dawing;\n He ca\u2019d for a pint, and he paid it or he went,\n And I hae nae mair to do wi his lawing.\u2019\n\n 10\n They stabd the feather-beds round and round,\n The curtains they spared na to tear them;\n But they went as they came, and left a\u2019 things undone,\n And the young man busy baking.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n E\n\n #a.# Kinloch MSS, VII, 171; from the recitation of Mrs Charles,\n Torry. #b.# Kinloch\u2019s Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 127.\n\n 1\n \u2018I am the Duke o Athole\u2019s nurse,\n My part does weill become me,\n And I wad gie aw my half-year\u2019s fee\n For ae sicht o my Johnie.\u2019\n\n 2\n \u2018Keep weill, keep weill your half-year\u2019s fee,\n For ye\u2019ll soon get a sicht o your Johnie;\n But anither woman has my heart,\n And I\u2019m sorry for to leave ye.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll dow ye doun to yon changehouse,\n And ye\u2019ll drink till the day be dawin;\n At ilka pint\u2019s end ye\u2019ll drink my health out,\n And I\u2019ll come and pay for the lawin.\u2019\n\n 4\n Ay he ranted and he sang,\n And drank till the day was dawin,\n And ay he drank the bonnie lassy\u2019s health\n That was coming to pay the lawin.\n\n 5\n He spared na the sack, tho it was dear,\n The wine nor the sugar-candy,\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n 6\n He\u2019s dune him to the shot-window,\n To see an she was coming,\n And there he spied twelve armed men,\n That oure the plain cam rinning.\n\n 7\n He\u2019s dune him doun to the landlady,\n To see gin she wad protect him;\n She\u2019s buskit him up into women\u2019s claiths\n And set him till a baking.\n\n 8\n Sae loudly as they rappit at the yett,\n Sae loudly as they callit,\n \u2018Had ye onie strangers here last nicht,\n That drank till the day was dawin?\u2019\n\n * * * * * *\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n F\n\n #a.# Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 23. #b.#\n Christie\u2019s Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 80.\n\n 1\n As I gaed in yon greenwood-side,\n I heard a fair maid singing;\n Her voice was sweet, she sang sae complete\n That all the woods were ringing.\n\n 2\n \u2018O I\u2019m the Duke o Athole\u2019s nurse,\n My post is well becoming;\n But I woud gie a\u2019 my half-year\u2019s fee\n For ae sight o my leman.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018Ye say, ye\u2019re the Duke o Athole\u2019s nurse,\n Your post is well becoming;\n Keep well, keep well your half-year\u2019s fee,\n Ye\u2019se hae twa sights o your leman.\u2019\n\n 4\n He leand him ower his saddle-bow\n And cannilie kissd his dearie:\n \u2018Ohon and alake! anither has my heart,\n And I darena mair come near thee.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018Ohon and alake! if anither hae your heart,\n These words hae fairly undone me;\n But let us set a time, tryst to meet again,\n Then in gude friends you will twine me.\n\n 6\n \u2018Ye will do you down to yon tavern-house\n And drink till the day be dawing,\n And, as sure as I ance had a love for you,\n I\u2019ll come there and clear your lawing.\n\n 7\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll spare not the wine, altho it be fine,\n Nae Malago, tho it be rarely,\n But ye\u2019ll aye drink the bonnie lassie\u2019s health\n That\u2019s to clear your lawing fairly.\u2019\n\n 8\n Then he\u2019s done him down to yon tavern-house\n And drank till day was dawing,\n And aye he drank the bonny lassie\u2019s health\n That was coming to clear his lawing.\n\n 9\n And aye as he birled, and aye as he drank,\n The gude beer and the brandy,\n He spar\u2019d not the wine, altho it was fine,\n The sack nor the sugar candy.\n\n 10\n \u2018It\u2019s a wonder to me,\u2019 the knight he did say,\n \u2018My bonnie lassie\u2019s sae delaying;\n She promisd, as sure as she loved me ance,\n She woud be here by the dawing.\u2019\n\n 11\n He\u2019s done him to a shott-window,\n A little before the dawing,\n And there he spied her nine brothers bauld,\n Were coming to betray him.\n\n 12\n \u2018Where shall I rin? where shall I gang?\n Or where shall I gang hide me?\n She that was to meet me in friendship this day\n Has sent nine men to slay me!\u2019\n\n 13\n He\u2019s gane to the landlady o the house,\n Says, \u2018O can you supply me?\n For she that was to meet me in friendship this day\n Has sent nine men to slay me.\u2019\n\n 14\n She gae him a suit o her ain female claise\n And set him to the baking;\n The bird never sang mair sweet on the bush\n Nor the knight sung at the baking.\n\n 15\n As they came in at the ha-door,\n Sae loudly as they rappit!\n And when they came upon the floor,\n Sae loudly as they chappit!\n\n 16\n \u2018O had ye a stranger here last night,\n Who drank till the day was dawing?\n Come show us the chamber where he lyes in,\n We\u2019ll shortly clear his lawing.\u2019\n\n 17\n \u2018I had nae stranger here last night\n That drank till the day was dawing;\n But ane that took a pint, and paid it ere he went,\n And there\u2019s naething to clear o his lawing.\u2019\n\n 18\n A lad amang the rest, being o a merry mood,\n To the young knight fell a-talking;\n The wife took her foot and gae him a kick,\n Says, Be busy, ye jilt, at your baking.\n\n 19\n They stabbed the house baith but and ben,\n The curtains they spared nae riving,\n And for a\u2019 that they did search and ca,\n For a kiss o the knight they were striving.\n\n#E. a.#\n\n 1^1. nurse _altered to_ nurice.\n\n 3^3. drink the bonnie out, _originally_.\n\n 4^1. drank _struck out for_ sang.\n\n 7^2. and _struck out before_ gin.\n\n 8^2. callit _changed in pencil to_ were calling.\n\n#b.#\n\n _The printed copy seems to have been made up from_ #a# _and\n Kinloch\u2019s other versions._\n\n 1. _Preceded by these two lines, taken from_ #D#:\n\n As I cam in by Athol\u2019s yetts,\n I heard a fair maid singing.\n\n 1^2. And I wat it weel does set me.\n\n 3^2. ye\u2019ll _omitted_. 3^3. drink the lass\u2019 health.\n\n 3^4. That\u2019s coming to pay the. (_This stanza occurs in\n Motherwell\u2019s Note-Book,_ p. 46, _where it is credited to a MS._)\n\n _After 3_:\n\n He hied him doun to yon change-house,\n And he drank till the day was dawing,\n And at ilka pint\u2019s end he drank the lass\u2019 health\n That was coming to pay for his lawing.\n\n 4^1. and aye.\n\n 6^2. see gin she war.\n\n 6^3. There he saw the duke and a\u2019 his merry men.\n\n 6^4. the hill. 7^1. doun _omitted_.\n\n 7^3. She buskit: woman\u2019s.\n\n 8^2. they war calling.\n\n 8^3. Had ye a young man here yestreen.\n\n _After 8_:\n\n \u2018He drank but ae pint, and he paid it or he went,\n And ye\u2019ve na mair to do wi the lawing.\u2019\n They searchit the house a\u2019 round and round,\n And they spared na the curtains to tear them,\n\n While the landlady stood upo the stair-head,\n Crying, \u2018Maid, be busy at your baking!\u2019\n They gaed as they cam, and left a\u2019 undone,\n And left the bonnie maid at her baking.\n\n#F. b.#\n\n _\u201cSome alterations made from the way it was sung\u201d by the editor\u2019s\n maternal grandfather._\n\n 4^2. And kindly said, My dearie.\n\n 6^3. as you ance had a love for me.\n\n 11^4. That were.\n\n 12^2. Where shall I gang to hide me.\n\n 14^4. Than the.\n\n\n\n\n 213\n\n SIR JAMES THE ROSE\n\n \u2018Sir James the Rose.\u2019 #a.# From a stall-tract of about 1780,\n Abbotsford library. #b.# Motherwell\u2019s Minstrelsy, p. 321. #c.# Sir\n James the Rose\u2019s Garland, one of a volume of the like from Heber\u2019s\n library. #d.# Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 281; from the recitation of Mrs\n Gentles, of Paisley. #e.# Herd\u2019s MSS, I, 82. #f.# The same, II, 42.\n #g.# \u2018Sir James the Rose,\u2019 Pinkerton\u2019s Scottish Tragic Ballads,\n 1781, p. 61.\n\n\n#b#, says Motherwell, \u201cis given as it occurs in early stall-prints, and\nas it is to be obtained from the recitations of elderly people.\u201d Most of\nthe variations are derived from #d#. #c# may have been printed earlier\nthan #a#, but is astonishingly faulty. #d#, well remembered from print,\nis what Motherwell meant by \u201cthe recitations of elderly people.\u201d #e# was\nobtained by Herd, probably from recitation, as early as 1776, but must\nhave been learned from print. #f# is #e# with a few missing lines\nsupplied. #g#, says Pinkerton, \u201cis given from a modern edition in one\nsheet 12mo,\u201d but was beyond question considerably manipulated by the\neditor. All the important variations are certainly his work.\n\nThe copy in Buchan\u2019s Gleanings, p. 9, is #g#. Whitelaw, in his Book of\nScotish Ballads, p. 39, has combined #b# and #g#.\n\nHalf a dozen lines preserved by Burns, Cromek\u2019s Select Scotish Songs,\nII, 196 (see the preface to No 212), seem to belong to this ballad.\n\n\u2018Sir James the Ross, A Historical Ballad\u2019 (sometimes called \u2018The\nBuchanshire Tragedy\u2019), was composed by the youthful Michael Bruce ([+]\n1767) upon the story of the popular ballad, and has perhaps enjoyed more\nfavor with \u201cthe general\u201d than the original.[93] \u2018Elfrida and Sir James\nof Perth,\u2019 Caw\u2019s Poetical Museum, 1784, p. 290 (probably taken, as most\nof the pieces are by the collector said to be, from some periodical\npublication), looks more like an imitation of Bruce\u2019s ballad than of its\nprototype. It is in fact a stark plagiarism.\n\nSir James the Rose has killed a squire, and men are out to take him. A\nnurse at the house of Marr is his leman, and he resorts to her in the\nhope that she may befriend him. She advises him to go to an ale-house\nfor the night, promising to meet him there in the morning; he says he\nwill do so, but, perhaps from distrust, which proves to be well\ngrounded, prefers to wrap himself in his plaid and sleep under the sky.\nThe party sent out to take him question the nurse, who at first makes a\ndeceptive answer, then gives them a direction to his hiding-place. They\nfind James the Rose asleep and take away his arms; he wakes and begs for\nmercy, and is told that he shall have such as he has given. He appeals\nto his servant to stay by him till death, and then to take his body to\nLoch Largan (Loughargan), for which service the man shall have his\nclothes and valuables. The avengers cut out his heart and take it to his\nleman at the house of Marr; she raves over her treachery, and is \u2018born\naway\u2019 bodily, to be seen no more.\n\n#e#, #f#, it may be by accident, lack the vulgar passage 18, 19, which\nmay be a later addition, for nothing is said of a man being in\nattendance when Sir James goes to his lair. The leader of the band that\ntakes Sir James the Rose is Sir James the Graham, Sir James Graham, in\n#c#, #e#, #f#; a simple error, evidently. No motive is furnished in\n#a-f# for the woman\u2019s betraying her leman. #g# makes her offer\ninformation on condition of getting a proper reward, and she is promised\nSir James\u2019s purse and brechan, but in the end is tendered his bleeding\nheart and his bleeding tartan, whatever that may be other than his\nbrechan. This must be one of Pinkerton\u2019s improvements. The moral tag,\nst. 24, is dropped, or wanting, in #c#, #e#, #f#, #g#.\n\nThe topography of traditional ballads frequently presents difficulties,\nboth because it is liable to be changed, wholly, or, what is more\nembarrassing, partially, to suit a locality to which a ballad has been\ntransported, and again because unfamiliar names, when not exchanged, are\nexposed to corruption. Some of the places, also, have not a dignity\nwhich entitles them to notice in gazetteers. The first point, in the\ncase before us, would be to settle the whereabouts of the House of Marr,\nin the vicinity of which the scene is laid. This I am unable to do.\nThere is a Ballechin in Logierait Parish, Perthshire. There is said to\nbe a Baleichan in Forfarshire.[94] It is not easy to see why the heir of\neither of these places (Buleighan and the rest may stand for either)\nshould wish to have his body taken to Loch Largon in Invernesshire, if\nLoch Largon means Loch Laggan, as seems likely.[95]\n\n\nTranslated by Knortz, Schottische Balladen, p. 79, after Aytoun.\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1\n O heard ye of Sir James the Rose,\n The young heir of Buleighen?\n For he has killd a gallant squire,\n An \u2018s friends are out to take him.\n\n 2\n Now he\u2019s gone to the House of Marr,\n Where the nourrice was his leman;\n To see his dear he did repair,\n Thinking she would befriend him.\n\n 3\n \u2018Where are you going, Sir James?\u2019 she says,\n \u2018Or where now are you riding?\u2019\n \u2018O I am bound to a foreign land,\n For now I\u2019m under hiding.\n\n 4\n \u2018Where shall I go? Where shall I run?\n Where shall I go to hide me?\n For I have killd a gallant squire,\n And they\u2019re seeking to slay me.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018O go ye down to yon ale-house,\n And I\u2019ll pay there your lawing;\n And, if I be a woman true,\n I\u2019ll meet you in the dawing.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018I\u2019ll not go down to yon ale-house,\n For you to pay my lawing;\n There\u2019s forty shillings for one supper,\n I\u2019ll stay in \u2018t till the dawing.\u2019\n\n 7\n He\u2019s turnd him right and round about\n And rowd him in his brechan,\n And he has gone to take a sleep,\n In the lowlands of Buleighen.\n\n 8\n He was not well gone out of sight,\n Nor was he past Milstrethen,\n Till four and twenty belted knights\n Came riding oer the Leathen.\n\n 9\n \u2018O have you seen Sir James the Rose,\n The young heir of Buleighen?\n For he has killd a gallant squire,\n And we\u2019re sent out to take him.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018O I have seen Sir James,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018For he past here on Monday;\n If the steed be swift that he rides on,\n He\u2019s past the gates of London.\u2019\n\n 11\n But as they were going away,\n Then she calld out behind them;\n \u2018If you do seek Sir James,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018I\u2019ll tell you where you\u2019ll find him.\n\n 12\n \u2018You\u2019ll seek the bank above the mill,\n In the lowlands of Buleighen,\n And there you\u2019ll find Sir James the Rose,\n Lying sleeping in his brechan.\n\n 13\n \u2018You must not wake him out of sleep,\n Nor yet must you affright him,\n Till you run a dart quite thro his heart,\n And thro the body pierce him.\u2019\n\n 14\n They sought the bank above the mill,\n In the lowlands of Buleighan,\n And there they found Sir James the Rose,\n A sleeping in his brechan.\n\n 15\n Then out bespoke Sir John the Gr\u00e6me,\n Who had the charge a keeping;\n \u2018It\u2019s neer be said, dear gentlemen,\n We\u2019ll kill him when he\u2019s sleeping.\u2019\n\n 16\n They seizd his broadsword and his targe,\n And closely him surrounded;\n But when he wak\u2019d out of his sleep,\n His senses were confounded.\n\n 17\n \u2018O pardon, pardon, gentlemen!\n Have mercy now upon me!\u2019\n \u2018Such as you gave, such you shall have,\n And so we\u2019ll fall upon thee.\u2019\n\n 18\n \u2018Donald my man, wait me upon,\n And I\u2019ll give you my brechan,\n And, if you stay here till I die,\n You\u2019ll get my trews of tartan.\n\n 19\n \u2018There is fifty pounds in my pocket,\n Besides my trews and brechan;\n You\u2019ll get my watch and diamond ring;\n And take me to Loch Largon.\u2019\n\n 20\n Now they have taken out his heart\n And stuck it on a spear,\n Then took it to the House of Marr,\n And gave it to his dear.\n\n 21\n But when she saw his bleeding heart\n She was like one distracted;\n She smote her breast, and wrung her hands,\n Crying, \u2018What now have I acted!\n\n 22\n \u2018Sir James the Rose, now for thy sake\n O but my heart\u2019s a breaking!\n Curst be the day I did thee betray,\n Thou brave knight of Buleighen.\u2019\n\n 23\n Then up she rose, and forth she goes,\n All in that fatal hour,\n And bodily was born away,\n And never was seen more.\n\n 24\n But where she went was never kend,\n And so, to end the matter,\n A traitor\u2019s end, you may depend,\n Can be expect\u2019d no better.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#a.#\n\n _From_ \u201cA collection of Popular Ballads and Tales,\u201d _in six\n volumes_, \u201cformed by me,\u201d _says Sir W. Scott_, \u201cwhen a boy, from\n the baskets of the travelling pedlars.... It contains most of\n the pieces that were popular about thirty years since.\u201d\n (\u201c1810.\u201d) _Vol._ IV, _No_ 21. _In stanzas of eight lines._\n\n#b.#\n\n 1^2. Buleighan, _and always_.\n\n 2^3. To seek (#d#).\n\n 5^2. there pay.\n\n 5^3. maiden true (#d#).\n\n 11^1. As they rode on, man after man.\n\n 11^2. she cried.\n\n 11^3. James the Rose.\n\n 12^1. Seek ye the bank abune.\n\n 13^3. you drive (#d#).\n\n 13^4. through his (#d#).\n\n 14^1. abune (#d#).\n\n 14^4. Lying sleeping (#d#).\n\n 15^1. Up then spake (#d#).\n\n 15^3. It shall (#d#).\n\n 15^4. We killed: when a (#d#).\n\n 16^3. And (#d#).\n\n 17^4. we fall (#d#).\n\n 20^1. they\u2019ve taen out his bleeding heart (#d#).\n\n 21^3. wrung her hands and tore her hair (#d#).\n\n 21^4. Oh, what have I.\n\n 22^1. It\u2019s for your sake, Sir J. the R. (#d#).\n\n 22^2. That my poor heart\u2019s (#d#).\n\n 23^3. She bodily.\n\n 24^4. Can never be no.\n\n#c.#\n\n 1^1. Did you hear.\n\n 1^2. That young.\n\n 1^2, 7^4, 9^2. Belichan.\n\n 1^3. For _wanting_.\n\n 1^4. Who was sent out.\n\n 2^1. Now _wanting_.\n\n 2^2. nurse she was his layman.\n\n 3^2. where are you a.\n\n 3^3. I am going to some land.\n\n 3^4. For I am.\n\n 4^1. Where must: I turn.\n\n 4^2. I run.\n\n 4^3, 9^3. esquire.\n\n 4^4. And my friends are out to take me.\n\n 5^1. Go you.\n\n 5^2. There you\u2019ll stay till the dawning.\n\n 5^4. I\u2019ll come and pay your lawing.\n\n 6^1. down _wanting_.\n\n 6^2. To stay unto the dawning.\n\n 6^3. Now if you be a woman true.\n\n 6^4. [D] o (?) come and pay the lawning.\n\n 7^1. himself quite round.\n\n 7^3. he is.\n\n 8^1. not quite out.\n\n 8^2. _Wanting._\n\n 8^4. ore Beligham.\n\n 9^1. did you see.\n\n 9^2. That.\n\n 9^3. For _wanting_.\n\n 9^4. Who was sent.\n\n 10^1. Oh yes, I seed S. J. the R.\n\n 10^2. He passed by here.\n\n 10^3. His steed was: rid.\n\n 10^4. And past.\n\n 11^1. Just as.\n\n 11^2. They thought no more upon him.\n\n 11^3. Oh if you want S. J. the R.\n\n 12^2. And the: Belighan.\n\n 12^3. And _wanting_.\n\n 13 _as_ 14.\n\n 13^1. him from his.\n\n 13^2. you _wanting_.\n\n 13^3. But in his breast must run a dart.\n\n 14 _as_ 13.\n\n 14^2. And lowlands.\n\n 14^4. Lying sleeping.\n\n 15^1. up bespoke Sir James the Graham.\n\n 15^2. charge in.\n\n 15^3. Let it neer: gentleman.\n\n 15^4. We killd a man a sleeping.\n\n 16^1. They have taken from him his sword and target.\n\n 16^3. wakened out of sleep.\n\n 16^4. was.\n\n 17^1. O _wanting_.\n\n 17^2. And now have mercy on.\n\n 17^3. Which as.\n\n 17^4. And so shall fall upon you.\n\n 18^2. Until I be a dead man.\n\n 18^3. You\u2019ll get my hose, likewise my shoes.\n\n 18^4. Likewise my Highland brichan.\n\n 19^{1,2}. _Wanting._\n\n 19^{3,4} _with_ 20^{1,2}: 20^{3,4} _with_ 21^{1,2}: 21^{3,4}\n _with_ 22^{3,4}: 22^{1,2} _wanting_.\n\n 19^3. You shall have my.\n\n 19^4. If you\u2019ll carry me to Loughargan.\n\n 20^1. tane out his bleeding heart.\n\n 20^2. And fetched it on a spear man.\n\n 20^3. And locked it to the Marr.\n\n 20^4. A present to. 21^2. She ran.\n\n 21^3. She wrung her hands and smote her breast.\n\n 21^4. Oh what have I done, what have I acted.\n\n 22^3. day I you betrayd.\n\n 22^4. of Brichan.\n\n 23^1. Then _wanting_.\n\n 23^2. And in.\n\n 23^3. Her body by.\n\n 23^4. never was heard tell of: more _wanting_.\n\n 24. _Wanting._\n\n#d.#\n\n 1^2. Buleichan, _and always_.\n\n 1^4. And his.\n\n 2^1. Now _wanting_.\n\n 2^3. To seek.\n\n 3. _Wanting._\n\n 4^4. They\u2019re seeking for to.\n\n 5^2. there I\u2019ll pay.\n\n 5^3. a maiden.\n\n 6^1. no gae.\n\n 6^3. thirty shillings for your.\n\n 6^4. And stay until the.\n\n 8^1. He had.\n\n 8^2. And past the Mill strethan.\n\n 10^1. S. J. the Rose.\n\n 11^1. But _wanting_.\n\n 11^2. She cried out.\n\n 11^3. S. J. the Rose.\n\n 12^1. Search the.\n\n 13^3. you drive.\n\n 13^4. through his.\n\n 14^1. They searched: abune.\n\n 14^4. Lying sleeping.\n\n 15^1. Up then spoke.\n\n 15^3. It shall.\n\n 15^4. We killed him when a.\n\n 16^3. And.\n\n 17^4. we fall.\n\n 19^1. There is _wanting_.\n\n 20^1. They\u2019ve taen out his bleeding.\n\n 20^3. And they\u2019ve gone to.\n\n 20^4. And gien.\n\n 21^1. But _wanting_.\n\n 21^3. She wrung her hands and tore her hair.\n\n 21^4. Crying, Now what.\n\n 22^1. It\u2019s for your sake, S. J. the R.\n\n 22^2. That my poor heart\u2019s.\n\n 23^1. Then _wanting_.\n\n 23^2. And in.\n\n 23^3. Bodily: She _prefixed later_.\n\n 24^1. kent.\n\n 24^4. Cannot expect no.\n\n#e, f.#\n\n #e.# Another song of Sir James the Ross; _this following Bruce\u2019s\n ballad, which has the title_ (_p._ 73) Sir James the Rose or de\n Ross. #f.# Another song of Sir James de Ross.\n\n 1^1. O did ye na ken Sir.\n\n 1^2. #e.# Ballachen, _and always_.\n\n #f.# 1^2, 7^4, 9^2, Ballachen;\n\n 12^2. Ballichan;\n\n 14^2. Ballichin;\n\n 22^4. Ballichen.\n\n 1^4. #e.# And they seeking, #f.# And they\u2019re seeking.\n\n 2^1. He\u2019s hy\u2019d him: Moor.\n\n 2^{2\u20134}, 3. #e.# _Wanting_.\n\n 3^2. #f.# O where away are.\n\n 3^3. #f.# to some.\n\n 4^1. O where.\n\n 4^2. O whither shall I hide me.\n\n 4^4. to kill.\n\n 5^1. #e.# gan ye. #f.# gang you.\n\n 5^2. I will pay your.\n\n 5^3. And gin there be.\n\n 6^1. gang.\n\n 6^3. shillings in my purse.\n\n 6^4. We\u2019l stake it in the.\n\n 7^1. He turnd.\n\n 7^3. is gone.\n\n 8^2. Mill Strechin.\n\n 8^3. Ere.\n\n 8^4. the Rechin.\n\n 9^1. O saw ye.\n\n 10^1. O yes, I saw S. J. the R.\n\n 10^3. And gif: swift he: on _wanting_.\n\n 10^4. He\u2019s near.\n\n 11^1. They were not well gane out o sight.\n\n 11^2. Ere she.\n\n 11^3. O gin ye seek S. J. the R.\n\n 11^4. ye where to.\n\n 12^1. Ye\u2019ll search the bush aboon the know.\n\n 13^1. him from his sleep.\n\n 13^2. Neither man you\n\n 14^1. the bush aboon the know.\n\n 14^4. Lying sleeping.\n\n 15^1. O then spake up Sir James Graham.\n\n 15^3. Let it not be.\n\n 15^4. We killd: while.\n\n 16^1. They\u2019ve tane his broadsword from his side.\n\n 16^2. him they have _for_ closely him.\n\n 16^3. o _for_ of his.\n\n 17^2. O pardon me, I pray ye.\n\n 17^8. ye gae, such shall ye hae.\n\n 17^4. There is no pardon for ye.\n\n 18, 19. _Wanting._\n\n 20^1. they\u2019ve tane out his bleeding heart.\n\n 20^2. #f.# stickt it.\n\n 20^3. Then carried, #e.# Mure, #f.# Moor.\n\n 20^4. And shewd.\n\n 21^1. But _wanting_.\n\n 21^2. She rav\u2019d.\n\n 21^3. And cried, Alake, a weel (well) a day.\n\n 21^4. Alas what have.\n\n 22^2. My heart it is a.\n\n 22^3. Wae to the day I thee betrayd.\n\n 22^4. Thou bold.\n\n 23^2. In that unhappy hour.\n\n 23^4. neer was heard of more.\n\n 24. _Wanting._\n\n#g.#\n\n 1^2. Buleighan, _and always_.\n\n 1^4. Whase friends.\n\n 2^1. has gane.\n\n 2^2. Whar nane might seek to find him.\n\n 2^4. Weining.\n\n 3^1. said.\n\n 3^2. O whar awa are ye.\n\n 3^3. I maun be bound.\n\n 3^4. And now.\n\n 4^2. I rin to lay.\n\n 4^4. And his friends seek.\n\n 5^1. yon laigh.\n\n 5^2. I sall pay there.\n\n 5^3. And as I am your leman trew.\n\n 5^4. at the.\n\n 6. _Wanting._\n\n 7^1. He turnd.\n\n 7^2. And laid him doun to.\n\n 8^3. Whan.\n\n 9^4. sent to.\n\n 10^1. Yea, I: said.\n\n 10^2. He past by here.\n\n 10^3. Gin.\n\n 10^4. the Hichts of Lundie.\n\n 11^1. as wi speid they rade awa.\n\n 11^2. She leudly cryd.\n\n 11^3. Gin ye\u2019ll gie me a worthy meid.\n\n 11^4. whar to.\n\n 12.\n \u2018O tell, fair maid, and, on our band,\n Ye\u2019se get his purse and brechan:\u2019\n \u2018He\u2019s in the bank aboon the mill,\n In the lawlands o Buleighan.\u2019\n\n 13, 14. _Wanting._\n\n 15^1. out and spak.\n\n 15^3. said, my stalwart feres.\n\n 15^4. We killd him whan a.\n\n 16^{3,4}.\n O pardon, mercy, gentlemen!\n He then fou loudly sounded.\n\n 17^{3,4}\u201319.\n \u2018Sic as ye gae sic ye sall hae,\n Nae grace we shaw to thee can.\u2019\n \u2018Donald my man, wait till I fa,\n And ye shall hae my brechan;\n Ye\u2019ll get my purse, thouch fou o gowd,\n To tak me to Loch Lagan.\u2019\n\n 20^1. Syne they tuke out his bleeding heart.\n\n 20^2. And set.\n\n 20^4. And shawd.\n\n 21.\n We cold nae gie Sir James\u2019s purse,\n We cold nae gie his brechan,\n But ye sall ha his bleeding heart,\n Bot and his bleeding tartan.\n\n 22^1. O for.\n\n 22^2. My heart is now.\n\n 22^3. day I wrocht thy wae.\n\n 22^4. brave heir.\n\n 23^{2,3}. And in that hour o tein, She wanderd to the dowie glen.\n\n 23^4. never mair was sein.\n\n 24. _Wanting._\n\n\n\n\n 214\n\n THE BRAES O YARROW\n\n #A.# \u2018The Braes of Yarrow,\u2019 communicated to Percy by Dr Robertson,\n Principal of Edinburgh.\n\n #B.# \u2018The Braes o Yarrow,\u2019 Murison MS., p. 105.\n\n #C.# \u2018The Dowie Downs o Yarrow,\u2019 Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 334;\n Motherwell\u2019s Minstrelsy, p. 252.\n\n #D.# \u2018The Bonny Braes of Yarrow,\u2019 communicated to Percy by Robert\n Lambe, of Norham, 1768.\n\n #E. a.# \u2018The Dowy Houms o Yarrow,\u2019 \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for\n Border Minstrelsy,\u201d Abbotsford. #b.# \u2018The Dowie Dens of Yarrow,\u2019\n Scott\u2019s Minstrelsy III, 72, 1803, III, 143, 1833.\n\n #F.# \u2018The Dowie Dens o Yarrow,\u2019 \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border\n Minstrelsy,\u201d Abbotsford.\n\n #G.# \u2018The Dowie Dens of Yarrow,\u2019 \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border\n Minstrelsy,\u201d Abbotsford.\n\n #H.# \u2018The Dowie Dens of Yarrow,\u2019 Campbell MSS, II, 55.\n\n #I.# \u2018Braes of Yarrow,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s MSS, II, 161; Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the\n North of Scotland, II, 203; Dixon, Scottish Traditional Versions of\n Ancient Ballads, p. 68, Percy Society, vol. xvii.\n\n #J.# \u2018The Dowie Glens of Yarrow,\u2019 \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for\n Border Minstrelsy,\u201d Abbotsford.\n\n #K.# \u2018The Dowie Den in Yarrow,\u2019 Campbell MSS, I, 8.\n\n #L.# \u2018The Dowie Dens,\u2019 Blackwood\u2019s Magazine, CXLVII, 741, June, 1890.\n\n #M.# \u2018Dowie Banks of Yarrow,\u2019 \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border\n Minstrelsy,\u201d Abbotsford.\n\n #N.# \u2018The Yetts of Gowrie,\u2019 \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border\n Minstrelsy,\u201d Abbotsford.\n\n #O.# Herd\u2019s MSS, I, 35, II, 181; Herd\u2019s Ancient and Modern Scottish\n Songs, 1776, I, 145; four stanzas.\n\n #P.# Cromek\u2019s Select Scotish Songs, 1810, II, 196; two stanzas.\n\n\nFirst published in Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, 1803 (#E b#).\nScott remarks that he \u201cfound it easy to collect a variety of copies, but\nvery difficult indeed to select from them such a collated edition as\nmight in any degree suit the taste of \u2018these more light and giddy-paced\ntimes.\u2019\u201d The copy principally used was #E a#. St. 12 of Scott, which\nsuited the taste of the last century, but does not suit with a popular\nballad, is from #O#, and also st. 13, and there are traces of #F#, #G#,\n#M#, but 5\u20137 have lines which do not occur in any version that I have\nseen.\n\n#A# had been somewhat edited before it was communicated to Percy; the\nplaces were, however, indicated by commas. Several copies besides #O#,\nalready referred to, have slight passages that never came from the\nunsophisticated people; as #J# 2, in which a page \u201cruns with sorrow,\u201d\nfor rhyme and without reason, #L# 2^3, and #L# 12^{3,4}, which is\nmanifestly taken from Logan\u2019s Braes of Yarrow.[96] #N# has been\ninterpolated with artificial nonsense,[97] and is an almost worthless\ncopy; the last stanza may defy competition for silliness.\n\n#M# 1, 3, and #N# 4, 6, 7, belong to \u2018The Duke of Athole\u2019s Nurse.\u2019 So\nalso does one half of a fragment sent by Burns in a letter to William\nTytler, Cromek\u2019s Select Scotish Songs, 1810, II, 194\u20138, which, however,\nhas two stanzas of this ballad (#P#) and two of \u2018Rare Willie\u2019s drowned\nin Yarrow,\u2019 No 215.\n\nThe fragment in Ritson\u2019s Scotish Songs, 1794, I, lxvii, is #O#.\n\nHerd\u2019s MSS, I, 36, II, 182, have the following couplets, evidently from\na piece treating the story of this ballad:\n\n O when I look east my heart is sair,\n But when I look west it\u2019s mair and mair,\n For there I see the braes of Yarrow,\n And there I lost for ay my marrow.\n\nThe groups #A-I# and #J-P# are distinguished by the circumstance, of no\nimportance to the story, that the hero and heroine in the former are man\nand wife, in the other unmarried lovers. In all the versions (leaving\nout of account the fragments #O#, #P#) the family of the woman are at\nvariance with the man. Her brothers think him an unfit match for their\nsister, #A# 8, #B# 2.[98] In #C# 2 the brothers have taken offence\nbecause their sister was not regarded as his equal by her husband, which\nis perhaps too much of a refinement for ballads, and may be a\nperversion. She was worth stealing in #C# as in #B#. The dispute in two\nor three copies appears to take the form who is the flower, or rose, of\nYarrow, that is the best man, #C# 8, 9, 17, #B# 1, 12, #D# 1, 14; but\nthis matter is muddled, cf. #C# 2, 3, #D# 2. We hear nothing about the\nunequal match in #D#-#I#, but in #J-L# a young lady displeases her\nfather by refusing nine gentlemen in favor of a servant-lad.\n\nMen who are drinking together fall out and set a combat for the next\nday, #B-F#, #H#, #I#. It is three lords that drink and quarrel in\n#B#-#D# (ten (?) in #I#). The lady fears that her three brothers will\nslay her husband, #B# 5, #C# 5. The lord in #D# 2 seems not to be one of\nthe three in #D# 1, and we are probably to understand that three\nbrothers get into a brawl with a man who has surreptitiously married\ntheir sister. Only one brother is spoken of in #A# (6), from whom\ntreachery is looked for, #E# 2.\n\nIn #I-L# the father makes the servant-lad fight with the nine high-born\nsuitors.\n\nThe wife tries to keep her husband at home, #A-E#, #I#; but he is\nconfident that all will go well, and that he shall come back to her\nearly, #A#, #B#, #C#, #I#. She kisses (washes) and combs him, and helps\nto arm him, #B#, #C#, #E#, #F#, #G#, #I#; so #J#, #K#.[99] He finds nine\narmed men awaiting him on the braes or houms of Yarrow, #A#, #E#-#G#,\n#I-M#, ten #B#, #D#.[100] They ask if he has come to hawk, hunt (drink),\nor fight; he replies that he has come to fight, #C#, #E#, #I#; cf. #A#\n5, 6. Five (four) he slays and four (five) he wounds, #A#, #B#, #D#,\n#E#, #I#, #J#, #K#; in #F# he kills all the nine; in #L# he gets no\nfurther than the seventh; in #G# he kills all but one.\n\nThese nine, after the way of ballads, should be the lady\u2019s brothers, and\nsuch they are in #A# 7, 8. Three of them, but only three, should be the\nlady\u2019s brothers according to #B# 1\u20135, #C# 1\u20135. Three brethren are\ncharged by the husband with a message to his lady in #D# 8, and these\nmight be his brothers-in-law. The message is sent in #E# 9 by a\ngood-brother, or wife\u2019s brother, John, who clearly was not in the fight\nin #E#, though the husband says he is going to meet this brother John in\n#A# 6. This brother-in-law of #E# is probably intended by brother in #I#\n8.\n\nAfter the hero has successively disposed of his nine or ten antagonists\n(he takes them \u2018man for man\u2019), he is stabbed from behind in a cowardly\nway, #A#, #B#, #C#, #E#, #I#, #L#, #N#, by somebody. The tradition is\nmuch blurred here; it is a squire out of the bush, a cowardly man, a\nfause lord. An Englishman shoots him with an arrow out of a bush in #D#.\nBut other reports are distinct. The lady\u2019s father runs him through (not\nfrom behind) in #J#, #K#. Her brother springs from a bush behind and\nruns him through, #L#. Her brother John comes behind him and slays him,\n#N#. Up and rose her brother James and slew him, #M#. In #E# \u201cthat\nstubborn knight\u201d comes behind him and runs his body through, and that\n(a) \u201cstubborn lord\u201d is the author of his death in #G#, #F#. Taking #E#\n2, 8, 9 together, the stubborn knight, at least in #E#, may be\ninterpreted as good-brother John, whose treachery is feared in #E# 2,\nwho is prominent in #A# 6, and who is expressly said to slay his\nsister\u2019s true-love in #N#. On the whole, the preponderance of tradition\nis to the effect that the hero was treacherously slain by his wife\u2019s\n(love\u2019s) brother.\n\nWord of her husband\u2019s death is sent or carried to the wife by her\nbrother, brother John, #A#, #E#, #L#, #N#; her or his three brothers,\n#D# 8; her or his brother, #I# 8; his man John, #C# 12, by mistake; her\nfather (?), #J#, #K#; her sister Anne, #F#, #G#, #H#. The wife has had a\ndream that she, her lord or true-love and she, had been pulling green\nheather (birk) in Yarrow, #A#, #C-F#, #I-M#, #O#.[101] The dream is\nexplained to signify her lord\u2019s death, and she is enjoined to fetch him\nhome. In #A#, the dream occurs before the fight and is double, of\npulling green heather and of her love coming headless home; in #B#, the\nlady dreams that her lord was sleeping sound in Yarrow, and in the\nhighly vitiated #N# that \u2018he had lost his life.\u2019\n\nThe wife hurries to Yarrow;[102] up a high, high hill and down into the\nvalley, where she sees nine (ten) dead men, #E#, #F#, #G#, #M# (nine\nwell-armed men, wrongly, #H#).[103] She sees her true-love lying slain,\nfinds him sleeping sound, in Yarrow, #A#, #B#, #J#, #K#. She kisses him\nand combs his hair, #A#, #E#, #F#, #G#, #I#, #L#, #M#; she drinks the\nblood that runs from him, #E# 12, #F# 11, #G# 7, #M# 9.[104]\n\nHer hair is five quarters long; she twists it round his hand and draws\nhim home, #C#; ties it round his middle and carries him home, #D#. She\ntakes three lachters of her hair, ties them tight round his middle and\ncarries him home, #B#. _His_ hair is five quarters long! she ties it to\nher horse\u2019s mane and trails him home, #K#.[105] The carrying strikes one\nas unpractical, the trailing as barbarous. In #L#, after the lover is\nslain, the surviving lords and her brother trail him by the heels to\nYarrow water and throw him into a whirlpool. The lady, searching for\nhim, sees him \u2018deeply drowned.\u2019 His hair, which we must suppose to\nfloat, is five quarters long; she twines it round her hand and draws him\nout. Raising no petty questions, it appears enough to say that this is\nthe only version of fourteen in which the drowning occurs, and that the\ndrowning of the lover is the characteristic of No 215, the next\nfollowing ballad, which has otherwise been partly confused with\nthis.[106]\n\nThe lady\u2019s father urges her to restrain her grief; he will wed her with\nas good a lord as she has lost, or a better; she rejects his\nsuggestions. Her heart breaks, #B#, #I#; she dies in her father\u2019s arms,\n#D#, #F-H#, #J-L#, being at the time big with child, #B#, #D#, #F-H#,\n#J#.\n\nThe lady tells her father to wed his sons, #B# 12; his seven sons, #J#\n18. So \u2018Clerk Saunders\u2019 (of which this may be a reminiscence, for we do\nnot hear of seven sons in this ballad), No 69, #G# 28; cf. #A# 26, #E#\n19.\n\nShe bids him take home his ousen and his kye, #E# 15, #F# 12, #G# 8, #H#\n9. This I conceive to be an interpolation by a reciter who followed the\ntradition cited from Hogg further on.\n\nThe message to the mother to come take up her son in #I# 8 may possibly\nbe a reminiscence from \u2018Johnie Cock,\u2019 No 114. It occurs in no other\ncopy, and comes in awkwardly.\n\n\u2018The Braes of Yarrow\u2019 (\u2018Busk ye, busk ye, my bony, bony bride\u2019), written\nby William Hamilton of Bangour \u201cin imitation of the ancient Scottish\nmanner,\u2019 was suggested by this ballad.[107]\n\n\u2018The Dowy Dens,\u2019 Evans\u2019s Old Ballads, 1810, III, 342, has the same\nfoundation. \u2018The Haughs o Yarrow,\u2019 a modern piece in Buchan\u2019s Ballads of\nthe North of Scotland, II, 211, repeats with a slight change the third\nstanza of #O#, and has further on half a stanza from \u2018Willie\u2019s rare,\u2019 No\n215.\n\nJames Hogg, in sending #E# a to Sir Walter Scott, wrote as follows:\n\u201cTradition placeth the event on which this song is founded very early.\nThat the song hath been written near the time of the transaction appears\nquite evident, although, like others, by frequent singing the language\nis become adapted to an age not so far distant. The bard does not at all\nrelate particulars, but only mentions some striking features of a\ntragical event which everybody knew. This is observable in many of the\nproductions of early times; at least the secondary bards seem to have\nregarded their songs as purely temporary.\n\n\u201cThe hero of the ballad is said to have been of the name of Scott, and\nis called a knight of great bravery. He lived in Ettrick, some say at\nOakwood, others Kirkhope; but was treacherously slain by his\nbrother-in-law, as related in the ballad, who had him at ill will\nbecause his father had parted with the half of all his goods and gear to\nhis sister on her marriage with such a respectable man. The name of the\nmurderer is said to be Annand, a name I believe merely conjectural from\nthe name of the place where they are said both to be buried, which at\nthis day is called Annan\u2019s Treat, a low muir lying to the west of Yarrow\nchurch, where two huge tall stones are erected, below which the least\nchild that can walk the road will tell you the two lords are buried that\nwere slain in a duel.\u201d\n\nSir Walter Scott, in the revised edition of his Minstrelsy, expressed a\nconviction that this ballad referred to a duel fought between John Scott\nof Tushielaw and his brother-in-law Walter Scott of Thirlestane, in\nwhich the latter was slain.[108] Contemporary entries in the records of\nthe Presbytery of Selkirk show that John Scott, son to Walter of\nTushielaw, killed Walter Scott, brother of Sir Robert of Thirlestane, in\n1609. The slain Walter Scott was not, however, the brother-in-law of\nJohn of Tushielaw, for his wife was a daughter of Sir Patrick Porteous.\nA violent feud ensued, as might be expected, between the Scotts of\nThirlestane and of Tushielaw. Seven years later, in 1616, a Walter Scott\nof Tushielaw made \u201can informal and inordinat marriage with Grizel Scott\nof Thirlestane without consent of her father.\u201d The record of the\nelopement is three months after followed by an entry of a summons to\nSimeon Scott of Bonytoun (an adherent of Thirlestane) and three other\nScotts \u201cto compear in Melrose to hear themselves excommunicat for the\nhorrible slaughter of Walter Scott\u201d [of Tushielaw]. Disregarding the\nso-called duel, we have a Walter Scott of Tushielaw carrying off a wife\nfrom the Scotts of Thirlestane, with which family he was at feud; and a\nWalter Scott of Tushielaw horribly slaughtered by Scotts of Thirlestane.\nThese facts correspond rather closely with the incidents of the ballad.\nWe do not know, to be sure, that the two Walter Scotts of Tushielaw were\nthe same person. There were Walter Scotts many; but tradition is capable\nof confounding the two or the three connected with this series of\nevents. On the other hand, there is nothing in the ballad to connect it\npreferably with the Scotts; the facts are such as are likely to have\noccurred often in history, and a similar story is found in other\nballads.\n\nIn the Scandinavian ballad \u2018Herr Helmer,\u2019 Helmer has married a lady\nwhose family are at feud with him for the unatoned slaughter of her\nuncle; he meets her seven brothers, who will now hear of no\nsatisfaction; there is a fight; Helmer kills six, but spares the\nseventh, who treacherously kills him: Afzelius, ed. Bergstr\u00f6m, I, 264,\nArwidsson, I, 155 (etc., see II, 170 of this collection, note \u2021). Other\nforms make the last of the brothers willing to accept an arrangement:\n\u2018Herr Helmer Blau,\u2019 Danske Viser, IV, 251, No 209, \u2018Herr Hj\u00e6lm,\u2019\nGrundtvig, Danske Folkeminder, 1861, p. 81. \u2018Jomfruen i Skoven,\u2019 Danske\nViser, III, 99, No 123, has also several features of our ballad. The\nhero, on parting from a lady with whom he has passed the night in a\nwood, is warned by her to avoid her seven brothers. This he is too brave\nto do, and he meets them. They ask him where are his hawk and his hound.\nHe tries, unsuccessfully, to induce them to give him their sister for\nwife; they fight; he kills all the seven brothers, and is slain himself,\nin some way not explained. (These ballads are translated in Prior, III,\n371, 230.)\n\nThe next ballad has been partially confused with this.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#E b#, Scott\u2019s ballad, is translated by Doenniges, p. 237; by\nLo\u00e8ve-Veimars, p. 347. Knortz, Lieder und Romanzen Alt-Englands, p. 92,\ntranslates Allingham\u2019s ballad.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n Communicated to Percy by Dr William Robertson, Principal of\n Edinburgh.\n\n 1\n \u2018I dreamed a dreary dream this night,\n That fills my heart wi sorrow;\n I dreamed I was pouing the heather green\n Upon the braes of Yarrow.\n\n 2\n \u2018O true-luve mine, stay still and dine,\n As ye ha done before, O;\u2019\n \u2018O I\u2019ll be hame by hours nine,\n And frae the braes of Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 3\n I dreamed a dreary dream this night,\n That fills my heart wi sorrow;\n I dreamed my luve came headless hame,\n O frae the braes of Yarrow!\n\n 4\n \u2018O true-luve mine, stay still and dine,\n As ye ha done before, O;\u2019\n \u2018O I\u2019ll be hame by hours nine,\n And frae the braes of Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018O are ye going to hawke,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018As ye ha done before, O?\n Or are ye going to weild your brand,\n Upon the braes of Yarrow?\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018O I am not going to hawke,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018As I have done before, O,\n But for to meet your brother Jhon,\n Upon the braes of Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 7\n As he gade down yon dowy den,\n Sorrow went him before, O;\n Nine well-wight men lay waiting him,\n Upon the braes of Yarrow.\n\n 8\n \u2018I have your sister to my wife,\n \u2018Ye\u2019 think me an unmeet marrow;\n But yet one foot will I never flee\n Now frae the braes of Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018Than\u2019 four he killd and five did wound,\n That was an unmeet marrow!\n \u2018And he had weel nigh wan the day\n Upon the braes of Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018Bot\u2019 a cowardly \u2018loon\u2019 came him behind,\n Our Lady lend him sorrow!\n And wi a rappier pierced his heart,\n And laid him low on Yarrow.\n\n 11\n \u2018Now Douglas\u2019 to his sister\u2019s gane,\n Wi meikle dule and sorrow:\n \u2018Gae to your luve, sister,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018He\u2019s sleeping sound on Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 12\n As she went down yon dowy den,\n Sorrow went her before, O;\n She saw her true-love lying slain\n Upon the braes of Yarrow.\n\n 13\n \u2018She swoond thrice upon his breist\n That was her dearest marrow;\n Said, Ever alace and wae the day\n Thou wentst frae me to Yarrow!\u2019\n\n 14\n She kist his mouth, she kaimed his hair,\n As she had done before, O;\n She \u2018wiped\u2019 the blood that trickled doun\n Upon the braes of Yarrow.\n\n 15\n Her hair it was three quarters lang,\n It hang baith side and yellow;\n She tied it round \u2018her\u2019 white hause-bane,\n \u2018And tint her life on Yarrow.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n Murison MS., p. 105; Old Deer, Aberdeenshire.\n\n 1\n Three lords sat drinking at the wine\n I the bonny braes o Yarrow,\n An there cam a dispute them between,\n Who was the Flower o Yarrow.\n\n 2\n \u2018I\u2019m wedded to your sister dear,\n Ye coont nae me your marrow;\n I stole her fae her father\u2019s back,\n An made her the Flower o Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018Will ye try hearts, or will ye try hans,\n I the bonnie brace o Yarrow?\n Or will ye try the weel airmt sword,\n I the bonnie braes o Yarrow?\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018I winna try hearts, I winna try hans,\n I the bonnie braes o Yarrow,\n But I will try the weel airmt sword,\n I the bonnie braes o Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll stay at home, my own good lord,\n Ye\u2019ll stay at home tomorrow;\n My brethren three they will slay thee,\n I the bonnie braes o Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018Bonnie, bonnie shines the sun,\n An early sings the sparrow;\n Before the clock it will strike nine\n An I\u2019ll be home tomorrow.\u2019\n\n 7\n She\u2019s kissed his mouth, an combed his hair,\n As she had done before, O;\n She\u2019s dressed him in his noble bow,\n An he\u2019s awa to Yarrow.\n\n 8\n As he gaed up yon high, high hill,\n An doon the dens o Yarrow,\n An there he spied ten weel airmt men\n I the bonnie braes o Yarrow.\n\n 9\n It\u2019s five he wounded, an five he slew,\n I the bonnie braes o Yarrow;\n There cam a squire out o the bush,\n An pierced his body thorough.\n\n 10\n \u2018I dreamed a dream now sin the streen,\n God keep us a\u2019 fae sorrow!\n That my good lord was sleepin soun\n I the bonnie braes o Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018O hold your tongue, my daughter dear,\n An tak it not in sorrow;\n I\u2019ll wed you wi as good a lord\n As you\u2019ve lost this day in Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018O haud your tongue, my father dear,\n An wed your sons wi sorrow;\n For a fairer flower neer sprang in May nor June\n Nor I\u2019ve lost this day in Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 13\n Fast did she gang, fast did she rin,\n Until she cam to Yarrow,\n An there she fan her own good lord,\n He was sleepin soun in Yarrow.\n\n 14\n She\u2019s taen three lachters o her hair,\n That hung doon her side sae bonny,\n An she\u2019s tied them roon his middle tight,\n An she\u2019s carried him hame frae Yarrow.\n\n 15\n This lady being big wi child,\n She was fu o grief an sorrow;\n Her heart did break, and then she died,\n She did not live till morrow.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n C\n\n Motherwell\u2019s MS., pp. 334, 331, from the recitation of Agnes Lile,\n Kilbarchan, July 19, 1825; learned from her father, who died\n fourteen years earlier, at the age of eighty.\n\n 1\n There were three lords birling at the wine\n On the dowie downs o Yarrow;\n They made a compact them between\n They would go fight tomorrow.\n\n 2\n \u2018Thou took our sister to be thy bride,\n And thou neer thocht her thy marrow;\n Thou stealed her frae her daddie\u2019s back,\n When she was the rose o Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018Yes, I took your sister to be my bride,\n And I made her my marrow;\n I stealed her frae her daddie\u2019s back,\n And she\u2019s still the rose o Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 4\n He is hame to his lady gane,\n As he had dune before! O;\n Says, Madam, I must go and fight\n On the dowie downs o Yarrow.\n\n 5\n \u2018Stay at hame, my lord,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018For that will cause much sorrow;\n For my brethren three they will slay thee,\n On the dowie downs o Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018Hold your tongue, my lady fair,\n For what needs a\u2019 this sorrow?\n For I\u2019ll be hame gin the clock strikes nine,\n From the dowie downs o Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 7\n She wush his face, she kamed his hair,\n As she had dune before, O;\n She dressed him up in his armour clear,\n Sent him furth to fight on Yarrow.\n\n 8\n \u2018Come you here to hawk or hound,\n Or drink the wine that\u2019s so clear, O?\n Or come you here to eat in your words,\n That you\u2019re not the rose o Yarrow?\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018I came not here to hawk or hound,\n Nor to drink the wine that\u2019s so clear, O;\n Nor I came not here to eat in my words,\n For I\u2019m still the rose o Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 10\n Then they a\u2019 begoud to fight,\n I wad they focht richt sore, O,\n Till a cowardly man came behind his back,\n And pierced his body thorough.\n\n 11\n \u2018Gae hame, gae hame, it\u2019s my man John,\n As ye have done before, O,\n And tell it to my gay lady\n That I soundly sleep on Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 12\n His man John he has gane hame,\n As he had dune before, O,\n And told it to his gay lady,\n That he soundly slept on Yarrow.\n\n 13\n \u2018I dreamd a dream now since the streen,\n God keep us a\u2019 frae sorrow!\n That my lord and I was pu\u2019ing the heather green\n From the dowie downs o Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 14\n Sometimes she rade, sometimes she gaed,\n As she had dune before, O,\n And aye between she fell in a soune,\n Lang or she cam to Yarrow.\n\n 15\n Her hair it was five quarters lang,\n \u2019Twas like the gold for yellow;\n She twisted it round his milk-white hand,\n And she\u2019s drawn him hame from Yarrow.\n\n 16\n Out and spak her father dear,\n Says, What needs a\u2019 this sorrow?\n For I\u2019ll get you a far better lord\n Than ever died on Yarrow.\n\n 17\n \u2018O hold your tongue, father,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018For ye\u2019ve bred a\u2019 my sorrow;\n For that rose\u2019ll neer spring sae sweet in May\n As that rose I lost on Yarrow.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n D\n\n Communicated to Percy by Robert Lambe, Norham, April 16, 1768.\n\n 1\n There were three lords drinking of wine\n On the bonny braes of Yarrow;\n There fell a combat them between,\n _Wha_ was the rose of Yarrow.\n\n 2\n Up then spak a noble lord,\n And I wot it was bot sorrow:\n \u2018I have as fair a flower,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018As ever sprang on Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 3\n Then he went hame to his ain house,\n For to sleep or the morrow,\n But the first sound the trumpet gae\n Was, Mount and haste to Yarrow.\n\n 4\n \u2018Oh stay at hame,\u2019 his lady said,\n \u2018Oh stay untill the morrow,\n And I will mount upon a steed,\n And ride with you to Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018Oh hawd your tongue, my dear,\u2019 said he,\n \u2018And talk not of the morrow;\n This day I have to fight again,\n In the dowy deans of Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 6\n As he went up yon high, high hill,\n Down the dowy deans of Yarrow,\n There he spy\u2019d ten weel armd men,\n There was nane o them his marrow.\n\n 7\n Five he wounded and five he slew,\n In the dowy deans of Yarrow,\n But an English-man out of a bush\n Shot at him a lang sharp arrow.\n\n 8\n \u2018Ye may gang hame, my brethren three,\n Ye may gang hame with sorrow,\n And say this to my fair lady,\n I am sleeping sound on Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018Sister, sister, I dreamt a dream\u2014\n You read a dream to gude, O!\n That I was puing the heather green\n On the bonny braes of Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018Sister, sister, I\u2019ll read your dream,\n But alas! it\u2019s unto sorrow;\n Your good lord is sleeping sound,\n He is lying dead on Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 11\n She as pu\u2019d the ribbons of her head,\n And I wot it was wi sorrow,\n And she\u2019s gane up yon high, high hill,\n Down the dowy deans of Yarrow.\n\n 12\n Her hair it was five quarters lang,\n The colour of it was yellow;\n She as ty\u2019d it round his middle jimp,\n And she as carried him frae Yarrow.\n\n 13\n \u2018O hawd your tongue!\u2019 her father says,\n \u2018What needs a\u2019 this grief and sorrow?\n I\u2019ll wed you on as fair a flower\n As ever sprang on Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 14\n \u2018No, hawd your tongue, my father dear,\n I\u2019m fow of grief and sorrow;\n For a fairer flower ne[v]er sprang\n Than I\u2019ve lost this day on Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 15\n This lady being big wi bairn,\n And fow of grief and sorrow,\n She as died within her father\u2019s arms,\n And she died lang or the morrow.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n E\n\n #a.# In the handwriting of James Hogg, the Ettrick Shepherd, about\n 1801; now in a volume with the title \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for\n Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 136, Abbotsford. #b.# Scott\u2019s Minstrelsy,\n III, 72, 1803, III, 143, 1833.\n\n 1\n Late at een, drinkin the wine,\n Or early in a mornin,\n The set a combat them between,\n To fight it in the dawnin.\n\n 2\n \u2018O stay at hame, my noble lord!\n O stay at hame, my marrow!\n My cruel brother will you betray,\n On the dowy houms o Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018O fare ye weel, my lady gaye!\n O fare ye weel, my Sarah!\n For I maun gae, tho I neer return\n Frae the dowy banks o Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 4\n She kissd his cheek, she kaimd his hair,\n As she had done before, O;\n She belted on his noble brand,\n An he\u2019s awa to Yarrow.\n\n 5\n O he\u2019s gane up yon high, high hill\u2014\n I wat he gaed wi sorrow\u2014\n An in a den spied nine armd men,\n I the dowy houms o Yarrow.\n\n 6\n \u2018O ir ye come to drink the wine,\n As ye hae doon before, O?\n Or ir ye come to wield the brand,\n On the bonny banks o Yarrow?\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018I im no come to drink the wine,\n As I hae don before, O,\n But I im come to wield the brand,\n On the dowy houms o Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 8\n Four he hurt, an five he slew,\n On the dowy houms o Yarrow,\n Till that stubborn knight came him behind,\n An ran his body thorrow.\n\n 9\n \u2018Gae hame. gae hame, good-brother John,\n An tell your sister Sarah\n To come an lift her noble lord,\n Who\u2019s sleepin sound on Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018Yestreen I dreamd a dolefu dream;\n I kend there wad be sorrow;\n I dreamd I pu\u2019d the heather green,\n On the dowy banks o Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 11\n She gaed up yon high, high hill\u2014\n I wat she gaed wi sorrow\u2014\n An in a den spy\u2019d nine dead men,\n On the dowy houms o Yarrow.\n\n 12\n She kissd his cheek, she kaimd his hair,\n As oft she did before, O;\n She drank the red blood frae him ran,\n On the dowy houms o Yarrow.\n\n 13\n \u2018O haud your tongue, my douchter dear,\n For what needs a\u2019 this sorrow?\n I\u2019ll wed you on a better lord\n Than him you lost on Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 14\n \u2018O haud your tongue, my father dear,\n An dinna grieve your Sarah;\n A better lord was never born\n Than him I lost on Yarrow.\n\n 15\n \u2018Tak hame your ousen, tak hame your kye,\n For they hae bred our sorrow;\n I wiss that they had a\u2019 gane mad\n Whan they cam first to Yarrow.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n F\n\n \u201cFrom Nelly Laidlaw.\u201d In the handwriting of William Laidlaw, \u201cScotch\n Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 20 a, Abbotsford.\n\n 1\n Late in the eenin, drinkin the wine,\n Or early in the mornin,\n The set a combat them between,\n To fight it out i the dawnin.\n\n 2\n She\u2019s kissd his lips, an she\u2019s caimd his hair,\n As she did ay afore, O,\n She\u2019s belted him in his noble brown,\n Afore he gaed to Yarrow.\n\n 3\n Then he\u2019s away oer yon high hill\u2014\n A wait he\u2019s gane wi sorrow\u2014\n An in a den he spied nine armd men,\n On the dowie banks o Yarrow.\n\n 4\n \u2018If I see ye a\u2019, ye \u2018r nine for ane,\n But ane\u2019s [un]equal marrow;\n Yet as lang\u2019s I\u2019m able wield my brand,\n I\u2019ll fight an bear ye marrow.\n\n 5\n \u2018There are twa swords into my sheath,\n The\u2019re ane and equal marrow;\n Now wale the best, I\u2019ll take the warst,\n An, man for man, I\u2019ll try ye.\u2019\n\n 6\n He has slain a\u2019 the nine men,\n A ane an equal marrow,\n But up there startit a stuborn lord,\n That gard him sleep on Yarrow.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 7\n \u2018Gae hame, gae hame, my sister Anne,\n An tell yer sister Sarah\n That she may gang an seek her lord,\n He\u2019s lyin sleepin on Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018I dreamd a dream now sin yestreen,\n I thought it wad be sorrow;\n I thought I was pouin the hether green\n On the dowie banks o Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 9\n Then she\u2019s away oer yon high hill\u2014\n I wat she\u2019s gane wi sorrow\u2014\n And in a den she\u2019s spy\u2019d ten slain men,\n On the dowie banks o Yarrow.\n\n 10\n \u2018My love was a\u2019 clad oer last night\n Wi the finest o the tartan,\n But now he\u2019s a\u2019 clad oer wi red,\n An he\u2019s red bluid to the garten.\u2019\n\n 11\n She\u2019s kissd his lips, she\u2019s caimd his hair,\n As she had done before, O;\n She drank the red bluid that frae him ran,\n On the dowie banks o Yarrow.\n\n 12\n \u2018Tak hame your ousen, father, and yer kye,\n For they\u2019ve bred muckle sorrow;\n I wiss that they had a\u2019 gaen mad\n Afore they came to Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018O haud yer tongue, my daughter dear,\n For this breeds ay but sorrow;\n I\u2019ll wed you to a better lord\n Than him you lost on Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 14\n \u2018O haud yer tongue, my father dear,\n For ye but breed mair sorrow;\n A better rose will never spring\n Than him I\u2019ve lost on Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 15\n This lady being big wi child,\n An fu o lamentation,\n She died within her father\u2019s arms,\n Amang this stuborn nation.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n G\n\n \u201cCarterhaugh, June 15, 1802.\u201d \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border\n Minstrelsy,\u201d No 135, Abbotsford.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 1\n She kissd his mouth and she combd his hair,\n As she had done before, O,\n She belted him in his noble broun,\n Before he went to Yarrow.\n\n 2\n O he\u2019s gone up yon high, [high] hill\u2014\n I wat it was with sorrow\u2014\n In a den he spied nine weal armd men,\n On the bonny banks of Yarrow.\n\n 3\n \u2018I see that you are nine for one,\n Which are of an unequal marrow;\n As lang\u2019s I\u2019m able to wield my bran,\n I\u2019ll fight and be your marrow.\u2019\n\n 4\n O he has killed them a\u2019 but one,\n Which bred to him great sorrow;\n For up and rose that stubborn lord,\n Made him sleep sound in Yarrow.\n\n 5\n \u2018Rise up, rise up, my daughter Ann,\n Go tell your sister Sarah\n She may rise up go lift her lord;\n He\u2019s sleeping sound in Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 6\n She\u2019s gone up yon high, high hill\u2014\n I wat it was with sorrow\u2014\n And in a den she spied nine slain men,\n On the dowie banks o Yarrow.\n\n 7\n O she kissed his mouth, and she combd his hair,\n As she had done before, O;\n She drank the bleed that from him ran,\n On the dowie banks o Yarrow.\n\n 8\n \u2018Take hame your oxen, tak hame your kye,\n They\u2019ve bred to me great sorrow;\n I wish they had all now gone mad\n First when they came to Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018O hold your tongue now, daughter dear,\n These words to me\u2019s great sorrow;\n I\u2019ll wed you on a better lord\n Than you have lost on Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018O hold your tongue now, father dear,\n These words to me\u2019s great sorrow;\n A brighter O shall there never spread\n Than I have lost in Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 11\n This lady being big with child,\n And full of lamentation,\n She died unto her father\u2019s arms,\n Among the stubborn nation.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n H\n\n Campbell MSS, II, 55.\n\n 1\n \u2019Twas late at evening drinking wine,\n And early in the morning,\n He set a combat them among,\n And he fought it in the morning.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 2\n \u2018I have two swords by my side,\n They cost me both gold and money;\n Take ye the best, I\u2019ll take the worst,\n Come man for man, I\u2019ll try ye.\u2019\n\n 3\n He has foughten them all round,\n His equal man and marrow,\n While up bespake the stubborn lord,\n \u2018He\u2019s made them sleep in Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 4\n He says, Go home, my daughter Ann,\n And tell your sister Sarah\n To come and lift her stubborn lord;\n The lad\u2019s made him sleep in Yarrow.\n\n 5\n As she gaed up yon high, high hill,\n I wot she gaed right sorrow,\n And in a den spied nine well armd men,\n In the dowie dens of Yarrow.\n\n 6\n \u2018My love was dressd in the finest robes,\n And of the finest tartan,\n And now he\u2019s a\u2019 clad oer wi red,\n He\u2019s bloody to the gartan!\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018O hold yer tongue, daughter!\u2019 he says,\n \u2018That would breed but sorrow;\n Ye shall be wed to a finer lord\n Than the one you\u2019ve lost in Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018Hold your tongue, father!\u2019 she says,\n \u2018For that will breed but sorrow;\n A finer lord can neer be born\n Than the one I\u2019ve lost in Yarrow.\n\n 9\n \u2018Take hame yer ox, and take hame yer kye,\n You\u2019ve bred me muckle sorrow;\n I wish they\u2019d a\u2019 gane mad that day,\n That day they came to Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 10\n This woman being big wi child,\n And full of lamentation,\n She died into her father\u2019s arms,\n Among that stubborn nation.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n I\n\n Buchan\u2019s MSS, II, 161.\n\n 1\n Ten lords sat drinking at the wine\n Intill a morning early;\n There fell a combat them among,\n It must be fought, nae parley.\n\n 2\n \u2018O stay at hame, my ain gude lord!\n O stay, my ain dear marrow!\u2019\n \u2018Sweetest min, I will be thine,\n An dine wi you tomorrow.\u2019\n\n 3\n She kissd his lips, an combed his hair,\n As she had done before O,\n Gied him a brand down by his side,\n An he is on to Yarrow.\n\n 4\n As he gaed oer yon dowey knowe,\n As he had dane before O,\n Nine armed men lay in a den,\n Upo the braes o Yarrow.\n\n 5\n \u2018O came ye here to hunt or hawk,\n As ye hae dane before O?\n Or came ye here to wiel your brand,\n Upo the braes o Yarrow?\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018I came nae here to hunt nor hawk,\n As I hae done before O;\n But I came here to wiel my brand,\n Upo the braes o Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 7\n Four he hurt, an five he slew,\n Till down it fell himsell O;\n There stood a fause lord him behin,\n Who thrust his body thorrow.\n\n 8\n \u2018Gae hame, gae hame, my brother John,\n An tell your sister sorrow;\n Your mither woud come take up her son,\n Aff o the braes o Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 9\n As he gaed oer yon high, high hill,\n As he had dane before O,\n There he met his sister dear,\n Came rinnin fast to Yarrow.\n\n 10\n \u2018I dreamd a dream last night,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018I wish it binna sorrow;\n I dreamd I was puing the heather green\n Upo the braes o Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018I\u2019ll read your dream, sister,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018I\u2019ll read it into sorrow;\n Ye\u2019re bidden gae take up your luve,\n He\u2019s sleeping sound on Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 12\n She\u2019s torn the ribbons frae her head\u2014\n They were baith thick an narrow\u2014\n She\u2019s kilted up her green claithing,\n An she\u2019s awa to Yarrow.\n\n 13\n She\u2019s taen him in her arms twa,\n An gaen him kisses thorough,\n An wi her tears she bath\u2019d his wounds,\n Upo the braes o Yarrow.\n\n 14\n Her father, looking oer the castle-wa,\n Beheld his daughter\u2019s sorrow;\n \u2018O had your tongue, daughter,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018An lat be a\u2019 your sorrow!\n I\u2019ll wed you wi a better lord\n Than he that died on Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018O had your tongue, father,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018An lat be till tomorrow!\n A better lord there coudna be\n Than he that died on Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 16\n She kissd his lips, an combd his hair,\n As she had done before O,\n An wi a crack her head did brack,\n Upo the braes o Yarrow.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n J\n\n Taken down from the singing of Marion Miller, in Threepwood, in the\n parish of Melrose. In Thomas Wilkie\u2019s handwriting, \u201cScotch Ballads,\n Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 107, Abbotsford. Another copy\n in Thomas Wilkie\u2019s MS., 1813\u201315, p. 57, No 67 of \u201cScotch Ballads,\u201d\n etc.\n\n 1\n In Thoro town there lives a maid,\n I am sure she has no marrow;\n For she has forsaken both lords and knights,\n And loved a servant-lad in Galla.\n\n 2\n Evening and morning her page he ran,\n Her page he ran wi sorrow,\n With letters bound, just frae the town,\n To the servant-lad in Galla.\n\n 3\n Her father he got word of that,\n And he\u2019s bred all her sorrow;\n He sent him forth to fight wi nine,\n In the dowie glens of Yarrow.\n\n 4\n She washd his face, she combd his hair,\n She thought he had no marrow;\n Wi a thrusty rapier by his side,\n She sent him forth to Yarrow.\n\n 5\n She\u2019s taen fareweel of him that day,\n As she had done before, O,\n And she\u2019s comd back to her bonny bower,\n But her love\u2019s away to Yarrow.\n\n 6\n He wanderd up, he wandred down,\n His heart was full of sorrow;\n There he spied nine gentlemen,\n Watering their steeds in Yarrow.\n\n 7\n \u2018O come away, young man,\u2019 they said,\n \u2018I\u2019m sure ye\u2019r no our marrow;\n Ye\u2019r welcome here, young man,\u2019 they said,\n \u2018For the bonny lass o Thorro.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018Nine against one, weel do ye ken,\n That\u2019s no an equal marrow;\n Yet for my love\u2019s sake I\u2019ll venture my life,\n In the dowie glens of Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 9\n Five was wounded, and four was slain,\n Amongst them a\u2019 he had no marrow;\n He\u2019s mounted on his horse again,\n Cries, I have won the bonny lass of Thorro!\n\n 10\n Up then spake her father dear\u2014\n And he\u2019s bred all her sororw\u2014\n And wi a broad sword ran him through,\n In the dowie glens of Yarrow.\n\n 11\n \u2018I have dreamd a dream, father,\n I doubt I have dreamd for sorrow;\n I dreamd I was pouing the heather green\n Wi my true love in Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018O I will read your dream, daughter,\n Although it be for your sorrow;\n Go, and ye\u2019ll find your love lying sound,\n In a heather-bush in Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 13\n She\u2019s calld on her maidens then\u2014\n Her heart was full of sorrow\u2014\n And she\u2019s away wi her maidens twa,\n To the dowie glens o Yarrow.\n\n 14\n She wandered up, she wandred down,\n In the dowie glens of Yarrow,\n And there she spied her love lying sound,\n In a heather-bush in Yarrow.\n\n 15\n She\u2019s washd him in the clear well-strand,\n She\u2019s dry\u2019d him wi the holland,\n And aye she sighd, and said, Alass!\n For my love I had him chosen.\n\n 16\n His hair it was three quarters long,\n Three quarters long and yellow;\n And she\u2019s rapt it round her middle small,\n And brought it home to Thorro.\n\n 17\n \u2018O hold your tongue, my daughter dear,\n And talk no more of sorrow;\n I\u2019ll soon wed you on a better match\n Than your servant-lad in Galla.\u2019\n\n 18\n \u2018O you may wed a\u2019 your seven sons,\n I wish you may wed them in sorrow:\n O you may wed a\u2019 your seven sons,\n For you\u2019ll neer wed the bonny lass of Thoro.\u2019\n\n 19\n This lady being big wi child,\n And her heart was full wi sorrow,\n She died between her father\u2019s arms,\n In the bonny house of Thorro.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n K\n\n Campbell MS., I, 8; \u201ccommunicated by Janet Ormstone, Innerleithen,\n who sung it to a beautiful old air.\u201d\n\n 1\n There lived a lady in the south,\n She thought she had not her marrow;\n And she was courted by nine gentlemen,\n In the dowie dens in Yarrow.\n\n 2\n All their offers they proved in vain,\n She thought that they were not her marrow;\n She has forsaken a\u2019 the nine,\n Loved a servant-lad on Galla.\n\n 3\n Up bespoke her father dear,\n Who bred them a\u2019 this sorrow;\n You must go far, far to fight the nine,\n In the dowie den in Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 4\n She washd his face, she combd his hair,\n Her heart being full of sorrow,\n With a rusted rapier down by his side,\n To fight his foes in Yarrow.\n\n 5\n He\u2019s ridden east, he\u2019s ridden west,\n He\u2019s ridden into Yarrow,\n And there he espied all the nine,\n Watering their steeds in Yarrow.\n\n 6\n \u2018Ye\u2019r welcome, welcome, young man,\u2019 they said,\n \u2018But I think ye are not our marrow;\u2019\n \u2018But I\u2019ll fight ye all out, one by one,\n In the dowie dens o Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 7\n Four he has wounded, five he has slain,\n He left them a\u2019 sound in Yarrow;\n He turned him round with rejoyfull looks,\n Says, I wone the lady of Thoro.\n\n 8\n Up then spoke her father dear,\n Who bred them a\u2019 this sorrow;\n He\u2019s taen out a broadsword and run him through,\n In the dowie dens o Yarrow.\n\n 9\n \u2018I dreamed a dream last night,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018I fear it is for sorrow;\n I dreamd I was pulling the heather green\n With my true love in Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018I\u2019ll read your dream now, daughter dear,\n I fear it is for sorrow;\n You will find your true-love lying sound,\n In a heather bush in Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 11\n She\u2019s ridden east, she\u2019s ridden west,\n She\u2019s ridden into Yarrow;\n There she found her true lover sound,\n In a heather bush in Yarrow.\n\n 12\n His hair it was five quarters lang,\n It was baith lang and yellow;\n She\u2019s tied it to her horse\u2019s mane,\n She\u2019s trailed him home from Yarrow.\n\n 13\n \u2018O woe be to you, father dear!\n You\u2019ve bred me all this sorrow;\u2019\n So she died between her father\u2019s arms,\n In the dowie dens o Yarrow.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n L\n\n Blackwood\u2019s Magazine, CXLVII, 741, June, 1890; communicated by\n Professor John Veitch, as received from William Welsh, a\n Peeblesshire cottar and poet, born 1799, whose mother used to recite\n the ballad, and whose grandmother had a copy in her father\u2019s\n handwriting.\n\n 1\n At Dryhope lived a lady fair,\n The fairest flower in Yarrow,\n And she refused nine noble men\n For a servan lad in Gala.\n\n 2\n Her father said that he should fight\n The nine lords all to-morrow,\n And he that should the victor be\n Would get the Rose of Yarrow.\n\n 3\n Quoth he, You\u2019re nine, an I\u2019m but ane,\n And in that there\u2019s no much marrow;\n Yet I shall fecht ye, man for man,\n In the dowie dens o Yarrow.\n\n 4\n She kissed his lips, and combed his hair,\n As oft she\u2019d done before, O,\n An set him on her milk-white steed,\n Which bore him on to Yarrow.\n\n 5\n When he got oer yon high, high hill,\n An down the dens o Yarrow,\n There did he see the nine lords all,\n But there was not one his marrow.\n\n 6\n \u2018Now here ye\u2019re nine, an I\u2019m but ane,\n But yet I am not sorrow;\n For here I\u2019ll fecht ye, man for man,\n For my true love in Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 7\n Then he wheeld round, and fought so fierce\n Till the seventh fell in Yarrow,\n When her brother sprang from a bush behind,\n And ran his body thorough.\n\n 8\n He never spoke more words than these,\n An they were words o sorrow;\n \u2018Ye may tell my true love, if ye please,\n That I\u2019m sleepin sound in Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 9\n They\u2019ve taen the young man by the heels\n And trailed him like a harrow,\n And then they flung the comely youth\n In a whirlpool o Yarrow.\n\n 10\n The lady said, I dreamed yestreen\u2014\n I fear it bodes some sorrow\u2014\n That I was pu\u2019in the heather green\n On the scroggy braes o Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 11\n Her brother said, I\u2019ll read your dream,\n But it should cause nae sorrow;\n Ye may go seek your lover hame,\n For he\u2019s sleepin sound in Yarrow.\n\n 12\n Then she rode oer yon gloomy height,\n An her heart was fu o sorrow,\n But only saw the clud o night,\n Or heard the roar o Yarrow.\n\n 13\n But she wandered east, so did she wast,\n And searched the forest thorough,\n Until she spied her ain true love,\n Lyin deeply drowned in Yarrow.\n\n 14\n His hair it was five quarters lang,\n Its colour was the yellow;\n She twined it round her lily hand,\n And drew him out o Yarrow.\n\n 15\n She kissed his lips, and combed his head,\n As oft she\u2019d done before, O;\n She laid him oer her milk-white steed,\n An bore him home from Yarrow.\n\n 16\n She washed his wounds in yon well-strand,\n And dried him wi the hollan,\n And aye she sighed, and said, Alas!\n For my love I had him chosen.\n\n 17\n \u2018Go hold your tongue,\u2019 her father said,\n \u2018There\u2019s little cause for sorrow;\n I\u2019ll wed ye on a better lad\n Than ye hae lost in Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 18\n \u2018Haud your ain tongue, my faither dear,\n I canna help my sorrow;\n A fairer flower neer sprang in May\n Than I hae lost in Yarrow.\n\n 19\n \u2018I meant to make my bed fu wide,\n But you may make it narrow;\n For now I\u2019ve nane to be my guide\n But a deid man drowned in Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 20\n An aye she screighed, and cried Alas!\n Till her heart did break wi sorrow,\n An sank into her faither\u2019s arms,\n Mang the dowie dens o Yarrow.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n M\n\n In the handwriting of James Hogg, the Ettrick Shepherd (later than\n #E a#). \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 11 a,\n Abbotsford.\n\n 1\n O ay he sat, and ay he drank,\n An ay he counted the laying,\n An ay he drank to the lass\u2019es health\n Was to meet him in the dawning.\n\n 2\n Up he gaes on yon high, high hill,\n An a wat he gaes wi sorrow,\n An in a den he spy\u2019d nine well armd men,\n On the dowie banks of Yarrow.\n\n 3\n \u2018Oh woe be to young women\u2019s wit!\n For the\u2019ve bred to me meikle sorrow;\n She promisd for to meet me here,\n An she\u2019s sent nine men to slay me.\n\n 4\n \u2018But there is two swords in my scabba[rd],\n They cost me gold and money;\n Tak ye the best, and I\u2019ll tak the wa[rst],\n An come man for man, I\u2019ll not fly yo[u].\u2019\n\n 5\n Ay he stood, an ay he fought,\n Till it was near the dawning,\n Then up an rose her brother James,\n An has slain him in the dawning.\n\n 6\n \u2018O the last night I dreamd a dream,\n God keep us a\u2019 frae sorrow!\n I dreamd I was powing the heather green\n In the dowie banks of Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 7\n Up she gaes on yon high, high hill,\n An a wat she gaes with sorrow,\n An in a den she spy\u2019d nine slain men,\n In the dowie banks of Yarrow.\n\n 8\n \u2018O the last time I saw my love\n He was a\u2019 clad oer in tartan;\n But now he\u2019s a\u2019 clad oer in red,\n An he\u2019s a\u2019 blood to the gartin.\u2019\n\n 9\n She kist his mouth, an she\u2019s combd his hair,\n As she had done before, O,\n She drank the blood that from him ran,\n In the dowie banks of Yarrow.\n\n 10\n \u2018O hold your tongue now, daughter,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018An breed to me no more sorrow;\n For I\u2019ll wed you on a better match\n Than you have lost on Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018Hold your tongue now, father,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018An breed to me no more sorrow;\n For a better rose will never spring\n Than I have lost on Yarrow.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n N\n\n Communicated to Scott by Mrs Christiana Greenwood, London, May 27,\n 1806 (Letters, I, No 189); presumably learned by her at Longnewton,\n near Jedburgh. \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No\n 84, Abbotsford.\n\n 1\n The cock did craw, and the day did daw,\n And the moon shone fair and clearly;\n Sir James gade out o his castle-yett,\n To meet fair Anne, his dearie.\n\n 2\n \u2018O come down, come down, my true-love Anne;\n And speak but ae word to me!\n But ae kiss o your bonny mouth\n Wad yield much comfort to me.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018O how can I come down?\u2019 she says,\n \u2018Or how can I win to thee?\n When there is nane that I can trust\n Wad safe convey me to thee.\n\n 4\n \u2018But gang doun, gang doun, to yon hostess\u2019 house,\n And there take on yere lawing,\n And, as I\u2019m a woman kind and true,\n I\u2019ll meet you at the dawing.\u2019\n\n 5\n Then he gade thro the good green-wood,\n And oer the moor sae eerie,\n And lang he stayd, and sair he sighd,\n But he never mair saw his dearie.\n\n 6\n And ay he sat, and lang he drank,\n And ay he counted his lawing,\n Till fifteen men did him surround,\n To slay him or the dawing.\n\n 7\n \u2018O she promisd ance to meet me this night,\n But I find she has deceived me;\n She promisd ance to meet me this night,\n And she\u2019s sent fifteen to slay me!\n\n 8\n \u2018There are twa swords in my scabard,\n They cost me gowd and money;\n Take ye the best, and gie me the warst,\n And man for man I\u2019ll try ye.\u2019\n\n 9\n Then they fought on, and on they fought,\n Till maist o them were fallen,\n When her brother John cam him behind,\n And slew him at the dawing.\n\n 10\n Then he\u2019s away to his sister Anne,\n To the chamber where\u2019s she\u2019s lying:\n \u2018Come doun, come doun, my sister Anne,\n And take up your true-love Jamie!\n\n 11\n \u2018Come doun, come doun now, sister Anne!\n For he\u2019s sleeping in yon logie;\n Sound, sound he sleeps, nae mair to wake,\n And nae mair need ye be vogie.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018I dreamd a drearie dream yestreen,\n Gin it be true, it will prove my sorrow;\n I dreamd my luive had lost his life,\n Within the yetts o Gowrie.\n\n 13\n \u2018O wae betide ye, lassies o Gowrie\n For ye hae sleepit soundly;\n Gin ye had keepit your yetts shut,\n Ye might hae sav\u2019d the life o my Jamie.\n\n 14\n \u2018Yestreen my luive had a suit o claise\n Were o the finest tartan;\n But lang or ere the day did daw\n They war a\u2019 red bluid to the garten.\n\n 15\n \u2018Yestreen my luive had a suit o claise\n Were o the apple reamin;\n But lang or ere the day did daw\n The red bluid had them streamin.\u2019\n\n 16\n In yon fair ha, where the winds did blaw,\n When the moon shone fair and clearly,\n She\u2019s thrawn her green skirt oer her head,\n And ay she cried out mercy.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n O\n\n Herd\u2019s MSS, I, 35, II, 181.\n\n 1\n \u2018I dreamd a dreary dream last night,\n God keep us a\u2019 frae sorrow!\n I dreamd I pu\u2019d the birk sae green\n Wi my true luve on Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 2\n \u2018I\u2019ll read your dream, my sister dear,\n I\u2019ll tell you a\u2019 your sorrow;\n You pu\u2019d the birk wi your true luve,\n He\u2019s killd, he\u2019s killd on Yarrow!\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018O gentle wind, that blaweth south\n To where my love repaireth,\n Convey a kiss from his dear mouth,\n And tell me how he fareth!\n\n 4\n \u2018But oer yon glen run armed men,\n Have wrought me dule and sorrow;\n They\u2019ve slain, they\u2019ve slain the comliest swain,\n He bleeding lies on Yarrow.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n P\n\n Cromek\u2019s Select Scotish Songs, 1810, II, 196, the seventh and tenth\n stanzas; sent by Burns to William Tytler in 1790.\n\n 1\n \u2018Get up, get up now, sister Ann,\n I fear we\u2019ve wrought you sorrow;\n Get up, ye\u2019ll find your true love slain,\n Among the banks of Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 2\n \u2018I made my love a suit of clothes,\n I clad him all in tartan,\n But ere the morning sun arose,\n He was a\u2019 bluid to the gartan.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A.#\n\n _The words in \u2019 \u2019 are so distinguished in the MS., and are of\n course emendations._ \u2018Than,\u2019 9^1, _is obviously an insertion_;\n \u2018Now Douglas,\u2019 11^1, _is entirely unauthorized, and, as before\n said, is taken from Hamilton\u2019s ballad_; \u2018wiped,\u2019 14^3, _is\n probably substituted for_ drank, _cf._ 12^3, _etc._; _and_\n \u2018her,\u2019 15^3, _is very likely to have been_ his.\n\n#B.#\n\n 12^1. _Var._ O father dear, I pray forbear.\n\n#C.#\n\n 7^1. He.\n\n 7^3. SHe, _originally_ He.\n\n 9^{1,3}. a _in_ came _is not closed_; _possibly_ cume. _A few\n changes were, as usual, made by Motherwell in printing._\n\n#D.#\n\n 1^4. Wha _is blotted_.\n\n#E. b.#\n\n _A minute collation of a copy constructed by Scott would be\n useless and deceptive, and therefore only the larger variations\n will be noted._\n\n 1^2. And ere they paid the lawing.\n\n 5^1. As he gaed up the Tennies bank.\n\n 6^{1,2}.\n O come ye here to part your land,\n The bonnie forest thorough.\n\n 7^{1,2}.\n I come not here to part my land,\n And neither to beg nor borrow.\n\n _After 7_:\n\n If I see all, ye\u2019re nine to ane, (_Cf._ #F# 4^1.)\n And that\u2019s an unequal marrow; (_Cf._ #G# 3^2.)\n Yet will I fight while lasts my brand, (_Cf._ #F# 4^3, #G# 3^3.)\n On the bonny banks of Yarrow. (_Cf._ #E a# 6^4.)\n\n 10^4. Wi my true love, on Yarrow. (_Cf._ #O# 1^4.)\n\n _After 10, two stanzas which are nearly_ #O# 3, 4.\n\n 11^3. ten slain men. (_Cf._ #F# 9^3.)\n\n 12^{2,3}.\n She searchd his wounds all thorough;\n She kissd them till her lips grew red.\n\n 13^2. For a\u2019 this breeds but sorrow. (_Cf._ #F# 13^2.)\n\n 14^2. Ye mind me but of sorrow.\n\n 14^{3,4}.\n A fairer rose did never bloom\n Than now lies croppd on Yarrow.\n\n (_Cf._ #M# 11^{3,4}.)\n\n _Scott gives in a note_, III, 79, 1803, \u201cthe last stanza, as\n (_since?_) it occurs in most copies.\u201d (_Cf._ #F#, #G#, #H#.)\n\n That lady, being big with child,\n And full of consternation,\n She swooned in her father\u2019s arms,\n Amidst that stubborn nation.\n\n#F.#\n\n 2^3. browns, _and so again_ #G# 1^3. _A derivation from_ bruny,\n _mail-coat, is scarcely to be thought of_. _Apparently a\n corruption of_ brand, (_cf._ #E# 4^3); _but_ brand _occurs in_\n #F# 4^3, #G# 3^3.\n\n#G.#\n\n 1^2. before him. 1^3. and his noble brouns.\n\n 10^3. shalt.\n\n#H.#\n\n 3, 4. The stubborn lord _in 3^3 is the wife\u2019s father, and the\n race, or family, is_ stubborn _according to 10_. _Stubborn folk\n think opposers stubborn, no doubt; still the epithet is unlikely\n in 4^3._ Lad _I suppose to refer to the man who in the other\n versions stabs from behind_.\n\n 5^3. dern _for_ den. _The_ nine men _must be dead, as in_ #E# 11,\n #F# 9, #G# 6. _The_ well armd _belongs to an earlier (lost)\n stanza, corresponding to_ #E# 5, #F# 3, #G# 2.\n\n#I.# _Variations in Buchan\u2019s printed copy_:\n\n 1^1. Ten lords. The lords _in my copy of the MS., but, as Dixon\n has also_ Ten, _I presume_ The _to be an error. Otherwise I\n should have read_ Th[re]e, _as in_ #B#, #C#, #D#.\n\n 4^2. As aft he\u2019d.\n\n 7^4. thrust him thro body and mell, O.\n\n 8^3. mother to. 14^4. ower his.\n\n#J.#\n\n _The first copy seems to be the earlier, and that which was\n transcribed into the MS. to have been slightly edited, but the\n variations are few, mostly spellings. The first copy has no\n title. The title of the second is altered from_ The Braes of\n Yarrow _to_ The Dowie Glens of Yarrow. _At the end of the second\n is this note_: This song I took down from Marion Miller in\n Threepwood, in the Parish of Melrose. The air was plaintive and\n extremely wild. I consider this song more valuable on account\n that Mern had never sung it to any but myself for fifteen years,\n and she had almost said, or rather promised, that she would\n never sing it to another.\n\n Thoro, 1^1, _etc._, _is spelt_ Thorough, Thorrough, _in the first\n copy_, Thorough, Thorrough, Thorro, Thoro, _in the second_; _but\n in the latter_ ugh _is struck out wherever it occurs_.\n\n 4^3. thrusty, _in both_; _i.e._, trusty.\n\n 11^3. the (birks) heather green, _in both_.\n\n _First._ 5^2, 17^1, 18^1. oh, Oh.\n\n _Second._ 5^2. What she had neer done before, O.\n\n 6^2, 19^2. was filled wi.\n\n 9^1. Five he. 9^2. nae. 9^3. steed.\n\n 12^2. to your.\n\n 18^2. wi _for_ in.\n\n#K.#\n\n 3^3. far far _should probably be_ forth, _as in_ #J#; _possibly_\n forth for.\n\n#L.#\n\n 12^{3,4}, 13^{1,2}. _Compare Logan\u2019s_ Braes of Yarrow.\n\n They sought him east, they sought him west,\n They sought him all the forest thorough;\n They only saw the cloud of night\n They only heard the roar of Yarrow.\n\n#O.#\n\n \u201cA fragment, to the tune of Leaderhaughs and Yarrow.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n 215\n\n RARE WILLIE DROWNED IN YARROW, OR, THE WATER O GAMRIE\n\n #A.# \u2018Willy\u2019s rare and Willy\u2019s fair,\u2019 Thomson\u2019s Orpheus Caledonius,\n II, 110, 1733.\n\n #B. a.# Cromek\u2019s Select Scotish Songs, 1810, II, 196. #b.# Stenhouse,\n Musical Museum, 1853, IV, 464.\n\n #C.# \u2018The Dowie Dens o Yarrow,\u2019 Gibb MS., p. 37.\n\n #D.# Skene MS., p. 47.\n\n #E.# \u2018Willie\u2019s drowned in Gamery,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of\n Scotland, I, 245.\n\n #F.# \u2018The Water o Gamery,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s MSS, II, 159. Dixon, Scottish\n Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads, p. 66, Percy Society, vol.\n xvii.\n\n #G.# \u2018The Water o Ganrie,\u2019 Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 637.\n\n #H.# \u2018The Water o Gemrie,\u2019 Campbell MSS, II, 78.\n\n\n#A# was inserted in the fourth volume of The Tea-Table Miscellany, and\nstands in the edition of 1763 at p. 321, \u2018Rare Willie drowned in\nYarrow,\u2019 It is given in Herd\u2019s Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p.\n197 (with two or three trifling changes); in Johnson\u2019s Museum, p. 542,\nNo 525. #F# is epitomized in Christie\u2019s Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 66,\n\u201cwith some changes from the way the editor has heard it sung.\u201d\n\nThe fragment in Cromek\u2019s Select Scotish Songs, 1810, II, 196, sent by\nBurns in a letter to William Tytler, 1790, belongs, as already said,\nmostly with \u2018The Duke of Athole\u2019s Nurse,\u2019 but has two stanzas of \u2018Willie\ndrowned in Yarrow\u2019 (#B#).\n\n\u2018The Braes of Yarrow,\u2019 Ritson\u2019s Scotish Song, I, 154, composed upon the\nstory of this ballad by the Rev. John Logan (1748\u201388), has two of the\noriginal lines (nearly):\n\n They sought him east, they sought him west,\n They sought him all the forest thorough.\n\nWillie is drowned in Yarrow according to the older (southern) tradition,\n#A#; also #B#, #C#. In the northern copies, #D#, #E#, #F#, with which\n#G#, #H#, agree, the scene is transferred to Gamrie, on the coast of the\nMoray Frith, where, as Christie remarks, \u201cthere is no water that Willie\ncould have been drowned in but the sea, on his way along the sands to\nthe old kirk.\u201d[109] In the ballad which follows this, a western variety\nof the same story, Willie is drowned in the Clyde.\n\n#C# 2, 3, 5, 6, belong to the preceding ballad, and 4 is common to that\nand this.\n\n#A# 2 would come in better at the end of the story (as it does in #C#, a\ncopy of slight authority), if it might properly find a place anywhere in\nthe ballad. But this stanza suits only a woman who has been for some\ntime living with her husband. A woman on her wedding-day could have no\ncall to make her bed broad in her mother\u2019s house, whether yestreen or\nthe morrow. I therefore conclude that #A# 2 does not belong to this\nballad.[110]\n\n#D-H.# Rare Willie has promised to marry Meggie, #E# (also #A#, #C#,\n#D#). His mother would give her the wale of all her other sons, but not\nWillie; she will have him only; #D#, #E# (cf. #G# 1). The bridegroom,\nwith a large company, is mounted to ride for the bride; he tells his\nfriends to go forward, he has forgotten to ask his mother\u2019s blessing;\n#D#, #E#, #F#, #H#. He receives the blessing, #D#, #F#, #H#; her\nblessing goes not with him, #G#; he gets her heavy curse, #E#; even in\n#F# his mother, after giving her blessing, says that he will never see\nhis wedding. (The mother\u2019s curse is the characteristic feature of the\nnext following ballad.) The bridal party come to the river, or burn, of\nGamrie; all the others pass the stream safely, but Willie is washed from\nhis saddle, #D-H#. The rest ride on to the kirk of Gamrie. The bride\nasks where is the man who was to marry her, and is told that Willie is\ndrowned. She tears the ribbons from her hair and runs to the river,\nplunges in, and finds Willie in the deepest pot, the middle, the deepest\nweil. She will make her bed with him in Gamrie; both mothers shall be\nalike sorry; #D-G#.\n\nIn #H#, Willie\u2019s horse comes home with an empty saddle. His mother is\nsure that her son is dead; her daughter tries in vain to persuade her\nthat all is well; Meggie takes her lover\u2019s body from the river and lays\nit on the grass; she will sleep with him in the same grave at Gamrie.\n\nIn #A#, #B#, the drowned body is found in the cleft of a rock, the\nclifting or clintin of a craig; in #C# 4 neath a buss of brume, that\nstanza belonging, as most of the copy does, to the preceding ballad; cf.\n#J# 14, #K# 11 of No 214. The bride ties three links of her hair, which\nis three quarters long, round Willie\u2019s waist, and draws him out of the\nwater, #B# 2, #C# 5; for the hair, cf. No 214, where also it is not\nadvantageously used. The bride\u2019s tearing the ribbons from her head, #D#\n12, #E# 15, #F# 8, #G# 7, #H# 14, is found also in No 214, #D# 11, #I#\n12, but is inappropriate there. A brother, brother John, whether the\nman\u2019s or the woman\u2019s, tells the bad news in No 214, #A# 11, #E# 9, #I#\n8, #L# 11, #N# 9, 10, as here #D# 11, #E# 14, #F# 7, #G# 6, #H# 13.\n\n\u2018Annan Water,\u2019 a ballad in which a lover is drowned on his way to visit\nhis mistress, is given in an appendix.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n Thomson\u2019s Orpheus Caledonius, II, 110, 1733.\n\n 1\n \u2018Willy\u2019s rare, and Willy\u2019s fair,\n And Willy\u2019s wondrous bony,\n And Willy heght to marry me,\n Gin eer he marryd ony.\n\n 2\n \u2018Yestreen I made my bed fu brade,\n The night I\u2019ll make it narrow,\n For a\u2019 the live-long winter\u2019s night\n I lie twin\u2019d of my marrow.\n\n 3\n \u2018O came you by yon water-side?\n Pu\u2019d you the rose or lilly?\n Or came you by yon meadow green?\n Or saw you my sweet Willy?\u2019\n\n 4\n She sought him east, she sought him west,\n She sought him brade and narrow;\n Sine, in the clifting of a craig,\n She found him drownd in Yarrow.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n #a.# Cromek\u2019s Select Scotish Songs, 1810, II, 196; eighth and ninth\n stanzas of a fragment sent William Tytler by Burns in 1790. #b.#\n Stenhouse\u2019s edition of the Musical Museum, 1853, IV, 464.\n\n 1\n She sought him east, she sought him west,\n She sought him braid and narrow,\n Till in the clintin of a craig\n She found him drownd in Yarrow.\n\n 2\n She\u2019s taen three links of her yellow hair,\n That hung down lang and yellow,\n And she\u2019s tied it about sweet Willie\u2019s waist,\n An drawn him out o Yarrow.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n C\n\n Gibb MS., No 7, p. 37; from recitation. \u201cTraced to Eppie Fraser,\n daughter of a tramp, and unable to read, _circa_ 1840.\u201d\n\n 1\n \u2018Willie\u2019s fair, an Willie\u2019s rare,\n An Willie\u2019s wondrous bonny,\n An Willie\u2019s promised to marry me,\n If eer he marry ony.\u2019\n\n 2\n \u2018O sister dear, I\u2019ve dreamed a dream,\n I\u2019m afraid it\u2019s unco sorrow;\n I dreamed I was pu\u2019in the heather green,\n In the dowie dens o Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018O sister dear, I\u2019ll read your dream,\n I\u2019m afraid it will be sorrow;\n Ye\u2019ll get a letter ere it\u2019s een\n Your lover\u2019s drowned in Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 4\n She socht him up, she socht him doun,\n In mickle dule an sorrow;\n She found him neath a buss o brume,\n In the dowie dens o Yarrow.\n\n 5\n Her hair it was three quarters lang,\n Its colour it was yallow;\n She tied it to his middle sma,\n An pu\u2019ed him oot o Yarrow.\n\n 6\n \u2018My bed it was made wide yestreen,\n The nicht it sall be narrow;\n There\u2019s neer a man lie by my side\n Since Willie\u2019s drowned in Yarrow.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n D\n\n Skene MS., p. 47; taken down from recitation in the north of\n Scotland, 1802\u20133.\n\n 1\n \u2018Willie\u2019s fair, and Willie\u2019s rare,\n An he is wondrous bonnie,\n An Willie has promist to marry me,\n Gin ever he marry ony.\u2019\n\n 2\n \u2018Ye\u2019s get Jammie, or ye\u2019s [get] Johnnie,\n Or ye\u2019s get bonny Peter;\n Ye\u2019s get the wale o a\u2019 my sons,\n But leave me Willie the writer.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018I winna hae Jamie, I winna hae Johnie,\n I winna hae bonny Peter;\n I winna hae ony o a\u2019 your sons,\n An I get na Willie the writer.\u2019\n\n 4\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n There was threescore and ten brisk young men\n Was boun to briddal-stool wi him:\n\n 5\n \u2018Ride on, ride on, my merry men a\u2019,\n I forgot something behind me;\n I forgat my mither\u2019s blessing,\n To hae to bride-stool wi me.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018God\u2019s blessin an mine gae wi ye, Willie,\n God\u2019s blessing an mine gae wi ye;\n For ye\u2019re nae ane hour but bare nineteen,\n Fan ye\u2019re gauin to meet your Meggie.\u2019\n\n 7\n They rode on, and farther on,\n Till they came to the water of Gamrie,\n An they a\u2019 wan safe through,\n Unless it was sweet Willie.\n\n 8\n The first ae step that Willie\u2019s horse steppit,\n He steppit to the bridle;\n The next ae step that Willie\u2019s horse steppit,\n Toom grew Willie\u2019s saddle.\n\n 9\n They rod on, an farther on,\n Till they came to the kirk of Gamrie.\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n 10\n Out spak the bonny bride,\n . . . . . . .\n \u2018Whar is the man that\u2019s to gie me his han\n This day at the kirk of Gamrie?\u2019\n\n 11\n Out spak his brother John,\n An O bat he was sorrie!\n \u2018It fears me much, my bonny bride,\n He sleeps oure soun in Gamerie.\u2019\n\n 12\n The ribbons that were on her ha\u00edr\u2014\n An they were thick and monny\u2014\n She rive them a\u2019, let them down fa,\n An is on[to] the water o Gamerie.\n\n 13\n She sought it up, she sought it down,\n She sought it braid and narrow;\n An in the deepest pot o Gamerie,\n There she got sweet Willie.\n\n 14\n She has kissd his comely mouth,\n As she had done before [O]:\n \u2018Baith our mithers sall be alike sorry,\n For we\u2019s baith sleep in Gamery.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n E\n\n Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, #I#, 245.\n\n 1\n \u2018O Willie is fair, and Willie is rare,\n And Willie is wondrous bonny,\n And Willie says he\u2019ll marry me,\n Gin ever he marry ony.\u2019\n\n 2\n \u2018O ye\u2019se get James, or ye\u2019se get George,\n Or ye\u2019s get bonny Johnnie;\n Ye\u2019se get the flower o a\u2019 my sons,\n Gin ye\u2019ll forsake my Willie.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018O what care I for James or George,\n Or yet for bonny Peter?\n I dinna value their love a leek,\n An I getna Willie the writer.\n\n 4\n \u2018O Willie has a bonny hand,\n And dear but it is bonny!\u2019\n \u2018He has nae mair for a\u2019 his land;\n What woud ye do wi Willie?\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018O Willie has a bonny face,\n And dear but it is bonny!\u2019\n \u2018But Willie has nae other grace;\n What woud ye do wi Willie?\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018Willie\u2019s fair, and Willie\u2019s rare,\n And Willie\u2019s wondrous bonny;\n There\u2019s nane wi him that can compare,\n I love him best of ony.\u2019\n\n 7\n On Wednesday, that fatal day,\n The people were convening;\n Besides all this, threescore and ten,\n To gang to the bride-steel wi him.\n\n 8\n \u2018Ride on, ride on, my merry men a\u2019,\n I\u2019ve forgot something behind me;\n I\u2019ve forgot to get my mother\u2019s blessing,\n To gae to the bride-steel wi me.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018Your Peggy she\u2019s but bare fifteen,\n And ye are scarcely twenty;\n The water o Gamery is wide and braid;\n My heavy curse gang wi thee!\u2019\n\n 10\n Then they rode on, and further on,\n Till they came on to Gamery;\n The wind was loud, the stream was proud,\n And wi the stream gaed Willie.\n\n 11\n Then they rode on, and further on,\n Till they came to the kirk o Gamery;\n And every one on high horse sat,\n But Willie\u2019s horse rade toomly.\n\n 12\n When they were settled at that place,\n The people fell a mourning,\n And a council held amo them a\u2019,\n But sair, sair wept Kinmundy.\n\n 13\n Then out it speaks the bride hersell,\n Says, What means a\u2019 this mourning?\n Where is the man amo them a\u2019\n That shoud gie me fair wedding?\n\n 14\n Then out it speaks his brother John,\n Says, Meg, I\u2019ll tell you plainly;\n The stream was strong, the clerk rade wrong,\n And Willie\u2019s drownd in Gamery.\n\n 15\n She put her hand up to her head,\n Where were the ribbons many;\n She rave them a\u2019, let them down fa\u2019,\n And straightway ran to Gamery.\n\n 16\n She sought it up, she sought it down,\n Till she was wet and weary;\n And in the middle part o it,\n There she got her deary.\n\n 17\n Then she stroakd back his yellow hair,\n And kissd his mou sae comely:\n \u2018My mother\u2019s heart\u2019s be as wae as thine!\n We\u2019se baith asleep in the water o Gamery.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n F\n\n Buchan MSS, II, 159.\n\n 1\n Whan Willie was in his saddle set,\n And all his merry men wi him,\n \u2018Stay still, stay still, my merry men all,\n I\u2019ve forgot something behind me.\n\n 2\n \u2018Gie me God\u2019s blessing an yours, mither,\n To hae me on to Gamery;\n Gie me God\u2019s blessing an yours, mither,\n To gae to the bride-stool wi me.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018I\u2019ll gie ye God\u2019s blessing an mine, Willie,\n To hae you on to Gamery;\n Ye\u2019s hae God\u2019s blessing an mine, Willie,\n To gae to the bride-stool wi you.\n\n 4\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n \u2018But Gamery it is wide and deep,\n An ye\u2019ll never see your wedding;\u2019\n\n 5\n Some rede back, an some rede fore,\n An some rede on to Gamery;\n The bonniest knight\u2019s saddle among them all\n Stood teem in the Water o Gamery.\n\n 6\n Out it spake the bride hersell,\n Says, What makes all this riding?\n Where is the knight amongst you all\n Aught me this day for wedding?\n\n 7\n Out it spake the bridegroom\u2019s brother,\n Says, Margaret, I\u2019ll tell you plainly;\n The knight ye should hae been wedded on\n Is drownd in the Water o Gamery.\n\n 8\n She\u2019s torn the ribbons aff her head\u2014\n They were baith thick an mony\u2014\n She kilted up her green claithing,\n And she has passed the Gamery.\n\n 9\n She\u2019s plunged in, so did she down,\n That was baith black an jumly,\n And in the middle o that water\n She found her ain sweet Willie.\n\n 10\n She\u2019s taen him in her arms twa\n And gied him kisses many:\n \u2018My mother\u2019s be as wae as thine!\n We\u2019ll baith lie in the Water o Gamery.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n G\n\n Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 637; from the recitation of the wife of James\n Baird, forester at Dalrymple.\n\n 1\n \u2018O stay at hame, my ain son Willie,\n And let your bride tak Johnie!\n O stay at hame, my ain son Willie!\n For my blessing gaes not wi thee.\u2019\n\n 2\n \u2018I canna stay, nor I winna stay,\n And let my bride tak Johnie;\n I canna stay, nor I winna stay,\n Though your blessing gaes na wi me.\n\n 3\n \u2018I have a steed in my stable\n That cost me monie a pennie,\n And on that steed I winna dread\n To ride the water o Genrie.\u2019\n\n 4\n The firsten step that Willie stept,\n He steppit to the bellie;\n The wind blew loud, the stream ran proud,\n And awa wi it gaed Willie.\n\n 5\n And when the bride gaed to the kirk,\n Into the kirk o Ganrie,\n She cuist her ee among them a\u2019,\n But she sawna her love Willie.\n\n 6\n Out and spak her auld brither,\n Saying, Peggie, I will tell thee;\n The man ye should been married till\n Lyes in the water o Genrie.\n\n 7\n She tore the ribbons aff her head,\n That were baith rich and manie,\n And she has kiltit up her coat,\n And ran to the water o Ganrie.\n\n 8\n She\u2019s sought him up, sae did she doun,\n Thro a\u2019 the water o Ganrie;\n In the deepest weil in a\u2019 the burn,\n Oh, there she fand her Willie!\n\n 9\n She has taen him in her arms twa,\n Sae fondly as she kisst him!\n Said, \u2018My mither sall be wae as thine,\u2019\n And she\u2019s lain doun aside him.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n H\n\n Campbell MSS, II, 78.\n\n 1\n They were saddled a\u2019, they were briddled a\u2019,\n Bridegroom and a\u2019 was ready;\n \u2018Stop,\u2019 says he, \u2018my nobles a\u2019,\n For I\u2019ve left something behind me.\n\n 2\n \u2018It is your blessing, mother dear,\n To bound [to] the bride-styl with me:\u2019\n \u2018God\u2019s blessing now, my son,\u2019 says she,\n \u2018And mine and a\u2019 gang wi ye!\n\n 3\n \u2018For ye are scarce nineteen years of age\n When ye met in wi bonny Maggie,\n And I\u2019m sure, my dear, she\u2019ll welcome you\n This day in the kirk o Gemrie.\u2019\n\n 4\n It\u2019s they have ridden up, it\u2019s they have ridden down,\n And joy was in their gallant company;\n It\u2019s they have ridden up, and they have ridden down,\n Till they came to the water o Gemrie.\n\n 5\n When they came to the water, it was flooded;\n In the middle Sweet William he fell;\n The spray brook over his horse\u2019s mane,\n And the wind sang his funeral knell.\n\n 6\n \u2018O much is the pity! O much is the pity!\u2019\n Cried that joyful company;\n \u2018O much is the pity! O much is the pity!\u2019\n But alas! now are woeful and wae.\n\n 7\n Hame and hame came his stead,\n And ran to its ain stable;\n They\u2019ve gien it corn and hay to eat,\n As much as it was able.\n\n 8\n His mother she was a waefu woman,\n As dung as woman could be;\n \u2018My son,\u2019 says she, \u2018is either hurt or slain,\n Or drowned in the waters of Gemrie.\u2019\n\n 9\n It\u2019s up and spak her daughter Ann:\n \u2018What needs be a\u2019 this mourning?\n He\u2019s lighted at yon bonny kirk-style,\n And his steed has run away from him.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018O had yer tongue, my daughter Ann,\n Nor scold na me about mourning;\n Hadna my son there men enew\n To hae taken his steed from him?\u2019\n\n 11\n They\u2019ve ridden up, they\u2019ve ridden down,\n Till they came to the kirk o Gemrie;\n There they saw his winsome bride,\n Alone at the kirk-style standing.\n\n 12\n \u2018Where away is the man,\u2019 says she,\n \u2018That promised me fair wedding?\n This day he vowd to meet me here,\n But O he\u2019s lang o coming!\u2019\n\n 13\n Up and spak his brother John,\n Says, \u2018Meg, I\u2019ll tell ye plainly;\n The stream was strang, and we rade wrang,\n And he\u2019s drownd in the water o Gemrie.\u2019\n\n 14\n She\u2019s torn the ribons frae her hair,\n That were baith thick and many;\n She\u2019s torn them a\u2019, lettin them fa\u2019,\n And she\u2019s away to the waters o Gemrie.\n\n 15\n She[\u2019s] sought him up, she\u2019s sought him down,\n Until that she\u2019s gotten his body,\n And she\u2019s laid it on the green, green grass,\n And flung her mantle oer him.\n\n 16\n \u2018O Willie was red, but O now he\u2019s white!\n And Willie was wondrous bonny,\n And Willie he said he\u2019d marry me,\n Gin ere he married oney.\n\n 17\n \u2018He was red, he was white, he was my delight,\n And aye, aye I thought him bonny;\n But now since Willie has dy\u2019d for me,\n I will sleep wi him in the same grave at Gemrie.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n#B. b.#\n\n \u201cThe editor has often heard the following additional stanza [_the\n second_], though it is omitted by Thomson.\u201d\n\n 2^1. links o her gowden locks.\n\n 2^3. She\u2019s tied them about.\n\n#D.#\n\n _Not divided into stanzas in the MS._\n\n#E.#\n\n_Variations in Christie_, I, 66:\n\n 2^{1\u20133}. ye\u2019ll.\n\n 6^1. O Willie\u2019s.\n\n 7^3. And there were mair than threescore and ten.\n\n 14^4. at Gamery.\n\n 15^2. Where she had ribbons.\n\n 15^3. And tore them a\u2019 and let.\n\n 15^4. And syne she ran.\n\n 16^4. \u2019Twas there.\n\n 17^1. She straiked back.\n\n 17^4. We\u2019ll baith sleep.\n\n#G.#\n\n 6^1. _Originally_ But out.\n\n#H.#\n\n 2^2. bound the bridgestyle.\n\n\n APPENDIX\n\n\n ANNAN WATER\n\n Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, 1833, III, 282; 1802, II, 138.\n\nThe first edition lacks stanzas 5, 6, 8, 9. Two of these were inserted\n\u201cfrom another copy of the ballad in which the conclusion proves\nfortunate.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe ballad,\u201d says Scott, \u201cis given from tradition,\u201d for which a more\nprecise expression would perhaps be \u201coral repetition.\u201d It is asserted in\nthe Minstrelsy to be \u201cthe original words of the tune of \u2018Allan Water,\u2019\nby which name the song is mentioned in Ramsay\u2019s Tea-Table Miscellany\u201d\n(\u2018Allan Water, or, My love Annie\u2019s very bonny,\u2019 T. T. M., vol. i, p.\n105, of the Dublin edition of 1729). This assertion is not justified by\nany reasons, nor does it seem pertinent, if the Allan was originally the\nriver of the ballad, to add, as the editor does, that \u201cthe Annan and the\nFrith of Solway, into which it falls, are the frequent scenes of\ntragical accidents.\u201d\n\nA song which may pass for the original Allan Water until an earlier is\nproduced is among the Laing broadsides (now in the possession of Lord\nRosebery), No 59. There is no date or place, but it is thought to have\nbeen printed toward the end of the seventeenth century, or the beginning\nof the eighteenth, and probably at Edinburgh.\n\nThe title is: \u2018Allan Water, or, A Lover in Captivity.[111] A new song,\nsung with a pleasant new air.\u2019 There are three eight-line stanzas, and\nit begins:\n\n Allan Water\u2019s wide and deep,\n and my dear Anny\u2019s very bonny;\n Wide\u2019s the straith that lyes above \u2018t,\n if \u2018t were mine, I\u2019de give it all for Anny.\n\nAllan Cunningham says of the ballad, Songs of Scotland, II, 102: \u201cI have\nheard it sung on the banks of the Annan. Like all traditional verses,\nthere are many variations.\u201d And he cites as \u201cfrom an old fragment\u201d these\ncouplets:\n\n O Annan water\u2019s wading deep, [_i.e._ wide and]\n Yet I am loth to weet my feet;\n But if ye\u2019ll consent to marry me,\n I\u2019ll hire a horse to carry thee.[112]\n\nIt is my conviction that \u2018Anna Water,\u2019 in Ramsay\u2019s language, is one of\nthe \u201cScots poems wrote by the ingenious before\u201d 1800.\n\n\u201cBy the Gatehope Slack,\u201d says Sir Walter Scott, \u201cis perhaps meant the\nGate Slack, a pass in Annandale.\u201d\n\n 1\n \u2018Annan water\u2019s wading deep,\n And my love Annie\u2019s wondrous bonny,\n And I am laith she suld weet her feet,\n Because I love her best of ony.\n\n 2\n \u2018Gar saddle me the bonny black,\n Gar saddle sune, and make him ready,\n For I will down the Gatehope-Slack,\n And all to see my bonny ladye.\u2019\n\n 3\n He has loupen on the bonny black,\n He stirrd him wi the spur right sairly;\n But, or he wan the Gatehope-Slack,\n I think the steed was wae and weary.\n\n 4\n He has loupen on the bonny grey,\n He rade the right gate and the ready;\n I trow he would neither stint nor stay,\n For he was seeking his bonny ladye.\n\n 5\n O he has ridden oer field and fell,\n Through muir and moss, and mony a mire;\n His spurs o steel were sair to bide,\n And frae her fore-feet flew the fire.\n\n 6\n \u2018Now, bonny grey, now play your part!\n Gin ye be the steed that wins my deary,\n Wi corn and hay ye\u2019se be fed for aye,\n And never spur sall make you wearie.\u2019\n\n 7\n The grey was a mare, and a right good mare,\n But when she wan the Annan water\n She couldna hae ridden a furlong mair\n Had a thousand merks been wadded at her.\n\n 8\n \u2018O boatman, boatman, put off your boat!\n Put off your boat for gowden money!\n I cross the drumly stream the night,\n Or never mair I see my honey.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018O I was sworn sae late yestreen,\n And not by ae aith, but by many;\n And for a\u2019 the gowd in fair Scotland\n I dare na take ye through to Annie.\u2019\n\n 10\n The ride was stey, and the bottom deep,\n Frae bank to brae the water pouring,\n And the bonny grey mare did sweat for fear,\n For she heard the water-kelpy roaring.\n\n 11\n O he has poud aff his dapperpy coat,\n The silver buttons glanced bonny;\n The waistcoat bursted aff his breast,\n He was sae full of melancholy.\n\n 12\n He has taen the ford at that stream tail;\n I wot he swam both strong and steady;\n But the stream was broad, and his strength did fail,\n And he never saw his bonny ladye!\n\n 13\n \u2018O wae betide the frush saugh wand!\n And wae betide the bush of brier!\n It brake into my true-love\u2019s hand,\n When his strength did fail, and his limbs did tire.\n\n 14\n \u2018And wae betide ye, Annan Water,\n This night that ye are a drumlie river!\n For over thee I\u2019ll build a bridge,\n That ye never more true love may sever.\u2019\n\n\n\n\n 216\n\n THE MOTHER\u2019S MALISON, OR, CLYDE\u2019S WATER\n\n #A.# \u2018Clyde\u2019s Water,\u2019 Skene MS., p. 50.\n\n #B.# \u2018Willie and May Margaret,\u2019 Jamieson\u2019s Popular Ballads, 1806, I,\n 135.\n\n #C.# \u2018The Drowned Lovers,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland,\n I, 140; \u2018Willie and Margaret,\u2019 Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 611; printed in\n part in Motherwell\u2019s Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. iii.\n\n\nStanzas 1, 5, 6, 7, 16, of #B# were printed by Jamieson (under the title\nof Sweet Willie and May Margaret) in the Scots Magazine, October, 1803,\np. 700, in the hope of obtaining a complete copy.\n\nIn notes to #B# are here given some various readings and supplementary\nverses which were entered by Motherwell in a copy of his Minstrelsy,\nwithout indication of their origin.[113] Motherwell made a few changes\nin transcribing #C# into his MS., and others in the verses which he\nprinted in the appendix to his Minstrelsy.\n\nThe copy of this ballad in Nimmo\u2019s Songs and Ballads of Clydesdale, p.\n134, was compounded from #B# and #C#.\n\n\nWillie orders his horse and his man to be fed, for he means to be that\nvery night with his love Margaret. His mother would have him stay with\nher: he shall have the best bed in the house and the best hen in the\nroost, #A#; the best cock in the roost and the best sheep in the flock,\n#B#; a sour wind is blowing and the night will be dark, #C#. He cares\nfor none of these, and will go. My malison drown thee in Clyde! says his\nmother. Clyde is roaring fearfully, but he wins through. Arrived at\nMargaret\u2019s bower, he tirls at the pin and calls to her to open. A voice\nasks, Who is there? It is her lover, his boots full of Clyde\u2019s water. An\nanswer comes, as if from Margaret, that she has no lovers without and\nnone within, and she will not open, #A#, #C#; her mother is fast asleep,\nand she dares make no din, #B#. Then he begs for some shelter for the\nnight; but is told that one chamber is full of corn, another full of\nhay, and the third full of gentlemen, who will not go till morning.\nFarewell, then; he has won his mother\u2019s malison by coming. Clyde\u2019s water\nis half up over the brae, #B#, and sweeps him off his horse, #C#.\nMargaret wakens from a dreary dream that her love had been \u2018staring\u2019\n(standing?) at the foot of her bed, #A#; had been at the gates, and\nnobody would let him in, #C#. Her mother informs her that her lover had\nreally been at the gates but half an hour before. Margaret instantly\ngets up and goes after Willie, crying to him against the loud wind. She\ndoes not stop for the river. No more was ever seen of Willie but his\nhat, no more of Margaret but her comb and her snood, #A#, which might\nend well so, but has lost a few lines. #C# ends like the preceding\nballad: Margaret finds Willie in the deepest pot in Clyde; they shall\nsleep together in its bed.\n\n#C# 20, 21 absurdly represents Willie\u2019s brother as standing on the\nriver-bank and expostulating with him; this in the dead of night.[114]\n\nThe passage in two of the copies, #A# 10\u201316, #C# 11\u201315, 22\u201325, in which\nthe mother, pretending to be her daughter, repels the lover, and the\ndaughter, who has dreamed that her lover had come and had been refused\nadmittance, is told by her mother that this had actually happened, and\nsets off in pursuit of her lover, seems to have been adopted from \u2018The\nLass of Roch Royal,\u2019 No 76. Parts are exchanged, as happens not\ninfrequently with ballads; in the \u2018Lass of Roch Royal,\u2019 the lass is\nturned away by her lover\u2019s mother, pretending to speak in his person.\nThere is verbal correspondence, particularly in #A# 16; cf. No 76, #D#\n26, 27, #E# 22, 23. In #D# 19 of No 76 the professed Love Gregor tells\nAnnie that he has another love, as the professed Meggie in #A# 11\n(inconsistently with what precedes) tells Willie.\n\nThe three steps into the water, #C# 26\u201328, occur also in \u2018Child Waters,\u2019\nNo 63, #B# 7\u20139, #C# 6\u20138, #I# 3, 4, 6. Nose-bleed, #C# 1, is a bad omen;\nsee No 208.\n\nVerses #A# 8^{1,2}, #C# 10^{1,2},\n\n Make me your wrack as I come back,\n But spare me as I go,\n\nare found in a broadside \u2018Tragedy of Hero and Leander,\u2019 Roxburghe\nBallads, III, 152, etc., of the date, it is thought, of about 1650;\nEbsworth\u2019s Roxburghe Ballads, VI, 558, Collier\u2019s Book of Roxburghe\nBallads, 1847, p. 227. The conceit does not overwell suit a popular\nballad. The original is Martial\u2019s Parcite dum propero, mergite cum\nredeo, otherwise, Mergite me, fluctus, cum rediturus ero, Epigr. lib.,\n25 b, and lib. xiv, 181.\n\nA very popular Italian ballad has some of the traits of \u2018The Mother\u2019s\nMalison,\u2019 parts being exchanged and the girl drowned. A girl is asked in\nmarriage; her mother objects, in most of the copies on the ground of her\ndaughter\u2019s youth; she goes off with her lover; the mother wishes that\nshe may drown in the sea; arrived at the seashore her horse becomes\nrestive, and the girl is drowned (or she goes down in mid-sea):\n\u2018Maledizione della Madre,\u2019 Nigra, Canti popolari del Piemonte, p. 151,\nNo 23 #A#-#F#; \u2018La Maledizione materna,\u2019 Marcoaldi, p. 170, No 15; \u2018La\nMaledetta,\u2019 Ferraro, C. p. monferrini, p. 35, No 27; \u2018Buona-sera,\nvedovella,\u2019 Ferraro, C. p. del Basso Monferrato, p. 16, No 7; \u2018La Figlia\ndisobbediente,\u2019 Bolza, C. p. comasche, No 55; \u2018Amor di Fratello,\u2019\nBernoni, C. p. veneziani, Puntata 9, No 4; Righi, C. p. veronesi, p. 30,\nNo 93; Wolf, Volkslieder aus Venetien, No 92 (a fragment). In \u2018Marinai,\u2019\nFerraro, C. p. di Ferrara, etc., p. 59, No 9, the suitor is a sailor,\nand the girl goes down in his ship, and so in \u2018Il marinaro e la sua\namorosa,\u2019 No 94, Wolf, but in this last she is still told to stick to\nher horse. A fragment in Marie Aycard\u2019s Bal-lades et ch. p. de la\nProvence, p. xix, repeated in Arbaud, II, 166, makes it probable that\nthe Italian ballad was known in the south of France. (All the above are\ncited by Count Nigra.)\n\nA mother\u2019s curse upon her son, who is riding to fetch his bride, results\nin his breaking his neck, in a Bohemian ballad already spoken of under\n\u2018Clerk Colvil,\u2019 No 42; see #I#, 368 (where a translation by Wenzig,\nSlawische Volkslieder, p. 47, might have been noted).\n\nA mother refuses to give her daughter in marriage because the girl is\nunder age; the daughter is forcibly carried off; the mother wishes that\nshe may not live a year, which comes to pass: \u2018Der Mutter Fluch,\u2019\nMeinert, p. 246.\n\n\n#B# is translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotshe Folkeviser, p. 64,\nNo 10, and (with use of #C#), by Wolff, Halle der V\u00f6lker, I, 26,\nHausschatz, p. 203; Aytoun\u2019s ballad (with use of #C#) by Rosa Warrens,\nSchottische Volkslieder, p. 152, No 35; Allingham\u2019s ballad by Knortz, L.\nu. R. Alt-Englands, p. 123.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n Skene MS., p. 50; taken down from recitation in the north of\n Scotland, 1802\u20133.\n\n 1\n \u2018Ye gie corn unto my horse,\n An meat unto my man,\n For I will gae to my true-love\u2019s gates\n This night, gin that I can.\u2019\n\n 2\n \u2018O stay at hame this ae night, Willie,\n This ae bare night wi me;\n The best bed in a\u2019 my house\n Sall be well made to thee.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018I carena for your beds, mither,\n I carena ae pin,\n For I\u2019ll gae to my love\u2019s gates\n This night, gin I can win.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018O stay, my son Willie, this night,\n This ae night wi me;\n The best hen in a\u2019 my roost\n Sall be well made ready for thee.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018I carena for your hens, mither,\n I carena ae pin;\n I sall gae to my love\u2019s gates\n This night, gin I can win.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018Gin ye winna stay, my son Willie,\n This ae bare night wi me,\n Gin Clyde\u2019s water be deep and fu o flood,\n My malisen drown ye!\u2019\n\n 7\n He rode up yon high hill,\n An down yon dowie glen;\n The roaring of Clyde\u2019s water\n Wad hae fleyt ten thousand men.\n\n 8\n \u2018O spare me, Clyde\u2019s water,\n O spare me as I gae!\n Mak me your wrack as I come back,\n But spare me as I gae!\u2019\n\n 9\n He rade in, and farther in,\n Till he came to the chin;\n And he rade in, and farther in,\n Till he came to dry lan.\n\n 10\n An whan he came to his love\u2019s gates,\n He tirled at the pin:\n \u2018Open your gates, Meggie,\n Open your gates to me,\n For my beets are fu o Clyde\u2019s water,\n And the rain rains oure my chin.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018I hae nae lovers therout,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018I hae nae love within;\n My true-love is in my arms twa,\n An nane will I lat in.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018Open your gates, Meggie, this ae night,\n Open your gates to me;\n For Clyde\u2019s water is fu o flood,\n An my mither\u2019s malison\u2019ll drown me.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018Ane o my chamers is fu o corn,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018An ane is fu o hay;\n Anither is fa o gentlemen,\n An they winna move till day.\u2019\n\n 14\n Out waked her May Meggie,\n Out o her drousy dream:\n \u2018I dreamed a dream sin the yestreen,\n God read a\u2019 dreams to guid!\n That my true-love Willie\n Was staring at my bed-feet.\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018Now lay ye still, my ae dochter,\n An keep my back fra the call,\n For it\u2019s na the space of hafe an hour\n Sen he gad fra yer hall.\u2019\n\n 16\n \u2018An hey, Willie, an hoa, Willie,\n Winne ye turn agen?\u2019\n But ay the louder that she crayed\n He rod agenst the wind.\n\n 17\n He rod up yon high hill,\n An doun yon douey den;\n The roring that was in Clid[e]\u2018s water\n Wad ha flayed ten thousand men.\n\n 18\n He road in, an farder in,\n Till he came to the chine;\n An he road in, an farder in,\n Bat neuer mare was seen.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 19\n Ther was na mare seen of that guid lord\n Bat his hat frae his head;\n Ther was na mare seen of that lady\n Bat her comb an her sneed.\n\n 20\n Ther waders went up an doun\n Eadying Claid\u2019s water\n Hav don us wrang\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n Jamieson\u2019s Popular Ballads, I, 135; from Mrs Brown\u2019s recitation,\n apparently in 1800.\n\n 1\n \u2018Gie corn to my horse, mither,\n Gie meat unto my man,\n For I maun gang to Margaret\u2019s bower\n Before the nicht comes on.\u2019\n\n 2\n \u2018O stay at hame now, my son Willie,\n The wind blaws cald and sour;\n The nicht will be baith mirk and late\n Before ye reach her bower.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018O tho the nicht were ever sae dark,\n Or the wind blew never sae cald,\n I will be in my Margaret\u2019s bower\n Before twa hours be tald.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018O gin ye gang to May Margaret,\n Without the leave of me,\n Clyde\u2019s water\u2019s wide and deep enough,\n My malison drown thee!\u2019\n\n 5\n He mounted on his coal-black steed,\n And fast he rade awa,\n But ere he came to Clyde\u2019s water\n Fu loud the wind did blaw.\n\n 6\n As he rode oer yon hich, hich hill,\n And down yon dowie den,\n There was a roar in Clyde\u2019s water\n Wad feard a hunder men.\n\n 7\n His heart was warm, his pride was up;\n Sweet Willie kentna fear;\n But yet his mither\u2019s malison\n Ay sounded in his ear.\n\n 8\n O he has swam through Clyde\u2019s water,\n Tho it was wide and deep,\n And he came to May Margaret\u2019s door,\n When a\u2019 were fast asleep.\n\n 9\n O he\u2019s gane round and round about,\n And tirled at the pin;\n But doors were steekd, and windows barrd,\n And nane wad let him in.\n\n 10\n \u2018O open the door to me, Margaret!\n O open and lat me in!\n For my boots are full o Clyde\u2019s water\n And frozen to the brim.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018I darena open the door to you,\n Nor darena lat you in,\n For my mither she is fast asleep,\n And I darena mak nae din.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018O gin ye winna open the door,\n Nor yet be kind to me,\n Now tell me o some out-chamber\n Where I this nicht may be.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018Ye canna win in this nicht, Willie,\n Nor here ye canna be;\n For I\u2019ve nae chambers out nor in,\n Nae ane but barely three.\n\n 14\n \u2018The tane o them is fu o corn,\n The tither is fu o hay;\n The tither is fu o merry young men;\n They winna remove till day.\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018O fare ye weel, then, May Margaret,\n Sin better manna be;\n I\u2019ve win my mither\u2019s malison,\n Coming this nicht to thee.\u2019\n\n 16\n He\u2019s mounted on his coal-black steed,\n O but his heart was wae!\n But, ere he came to Clyde\u2019s water,\n \u2019Twas half up oer the brae.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 17\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n . . . he plunged in,\n But never raise again.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n C\n\n Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 140.\n\n 1\n Willie stands in his stable-door,\n And clapping at his steed,\n And looking oer his white fingers\n His nose began to bleed.\n\n 2\n \u2018Gie corn to my horse, mother,\n And meat to my young man,\n And I\u2019ll awa to Maggie\u2019s bower;\n I\u2019ll win ere she lie down.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018O bide this night wi me, Willie,\n O bide this night wi me;\n The best an cock o a\u2019 the reest\n At your supper shall be.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018A\u2019 your cocks, and a\u2019 your reests,\n I value not a prin,\n For I\u2019ll awa to Meggie\u2019s bower;\n I\u2019ll win ere she lie down.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018Stay this night wi me, Willie,\n O stay this night wi me;\n The best an sheep in a\u2019 the flock\n At your supper shall be.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018A\u2019 your sheep, and a\u2019 your flocks,\n I value not a prin,\n For I\u2019ll awa\u2019 to Meggie\u2019s bower;\n I\u2019ll win ere she lie down.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018O an ye gang to Meggie\u2019s bower,\n Sae sair against my will,\n The deepest pot in Clyde\u2019s water,\n My malison ye\u2019s feel.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018The guid steed that I ride upon\n Cost me thrice thretty pound;\n And I\u2019ll put trust in his swift feet\n To hae me safe to land.\u2019\n\n 9\n As he rade ower yon high, high hill,\n And down yon dowie den,\n The noise that was in Clyde\u2019s water\n Woud feard five huner men.\n\n 10\n \u2018O roaring Clyde, ye roar ower loud,\n Your streams seem wondrous strang;\n Make me your wreck as I come back,\n But spare me as I gang!\u2019\n\n 11\n Then he is on to Maggie\u2019s bower,\n And tirled at the pin;\n \u2018O sleep ye, wake ye, Meggie,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll open, lat me come in.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018O wha is this at my bower-door,\n That calls me by my name?\u2019\n \u2018It is your first love, sweet Willie,\n This night newly come hame.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018I hae few lovers thereout, thereout,\n As few hae I therein;\n The best an love that ever I had\n Was here just late yestreen.\u2019\n\n 14\n \u2018The warstan stable in a\u2019 your stables,\n For my puir steed to stand!\n The warstan bower in a\u2019 your bowers,\n For me to lie therein!\n My boots are fu o Clyde\u2019s water,\n I\u2019m shivering at the chin.\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018My barns are fu o corn, Willie,\n My stables are fu o hay;\n My bowers are fu o gentlemen,\n They\u2019ll nae remove till day.\u2019\n\n 16\n \u2018O fare ye well, my fause Meggie,\n O farewell, and adieu!\n I\u2019ve gotten my mither\u2019s malison\n This night coming to you.\u2019\n\n 17\n As he rode ower yon high, high hill,\n And down yon dowie den,\n The rushing that was in Clyde\u2019s water\n Took Willie\u2019s cane frae him.\n\n 18\n He leand him ower his saddle-bow,\n To catch his cane again;\n The rushing that was in Clyde\u2019s water\n Took Willie\u2019s hat frae him.\n\n 19\n He leand him ower his saddle-bow,\n To catch his hat thro force;\n The rushing that was in Clyde\u2019s water\n Took Willie frae his horse.\n\n 20\n His brither stood upo the bank,\n Says, Fye, man, will ye drown?\n Ye\u2019ll turn ye to your high horse head\n And learn how to sowm.\n\n 21\n \u2018How can I turn to my horse head\n And learn how to sowm?\n I\u2019ve gotten my mither\u2019s malison,\n It\u2019s here that I maun drown.\u2019\n\n 22\n The very hour this young man sank\n Into the pot sae deep,\n Up it wakend his love Meggie\n Out o her drowsy sleep.\n\n 23\n \u2018Come here, come here, my mither dear,\n And read this dreary dream;\n I dreamd my love was at our gates,\n And nane wad let him in.\u2019\n\n 24\n \u2018Lye still, lye still now, my Meggie,\n Lye still and tak your rest;\n Sin your true-love was at your yates,\n It\u2019s but twa quarters past.\u2019\n\n 25\n Nimbly, nimbly raise she up,\n And nimbly pat she on,\n And the higher that the lady cried,\n The louder blew the win.\n\n 26\n The first an step that she steppd in,\n She stepped to the queet;\n \u2018Ohon, alas!\u2019 said that lady,\n \u2018This water\u2019s wondrous deep.\u2019\n\n 27\n The next an step that she wade in,\n She wadit to the knee;\n Says she, \u2018I coud wide farther in,\n If I my love coud see.\u2019\n\n 28\n The next an step that she wade in,\n She wadit to the chin;\n The deepest pot in Clyde\u2019s water\n She got sweet Willie in.\n\n 29\n \u2018You\u2019ve had a cruel mither, Willie,\n And I have had anither;\n But we shall sleep in Clyde\u2019s water\n Like sister an like brither.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A.#\n\n _Not divided into stanzas in the MS.; sometimes not into verses._\n\n 15^3. For _is written after_ call _in the preceding line._\n\n 16^3. But ay _is written after_ agen _in the preceding line._\n\n 16^4. He _is written after_ crayed _in the preceding line._\n\n 18^2. Till _is written after_ in _in the preceding line._\n\n 19.\n Ther was na mare seen of\n that guid lord bat his hat\n frae his head ther was na\n mare seen of that lady bat\n her comb an her sneed.\n\n 20^1. Doun _stands at the beginning of the next line_.\n\n #A# 14\u201316 _might perhaps be better put after the drowning, as in_\n #C#.\n\n#B.#\n\n _Readings inserted by Motherwell in a copy of his Minstrelsy._\n\n 4^{3,4}.\n My malison and deidly curse\n Shall bear ye companie.\n\n _After 7_:\n\n He swam high, and he swam low,\n And he swam to and fro,\n Until he gript a hazel-bush,\n That brung him to the brow.\n\n 9^4. _Var._ But his mother answered him.\n\n 10.\n O rise, O rise, May Marget, h[e says],\n (_cut away by the binder_)\n O rise and let me in,\n For the very steed that I came on\n Does tremble at every limb.\n\n 11^3. mither and father\u2019s baith awauk.\n\n 12.\n O hae ye neer a stable, he says,\n Or hae ye neer a barn,\n Or hae ye neer a wild-guse house,\n Where I might rest till morn?\n\n 14^1. My barn is.\n\n 14^2. My stable is.\n\n 14^3. The house is fu o wild, wild gees.\n\n 14^4. They canna be moved.\n\n 15^4. Rides in my companie.\n\n 16^1. his milk-white.\n\n 16^2. And who could ride like him.\n\n 16^4. \u2019Twas far outowre the brim.\n\n _After 16_:\n\n He swam high, and he swam low,\n And he swam to and fro,\n But he neer could spy the hazel-bush\n That would bring him to the brow.\n\n _Comment_: The mother was a witch; made responses for Margaret;\n met him in a green habit on his return home. He inquired for the\n ford; she directed him to the deepest linn. When he got into the\n water, two hounds seized on his horse, and left him to struggle\n with the current.\n\n _Willie\u2019s mother had transferred herself to Margaret\u2019s house\n according to the variation in 9^4; so she is the witch._\n\n _All this is very paltry. The mother\u2019s curse was enough to drown\n Willie without her bestirring herself further._\n\n\n\n\n 217\n\n THE BROOM OF COWDENKNOWS\n\n #A.# \u2018The Laird of Knotington,\u2019 Percy papers, 1768.\n\n #B.# \u2018Bonny May.\u2019 #a.# Herd\u2019s Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p.\n 308; 1776, I, 98. #b.# Johnson\u2019s Museum, No 110, p. 113.\n\n #C.# \u2018Laird o Ochiltree,\u2019 Kinloch MSS, VII, 143; Kinloch\u2019s Ancient\n Scottish Ballads, p. 160.\n\n #D.# \u2018The Laird o Ochiltree Wa\u2019s,\u2019 Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 517.\n\n #E.# Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 175.\n\n #F.# \u2018Bonny May,\u2019 Gibb MS., p. 9.\n\n #G.# \u2018The Broom of Cowdenknows,\u2019 Scott\u2019s Minstrelsy, III, 280, 1803;\n III, 37, 1833.\n\n #H.# \u2018The Maid o the Cowdenknows,\u2019 Kinloch MSS, I, 137.\n\n #I.# \u2018Laird o Lochnie,\u2019 Kinloch MSS, VII, 153; Kinloch\u2019s Ancient\n Scottish Ballads, p. 167.\n\n #J.# Kinloch MSS, VI, 11.\n\n #K.# \u2018Maiden o the Cowdenknowes,\u2019 Dr Joseph Robertson\u2019s Journal of\n Excursions, No 6.\n\n #L.# \u2018The Broom of the Cowden Knowes,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s MSS, II, 178.\n\n #M.# \u2018Broom o the Cowdenknowes,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of\n Scotland, I, 172.\n\n #N.# \u2018The Laird of Lochinvar,\u2019 Kinloch MSS, I, 145.\n\n\nThis ballad was widely diffused in Scotland. \u201cIt would be useless,\u201d says\nMotherwell, \u201cto enumerate the titles of the different versions which are\ncommon among reciters.\u201d \u201cEach district has its own version,\u201d says\nKinloch. So it must have done no little mischief in its day. The\nearliest known copies, #A#, #B#, are of the second half of the last\ncentury.\n\nThere is an English \u201cditty\u201d (not a traditional ballad) of a northern\nlass who got harm while milking her father\u2019s ewes, which was printed in\nthe first half of the seventeenth century. It is here given in an\nappendix. This ditty is \u201cto a pleasant Scotch tune called The broom of\nCowden Knowes,\u201d and the burden is:\n\n With, O the broome, the bonny broome,\n The broome of Cowden Knowes!\n Fain would I be in the North Countrey,\n To milk my dadyes ewes.\n\nThe tune was remarkably popular, and the burden is found, variously\nmodified, in connection with several songs: see Chappell\u2019s Popular\nMusic, pp. 458\u2013461, 613, 783. \u2018The Broom of Cowdenknows,\u2019 a \u201cnew\u201d song,\nin the Tea-Table Miscellany, p. 22, Dublin, 1729, has the burden not\ngreatly changed; also #G#, #L#, #M#, of this ballad.\n\nThere is very little story to the English ditty. A maid is beguiled by a\nshepherd-boy while milking her father\u2019s ewes; the consequences are what\nmight be expected; her mother puts her out of doors, and she ranges the\nworld; a young man who hears her complaint offers to marry her, and go\nto the North Country with her to milk her father\u2019s ewes. The Scottish\nballad could not have been developed from a story of this description.\nOn the other hand, it is scarcely to be believed that the author of the\nEnglish ditty, if he had known the Scottish ballad, would have dropped\nall the interesting particulars. It is possible that he may have just\nheard about it, but much more likely that he knew only the burden and\nbuilt his very slight tale on that. It may be observed that his maid,\nthough she haunts Liddesdale, and should have belonged to Cowdenknowes,\nwas born in Danby Forest, Yorkshire.\n\nTwo passages which do not occur in #A# may have been later additions:\n#D# 9, 10, #F# 5, 6, #G# 13, 14, #M# 19, 20, in which the laird,\nreturning to his men, is told that he has tarried long, and answers\nthat, east or west, he has never seen so bonny a lass as was in the\newe-buchts; and #H# 12\u201315, #J# 2\u20135, #L# 5\u20138, where the laird tries to\npass himself off for one of his men, and the maid for one of her\nmother\u2019s servants (found in part, also, in #G# 9, 10, #I# 5, #M# 12\u201314).\n\u201cThe maid of a place, such as the maid of the Cowdenknows,\u201d as Dr Joseph\nRobertson remarks, \u201cmeans the eldest daughter of the tenant or\nproprietor, who is generally called by the name of his farm.\u201d[115]\n\nIt is obvious that the maid would keep her counsel when she came back to\nher father. She puts him off with a riddle, #C# 9, #D# 13, #E# 11, #F#\n9, #G# 18, #H# 20, #J# 6, #L# 14, #M# 23, #N# 7, which it is the height\nof absurdity to make her explain, as is done in #A# 11, #B# 4, #C# 10,\n#D# 14, #E# 12; and so of the exclamation against the shepherd if\nuttered in the father\u2019s presence, as in #F# 8, #H# 19, #I# 11, #L# 13,\n#N# 8.\n\n#H# 10, 11 (cf. #D# 6), where the maid asks the man\u2019s name, is a\nfamiliar commonplace: see No 39, I, 340 a; No 50, I, 444, 446; No 110,\nII, 458 ff. (especially p. 473, #H# 3, 4); No 111, II, 478 f.\n\n#M# has many spurious stanzas of its own; as 3\u20135, 25, 30\u201332, 35. #N# is\nquite perverted from 9 to 28. It is impossible that 9\u201314 should follow\nupon 8, and stanzas 15\u201327 have not a genuine word in them.\n\nCunningham has rewritten the ballad, Songs of Scotland, II, 113. He says\nthat through Dumfriesshire and Galloway the hero is always Lord\nLochinvar, and cites this stanza, which he had heard sung:\n\n For I do guess, by your golden-rimmed hat,\n And by the silken string,\n That ye are the lord of the Lochinvar,\n Who beguiles all our young women.\n\n\u2018Malfred og Sadelmand,\u2019 Kristensen, I, 258, No 99, is an independent\nballad, but has some of the traits of this: the maid, who is treated\nwith great violence, asks the knight\u2019s name, as in #H#, #D#; he comes\nback to marry her, after she has borne twins.\n\nCowdenknowes is on the east bank of Leader, near Earlston, and some four\nor five miles from Melrose. Auchentrone, in #B# #b# 11, Stenhouse\nconjectures to be a corruption of Auchentroich, an estate in the county\nof Stirling, and Oakland Hills, in #G#, to be Ochil Hills, in the same\ncounty: Musical Museum, IV, 112.\n\n\n#B# is translated by Knortz, Schottische Balladen, p. 92, No 29.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n Percy papers; communicated to Percy by R. Lambe, of Norham, August\n 17, 1768, and dated May, 1768.\n\n 1\n There was a troop of merry gentlemen\n Was riding atween twa knows,\n And they heard the voice of a bonny lass,\n In a bught milking her ews.\n\n 2\n There\u2019s ane o them lighted frae off his steed,\n And has ty\u2019d him to a tree,\n And he\u2019s gane away to yon ew-bught,\n To hear what it might be.\n\n 3\n \u2018O pity me, fair maid,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018Take pity upon me;\n O pity me, and my milk-white steed\n That\u2019s trembling at yon tree.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018As for your steed, he shall not want\n The best of corn and hay;\n But as to you yoursel, kind sir,\n I\u2019ve naething for to say.\u2019\n\n 5\n He\u2019s taen her by the milk-white hand,\n And by the green gown-sleeve,\n And he as led her into the ew-bught,\n Of her friends he speerd nae leave.\n\n 6\n He as put his hand in his pocket,\n And given her guineas three:\n \u2018If I dinna come back in half a year,\n Then luke nae mair for me.\n\n 7\n \u2018Now show to me the king\u2019s hie street,\n Now show to me the way;\n Now show to me the king\u2019s hie street,\n And the fair water of Tay.\u2019\n\n 8\n She showd to him the king\u2019s hie street,\n She showd to him the way;\n She showd him the way that he was to go,\n By the fair water of Tay.\n\n 9\n When she came hame, her father said,\n \u2018Come, tell to me right plain;\n I doubt you\u2019ve met some in the way,\n You have not been your lain.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018The night it is baith mist and mirk,\n You may gan out and see;\n The night is mirk and misty too,\n There\u2019s nae body been wi me.\n\n 11\n \u2018There was a tod came to your flock,\n The like I neer did see;\n When he spake, he lifted his hat,\n He had a bonny twinkling eee.\u2019\n\n 12\n When fifteen weeks were past and gane,\n Full fifteen weeks and three,\n Then she began to think it lang\n For the man wi the twinkling eee.\n\n 13\n It fell out on a certain day,\n When she cawd out her father\u2019s ky,\n There was a troop of gentlemen\n Came merrily riding by.\n\n 14\n \u2018Weel may ye sigh and sob,\u2019 says ane,\n \u2018Weel may you sigh and see;\n Weel may you sigh, and say, fair maid,\n Wha\u2019s gotten this bairn wi thee?\u2019\n\n 15\n She turned her sel then quickly about,\n And thinking meikle shame,\n \u2018O no kind sir, it is na sae,\n For it has a dad at hame.\u2019\n\n 16\n \u2018O hawd your tongue, my bonny lass,\n Sae loud as I hear you lee!\n For dinna you mind that summer night\n I was in the bught wi thee?\u2019\n\n 17\n He lighted off his milk-white steed,\n And set this fair maid on;\n \u2018Now caw out your ky, good father,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018She\u2019ll neer caw them out again.\n\n 18\n \u2018I am the laird of Knottington,\n I\u2019ve fifty plows and three;\n I\u2019ve gotten now the bonniest lass\n That is in the hale country.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n #a.# Herd\u2019s Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 308. #b.#\n Johnson\u2019s Museum, No 110, p. 113.\n\n 1\n It was on an evning sae saft and sae clear\n A bonny lass was milking the kye,\n And by came a troup of gentlemen,\n And rode the bonny lassie by.\n\n 2\n Then one of them said unto her,\n \u2018Bonny lass, prythee shew me the way:\u2019\n \u2018O if I do sae, it may breed me wae,\n For langer I dare nae stay.\u2019\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 3\n But dark and misty was the night\n Before the bonny lass came hame:\n \u2018Now where hae you been, my ae doughter?\n I am sure you was nae your lane.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018O father, a tod has come oer your lamb,\n A gentleman of high degree,\n And ay whan he spake he lifted his hat,\n And bonny, bonny blinkit his ee.\u2019\n\n 5\n Or eer six months were past and gane,\n Six months but and other three,\n The lassie begud for to fret and to frown,\n And think lang for his blinkin ee.\n\n 6\n \u2018O wae be to my father\u2019s shepherd,\n An ill death may he die!\n He bigged the bughts sae far frae hame,\n And trysted a gentleman to me!\u2019\n\n 7\n It fell upon another fair evening\n The bonny lassie was milking her ky,\n And by came the troop of gentlemen,\n And rode the bonny lassie by.\n\n 8\n Then one of them stopt, and said to her,\n \u2018Whae\u2019s aught that baby ye are wi?\u2019\n The lassie began for to blush, and think,\n To a father as good as ye.\n\n 9\n \u2018O had your tongue, my bonny may,\n Sae loud I hear you lie!\n O dinnae you mind the misty night\n I was in the bught with thee?\u2019\n\n 10\n Now he\u2019s come aff his milk-white steed,\n And he has taen her hame:\n \u2018Now let your father bring hame the ky,\n You neer mair shall ca them agen.\n\n 11\n \u2018I am a lord of castles and towers,\n With fifty ploughs of land and three,\n And I have gotten the bonniest lass\n That is in this countrie.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n C\n\n Kinloch MSS, VII, 143, from the recitation of Jenny Watson, 24\n April, 1826; Clydesdale.\n\n 1\n It was on a day whan a lovely may\n Was cawing out her father\u2019s kye,\n And she spied a troop o\u2019 gentlemen,\n As they war passing bye.\n\n 2\n \u2018O show me the way, my pretty maid,\n O show me the way,\u2019 said he;\n \u2018My steed has just now rode wrong,\n And the way I canna see.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018O haud you on the same way,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018O haud ye on \u2018t again,\n For, if ye haud on the king\u2019s hieway,\n Rank rievers will do ye na harm.\u2019\n\n 4\n He took her by the milk-white hand,\n And by the gerss-green sleeve,\n And he has taiglet wi the fair may,\n And of her he askd na leave.\n\n 5\n Whan ance he got her gudwill,\n Of her he craved na mair,\n But he poud out a ribbon frae his pouch,\n And snooded up the may\u2019s hair.\n\n 6\n He put his hand into his pouch,\n And gave her guineas three:\n \u2018If I come na back in twenty weeks,\n Ye need na look mair for me.\u2019\n\n 7\n But whan the may did gang hame,\n Her father did her blame;\n \u2018Whare hae ye been now, dame?\u2019 he said\n \u2018For ye\u2019ve na been your lane.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018The nicht is misty and mirk, father,\n Ye may come to the door and see;\n The nicht is misty and mirk, father,\n And there\u2019s na body wi me.\n\n 9\n \u2018But there cam a tod to your flock, father,\n The like o him I never saw;\n Or he had tane the lambie that he had,\n I wad rather he had tane them aw.\n\n 10\n \u2018But he seemd to be a gentleman,\n Or a man of some pious degree;\n For whanever he spak, he lifted up his hat,\n And he had [a] bonnie twinkling ee.\u2019\n\n 11\n Whan twenty weeks were come and gane,\n Twenty weeks and three,\n The lassie began to grow thick in the waist,\n And thoucht lang for his twinkling ee.\n\n 12\n It fell upon a day whan bonnie may\n Was cawing out the kye,\n She spied the same troop o gentlemen,\n As they war passing bye.\n\n 13\n \u2018O well may you save, my pretty may,\n Weill may you save and see!\n Weill may ye save, my lovely may!\n Go ye wi child to me?\u2019\n\n 14\n But the may she turnd her back to him,\n She begoud to think meikle shame;\n \u2018Na, na, na, na, kind sir,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018I\u2019ve a gudeman o my ain.\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018Sae loud as I hear ye lie, fair may,\n Sae loud as I hear ye lee!\n Dinna ye mind o yon misty nicht\n Whan I was in the bucht wi thee?\u2019\n\n 16\n He lichted aff his hie, hie horse,\n And he set the bonnie may on:\n \u2018Now caw out your kye, gud father,\n Ye maun caw them out your lone.\n\n 17\n \u2018For lang will ye caw them out,\n And weary will ye be,\n Or ye get your dochter again\n . . . . . . .\n\n 18\n He was the laird o Ochiltree,\n Of therty ploughs and three,\n And he has stown awa the loveliest may\n In aw the south cuntree.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n D\n\n Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 517; from the singing of Mrs Storie, of\n Lochwinnoch.\n\n 1\n O bonnie May is to the yowe-buchts gane,\n For to milk her daddie\u2019s yowes,\n And ay she sang, and her voice it rang\n Out-ower the tap o the knows, knows, knowes,\n Out-owr the tap o the knowes.\n\n 2\n Ther cam a troop o gentilmen,\n As they were rydand by,\n And ane o them he lichtit doun,\n For to see May milkand her kye.\n\n 3\n \u2018Milk on, milk on, my bonnie lass,\n Milk on, milk on,\u2019 said he,\n \u2018For out o the buchts I winna gang\n Till ye shaw me owr the lee.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018Ryde on, ryde on, ye rank rydars,\n Your steeds are stout and strang,\n For out o the yowe-buchts I winna gae,\n For fear that ye do me some wrang.\u2019\n\n 5\n He took her by the milk-white hand,\n And by the green gown-sleive,\n And thare he took his will o her,\n Bot o her he askit nae leive.\n\n 6\n But whan he gat his will o her\n He loot her up again,\n And a\u2019 this bonny maid said or did\n Was, Kind sir, tell me your name.\n\n 7\n He pou\u2019t out a sillar kame,\n Sayand, Kame your yellow hair;\n And, gin I be na back in three quarters o a year,\n It\u2019s o me ye\u2019ll see nae mair.\n\n 8\n He pu\u2019t out a silken purse\n And he gied her guineas thrie,\n Saying, Gin I may na be back in three quarters o a year,\n It will pay the nourice fee.\n\n 9\n He put his fut into the stirrup\n And rade after his men,\n And a\u2019 that his men said or did\n Was, Kind maister, ye\u2019ve taiglit lang.\n\n 10\n \u2018I hae rade east, I hae rade wast,\n And I hae rade owr the knowes,\n But the bonniest lassie that I ever saw\n Was in the yowe-buchts, milkand her yowes.\u2019\n\n 11\n She put the pail upon her heid,\n And she\u2019s gane merrilie hame,\n And a\u2019 that her faither said or did\n Was, Kind dochter, ye\u2019ve taiglit lang.\n\n 12\n \u2018Oh, wae be to your men, faither,\n And an ill deth may they die!\n For they cawit a\u2019 the yowes out-owre the knowes,\n And they left naebody wi me.\n\n 13\n \u2018There cam a tod unto the bucht,\n The like I never saw,\n An, afore that he took the ane that he took,\n I wad leifar he had tane ither twa.\n\n 14\n \u2018There cam a tod unto the bucht,\n The like I never did see,\n And, ay as he spak, he liftit his hat,\n And he had a bonnie twinkland ee.\u2019\n\n 15\n It was on a day, and it was a fine simmer day,\n She was cawing out her faither\u2019s kye,\n There cam a troup o gentilmen,\n And they rade ways the lass near by.\n\n 16\n \u2018Wha has dune to you this ill, my dear?\n Wha has dune to you this wrang?\u2019\n And she had na a word to say for hersell\n But, \u2018Kind sir, I hae a man o my ain.\u2019\n\n 17\n \u2018Ye lie, ye lie, bonnie May,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018Aloud I hear ye lie!\n For dinna ye mind yon bonnie simmer nicht\n Whan ye war in the yowe-buchts wi me?\n\n 18\n \u2018Licht doun, licht doun, my foremaist man,\n Licht doun and let her on,\n For monie a time she cawit her faither\u2019s kye,\n But she\u2019ll neir caw them again.\n\n 19\n \u2018For I am the laird o Ochiltree Wawis,\n I hae threttie pleuchs and thrie,\n And I hae tane awa the bonniest lass\n That is in a\u2019 the north countrie.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n E\n\n Motherwell\u2019s Manuscript, p. 175; \u201cfrom the recitation of Mrs\n Thomson, Kilbarchan, a native of Dumbartonshire, where she learned\n it.\u201d\n\n 1\n There was a may, and a bonnie may,\n In the bught, milking the ewes,\n And by came a troop of gentlemen,\n And they rode by and by.\n\n 2\n \u2018O I\u2019ll give thee my milk-white steed,\n It cost me three hundred pound,\n If ye\u2019ll go to yon sheep-bught,\n And bring yon fair maid doun.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018Your steed ye canna want, master,\n But pay to ane a fee;\n Fifty pound of good red gold,\n To be paid down to me.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018Come shew me the way, pretty may,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018For our steeds are quite gone wrong;\n Will you do to me such a courtesy\n As to shew us the near-hand way?\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018O go ye doun to yon meadow,\n Where the people are mowing the hay;\n Go ye doun to yon meadow,\n And they\u2019ll shew you the near-hand way.\u2019\n\n 6\n But he\u2019s taen her by the milk-white hand,\n And by the grass-green sleeve;\n He\u2019s bowed her body to the ground,\n Of her kin he asked no leave.\n\n 7\n When he lifted her up again\n He\u2019s gien her guineas three:\n \u2018If I be na back gin three quarters o a year,\n Ye need neer think mair on me.\u2019\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 8\n \u2018O where hast thou been, bonnie may,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018O where hast thou been sae lang?\n O where hast thou been, bonnie may?\u2019 he said,\n \u2018Thou hast na been sae lang thy lane.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018O come to the door and see, father,\n O come to the door and see,\n And see such a weety and a windy night;\n There were nobody wi me.\n\n 10\n \u2018But wae be to your herd, father,\n And an ill death may he die!\n For he left the ewes strayed owre the knowes,\n And he left naebody wi me.\n\n 11\n \u2018But there came a tod to your bught, father,\n The like o him I neer saw;\n For or he had taen the bonnie lamb he took,\n Ye had as weel hae gien them a\u2019.\n\n 12\n \u2018There came a tod to your bught, father,\n The like o him I neer did see;\n For aye when he spak he lifted up his hat,\n And he had a bonnie twinkling ee.\u2019\n\n 13\n But when twenty weeks were come and gane,\n Aye, twenty weeks and three,\n This lassie began to spit and to spew,\n And to lang for the twinkling ee.\n\n 14\n It fell on a day, and a bonnie summer day,\n She was ca\u2018ing out her father\u2019s kye,\n And by came a troop of gentlemen,\n And they rode by and by.\n\n 15\n \u2018O wha got the bairn wi thee, bonnie may?\n O wha got the bairn wi thee?\u2019\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n 16\n She turned hersell right round about.\n She began to blush and think shame,\n And never a word this bonnie lassie spok\n But \u2018I have a good-man at hame.\u2019\n\n 17\n \u2018Thou lie, thou lie, my bonnie may,\n Sae loud I hear thee lie!\n Do ye mind o the weety and windy night\n When I was in the ewe-bught wi thee?\n\n 18\n \u2018Light off, light off, the gentlest of my men,\n And set her on behind,\n And ca out your kye, good father, yoursell,\n For she\u2019ll never ca them out again.\u2019\n\n 19\n He was the laird o twenty plough o land,\n Aye, twenty plough and three,\n And he\u2019s taen awa the bonniest lass\n Was in a\u2019 the south countrie.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n F\n\n Gibb MS., p. 9. \u201cFrom recitation; traced to Mary Jack, Lochlee,\n Forfarshire, died 1881, aged 94.\u201d\n\n 1\n Bonny may has to the ewe-bughts gane,\n To milk her father\u2019s ewes,\n An aye as she milked her bonny voice rang\n Far out amang the knowes.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 2\n \u2018Milk on, milk on, my bonny, bonny may,\n Milk on, milk on,\u2019 said he;\n \u2018Milk on, milk on, my bonny, bonny may;\n Will ye shew me out-ower the lea?\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018Ride on, ride on, stout rider,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018Yere steed\u2019s baith stout and strang;\n For out o the ewe-bught I daurna come,\n For fear ye do me wrang.\u2019\n\n 4\n But he\u2019s tane her by the milk-white hand,\n An by the green gown-sleeve,\n An he\u2019s laid her low on the dewy grass,\n An at nae ane spiered he leave.\n\n 5\n Then he\u2019s mounted on his milk-white steed,\n An ridden after his men,\n An a\u2019 that his men they said to him\n Was, Dear master, ye\u2019ve tarried lang.\n\n 6\n \u2018I\u2019ve ridden east, an I\u2019ve ridden wast,\n An I\u2019ve ridden amang the knowes,\n But the bonniest lassie eer I saw\n Was milkin her daddie\u2019s yowes.\u2019\n\n 7\n She\u2019s taen the milk-pail on her heid,\n An she\u2019s gane langin hame,\n An a her father said to her\n Was, Daughter, ye\u2019ve tarried lang.\n\n 8\n \u2018Oh, wae be to your shepherds! father,\n For they take nae care o the sheep;\n For they\u2019ve bygit the ewe-bught far frae hame,\n An they\u2019ve trysted a man to me.\n\n 9\n \u2018There came a tod unto the bucht,\n An a waefu tod was he,\n An, or ever he had tane that ae ewe-lamb,\n I had rather he had tane ither three.\u2019\n\n 10\n But it fell on a day, an a bonny summer day,\n She was ca\u2019in out her father\u2019s kye,\n An bye came a troop o gentlemen,\n Cam ridin swiftly bye.\n\n 11\n Out an spoke the foremost ane,\n Says, Lassie hae ye got a man?\n She turned herself saucy round about,\n Says, Yes, I\u2019ve ane at hame.\n\n 12\n \u2018Ye lee, ye lee, ye my bonny may,\n Sae loud as I hear ye lee!\n For dinna ye mind that misty nicht\n Ye were in the ewe-bughts wi me?\u2019\n\n 13\n He ordered ane o his men to get down;\n Says, Lift her up behind me;\n Your father may ca in the kye when he likes,\n They sall neer be ca\u2019ed in by thee.\n\n 14\n \u2018For I\u2019m the laird o Athole swaird,\n Wi fifty ploughs an three,\n An I hae gotten the bonniest lass\n In a\u2019 the north countrie.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n G\n\n Scott\u2019s Minstrelsy, III, 280, 1803; from Ettrick Forest.\n\n 1\n O the broom, and the bonny, bonny broom,\n And the broom of the Cowdenknows!\n And aye sae sweet as the lassie sang,\n I the bought, milking the ewes.\n\n 2\n The hills were high on ilka side,\n An the bought i the lirk o the hill,\n And aye, as she sang, her voice it rang\n Out-oer the head o yon hill.\n\n 3\n There was a troop o gentlemen\n Came riding merrilie by,\n And one o them has rode out o the way,\n To the bought to the bonny may.\n\n 4\n \u2018Weel may ye save an see, bonny lass,\n An weel may ye save an see!\u2019\n \u2018An sae wi you, ye weel-bred knight,\n And what\u2019s your will wi me?\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018The night is misty and mirk, fair may,\n And I have ridden astray,\n And will ye be so kind, fair may,\n As come out and point my way?\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018Ride out, ride out, ye ramp rider!\n Your steed\u2019s baith stout and strang;\n For out of the bought I dare na come,\n For fear at ye do me wrang.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018O winna ye pity me, bonny lass?\n O winna ye pity me?\n An winna ye pity my poor steed,\n Stands trembling at yon tree?\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018I wadna pity your poor steed,\n Tho it were tied to a thorn;\n For if ye wad gain my love the night\n Ye wad slight me ere the morn.\n\n 9\n \u2018For I ken you by your weel-busked hat,\n And your merrie twinkling ee,\n That ye\u2019re the laird o the Oakland hills,\n An ye may weel seem for to be.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018But I am not the laird o the Oakland hills,\n Ye\u2019re far mistaen o me;\n But I\u2019m ane o the men about his house,\n An right aft in his companie.\u2019\n\n 11\n He\u2019s taen her by the middle jimp,\n And by the grass-green sleeve,\n He\u2019s lifted her over the fauld-dyke,\n And speerd at her sma leave.\n\n 12\n O he\u2019s taen out a purse o gowd,\n And streekd her yellow hair:\n \u2018Now take ye that, my bonnie may,\n Of me till you hear mair.\u2019\n\n 13\n O he\u2019s leapt on his berry-brown steed,\n An soon he\u2019s oertaen his men;\n And ane and a\u2019 cried out to him,\n O master, ye\u2019ve tarryd lang!\n\n 14\n \u2018O I hae been east, and I hae been west,\n An I hae been far oer the knows,\n But the bonniest lass that ever I saw\n Is i the bought, milkin the ewes.\u2019\n\n 15\n She set the cog upon her head,\n An she\u2019s gane singing hame:\n \u2018O where hae ye been, my ae daughter?\n Ye hae na been your lane.\u2019\n\n 16\n \u2018O nae body was wi me, father,\n O nae body has been wi me;\n The night is misty and mirk, father,\n Ye may gang to the door and see.\n\n 17\n \u2018But wae be to your ewe-herd, father,\n And an ill deed may he die!\n He bug the bought at the back o the know\n And a tod has frighted me.\n\n 18\n \u2018There came a tod to the bought-door,\n The like I never saw;\n And ere he had taken the lamb he did\n I had lourd he had taen them a\u2019.\u2019\n\n 19\n O whan fifteen weeks was come and gane,\n Fifteen weeks and three,\n That lassie began to look thin and pale,\n An to long for his merry-twinkling ee.\n\n 20\n It fell on a day, on a het simmer day,\n She was ca\u2019ing out her father\u2019s kye,\n By came a troop o gentlemen,\n A\u2019 merrilie riding bye.\n\n 21\n \u2018Weel may ye save an see, bonny may!\n Weel may ye save and see!\n Weel I wat ye be a very bonny may,\n But whae\u2019s aught that babe ye are wi?\u2019\n\n 22\n Never a word could that lassie say,\n For never a ane could she blame,\n An never a word could the lassie say,\n But, I have a good man at hame.\n\n 23\n \u2018Ye lied, ye lied, my very bonny may,\n Sae loud as I hear you lie!\n For dinna ye mind that misty night\n I was i the bought wi thee?\n\n 24\n \u2018I ken you by your middle sae jimp,\n An your merry-twinkling ee,\n That ye\u2019re the bonny lass i the Cowdenknow,\n An ye may weel seem for to be.\u2019\n\n 25\n Than he\u2019s leapd off his berry-brown steed,\n An he\u2019s set that fair may on:\n \u2018Caw out your kye, gude father, yoursel,\n For she\u2019s never caw them out again.\n\n 26\n \u2018I am the laird of the Oakland hills,\n I hae thirty plows and three,\n An I hae gotten the bonniest lass\n That\u2019s in a\u2019 the south country.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n H\n\n Kinloch MSS, I, 137; from Mrs Boutchart.\n\n 1\n There was a may, a maiden sae gay,\n Went out wi her milking-pail;\n Lang she foucht or her ewes wad bucht,\n And syne she a milking fell.\n\n 2\n And ay as she sang the rocks they rang,\n Her voice gaed loud and shill;\n Ye wad hae heard the voice o the maid\n On the tap o the ither hill.\n\n 3\n And ay she sang, and the rocks they rang,\n Her voice gaed loud and hie;\n Till by there cam a troop o gentlemen,\n A riding up that way.\n\n 4\n \u2018Weel may ye sing, ye bonnie may,\n Weel and weel may ye sing!\n The nicht is misty, weet, and mirk,\n And we hae ridden wrang.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018Haud by the gate ye cam, kind sir,\n Haud by the gate ye cam;\n But tak tent o the rank river,\n For our streams are unco strang.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018Can ye na pity me, fair may,\n Canna ye pity me?\n Canna ye pity my puir steed,\n Stands trembling at yon tree?\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018What pity wad ye hae, kind sir?\n What wad ye hae frae me?\n If he has neither corn nor hay,\n He has gerss at libertie.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018Can ye na pity me, fair may,\n Can ye na pity me?\n Can ye na pity a gentle knicht\n That\u2019s deeing for love o thee?\u2019\n\n 9\n He\u2019s tane her by the milk-white hand,\n And by the gerss-green sleeve;\n He\u2019s laid her laigh at the bucht-end,\n At her kin speird na leave.\n\n 10\n \u2018After ye hae tane your will o me,\n Your will as ye hae tane,\n Be as gude a gentle knicht\n As tell to me your name.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018Some do ca me Jack,\u2019 says he,\n \u2018And some do ca me John;\n But whan I\u2019m in the king\u2019s hie court\n Duke William is my name.\n\n 12\n \u2018But I ken by your weel-faurd face,\n And by your blinking ee,\n That ye are the Maid o the Cowdenknows,\n And seem very weel to be.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018I am na the maid o the Cowdenknows,\n Nor does not think to be;\n But I am ane o her best maids,\n That\u2019s aft in her companie.\n\n 14\n \u2018But I ken by your black, black hat,\n And by your gay gowd ring,\n That ye are the Laird o Rochna hills,\n Wha beguiles a\u2019 our women.\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018I am na the Laird o Rochna hills.\n Nor does na think to be;\n But I am ane o his best men,\n That\u2019s aft in his companie.\u2019\n\n 16\n He\u2019s put his hand in his pocket\n And tane out guineas three;\n Says, Tak ye that, my bonnie may;\n It\u2019ll pay the nourice fee.\n\n 17\n She\u2019s tane her cog upon her head,\n And fast, fast gaed she hame:\n \u2018Whare hae ye been, my dear dochter?\n Ye hae na been your lane.\n\n 18\n \u2018The nicht is misty, weet, and mirk;\n Ye may look out and see;\n The ewes war skippin oure the knowes,\n They wad na bucht in for me.\n\n 19\n \u2018But wae be to your shepherd, father,\n An ill death may he dee!\n He bigget the buchts sae far frae the toun,\n And he trysted a man to me.\n\n 20\n \u2018There cam a tod amang the flock,\n The like o him I neer did see;\n Afore he had tane the lamb that he took,\n I\u2019d rather he\u2019d tane ither three.\u2019\n\n 21\n Whan twenty weeks war past and gane,\n Twenty weeks and three,\n The lassie begoud to spit and spue,\n And thought lang for \u2018s blinkin ee.\n\n 22\n \u2019Twas on a day, and a day near bye,\n She was ca\u2019ing out the kye,\n That by cam a troop o merry gentlemen,\n Cam riding bye that way.\n\n 23\n \u2018Wha\u2019s gien ye the scorn, bonnie may?\n O wha\u2019s done ye the wrang?\u2019\n \u2018Na body, na body, kind sir,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018My baby\u2019s father\u2019s at hame.\u2019\n\n 24\n \u2018Ye lee, ye lee, fause may,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018Sae loud as I hear ye lee!\n Dinna ye mind o the mirk misty nicht\n I buchted the ewes wi thee?\u2019\n\n 25\n \u2018Weel may I mind yon mirk misty nicht,\n Weel may I mind,\u2019 says she;\n \u2018For ay whan ye spak ye lifted up your hat,\n Ye had a merry blinkin ee.\u2019\n\n 26\n He\u2019s turned him round and richt about,\n And tane the lassie on;\n \u2018Ca out your ky, auld father,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018She sall neer ca them again.\n\n 27\n \u2018For I am the Laird o Rochna hills,\n O thirty plows and three;\n And I hae gotten the bonniest lass\n O a\u2019 the west countrie.\u2019\n\n 28\n \u2018And I\u2019m the Maid o the Cowdenknows,\n O twenty plows and three;\n And I hae gotten the bonniest lad\n In a\u2019 the north countrie.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n I\n\n Kinloch MSS, VII, 153; from the recitation of Miss M. Kinnear,\n August 23, 1826, a North Country version.\n\n 1\n The lassie sang sae loud, sae loud,\n The lassie sang sae shill;\n The lassie sang, and the greenwud rang,\n At the farther side o yon hill.\n\n 2\n Bye there cam a troop o merry gentlemen,\n They aw rode merry bye;\n The very first and the foremaist\n Was the first that spak to the may.\n\n 3\n \u2018This is a mark and misty nicht,\n And I have ridden wrang;\n If ye wad be sae gude and kind\n As to show me the way to gang.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018If ye binna the laird o Lochnie\u2019s lands,\n Nor nane o his degree,\n I\u2019ll show ye a nearer road that will keep you frae\n The glen-waters and the raging sea.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018I\u2019m na the laird o Lochnie\u2019s lands,\n Nor nane o his degree;\n But I am as brave a knicht,\n And ride aft in his company.\n\n 6\n \u2018Have ye na pity on me, pretty maid?\n Have ye na pity on me?\n Have ye na pity on my puir steed,\n That stands trembling by yon tree?\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018What pity wad ye hae, kind sir?\n What pity wad ye hae frae me?\n Though your steed has neither corn nor hay,\n It has gerss at its liberty.\u2019\n\n 8\n He has trysted the pretty maid\n Till they cam to the brume,\n And at the end o yon ew-buchts\n It\u2019s there they baith sat doun.\n\n 9\n Till up she raise, took up her milk-pails,\n And away gaed she hame;\n Up bespak her auld father,\n \u2018It\u2019s whare hae ye been sae lang?\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018This is a mark and a misty nicht,\n Ye may gang to the door and see;\n The ewes hae taen a skipping out-oure the knows,\n They winna bucht in for me.\n\n 11\n \u2018I may curse my father\u2019s shepherd;\n Some ill death mat he dee!\n He has buchted the ewes sae far frae the toun,\n And has trysted the young men to me.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n J\n\n Kinloch MSS, VI, 11; in the handwriting of Dr Joseph Robertson, and\n given him by his mother, Christ\u00edan Leslie.\n\n 1\n It was a dark and a misty night,\n . . . . . . .\n And by came a troop o gentlemen,\n Said, Lassie, shew me the way.\n\n 2\n \u2018Oh well ken I by your silk mantle,\n And by your grass-green sleeve,\n That you are the maid of the Cowdenknows,\n And may well seem to be.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018I\u2019m nae the maid of the Cowdenknows,\n Nor ever think to be;\n I am but ane of her hirewomen,\n Rides aft in her companie.\n\n 4\n \u2018Oh well do I ken by your milk-white steed,\n And by your merry winking ee,\n That you are the laird of Lochinvar,\n And may well seem to be.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018I\u2019m nae the laird of Lochinvar,\n Nor may well seem to be;\n But I am one of his merry young men,\n And am oft in his companie.\u2019\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 6\n \u2018The tod was among your sheep, father,\n You may look forth and see;\n And before he had taen the lamb he\u2019s taen\n I had rather he had taen three.\u2019\n\n 7\n When twenty weeks were come and gane,\n Twenty weeks and three,\n The lassie she turned pale and wan\n . . . . . . .\n\n 8\n . . . . . . .\n And was caain out her father\u2019s kye,\n When by came a troop of gentlemen,\n Were riding along the way.\n\n 9\n \u2018Fair may it fa thee, weel-fa\u2019rt may!\n Wha\u2019s aught the bairn ye\u2019re wi?\u2019\n \u2018O I hae a husband o my ain,\n To father my bairn te.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018You lie, you lie, you well-far\u2019d may,\n Sae loud\u2019s I hear you lie!\n Do you mind the dark and misty night\n I was in the bught wi thee?\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018Oh well do I ken by your milk-white steed,\n And by your merry winkin ee,\n That you are the laird of Lochinvar,\n That was in the bught wi me.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n K\n\n Joseph Robertson\u2019s Journal of Excursions, No 6; \u201ctaken down from a\n man in the parish of Leochel, 12 February, 1829.\u201d\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 1\n There was four and twenty gentlemen,\n As they were ridin by,\n And aff there loups the head o them,\n Cums in to this fair may.\n\n 2\n \u2018It\u2019s a mark and a mark and a misty night,\n And we canna know the way;\n And ye wad be as gude to us\n As shew us on the way.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll get a boy for meat,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll get a boy for fee,\n . . . . . . .\n That will shew you the right way.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018We\u2019ll get a boy for meat,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018We\u2019ll get a boy for fee,\n But we do not know where to seek\n That bonny boy out.\u2019\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 5\n \u2018It\u2019s foul befa my auld father\u2019s men,\n An ill death mat they die!\n They\u2019ve biggit the ewe bucht sae far frae the town\n They\u2019ve tristed the men to me.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n L\n\n Buchan\u2019s MSS, II, 178.\n\n O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom,\n The broom grows oer the burn!\n Aye when I mind on \u2018s bonny yellow hair,\n I aye hae cause to mourn.\n\n 1\n There was a bonny, a well-fared may,\n In the fauld milking her kye,\n When by came a troop of merry gentlemen,\n And sae merrily they rode by.\n O the broom, etc.\n\n 2\n The maid she sang till the hills they rang,\n And a little more forebye,\n Till in came ane of these gentlemen\n To the bught o the bonny may.\n\n 3\n \u2018Well mat ye sing, fair maid,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018In the fauld, milking your kye;\n The night is misty, weet and dark,\n And I\u2019ve gane out o my way.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018Keep on the way ye ken, kind sir,\n Keep on the way ye ken;\n But I pray ye take care o Clyde\u2019s water,\n For the stream runs proud and fair.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018I ken you by your lamar beads,\n And by your blinking ee,\n That your mother has some other maid\n To send to the ewes than thee.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018I ken you by your powderd locks,\n And by your gay gold ring,\n That ye are the laird o Rock-rock lays,\n That beguiles all young women.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018I\u2019m not the laird o the Rock-rock lays,\n Nor ever hopes to be;\n But I am one o the finest knights\n That\u2019s in his companie.\n\n 8\n \u2018Are ye the maid o the Cowden Knowes?\n I think you seem to be;\u2019\n \u2018No, I\u2019m not the maid o the Cowden Knowes,\n Nor ever hopes to be;\n But I am one o her mother\u2019s maids,\n And oft in her companie.\u2019\n\n 9\n He\u2019s taen her by the milk-white hand,\n And by her grass-green sleeve,\n He\u2019s set her down upon the ground\n Of her kin spierd nae leave.\n\n 10\n He\u2019s gien her a silver comb,\n To comb her yellow hair;\n He bade her keep it for his sake,\n For fear she never got mair.\n\n 11\n He pat his hand in his pocket,\n He\u2019s gien her guineas three;\n Says, Take ye that, fair maid, he says,\n \u2018Twill pay the nourice\u2019s fee.\n\n 12\n She\u2019s taen her milk-pail on her head,\n And she gaed singing hame,\n And a\u2019 that her auld father did say,\n \u2018Daughter, ye\u2019ve tarried lang.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018Woe be to your shepherd, father,\n And an ill death mat he die!\n He\u2019s biggit the bught sae far frae the town,\n And trystit a man to me.\n\n 14\n \u2018There came a tod into the bught,\n The like o \u2018m I neer did see:\n Before he\u2019d taen the lamb he\u2019s taen,\n I\u2019d rather he\u2019d taen other three.\u2019\n\n 15\n Or eer six months were past and gane,\n Six months but other three,\n The lassie begud for to fret and frown,\n And lang for his blinking ee.\n\n 16\n It fell upon another day,\n When ca\u2019ing out her father\u2019s kye,\n That by came the troop o gentlemen,\n Sae merrily riding by.\n\n 17\n Then ane of them stopt, and said to her,\n \u2018Wha\u2019s aught that bairn ye\u2019re wi?\u2019\n The lassie began for to blush, and think,\n To a father as good as ye.\n\n 18\n She turnd her right and round about\n And thought nae little shame;\n Then a\u2019 to him that she did say,\n \u2018I\u2019ve a father to my bairn at hame.\u2019\n\n 19\n \u2018Ye lie, ye lie, ye well-fared may,\n Sae loud\u2019s I hear ye lie!\n For dinna ye mind yon misty night\n I was in the bught wi thee?\n\n 20\n \u2018I gave you a silver comb,\n To comb your yellow hair;\n I bade you keep it for my sake,\n For fear ye\u2019d never get mair.\n\n 21\n \u2018I pat my hand in my pocket,\n I gae you guineas three;\n I bade you keep them for my sake,\n And pay the nourice\u2019s fee.\u2019\n\n 22\n He\u2019s lappen aff his berry-brown steed\n And put that fair maid on;\n \u2018Ca hame your kye, auld father,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018She shall never mair return.\n\n 23\n \u2018I am the laird o the Rock-rock lays,\n Hae thirty ploughs and three,\n And this day will wed the fairest maid\n That eer my eyes did see.\u2019\n\n O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom,\n The broom grows oer the burn!\n Aye when she minds on his yellow hair,\n She shall neer hae cause to mourn.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n M\n\n Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 172.\n\n 1\n \u2019Twas on a misty day, a fair maiden gay\n Went out to the Cowdenknowes;\n Lang, lang she thought ere her ewes woud bught,\n Wi her pail for to milk the ewes.\n O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom,\n The broom o the Cowdenknowes!\n And aye sae sweet as the lassie sang,\n In the ewe-bught, milking her ewes.\n\n 2\n And aye as she sang the greenwoods rang,\n Her voice was sae loud and shrill;\n They heard the voice o this well-far\u2019d maid\n At the other side o the hill.\n\n 3\n \u2018My mother she is an ill woman,\n And an ill woman is she;\n Or than she might have got some other maid\n To milk her ewes without me.\n\n 4\n \u2018My father was ance a landed laird,\n As mony mair have been;\n But he held on the gambling trade\n Till a \u2018s free lands were dune.\n\n 5\n \u2018My father drank the brandy and beer,\n My mother the wine sae red;\n Gars me, poor girl, gang maiden lang,\n For the lack o tocher guid.\u2019\n\n 6\n There was a troop o merry gentlemen\n Came riding alang the way,\n And one o them drew the ewe-bughts unto,\n At the voice o this lovely may.\n\n 7\n \u2018O well may you sing, my well-far\u2019d maid,\n And well may you sing, I say,\n For this is a mirk and a misty night,\n And I\u2019ve ridden out o my way.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018Ride on, ride on, young man,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018Ride on the way ye ken;\n But keep frae the streams o the Rock-river,\n For they run proud and vain.\n\n 9\n \u2018Ye winna want boys for meat, kind sir,\n And ye winna want men for fee;\n It sets not us that are young women\n To show young men the way.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018O winna ye pity me, fair maid?\n O winna ye pity me?\n O winna ye pity my poor steed,\n Stands trembling at yon tree?\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018Ride on, ride on, ye rank rider,\n Your steed\u2019s baith stout and strang;\n For out o the ewe-bught I winna come,\n For fear that ye do me wrang.\n\n 12\n \u2018For well ken I by your high-colld hat,\n And by your gay gowd ring,\n That ye are the Earl o Rock-rivers,\n That beguiles a\u2019 our young women.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018O I\u2019m not the Earl o the Rock-rivers,\n Nor ever thinks to be;\n But I am ane o his finest knights,\n Rides aft in his companie.\n\n 14\n \u2018I know you well by your lamar beads,\n And by your merry winking ee,\n That ye are the maid o the Cowdenknowes,\n And may very well seem to be.\u2019\n\n 15\n He\u2019s taen her by the milk-white hand,\n And by the grass-green sleeve,\n He\u2019s laid her down by the ewe-bught-wa,\n At her he spiered nae leave.\n\n 16\n When he had got his wills o her,\n And his wills he had taen,\n He lifted her up by the middle sae sma,\n Says, Fair maid, rise up again.\n\n 17\n Then he has taen out a siller kaim,\n Kaimd down her yellow hair;\n Says, Fair maid, take that, keep it for my sake,\n Case frae me ye never get mair.\n\n 18\n Then he put his hand in his pocket,\n And gien her guineas three;\n Says, Take that, fair maiden, till I return,\n \u2018Twill pay the nurse\u2019s fee.\n\n 19\n Then he lap on his milk-white steed,\n And he rade after his men,\n And a\u2019 that they did say to him,\n \u2018Dear master, ye\u2019ve tarried lang.\u2019\n\n 20\n \u2018I\u2019ve ridden east, I\u2019ve ridden west,\n And over the Cowdenknowes,\n But the bonniest lass that eer I did see,\n Was i the ewe-bught, milking her ewes.\u2019\n\n 21\n She\u2019s taen her milk-pail on her head,\n And she gaed singing hame;\n But a\u2019 that her auld father did say,\n \u2018Daughter, ye\u2019ve tarried lang.\u2019\n \u2018O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom,\n The broom o the Cowdenknowes!\n Aye sae sair\u2019s I may rue the day,\n In the ewe-bughts, milking my ewes.\n\n 22\n \u2018O this is a mirk and a misty night,\n O father, as ye may see;\n The ewes they ran skipping over the knowes,\n And they woudna bught in for me.\n\n 23\n . . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . . .\n \u2018Before that he\u2019d taen the lamb that he took,\n I rather he\u2019d taen other three.\u2019\n\n 24\n When twenty weeks were come and gane,\n And twenty weeks and three,\n The lassie\u2019s colour grew pale and wan,\n And she longed this knight to see.\n\n 25\n Says, \u2018Wae to the fox came amo our flock!\n I wish he had taen them a\u2019\n Before that he\u2019d taen frae me what he took;\n It\u2019s occasiond my downfa.\u2019\n\n 26\n It fell ance upon a time\n She was ca\u2019ing hame her kye,\n There came a troop o merry gentlemen,\n And they wyled the bonny lassie by.\n\n 27\n But one o them spake as he rode past,\n Says, Who owes the bairn ye are wi?\n A little she spake, but thought wi hersell,\n \u2018Perhaps to ane as gude as thee.\u2019\n\n 28\n O then she did blush as he did pass by,\n And dear! but she thought shame,\n And all that she did say to him,\n \u2018Sir, I have a husband at hame.\u2019\n\n 29\n \u2018Ye lie, ye lie, ye well-far\u2019d maid,\n Sae loud as I hear you lie!\n For dinna ye mind yon misty night,\n Ye were in the bught wi me?\n \u2018O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom,\n The broom o the Cowdenknowes!\n Aye say sweet as I heard you sing,\n In the ewe-bughts, milking your ewes.\u2019\n\n 30\n \u2018O well do I mind, kind sir,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018As ye rode over the hill;\n Ye took frae me my maidenhead,\n Fell sair against my will.\n \u2018O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom,\n The broom o the Cowdenknowes!\n And aye sae sair as I rue the day\n I met you, milking my ewes.\n\n 31\n \u2018And aye as ye spake, ye lifted your hat,\n Ye had a merry winking ee;\n I ken you well to be the man,\n Then kind sir, O pity me!\u2019\n\n 32\n \u2018Win up, win up, fair maiden,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018Nae langer here ye\u2019ll stay;\n This night ye \u2018se be my wedded wife,\n Without any more delay.\u2019\n\n 33\n He lighted aff his milk-white steed\n And set the lassie on;\n \u2018Ca in your kye, auld man,\u2019 he did say,\n \u2018She\u2019ll neer ca them in again.\n\n 34\n \u2018I am the Earl o the Rock-rivers,\n Hae fifty ploughs and three,\n And am sure I\u2019ve chosen the fairest maid\n That ever my eyes did see.\u2019\n\n 35\n Then he stript her o the robes o grey,\n Donned her in the robes o green,\n And when she came to her lord\u2019s ha\n They took her to be some queen.\n O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom,\n The broom o the Cowdenknowes!\n And aye sae sweet as the bonny lassie sang,\n That ever she milked the ewes.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n N\n\n Kinloch MSS, I, 145; from Mary Barr.\n\n 1\n O there war a troop o merry gentlemen\n Cam riding oure the knowes,\n And they hear the voice o a bonny lass,\n In the buchts, milking the yowes.\n\n 2\n \u2018O save thee, O save thee, my bonnie may!\n O saved may ye be!\n My steed he has riden wrang,\n Fain wad I ken the way.\u2019\n\n 3\n She has tane the steed by the bridle-reins,\n Has led him till the way,\n And he has tane out three gowd rings,\n Gien them to that bonnie may.\n\n 4\n And he has tane her by the milk-white hand\n And by the gerss-green sleeve,\n And he laid her doun on the side o yon hill,\n At her daddie speird na leave.\n\n 5\n Now she has hame to her father gane,\n Her father did her blame:\n \u2018O whare hae ye been, my ae dochter?\n For ye hae na been your lane.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018O the nicht is mirk, and very, very wet,\n Ye may gang to the door and see;\n O there\u2019s nabody been wi me, father,\n There\u2019s nabody been wi me.\n\n 7\n \u2018But there cam a tod to your bucht, father,\n The like o him I neer saw;\n Afore you\u2019d gien him the lamb that he took,\n Ye\u2019d rather hae gien them a\u2019.\n\n 8\n \u2018O wae be to my father\u2019s sheep-hird,\n An ill death may he dee!\n For bigging the bucht sae nar the road,\n Let the Lochinvar to me!\u2019\n\n 9\n She\u2019s tane her pig and her cog in her hand,\n And she\u2019s gane to milk the kye;\n But ere she was aware, the Laird o Lochinvar\n Cam riding in the way.\n\n 10\n \u2018O save thee, O save thee, my bonnie may!\n I wish ye may be sound;\n O save thee, O save thee, my bonnie may!\n What maks thy belly sae round?\u2019\n\n 11\n O she has turnd hersel round about,\n And she within her thoucht shame:\n \u2018O it\u2019s nabody\u2019s wills wi me, kind sir,\n For I hae a gudeman o my ain.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018Ye lee, ye lee, my bonnie may,\n Weel do I ken ye lee!\n For dinna ye mind o the three gowd rings\n I gied ye o the new moneye?\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018O weel do I mind thee, kind sir,\n O weel do I mind thee;\n For ae whan ye spak ye lifted up your hat,\n And ye had a bonnie twinklin ee.\u2019\n\n 14\n \u2018O ye need na toil yoursel, my dear,\n Neither to card nor to spin;\n For there\u2019s ten pieces I gie unto thee;\n Keep them for your lying in.\u2019\n\n 15\n Now she has hame to her father gane,\n As fast as she could hie;\n And she was na weel crownd wi joy\n Till her auld son gat she.\n\n 16\n But she\u2019ll na tell the daddie o it\n Till father nor to mither,\n And she\u2019ll na tell the daddie o it\n To sister nor to brither.\n 17\n And word is to the Lochinvar,\n And word is to him gane,\n That sic a tenant\u2019s dochter\n Has born a bastard son:\n\n 18\n And she\u2019ll na tell the daddie o it\n To father nor to mither,\n And she\u2019ll na tell the daddie o it\n Till sister nor to brither.\n\n 19\n \u2018O weel do I ken the reason o that,\n And the reason weel do I ken;\n O weel ken I the reason o that;\n It\u2019s to some o her father\u2019s men.\n\n 20\n \u2018But I will awa to Littlejohn\u2019s house,\n Shule them out o the door;\n For there\u2019s na tenant on a\u2019 my land\n Shall harbour an arrant hure.\u2019\n\n 21\n Then out and spak the house-keeper,\n \u2018Ye\u2019d better lat her abee;\n For an onie harm befa this may,\n A\u2019 the wyte will be on me.\u2019\n\n 22\n O he has turnd himsel round about,\n Within himsel thoucht he\n \u2018Better do I loe her little finger\n Than a\u2019 thy haill bodie.\n\n 23\n \u2018Gae saddle to me my six coach-mares,\n Put a\u2019 their harness on,\n And I will awa to Littlejohn\u2019s house\n For reports o this bastard son.\u2019\n\n 24\n Now whan he cam to Littlejohn\u2019s house,\n Littlejohn was at the door:\n \u2018Ye rascal, ye rogue, ye impudent dog,\n Will ye harbour an arrant hure!\u2019\n\n 25\n \u2018O pardon me, my sovereign liege,\n O pardon me, I pray;\n Oh that the nicht that she was born\n She\u2019d deed the very neist day!\u2019\n\n 26\n But he is in to his bonnie lassie gane,\n And has bolted the door behind,\n And there he has kissd his bonnie lassie sweet,\n It\u2019s over and over again.\n\n 27\n \u2018Ye did weel, ye did weel, my bonnie may,\n To keep the secret twixt me and thee;\n For I am the laird o the Ochilberry swair,\n The lady o \u2018t I\u2019ll mak thee.\n\n 28\n \u2018Come doun, come doun, now gentlemen a\u2019,\n And set this fair lady on;\n Mither, ye may milk the ewes as ye will,\n For she\u2019ll neer milk them again.\n\n 29\n \u2018For I am the laird o the Ochilberry swair,\n O thirty plows and three,\n And I hae gotten the bonniest may\n That\u2019s in a\u2019 the south countrie.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n#B.# #a.#\n\n 6 _should probably come before_ 5.\n\n 9^2. Whare.\n\n#b.#\n\n 2^2. lassie shew.\n\n 5^1. But when twenty weeks were.\n\n 5^2. O twenty weeks and three.\n\n 5^3. lassie began to grow pale and wan.\n\n 6^1. father\u2019s herd. 6^4. And wadna bide wi me.\n\n 9^2. loud\u2019s.\n\n 11.\n He was the laird of Auchentrone,\n With fifty ploughs and three,\n And he has gotten the bonniest lass\n In a\u2019 the south countrie.\n\n#C.#\n\n 3^3. if he.\n\n _Kinloch has made changes in his printed copy._\n\n#D.#\n\n 1. Oh.\n\n 1^3. _Changed later to_ ay as she sang, her.\n\n 2^4. _Burden_: To see.\n\n 3^4. _Changed to_ out owr.\n\n 5^4. axit _in the burden_. 6^1. But quhan.\n\n 7^4. neer _inserted later after_ ye\u2019ll.\n\n _Burden_: It\u2019s ye\u2019ll see me.\n\n 8^1. purse-string _originally_. 8^3. in 3.\n\n 8^4. It will; t _seems to be crossed out_. I _in the burden_.\n\n 9^1. fit _originally_, _altered to_ fut, _or_ fot.\n\n 13^3. _Originally_, An afore the ane he took.\n\n 15^1. _Changed to_ and a bonnie simmer day.\n\n 16^{1,2}. Quha. 17^2. _Changed to_ Sae loud\u2019s.\n\n _The first stanza is given by Motherwell, Minstrelsy, Appendix,\n xvii, X, under the title_ \u2018Ochiltree Walls,\u2019 _with the\n variation_, O May, bonnie May.\n\n#E.#\n\n 2^1. Oh.\n\n#I.#\n\n _Kinloch has made changes in his printed copy._\n\n#J.#\n\n 11^4. thee _for_ me.\n\n#L.#\n\n 4^4. fair. vain? _Cf._ #M#, 8^4.\n\n\n APPENDIX\n\n\n THE LOVELY NORTHERNE LASSE\n\n #a.# Roxburghe Ballads, I, 190, in the Ballad Society\u2019s reprint, ed.\n W. Chappell, I, 587. #b.# Rawlinson Ballads, 566, fol. 205.\n\n#a# WAS printed at London for F. Coules, who, according to Mr Chappell,\nflourished during the last five years of James First\u2019s reign and\nthroughout that of Charles First: dated by Mr Bullen, 1640. #b# was\nprinted for F. Coles, T. Vere, and J. Wright, 1655\u201380 (Chappell). There\nis another copy in the Euing collection, No 166, printed for Francis\nColes in the Old Bayly, who may be the same person as the printer of\n#a#; and a fourth in the Douce collection, II, 137, _verso_, without\nprinter\u2019s name. A copy differing from #a# by only three words is given\nby R. H. Evans, Old Ballads, 1810, I, 88.\n\nBurton, in the fifth edition of his Anatomy of Melancholy, Oxford, 1638,\np. 536, says: \u201cThe very rusticks and hog-rubbers ... have their ballads,\ncountry tunes, O the broome, the bonny, bonny broome,\u201d etc. (Chappell).\nThis remark is not found in the fourth edition, Oxford, 1632, p. 544.\nConcerning the air, see Chappell\u2019s Popular Music, pp. 458\u201361, 613, 783.\n\n\n THE LOVELY NORTHERNE LASSE.\n\n Who in this ditty, here complaining, shewes\n What harme she got, milking her dadyes ewes.\n\nTo a pleasant Scotch tune, called The broom of Cowden Knowes.\n\n 1\n Through Liddersdale as lately I went,\n I musing on did passe;\n I heard a maid was discontent,\n she sighd, and said, Alas!\n _All maids that ever deceived was\n beare a part of these my woes,\n For once I was a bonny lasse,\n when I milkt my dadyes ewes.\n With, O the broome, the bonny broome,\n the broome of Cowdon Knowes!\n Faine would I be in the North Countrey,\n to milke my dadyes ewes._\n\n 2\n \u2018My love into the fields did come,\n when my dady was at home;\n Sugred words he gave me there,\n praisd me for such a one.\n His honey breath and lips so soft,\n and his alluring eye\n And tempting tong, hath woo\u2019d me oft,\n now forces me to cry,\n _All maids_, &c.\n\n 3\n \u2018He joyed me with his pretty chat,\n so well discourse could he,\n Talking of this thing and of that,\n which greatly lik\u00ebd me.\n I was so greatly taken with his speech,\n and with his comely making;\n He us\u00ebd all the meanes could be\n to inchant me with his speaking.\n\n 4\n \u2018In Danby Forest I was borne;\n my beauty did excell;\n My parents dearely lov\u00ebd me\n till my belly began to swell.\n I might have beene a prince\u2019s peere\n when I came over the knoes,\n Till the shepherds boy beguil\u00ebd me,\n milking my dadyes ewes.\n\n 5\n \u2018When once I felt my belly swell,\n no longer might I abide;\n My mother put me out of doores,\n and bangd me backe and side.\n Then did I range the world so wide,\n wandering about the knoes,\n Cursing the boy that help\u00ebd me\n to fold my dadyes ewes.\n\n 6\n \u2018Who would have thought a boy so young\n would have usd a maiden so\n As to allure her with his tongue,\n and then from her to goe?\n Which hath also procured my woe,\n to credit his faire shewes,\n Which now too late repent I doe,\n the milking of the ewes.\n\n 7\n \u2018I often since have wisht that I\n had never seen his face;\n I needed not thus mournefully\n have sighed, and said Alas!\n I might have match\u00ebd with the best,\n as all the country knowes,\n Had I escaped the shepherds boy\n helpt me to fold my ewes.\n\n 8\n \u2018All maidens faire, then have a care\n when you a milking goe;\n Trust not to young men\u2019s tempting tongues,\n that will deceive you so.\n Them you shall finde to be unkinde\n and glory in your woes;\n For the shepheards boy beguil\u00ebd mee\n folding my dadyes ewes.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018If you your virgin honours keepe,\n esteeming of them deare,\n You need not then to waile and weepe,\n or your parents anger feare.\n As I have said, of them beware\n would glory in your woes;\n You then may sing with merry cheere,\n milking your dadyes ewes.\u2019\n\n 10\n A young man, hearing her complaint,\n did pity this her case,\n Saying to her, Sweet beautious saint,\n I grieve so faire a face\n Should sorrow so; then, sweeting, know,\n to ease thee of thy woes,\n Ile goe with thee to the North Country,\n to milke thy dadyes ewes.\n\n 11\n \u2018Leander like, I will remaine\n still constant to thee ever,\n As Piramus, or Troyalus,\n till death our lives shall sever.\n Let me be hated evermore,\n of all men that me knowes,\n If false to thee, sweet heart, I bee,\n milking thy dadyes ewes.\u2019\n\n 12\n Then modestly she did reply,\n \u2018Might I so happy bee\n Of you to finde a husband kinde,\n and for to marrie me,\n Then to you I would during life\n continue constant still,\n And be a true, obedient wife,\n observing of your will.\n _With, O the broome, the bonny broome,\n the broome of Cowden Knoes!\n Faine would I be in the North Country,\n milking my dadyes ewes._\n\n 13\n Thus, with a gentle soft imbrace,\n he tooke her in his armes,\n And with a kisse he smiling said,\n \u2018Ile shield thee from all harmes,\n And instantly will marry thee,\n to ease thee of thy woes,\n And goe with thee to the North Country,\n to milke thy dadyes ewes.\u2019\n _With, O the broome, the bonny broome,\n the broome of Cowden Knoes!\n Faine would I be in the North Country,\n to milke my dadyes ewes._\n\n * * * * *\n\n#a.#\n\n _After_ 7: The Second Part.\n\n#b.#\n\n _Title_: in the ditty.\n\n 2^1. field.\n\n 2^2. from home.\n\n 5^6. amongst _for_ about.\n\n 6^3. So to.\n\n 6^6. hath alas.\n\n 7. _Wanting._\n\n 8^5. Then.\n\n 9^1. virgins.\n\n 10^5. I know.\n\n 13^3. my _for_ thy.\n\n 13^9. With O the broom, &c.\n\n\n\n\n 218\n\n THE FALSE LOVER WON BACK\n\n #A.# \u2018The Fause Lover,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s MSS, I, 114; Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the\n North of Scotland, I, 268.\n\n #B.# \u2018The place where my love Johnny dwells,\u2019 Christie\u2019s Traditional\n Ballad Airs, I, 144.\n\n\nA young man is deserting one maid for another. The object of his new\nfancy lives at a distance, and he is on his way to her. He is followed\nby his old love from stage to stage; he repelling her, and she tenderly\nremonstrating. His heart gradually softens; he buys her gifts from town\nto town, and though each time he bids her go back, he ends with buying\nher a wedding gown (ring) and marrying her.\n\nTwo pretty stanzas in #A#, 4, 5, seem not to belong to this story. The\ninconstant youth would have been only too glad to have the faithful maid\nlook to other men, and gives her all liberty to do so. These two stanzas\nare first found in Herd\u2019s MSS, I, 53, and in Herd\u2019s Ancient and Modern\nScottish Songs, 1776, II, 6, as follows:\n\n False luve, and hae ye played me this,\n In the simmer, mid the flowers?\n I sall repay ye back agen,\n In the winter, mid the showers.\n\n Bot again, dear luve, and again, dear luve,\n Will ye not turn again?\n As ye look to ither women,\n Sall I to ither men.\n\nIn a manuscript at Abbotsford, entitled Scottish Songs, 1795 (containing\npieces dated up to 1806), fol. 69, they stand thus:\n\n False luve, and hae ye played me this,\n In simmer amang the flowers?\n I shall repay you back agen\n In winter amang the showers.\n\n Unless again, again, dear luve,\n But if ye turn agen,\n As ye look other women to,\n Sall I to other men.\n\nScott has put these verses, a little varied, into Davie Gellatley\u2019s\nmouth, in the ninth chapter of \u2018Waverley.\u2019 The first, with a change,\noccurs also in \u2018The Gardener,\u2019 No 219, #A# 7, #B# 15, #C# 3.\n\n\n#A# is translated by Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder, p. 141, No\n32; by Gerhard, p. 114.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n Buchan\u2019s MSS, I, 114.\n\n 1\n A Fair maid sat in her bower-door,\n Wringing her lily hands,\n And by it came a sprightly youth,\n Fast tripping oer the strands.\n\n 2\n \u2018Where gang ye, young John,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018Sae early in the day?\n It gars me think, by your fast trip,\n Your journey\u2019s far away.\u2019\n\n 3\n He turnd about wi surly look,\n And said, What\u2019s that to thee?\n I\u2019m gaen to see a lovely maid,\n Mair fairer far than ye.\n\n 4\n \u2018Now hae ye playd me this, fause love,\n In simmer, mid the flowers?\n I shall repay ye back again,\n In winter, mid the showers.\n\n 5\n \u2018But again, dear love, and again, dear love,\n Will ye not turn again?\n For as ye look to other women,\n I shall to other men.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018Make your choice of whom you please,\n For I my choice will have;\n I\u2019ve chosen a maid more fair than thee,\n I never will deceive.\u2019\n\n 7\n But she\u2019s kilt up her claithing fine,\n And after him gaed she;\n But aye he said, Ye\u2019ll turn again,\n Nae farder gae wi me.\n\n 8\n \u2018But again, dear love, and again, dear love,\n Will ye never love me again?\n Alas for loving you sae well,\n And you nae me again!\u2019\n\n 9\n The first an town that they came till,\n He bought her brooch and ring;\n And aye he bade her turn again,\n And gang nae farder wi him.\n\n 10\n \u2018But again, dear love, and again, dear love,\n Will ye never love me again?\n Alas for loving you sae well,\n And you nae me again!\u2019\n\n 11\n The next an town that they came till,\n He bought her muff and gloves;\n But aye he bade her turn again,\n And choose some other loves.\n\n 12\n \u2018But again, dear love, and again, dear love,\n Will ye never love me again?\n Alas for loving you sae well,\n And you nae me again!\u2019\n\n 13\n The next an town that they came till,\n His heart it grew mair fain,\n And he was as deep in love wi her\n As she was ower again.\n\n 14\n The next an town that they came till,\n He bought her wedding gown,\n And made her lady of ha\u2019s and bowers,\n Into sweet Berwick town.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n Christie\u2019s Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 144; from the recitation of a\n woman born in Buchan.\n\n 1\n The sun shines high on yonder hill,\n And low on yonder town;\n In the place where my love Johnny dwells,\n The sun gaes never down.\n\n 2\n \u2018O when will ye be back, bonny lad,\n O when will ye be hame?\u2019\n \u2018When heather-hills are nine times brunt,\n And a\u2019 grown green again.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018O that\u2019s ower lang awa, bonny lad,\n O that\u2019s ower lang frae hame;\n For I\u2019ll be dead and in my grave\n Ere ye come back again.\u2019\n\n 4\n He put his foot into the stirrup\n And said he maun go ride,\n But she kilted up her green claithing\n And said she woudna bide.\n\n 5\n The firsten town that they came to,\n He bought her hose and sheen,\n And bade her rue and return again,\n And gang nae farther wi him.\n\n 6\n \u2018Ye likena me at a\u2019, bonny lad,\n Ye likena me at a\u2019;\u2019\n \u2018It\u2019s sair for you likes me sae weel\n And me nae you at a\u2019.\u2019\n\n 7\n The nexten town that they came to,\n He bought her a braw new gown,\n And bade her rue and return again,\n And gang nae farther wi him.\n\n 8\n The nexten town that they came to,\n He bought her a wedding ring,\n And bade her dry her rosy cheeks,\n And he would tak her wi him.\n\n 9\n \u2018O wae be to your bonny face,\n And your twa blinkin een!\n And wae be to your rosy cheeks!\n They\u2019ve stown this heart o mine.\n\n 10\n \u2018There\u2019s comfort for the comfortless,\n There\u2019s honey for the bee;\n There\u2019s comfort for the comfortless,\n There\u2019s nane but you for me.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A.#\n\n 9^1. first and: come.\n\n 11^1, 13^1. next and.\n\n _Variations in_ Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 268.\n\n 5^4. Shall I.\n\n 6^1. your choose.\n\n 7^3. turn back.\n\n 7^4. gang.\n\n 11, 12. _Omitted._\n\n 13^3. as _wanting_.\n\n 14^4. In bonny Berwick.\n\n\n\n\n 219\n\n THE GARDENER\n\n #A.# Kinloch MSS, V, 47. \u2018The Gardener,\u2019 Kinloch MSS, VII, 19;\n Kinloch\u2019s Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 74.\n\n #B.# \u2018The Gardener Lad,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland,\n II, 187.\n\n #C.# Fragment communicated by Dr Thomas Davidson.\n\n\nA gardener will apparel a maid from head to foot with flowers, if she\nwill be his bride. He gets a wintry answer: the snow shall be his shirt,\nthe wind his hat, the rain his coat.\n\n#B# 1\u20136 is mere jargon, foisted into this pretty ballad as a preface.\n\n#A# 7, #B# 15, #C# 3, is found, substantially, in the preceding ballad,\nand perhaps belonged originally to neither.\n\n\nFreely translated from #A# and #B# by Rosa Warrens, Schottische\nVolkslieder, p. 134, No 30.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n Kinloch MSS, V, 47, in the handwriting of James Beattie; from the\n recitation of his aunt, Miss Elizabeth Beattie.\n\n 1\n The gardener stands in his bower-door,\n With a primrose in his hand,\n And by there came a leal maiden,\n As jimp \u2018s a willow wand.\n And by, etc.\n\n 2\n \u2018O lady, can you fancy me,\n For to be my bride,\n You\u2019ll get a\u2019 the flowers in my garden,\n To be to you a weed.\n\n 3\n \u2018The lily white shall be your smock;\n Becomes your body neat;\n And your head shall be deckd with jelly-flower,\n And the primrose in your breast.\n\n 4\n \u2018Your gown shall be o the sweet-william,\n Your coat o camovine,\n And your apron o the salads neat,\n That taste baith sweet and fine.\n\n 5\n \u2018Your stockings shall be o the broad kail-blade,\n That is baith broad and long;\n And narrow, narrow at the coot,\n And broad, broad at the brawn.\n\n 6\n \u2018Your gloves shall be the marygold,\n All glittering to your hand,\n Well spread oer wi the blue blaewort,\n That grows in corn-land.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018O fare you well, young man,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018Farewell, and I bid adieu;\n Since you\u2019ve provided a weed for me,\n Among the summer flowers,\n Then I\u2019ll provide another for you,\n Among the winter showers.\n\n 8\n \u2018The new-fallen snow to be your smock;\n Becomes your body neat;\n And your head shall be deckd with the eastern wind,\n And the cold rain on your breast.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 187\n\n 1\n All ye young men, I pray draw near,\n I\u2019ll let you hear my mind\n Concerning those who fickle are,\n And inconstant as the wind.\n\n 2\n A pretty maid who late livd here,\n And sweethearts many had,\n The gardener-lad he viewd them all,\n Just as they came and gaed.\n\n 3\n The gardener-lad he viewd them all,\n But swore he had no skill:\n \u2018If I were to go as oft to her,\n Ye surely would me kill.\n\n 4\n \u2018I\u2019m sure she\u2019s not a proper maid,\n I\u2019m sure she is not tall;\u2019\n Another young man standing by,\n He said, Slight none at all.\n\n 5\n \u2018For we\u2019re all come of woman,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018If ye woud call to mind,\n And to all women for her sake\n Ye surely should be kind.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018The summer hours and warm showers\n Make the trees yield in the ground,\n And kindly words will woman win,\n And this maid I\u2019ll surround.\u2019\n\n 7\n The maid then stood in her bower-door,\n As straight as ony wand,\n When by it came the gardener-lad,\n With his hat in his hand.\n\n 8\n \u2018Will ye live on fruit,\u2019 he said?\n \u2018Or will ye marry me?\n And amongst the flowers in my garden\n I\u2019ll shape a weed for thee.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018I will live on fruit,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018But I\u2019ll never marry thee;\n For I can live without mankind,\n And without mankind I\u2019ll die.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018Ye shall not live without mankind,\n If ye\u2019ll accept of me;\n For among the flowers in my garden\n I\u2019ll shape a weed for thee.\n\n 11\n \u2018The lily white to be your smock;\n Becomes your body best;\n And the jelly-flower to be your quill,\n And the red rose in your breast.\n\n 12\n \u2018Your gown shall be o the pingo white,\n Your petticoat cammovine,\n Your apron o the seel o downs;\n Come smile, sweet heart o mine!\n\n 13\n \u2018Your shoes shall be o the gude rue red\u2014\n Never did I garden ill\u2014\n Your stockings o the mary mild;\n Come smile, sweet heart, your fill!\n\n 14\n \u2018Your gloves shall be o the green clover,\n Comes lockerin to your hand,\n Well dropped oer wi blue blavers,\n That grow among white land.\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018Young man, ye\u2019ve shap\u2019d a weed for me,\n In summer among your flowers;\n Now I will shape another for you,\n Among the winter showers.\n\n 16\n \u2018The snow so white shall be your shirt;\n It becomes your body best;\n The cold bleak wind to be your coat,\n And the cold wind in your breast.\n\n 17\n \u2018The steed that you shall ride upon\n Shall be o the weather snell,\n Well bridled wi the northern wind,\n And cold sharp showers o hail.\n\n 18\n \u2018The hat you on your head shall wear\n Shall be o the weather gray,\n And aye when you come into my sight\n I\u2019ll wish you were away.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n C\n\n Communicated from memory by Dr Thomas Davidson as learned in Old\n Deer, Aberdeenshire.\n\n 1\n Burd Ellen stands in her bower-door,\n As straucht \u2018s a hollan wand,\n And by it comes the gairdner-lad,\n Wi a red rose in his hand.\n\n 2\n Says, I have shapen a weed for thee\n Amang my simmer flowers;\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . .\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 3\n \u2018Gin ye hae shapen a weed for me,\n Amang your simmer flowers,\n It\u2019s I\u2019ll repay ye back again,\n Amang the winter showers.\n\n 4\n \u2018The steed that ye sall ride upon\n Sall be o the frost sae snell,\n And I\u2019ll saddle him wi the norlan winds,\n And some sharp showers o hail.\u2019\n\n * * * * * *\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A.#\n\n _Kinloch has made changes in MSS, VII, 19, which appear in his\n printed copy._\n\n#C.#\n\n 2. \u201cHe goes on to describe his weed, promising to array her in\n flowers more gorgeously than Solomon in all his glory.\u201d\n\n 4. \u201cShe continues, after the same style.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n 220\n\n THE BONNY LASS OF ANGLESEY\n\n #A.# \u2018The Bonny Lass of Anglesey,\u2019 Herd\u2019s MSS, I, 148; Herd\u2019s Ancient\n and Modern Scottish Songs, 1776, II, 231.\n\n #B.# \u2018The Bonny Lass o Englessie\u2019s Dance,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the\n North of Scotland, II, 63.\n\n\nThis little ballad might perhaps rightfully have come in earlier, if I\nhad known what to make of it. There is a resemblance, remarkable as far\nas it goes, to \u2018Little Kirstin\u2019s Dance,\u2019 Grundtvig, V, 118, No 263. Here\nthe dance is for a match; the lass asks what she is to have if she wins,\nand is promised fifteen (five) ploughs and a mill, and her choice of the\nking\u2019s knights for a husband. In the Danish ballad (#A#), a king\u2019s son,\nto induce Little Kirstin to dance before him, promises a succession of\ngifts, none of which avail until he plights his honor and troth. The\nremainder of the story is like the conclusion of \u2018Gil Brenton,\u2019 No 5:\nsee especially I, 66. (Danish #A# is translated by Prior, III, 89, No\n112.)\n\nKirstin tires out fifteen knights in Danish #A# 12, #B# 10, #D# 14 (in\n#C# 7 eleven); and a Kirstin tires out fifteen partners again in\nGrundtvig, No 126, #F# 32, No 245, #A# 16. In Norwegian versions of No\n263, given by Grundtvig in an appendix, numbers are not specified;\nKirstin in Norwegian #A# 6, #D# 18, tires out all the king\u2019s knights.\n\nBuchan quite frightens one by what he says of his version, II, 314: \u201cIt\nis altogether a political piece, and I do not wish to interfere much\nwith it.\u201d\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n Herd\u2019s MSS, I, 148.\n\n 1\n Our king he has a secret to tell,\n And ay well keepit it must be:\n The English lords are coming down\n To dance and win the victory.\n\n 2\n Our king has cry\u2019d a noble cry,\n And ay well keepit it must be:\n \u2018Gar saddle ye, and bring to me\n The bonny lass of Anglesey.\u2019\n\n 3\n Up she starts, as white as the milk,\n Between him and his company:\n What is the thing I hae to ask,\n If I sould win the victory?\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018Fifteen ploughs but and a mill\n I gie thee till the day thou die,\n And the fairest knight in a\u2019 my court\n To chuse thy husband for to be.\u2019\n\n 5\n She\u2019s taen the fifteen lord[s] by the hand,\n Saying, \u2018Will ye come dance with me?\u2019\n But on the morn at ten o\u2019clock\n They gave it oer most shamefully.\n\n 6\n Up then rais the fifteenth lord\u2014\n I wat an angry man was he\u2014\n Laid by frae him his belt and sword,\n And to the floor gaed manfully.\n\n 7\n He said, \u2018My feet shall be my dead\n Before she win the victory;\u2019\n But before \u2019twas ten o\u2019clock at night\n He gaed it oer as shamefully.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 63.\n\n 1\n Word has gane thro a\u2019 this land,\n And O well noticed it maun be!\n The English lords are coming down\n To dance and gain the victorie.\n\n 2\n The king has made a noble cry,\n And well attended it maun be:\n \u2018Come saddle ye, and bring to me\n The bonny lass o Englessie.\u2019\n\n 3\n She started up, a\u2019 dress\u2019d in white,\n Between him and his companie;\n Said, What will ye gie, my royal liege,\n If I will dance this dance for thee?\n\n 4\n \u2018Five good ploughs but and a mill\n I\u2019ll give you till the day ye die;\n The bravest knight in all my court,\n I\u2019ll give, your husband for to be.\u2019\n\n 5\n She\u2019s taen the first lord by the hand,\n Says, \u2018Ye\u2019ll rise up and dance wi me;\u2019\n But she made a\u2019 these lords fifeteen\n To gie it up right shamefullie.\n\n 6\n Then out it speaks a younger lord,\n Says, \u2018Fye for shame! how can this be?\u2019\n He loosd his brand frae aff his side,\n Likewise his buckler frae his knee.\n\n 7\n He sware his feet should be his dead\n Before he lost the victorie;\n He danc\u2019d full fast, but tired at last,\n And gae it up as shamefullie.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A.#\n\n 1^2, 2^2. we\u2019ll keep it must and be.\n\n\n\n\n 221\n\n KATHARINE JAFFRAY\n\n #A. a.# \u2018Katharine Jaffray,\u2019 Herd\u2019s MSS, I, 61, II, 56. #b.# The\n Aldine edition of Burns, 1839, III, 181, four stanzas.\n\n #B.# \u2018The Laird of Laminton,\u2019 Herd\u2019s MSS, I, 164, II, 58.\n\n #C.# \u2018Katherine Jaffarie,\u2019 \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border\n Minstrelsy,\u201d No 30, Abbotsford.\n\n #D.# \u2018The Laird of Laminton,\u2019 \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border\n Minstrelsy,\u201d No 3, Abbotsford.\n\n #E.# \u2018Cathrine Jaffray,\u2019 Skene MS., p. 81.\n\n #F.# \u2018Catherine Janferry,\u2019 Kinloch MSS, V, 315.\n\n #G.# \u2018Catharine Jaffery,\u2019 Maidment\u2019s North Countrie Garland, 1824, p.\n 34.\n\n #H.# Kinloch MSS, V, 313.\n\n #I.# Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 327.\n\n #J.# \u2018Catherine Johnson,\u2019 Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 75; \u2018Catherine\n Johnstone,\u2019 Motherwell\u2019s Minstrelsy, 1827, p. 225.\n\n #K.# \u2018Loch-in-var,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s Gleanings, 1825, p. 74.\n\n #L.# Macmath MS., p. 72, two stanzas.\n\n\nThe ballad was first published by Sir Walter Scott, under the title \u2018The\nLaird of Laminton,\u2019 in the first edition of the Minstrelsy, 1802, I,\n216. This copy was fashioned by the editor from two in Herd\u2019s MSS, #A#,\n#B#. In later editions of the Minstrelsy (III, 122, 1833), the ballad\nwas given, with the title Katharine Janfarie, \u201cin a more perfect state,\nfrom several recited copies.\u201d Twelve stanzas out of twenty-one, however,\nare repeated from the first edition. Much the larger part of what is not\nin Herd is taken from #C#; the name Lochinvar is adopted from #D#.[116]\nA few peculiar readings may be from copies now not known, or may be the\neditor\u2019s.\n\nThe ballad in Christie, II, 16, is Scott\u2019s later copy, with the omission\nof the 16th stanza. That in Nimmo\u2019s Songs and Ballads of Clydesdale, p.\n141, is #J#, from Motherwell\u2019s Minstrelsy.\n\nA Scots laird wooes a Scots maid and wins her favor. An English laird or\nlord, very liberal as to gowd and gear, comes to court the same lass,\ngains the consent of her friends (who had at least made no opposition to\nthe earlier suit), and sets the wedding-day. The first lover comes to\nthe wedding, backed by a strong body of armed men, whom he keeps out of\nsight. He is asked why he has come; it is for a sight of the bride or a\nword with her, or to take a glass of wine with her or the bridegroom,\nand this had he will go away. Getting near the bride on this pretence,\nhe swings her on to his horse and is off. A bloody fight follows, but\nthe bride is not retrieved. Englishmen may take warning by this not to\nseek wives in Scotland; it will always end in their being tricked and\nbalked.\n\nThe attitude of the young woman to her first lover is not distinctly\nbrought out in several copies. That she had jilted him in favor of a\nwealthier Englishman would probably not lessen the Scot\u2019s pleasure in\ncarrying her off. In #E# 18, she does not go willingly; she greets and\nwrings her hands, and says it\u2019s foul play.[117] In #F# 2, #G# 2, the\nfirst lover openly charges her with changing and foul play, and such is\nthe implication in #E# 13. In #B# 14, the bride, seeing the bloodshed,\nexclaims, Wae\u2019s me for foul play! and her lover replies, Wae to your\nwilful will for causing so much good blood to be spilt! from which we\nmust infer a fault on her part. #I# 2 has the ambiguous line \u2018and his\nlove drew away,\u2019 which cannot be interpreted to mean that the first\nlover was inconstant without flying in the face of all the other copies.\n#D#, #J#, #K#, unequivocally represent the lass as faithful to her first\nlove. The bridegroom, in these versions, arranges the match with the\nfamily, and does not mention the matter to the lass until the\nwedding-day: so in #C#, #H#.[118] She sends word to her lover that if he\nwill come for her she will go with him, #D#; writes \u2018to let him\nunderstand,\u2019 #J#, #K#, and not to pay him the cold compliment of an\ninvitation to see her wed the man that has supplanted him, as in #B# 3,\n#E# 5,#F# 5, #I# 3.\n\nIn #E# 7\u20139, while the first lover is drinking with his comrades they\nincite him to carry off the bride on her wedding-day; so #G# 6, without\nexplanation of the circumstances. In #E# 7\u20139, 12\u201315, he goes to the\nbridal-house, and sitting at a table vents words which the other guests\ncannot understand: there was a young man who loved a lass that to-day\ngoes another man\u2019s bride, and plays her old love foul play; had _he_\nbeen so served, he would take the bride away. Upon this the English ask\nif he wishes a fight. There is something of this in #B# 7\u201310, #F# 13,\n14, #G# 11\u201314.\n\nThe lover would wish to keep the strong body of men that he had brought\nwith him quite in the background until their cue came. When, therefore,\nin #I# 8, 9, the bridegroom\u2019s friends ask him what was that troop of\nyounkers they had seen, he puts them off with the phrase, It must have\nbeen the Fairy Court; so in #L#. In #B# 5, 6 (where a stanza, and more,\nhas dropped out), when the bridegroom sees this troop from a high\nwindow, the bride (from incredulity, it must be, and not because she is\nin concert with her old lover) says he must have seen the Fairy Court.\n#G# 15, 16, where the phrase comes in again, seems to have suffered\ncorruption; any way, the passage is not quite intelligible to me.\n\nKatharine Jaffray (Jamphray, Janfarie) is the lass\u2019s name in #A#, #C-G#,\n#K#, #L#; Katharine Johnstone[119] in #J#; in #B#, #H#, #I#, she is\nnameless.\n\nThe lover is Lochinvar in #E#, #F#, #G#, #I#, #K#, #L# (note); Lamington\nin #D#, #H#, #J#; Lauderdale in #A#, #C#; he has no name in #B#. The\nbridegroom is Lochinvar in #D#, #H#; Lamington in #B#, Lymington, #K#;\nLauderdale in #F#, #G#; Lochinton #A#, Lamendall #E#, Limberdale #I#\n(obvious mixtures of the preceding); Faughanwood in #C#; in #J# he has\nno name. The bridegroom should be an Englishman, but Lochinvar,\nLamington, and Lauderdale are all south-Scottish names. #B# puts a Scot\nfrom the North Country in place of the titular Englishman of the other\ncopies, but this Norland man is laird of Lamington.\n\nThe place of the fight is Cadan bank and Cadan brae, #C#, #D#; Cowden\nbank (banks) and Cowden brae (braes), #A#, #H#, #J#, the variation being\nperhaps due to the very familiar Cowdenknows; Callien, Caylin, Caley\nbank (buss) and brae, in #E#, #I#, #F#; Foudlin dyke and Foudlin stane\nin #K#. No place is named in #B#, #G#[120]. In #I#, the lass lives in\nBordershellin.\n\nA copy from the recitation of a young Irishwoman living in Taunton,\nMassachusetts (learned from print, I suppose, and in parts imperfectly\nremembered), puts the scene of the story at Edenborough town. A squire\nof high degree had courted a comely country girl. When her father came\nto hear of this, he was an angry man, and \u201crequested of his daughter\ndear to suit his company,\u201d or to match within her degree. The only son\nof a farmer in the east had courted this girl until he thought he had\nwon her, and had got the consent of her father and mother. The girl\nwrites the squire a letter to tell him that she is to be married to the\nfarmer\u2019s son. He writes in answer that she must dress in green at her\nwedding (a color which no Scots girl would wear, for ill luck), and he\nwill wear a suit of the same, and wed her \u2018in spite of all that\u2019s\nthere.\u2019 He mounts eight squire-men on milk-white steeds, and rides \u2018to\nthe wedding-house, with the company dressed in green.\u2019 (See the note to\n#L#.)\n\n \u2018O welcome you, fair welcome!\n And where have you spent all day?\n Or did you see those gentlemen\n That rode along this way?\u2019\n\n He looked at her and scoffed at her,\n He smiled and this did say,\n \u2018They might have been some fairy troops,\n That rode along this way.\u2019\n\nShe fills him a glass of new port wine, which he drinks to all the\ncompany, saying, Happy is the man that is called the groom, but another\nmay love her as well as he and take her from his side.\n\n Up spoke the intended groom,\n And an angry man was he,\n Saying, If it is to fight that you came here,\n I am the man for thee.\n\n \u2018It is not to fight that I came here,\n But friendship for to show;\n So give me one kiss from your lovely bride,\n And away from you I\u2019ll go.\u2019\n\n He took her by the waist so small,\n And by the grass-green sleeve;\n He took her out of the wedding-house,\n Of the company asked no leave.\n\n The drums did beat and the trumpets sound,\n Most glorious to be seen,\n And then away to Edenborough town,\n With the company dressed in green.\n\nScott\u2019s Lochinvar, in the fifth canto of Marmion, was modelled on\n\u2018Katharine Jaffray.\u2019\n\nAnother ballad (but a much later and inferior) in which a lover carries\noff a bride on her wedding-day is \u2018Lord William,\u2019 otherwise \u2018Lord\nLundy,\u2019 to be given further on.\n\nA Norse ballad of the same description is \u2018Magnus Algots\u00f8n,\u2019 Grundtvig,\nNo 181, III, 734,[121] Syv, No 77,==\u2018Ungen Essendal,\u2019 Kristensen, Jydske\nFolkeminder, I, 104, No 41, \u2018Hr. Essendal,\u2019 X, 247, No 61, A, B. Syv\u2019s\nversion is translated by Jamieson, Illustrations of Northern\nAntiquities, p. 335.\n\n\nScott\u2019s ballad is translated by Schubart, p. 198, Doenniges, p. 15.\nKnortz, Schottische Balladen, p. 65, translates Aytoun.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n #a.# Herd\u2019s MSS, I, 61, II, 56. #b.# The Aldine edition of Burns\u2019s\n Poems, by Sir Harris Nicolas, 1839, III, 181, from Burns\u2019s\n autograph.\n\n 1\n There livd a lass in yonder dale,\n And doun in yonder glen, O\n And Kathrine Jaffray was her name,\n Well known by many men. O\n\n 2\n Out came the Laird of Lauderdale,\n Out frae the South Countrie,\n All for to court this pretty maid,\n Her bridegroom for to be.\n\n 3\n He has teld her father and mither baith,\n And a\u2019 the rest o her kin,\n And has teld the lass hersell,\n And her consent has win.\n\n 4\n Then came the Laird of Lochinton,\n Out frae the English border,\n All for to court this pretty maid,\n Well mounted in good order.\n\n 5\n He\u2019s teld her father and mither baith,\n As I hear sindry say,\n But he has nae teld the lass her sell,\n Till on her wedding day.\n\n 6\n When day was set, and friends were met,\n And married to be,\n Lord Lauderdale came to the place,\n The bridal for to see.\n\n 7\n \u2018O are you came for sport, young man:\n Or are you come for play?\n Or are you come for a sight o our bride,\n Just on her wedding day?\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018I\u2019m nouther come for sport,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018Nor am I come for play;\n But if I had one sight o your bride,\n I\u2019ll mount and ride away.\u2019\n\n 9\n There was a glass of the red wine\n Filld up them atween,\n And ay she drank to Lauderdale,\n Wha her true-love had been.\n\n 10\n Then he took her by the milk-white hand,\n And by the grass-green sleeve,\n And he mounted her high behind him there,\n At the bridegroom he askt nae leive.\n\n 11\n Then the blude run down by the Cowden Banks,\n And down by Cowden Braes,\n And ay she gard the trumpet sound,\n \u2018O this is foul, foul play!\u2019\n\n 12\n Now a\u2019 ye that in England are,\n Or are in England born,\n Come nere to Scotland to court a lass,\n Or else ye\u2019l get the scorn.\n\n 13\n They haik ye up and settle ye by,\n Till on your wedding day,\n And gie ye frogs instead o fish,\n And play ye foul, foul play.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n Herd\u2019s MSS, I, 164, II, 58.\n\n 1\n The gallant laird of Lamington\n Cam frae the North Countree\n To court a gallant gay lady,\n And wi presents entered he.\n\n 2\n He neither stood for gould nor gear\u2014\n For she was a well-fared may\u2014\n And whan he got her friends\u2019 consent\n He set the wedding-day.\n\n 3\n She\u2019s sent unto her first fere love,\n Gin he would come to see,\n And he has sent word back again\n Weel ans_were_d should she be.\n\n 4\n He has sent a mess_en_g_e_r\n Right quietly throe the land,\n Wi mony armed men,\n To be at his command.\n\n 5\n The bridegroom looked out at a high window,\n Beheld baith dool and doon,\n And there he spied her first fere love,\n Come riding to the toun.\n\n 6\n She scoffed and she scorned him,\n Upo the wedding-day,\n And said it had been the Fairy Court\n That he had seen in array.\n\n 7\n But as he sat at yon table-head,\n Amo yon gentlemen,\n And he began to speak some words\n That na ane there could ken.\n\n 8\n \u2018There is a lass into this town\u2014\n She is a weel-far\u2019d may\u2014\n She is another man\u2019s bride today,\n But she\u2019ll play him foul play.\u2019\n\n 9\n Up did start the bonny bridegroom,\n His hat into his hand,\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . .\n\n 10\n \u2018O cam you here, young man, to fight?\n Or came you here to flee?\n Or cam you here to drink good wine,\n And be good company?\u2019\n\n 11\n They filled a cup o good red wine,\n Drunk out between them twa:\n \u2018For one dance wi your bonny bride,\n I shall gae hame my wa.\u2019\n\n 12\n He\u2019s taen her by the milk-white hand,\n And by the grass-green sleeve,\n He\u2019s mounted her high behind himself,\n At her kin\u2019s speired nae leave.\n\n 13\n Now . . . . . .\n And swords flew in the skies,\n And droop and drowsie was the blood\n Ran our yon lilly braes.\n\n 14\n The blood ran our the lilly bank,\n And our the lilly brae,\n And sighing said the bonny bride,\n \u2018A, wae\u2019s me for foul play!\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018My blessing on your heart, sweet thing,\n Wae to your wilfu will!\n So many a gallant gentleman\u2019s blood\n This day as ye\u2019ve garred spill.\n\n 16\n \u2018But a\u2019 you that is norland men,\n If you be norland born,\n Come never south to wed a bryde,\n For they\u2019ll play you the scorn.\n\n 17\n \u2018They will play you the scorn\n Upo your wedding-day,\n And gie you frogs instead o fish,\n And do you foul, foul play.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n C\n\n \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 30,\n Abbotsford. Sent Scott by William Laidlaw, in September, 1802;\n obtained by him from Jean Scott.\n\n 1\n There leeft a may, an a weel-far\u2019d may,\n High, high up in yon glen; O\n Her name was Katarine Janfarie,\n She was courtit by monie men. O\n\n 2\n Up then cam Lord Lauderdale,\n Up thrae the Lawland border,\n And he has come to court this may,\n A\u2019 mountit in gude order.\n\n 3\n He\u2019s telld her father, he\u2019s telld her mother,\n An a\u2019 the lave o her kin,\n An he has telld the bonnie lass hersel,\n An has her favour win.\n\n 4\n Out then cam Lord Faughanwood,\n Out frae the English border,\n An for to court this well-far\u2019d may,\n A\u2019 mountit in gude order.\n\n 5\n He telld her father, he telld her mother,\n An a\u2019 the rest o her kin,\n But he neer telld the bonnie lass hersell\n Till on her waddin-een.\n\n 6\n When they war a\u2019 at denner set,\n Drinkin the bluid-red wine,\n \u2019Twas up then cam Lord Lauderdale,\n The bridegroom soud hae been.\n\n 7\n Up then spak Lord Faughanwood,\n An he spak very slee:\n \u2018O are ye come for sport?\u2019 he says,\n \u2018Or are ye come for play?\n Or are ye come for a kiss o our bride,\n An the morn her waddin-day?\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018O I\u2019m no come for ought,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018But for some sport or play;\n An ae word o yer bonnie bride,\n Than I\u2019ll horse an ride away.\u2019\n\n 9\n She filld a cup o the gude red wine,\n She filld it to the ee:\n \u2018Here\u2019s a health to you, Lord Lauderdale,\n An a\u2019 your companie.\u2019\n\n 10\n She filld a cup o the gude red wine,\n She filld it to the brim:\n \u2018Here\u2019s a health to you, Lord Lauderdale,\n My bridegroom should hae been.\u2019\n\n 11\n He\u2019s taen her by the milk-white hand,\n And by the gars-green sleeve,\n An he has mountit her behind him,\n O the bridegroom spierd nae leave.\n\n 12\n \u2018It\u2019[s] now take yer bride, Lord Faughanwood,\n Now take her an ye may;\n But if ye take yer bride again\n We will ca it foul play.\u2019\n\n 13\n There war four a twenty bonnie boys,\n A\u2019 clad i the simple gray;\n They said the wad take their bride again,\n By the strang hand an the may.\n\n 14\n Some o them were fu willin men,\n But they war na willin a\u2019;\n Sae four an twentie ladies gay\n Bade them ride on their way.\n\n 15\n The bluid ran down by the Cadan bank,\n An in by the Cadan brae,\n An ther the gard the piper play\n It was a\u2019 for foul, foul play.\n\n 16\n A\u2019 ye lords in fair England\n That live by the English border,\n Gang never to Scotland to seek a wife,\n Or than ye\u2019ll get the scorn.\n\n 17\n They\u2019ll keep ye up i temper guid\n Untill yer wadin-day,\n They\u2019ll thraw ye frogs instead o fish,\n An steal your bride away.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n D\n\n \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No. 3,\n Abbotsford. Sent Scott September 11, 1802, by William Laidlaw;\n received by him from Mr Bartram of Biggar.\n\n 1\n There lives a lass into yon bank,\n She lives hersell alone,\n Her name is Kathrine Jamphray,\n Well known by many a one.\n\n 2\n Than came the Laird of Lamington,\n It\u2019s frae the West Countrie,\n And for to court this bonnie may,\n Her bridegroom hopes to be.\n\n 3\n He asked at her father, sae did he at her mother,\n And the chief of all her kin,\n But still he askd the lass hersell,\n Till he had her true love won.\n\n 4\n At length the Laird of Lachenware\n Came from the English border,\n And for to court this bonnie bride,\n Was mounted in good order.\n\n 5\n He asked at her father, sae did he at her mother,\n As I heard many say,\n But he never loot the lassie wit\n Till on her wedding-day.\n\n 6\n She sent a spy into the west\n Where Lamington might be,\n That an he wad come and meet wi her\n That she wad with him gae.\n\n 7\n They taen her on to Lachenware,\n As they have thought it meet;\n They taen her on to Lachanware,\n The wedding to compleat.\n\n 8\n When they came to Lachanware,\n And near-han by the town,\n There was a dinner-making,\n Wi great mirth and renown.\n\n 9\n Lamington has mounted twenty-four wiel-wight men,\n Well mounted in array,\n And he\u2019s away to see his bonnie bride,\n Just on her wedding-day.\n\n 10\n When she came out into the green,\n Amang her company,\n Says, \u2018Lamington and Lachanware\n This day shall fight for me.\u2019\n\n 11\n When he came to Lachanware,\n And lighted on the green,\n There was a cup of good red wine\n Was filled them between,\n And ay she drank to Lamington,\n Her former love who\u2019d been.\n\n 12\n It\u2019s out and spake the bridegroom,\n And a angrie man was he:\n \u2018It\u2019s wha is this, my bonnie bride,\n That ye loe better than me?\n\n 13\n \u2018It\u2019s came you here for sport, young man?\n Or came you here for play?\n Or came you for a sight of my bonnie bride,\n Upon her wedding-day?\u2019\n\n 14\n \u2018I came not here for sport,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018Nor came I here for play;\n But an I had ae word of your bride,\n I\u2019ll horse and gae my way.\u2019\n\n 15\n The first time that he calld on her,\n Her answer was him Nay;\n But the next time that he calld on her,\n She was not slow to gae.\n\n 16\n He took her by the milk-white hand,\n And by the grass-green sleeve,\n He\u2019s pulld her on behind him,\n At the bridegroom speard nae leave.\n\n 17\n The blood ran up the Caden bank,\n And down the Caden brae,\n And ay she bade the trumpet sound\n \u2018It\u2019s a\u2019 for foul, foul play.\u2019\n\n 18\n \u2018I wonder o you English squires,\n That are in England born,\n That ye come to court our Scots lasses,\n For fear ye get the scorn.\n\n 19\n \u2018For fear you get the scorn,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018Upon y_ou_r wedding-day;\n They\u2019ll gee you frogs instead of fish,\n And take your bride away.\u2019\n\n 20\n Fair fa the lads of Lamington,\n Has taen their bride away!\n They\u2019ll set them up in temper wood\n And scorn you all day.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n E\n\n Skene MS., p. 81; taken down in the north of Scotland, 1802\u20133.\n\n 1\n Bonny Cathrin Jaffray,\n That proper maid sae fare,\n She has loved young Lochinvar,\n She made him no compare.\n\n 2\n He courted her the live-long winter-night,\n Sae has he the simmer\u2019s day;\n He has courted her sae long\n Till he sta her heart away.\n\n 3\n But the lusty laird of Lamendall\n Came frae the South Country,\n An for to gain this lady\u2019s love\n In entreid he.\n\n 4\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . .\n He has gained her friends\u2019 consent,\n An sett the wedding-day.\n\n 5\n The wedding-day it being set,\n An a\u2019 man to it . . . ,\n She sent for her first fair love,\n The wedding to come to.\n\n 6\n His father an his mother came,\n . . . . . . .\n They came a\u2019, but he came no;\n It was a foul play.\n\n 7\n Lochinvar, as his comrads\n Sat drinkine at the wine,\n [\u2018Fie] on you,\u2019 said his comrads,\n \u2018Tak yer bride for shame.\n\n 8\n \u2018Had she been mine, as she was yours,\n An done as she has done to you,\n I wad tak her on her bridal-day,\n Fra a\u2019 her companie.\n\n 9\n \u2018Fra a\u2019 her companie,\n Without any other stay;\n I wad gie them frogs insted o fish,\n An tak their bride away.\u2019\n\n 10\n He gat fifty young men,\n They were gallant and gay,\n An fifty maidens,\n An left them on a lay.\n\n 11\n Whan he cam in by Callien bank,\n An in by Callien brae,\n He left his company\n Dancing on a lay.\n\n 12\n He cam to the bridal-house,\n An in entred he;\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n 13\n \u2018There was a young man in this place\n Loved well a comly may,\n But the day she gaes an ither man\u2019s bride,\n An played him foul play.\n\n 14\n \u2018Had it been me as it was him,\n An don as she has don him tee,\n I wad ha geen them frogs instead o fish,\n An taen their bride away.\u2019\n\n 15\n The English spiered gin he wad fight;\n It spak well in his mind;\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n 16\n \u2018It was no for fightin I cam here,\n But to bear good fellowship;\n Gae me a glass wi your bridegroom,\n An so I go my way.\u2019\n\n 17\n The glass was filled o guid red wine,\n . . . between them twa:\n \u2018Man, man I see yer bride,\n An so I gae my waa.\u2019\n\n 18\n He was on guid horseback,\n An whipt the bride him wi;\n She grat an wrang her hands,\n An said, \u2018It is foul play.\n\n 19\n . . . . . . .\n \u2018An this I dare well say,\n For this day I gaed anither man\u2019s bride,\n An it\u2019s been foul play.\u2019\n\n 20\n But now sh\u2019s Lochinvar\u2019s wife,\n . . . . . . .\n He gaed them frogs instead o fish,\n An tain their bride away.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n F\n\n Kinloch MSS, V, 315, in the handwriting of John Hill Burton.\n\n 1\n Bonny Catherine Janferry,\n The dainty dame so fair,\n She\u2019s faun in love wi young Lochinvar,\n And she loved him without compare.\n\n 2\n She loved him well, and wondrous well\n To change her mind away;\n But the day she goes another man\u2019s bride,\n And plays him foul play.\n\n 3\n Home came the Laird o Lauderdale,\n A\u2019 from the South Countree,\n And a\u2019 to court this weel-fart may,\n And I wat good tent took he.\n\n 4\n Gold nor gear he did no spare,\n She was so fair a may,\n And he agreed wi her friends all,\n And set the wedding-day.\n\n 5\n She sent for her first true-love,\n Her wedding to come tee;\n His father and his mother both,\n They were to come him wi.\n\n 6\n His father and his mother both,\n They were to come him wi;\n And they came both, and he came no,\n And this was foul play.\n\n 7\n He\u2019s sent a quiet messenger\n Now out thro a\u2019 the land,\n To warn a hundred gentlemen,\n O gallant and good renown.\n\n 8\n O gallant and good renown,\n And all o good aray,\n And now he\u2019s made his trumpet soun\n A voss o foul play.\n\n 9\n As they came up by Caley buss,\n And in by Caley brae,\n \u2018Stay still, stay still, my merry young men,\n Stay still, if that you may.\n\n 10\n \u2018Stay still, stay still, my merry young men,\n Stay still, if that you may;\n I\u2019ll go to the bridal-house,\n And see what they will say.\u2019\n\n 11\n When he gaed to the bridal-house,\n And lighted and gaed in,\n There were four and twenty English lords,\n O gallant and good renown.\n\n 12\n O gallant and good renown,\n And all o good aray,\n But aye he garred his trumpets soun\n A voss o foul play.\n\n 13\n When he was at the table set,\n Amang these gentlemen,\n He begoud to vent some words\n They couldna understan.\n\n 14\n The English lords, they waxed wroth\n What could be in his mind;\n They stert to foot, on horseback lap,\n \u2018Come fecht! what\u2019s i your mind?\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018I came na here to feght,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018But for good sport and play;\n And one glass wi yer bonny bridegroom,\n And I\u2019ll go boun away.\u2019\n\n 16\n The glass was filled o good reed wine,\n And drunken atween the twa;\n \u2018And one glass wi your bonny bride,\n And I\u2019se go boun away.\u2019\n\n 17\n Her maiden she stood forbye,\n And quickly she said, \u2018Nay\n I winna gee a word o her\n To none nor yet to thee.\u2019\n\n 18\n \u2018Oh, one word o yer bonny bride!\n Will ye refuse me one?\n Before her wedding-day was set,\n I would hae gotten ten.\n\n 19\n \u2018Take here my promise, maiden,\n My promise and my hand,\n Out oer her father\u2019s gates this day\n Wi me she shanna gang.\u2019\n\n 20\n He\u2019s bent him oer his saddle-bow,\n To kiss her ere he gaed,\n And he fastened his hand in her gown-breast,\n And tust her him behind.\n\n 21\n He pat the spurs into his horse\n And fast rade out at the gate;\n Ye wouldna hae seen his yellow locks\n For the dust o his horse feet.\n\n 22\n Fast has he ridden the wan water,\n And merrily taen the know,\n And then the battle it began;\n I\u2019me sure it was na mow.\n\n 23\n Bridles brack, and weight horse lap,\n And blades flain in the skies,\n And wan and drousie was the blood\n Gaed lapperin down the lays.\n\n 24\n Now all ye English lords,\n In England where ye\u2019r borne,\n Come never to Scotland to woo a bride,\n For they\u2019le gie you the scorn.\n\n 25\n For they\u2019le gie you the scorn,\n The scorn, if that they may;\n They\u2019ll gie you frogs instead of fish,\n And steal your bride away.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n G\n\n Maidment\u2019s North Countrie Garland, p. 34.\n\n 1\n O bonny Catharine Jaffery,\n That dainty maid so fair,\n Once lovd the laird of Lochinvar,\n Without any compare.\n\n 2\n Long time she lood him very well,\n But they changed her mind away,\n And now she goes another\u2019s bride,\n And plays him foul play.\n\n 3\n The bonny laird of Lauderdale\n Came from the South Countrie,\n And he has wooed the pretty maid,\n Thro presents entered he.\n\n 4\n For tocher-gear he did not stand,\n She was a dainty may;\n He \u2018greed him with her friends all,\n And set the wedding-day.\n\n 5\n When Lochinvar got word of this,\n He knew not what to do,\n For losing of a lady fair\n That he did love so true.\n\n 6\n \u2018But if I were young Lochinvar,\n I woud not care a fly\n To take her on her wedding-day\n From all her company.\n\n 7\n \u2018Get ye a quiet messenger,\n Send him thro all your land\n For a hundred and fifty brave young lads,\n To be at your command.\n\n 8\n \u2018To be all at your command,\n And your bidding to obey,\n Yet still cause you the trumpet sound\n The voice of foul play.\u2019\n\n 9\n He got a quiet messenger\n To send thro all his land,\n And full three hundred pretty lads\n Were all at his command.\n\n 10\n Were all at his command,\n And his bidding did obey,\n Yet still he made the trumpet sound\n The voice of foul play.\n\n 11\n Then he went to the bridal-house.\n Among the nobles a\u2019,\n And when he stepped upon the floor\n He gave a loud huzza.\n\n 12\n \u2018Huzza! huzza! you English men,\n Or borderers who were born,\n Neer come to Scotland for a maid,\n Or else they will you scorn.\n\n 13\n \u2018She\u2019ll bring you on with tempting words,\n Aye till the wedding-day,\n Syne give you frogs instead of fish,\n And play you foul play.\u2019\n\n 14\n The gentlemen all wondered\n What could be in his mind,\n And asked if he\u2019d a mind to fight;\n Why spoke he so unkind?\n\n 15\n Did he e\u2019er see such pretty men\n As were there in array?\n \u2018O yes,\u2019 said he, \u2018a Fairy Court\n Were leaping on the hay.\n\n 16\n \u2018As I came in by Hyland banks,\n And in by Hyland braes,\n There did I see a Fairy Court,\n All leaping on the leas.\n\n 17\n \u2018I came not here to fight,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018But for good fellowship gay;\n I want to drink with your bridegroom,\n And then I\u2019ll boun my way.\u2019\n\n 18\n The glass was filled with good red wine,\n And drunk between them twae:\n \u2018Give me one shake of your bonny bride\u2019s hand,\n And then I\u2019ll boun my way.\u2019\n\n 19\n He\u2019s taen her by the milk-white hands,\n And by the grass-green sleeve,\n Pulld her on horseback him behind,\n At her friends askd nae leave.\n\n 20\n Syne rode the water with great speed,\n And merrily the knows;\n There fifty from the bridal came\u2014\n Indeed it was nae mows\u2014\n\n 21\n Thinking to take the bride again,\n Thro strength if that they may;\n But still he gart the trumpet sound\n The voice of foul play.\n\n 22\n There were four and twenty ladies fair\n All walking on the lea;\n He gave to them the bonny bride,\n And bade them boun their way.\n\n 23\n They splintered the spears in pieces now,\n And the blades flew in the sky,\n But the bonny laird of Lochinvar\n Has gained the victory.\n\n 24\n Many a wife- and widow\u2019s son\n Lay gasping on the ground,\n But the bonny laird of Lochinvar\n He has the victory won.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n H\n\n Kinloch MSS, V, 313.\n\n 1\n There was a lady fair, fair,\n Lived low down in yon glen, O\n And she\u2019s been courted far an near\n By several gentlemen. O\n\n 2\n At length the laird of Lammington\n Came frae the West Country,\n All to court that pretty girl,\n And her bridegroom for to be.\n\n 3\n He told her father, so did he her mother,\n And all the rest of her kin,\n And he has told the lass hersel,\n And her kind favour has won.\n\n 4\n At length the laird of Laughenwaur\n Came frae the English border,\n And all to court that pretty girl,\n Well mounted in good order.\n\n 5\n He told her father, so did he her mother,\n As I heard people say,\n But he ner told the lass hersel,\n Till on her wedding-day.\n\n 6\n But when the wedding-day was fixed,\n And married for to be,\n Then Lamington came to the town,\n The bridegroom for to see.\n\n 7\n \u2018O are ye come for sport, sir?\u2019 he said,\n \u2018Or are ye come for play?\n Or are ye for a sight o my bonny bride,\n Upon her wedding-day?\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018A \u2018m neither come for sport, sir,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018Nor am I come for play,\n But if I had one word o the bride\n I\u2019d mount and go away.\u2019\n\n 9\n There was a cup of the good red wine\n Was filled out them between,\n And aye she drank to Lammington,\n Who her true-love had been.\n\n 10\n He\u2019s taen her by the milk-white hand,\n And by the grass-green sleeve;\n He\u2019s mounted her behind him then,\n At the bridegroom speered no leave.\n\n 11\n The blood ran down by Cowden banks,\n And down by Cowden brae,\n And aye they gaured the piper play\n \u2018It was a foul, foul play.\u2019\n\n 12\n Ye gentlemen of Lochenwaur,\n That\u2019s laigh in England born,\n Come ner to Scotland to court a wife,\n Or be sure ye\u2019l get the scorn.\n\n 13\n The\u2019ll keep ye up, and tamper ye at,\n Until yer wedding-day,\n And they\u2019l gie ye frogs instead o fish,\n And they\u2019ll play ye a foul play.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n I\n\n Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 327, \u201cfrom the recitation of Robert Sim,\n weaver, in Paisley, 16 July, 1825. It was a song of his father\u2019s, a\n great reciter of heroick ballads.\u201d\n\n 1\n In Bordershellin there did dwell\n A comely, handsome may,\n And Lochinvar he courted her,\n And stole her heart away.\n\n 2\n She loved him but owre weel,\n And his love drew away;\n Another man then courted her,\n And set the wedding-day,\n\n 3\n They set the wedding-day so plain,\n As plain as it might be;\n She sent a letter to her former love,\n The wedding to come see.\n\n 4\n When Lochinvar the letter read,\n He sent owre a\u2019 his land\n For four and twenty beltit knichts,\n To come at his command.\n\n 5\n They all came to his hand, I say,\n Upon that wedding-day;\n He set them upon milk-white steeds,\n And put them in array.\n\n 6\n He set them in array, I say,\n Most pleasant to be seen,\n And he\u2019s awa to the wedding-house,\n A single man his lane.\n\n 7\n And when he was to the wedding-house come,\n They were all sitten down;\n Baith gentlemen and knichts was there,\n And lords of high renown.\n\n 8\n They saluted him, baith auld and young,\n Speired how he had spent the day,\n And what young Lankashires was yon\n They saw all in array.\n\n 9\n But he answerd them richt scornfullie,\n Upon their wedding-day;\n He says, It\u2019s been some Fairy Court\n Ye\u2019ve seen all in array.\n\n 10\n Then rose up the young bridegroom,\n And an angry man was he:\n \u2018Lo, art thou come to fight, young man?\n Indeed I\u2019ll fight wi thee.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018O I am not come to fight,\u2019 he sayd,\n \u2018But good fellowship to hae,\n And for to drink the wine sae red,\n And then I\u2019ll go away.\u2019\n\n 12\n Then they filld him up a brimming glass,\n And drank it between them twa:\n \u2018Now one word of your bonnie bride,\n And then I\u2019ll go my wa.\u2019\n\n 13\n But some were friends, and some were faes,\n Yet nane o them was free\n To let the bride on her wedding-day\n Gang out o their companie.\n\n 14\n But he took her by the milk-white hand,\n And by the grass-green sleeve,\n And set her on a milk-white steed,\n And at nane o them speerd he leave.\n\n 15\n Then the blood ran down the Caylin bank,\n And owre the Caylin brae;\n The auld folks knew something o the sport,\n Which gart them cry, Foul play!\n\n 16\n Ye lusty lads of Limberdale,\n Tho ye be English born,\n Come nae mair to Scotland to court a maid,\n For fear ye get the scorn.\n\n 17\n For fear that ye do get the scorn\n Upon your wedding-day;\n Least ye catch frogs instead of fish,\n And then ye\u2019ll ca\u2019t foul play.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n J\n\n Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 75, from the recitation of Mrs Thomson, an old\n woman of Kilbarchan.\n\n 1\n There was a lass, as I heard say,\n Lived low down in a glen;\n Her name was Catharine Johnson,\n Weel known to many men.\n\n 2\n Doun cam the laird o Lamingtoun,\n Doun frae the South Countrie,\n And he is for this bonnie lass,\n Her bridegroom for to be.\n\n 3\n He\u2019s askd her father and mother,\n The chief of a\u2019 her kin,\n And then he askd the bonnie lass,\n And did her favour win.\n\n 4\n Doun cam an English gentleman,\n Doun frae the English border;\n He is for this bonnie lass,\n To keep his house in order.\n\n 5\n He askd her father and mother,\n As I do hear them say,\n But he never askd the lass hersell,\n Till on her wedding-day.\n\n 6\n But she has wrote a lang letter,\n And sealed it wi her hand,\n And sent it to Lord Lamington,\n To let him understand.\n\n 7\n The first line o the letter he read,\n He was baith glad and fain;\n But or he read the letter owre\n He was baith pale and wan.\n\n 8\n Then he has sent a messenger,\n And out through all his land,\n And four-and-twenty armed men\n Was all at his command.\n\n 9\n But he has left his merry men,\n Left them on the lea;\n And he\u2019s awa to the wedding-house,\n To see what he could see.\n\n 10\n But when he came to the wedding-house,\n As I do understand,\n There were four-and-twenty belted knights\n Sat at a table round.\n\n 11\n They rose all for to honour him,\n For he was of high renown;\n They rose all for to welcome him,\n And bade him to sit doun.\n\n 12\n O meikle was the good red wine\n In silver cups did flow,\n But aye she drank to Lamingtoun,\n For with him would she go.\n\n 13\n O meikle was the good red wine\n In silver cups gaed round;\n At length they began to whisper words,\n None could them understand.\n\n 14\n \u2018O came ye here for sport, young man?\n Or cam ye here for play?\n Or cam ye for our bonnie bride,\n On this her wedding-day?\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018I came not here for sport,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018Neither did I for play;\n But for one word o your bonnie bride\n I\u2019ll mount and ride away.\u2019\n\n 16\n They set her maids behind her,\n To hear what they would say,\n But the first question he askd at her\n Was always [answered] nay;\n The next question he askd at her\n Was, \u2018Mount and come away.\u2019\n\n 17\n It\u2019s up the Couden bank,\n And doun the Couden brae;\n And aye she made the trumpet sound,\n \u2018It\u2019s a weel won play.\u2019\n\n 18\n O meikle was the blood was shed\n Upon the Couden brae;\n And aye she made the trumpet sound,\n \u2018It\u2019s a\u2019 fair play.\u2019\n\n 19\n Come, all ye English gentlemen,\n That is of England born,\n Come nae doun to Scotland,\n For fear ye get the scorn.\n\n 20\n They\u2019ll feed ye up wi flattering words,\n And that\u2019s foul play;\n And they\u2019ll dress ye frogs instead o fish,\n Just on your wedding-day.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n K\n\n Buchan\u2019s Gleanings of Scotch, English and Irish Scarce Old Ballads,\n 1825, pp. 74, 193; \u201ctaken down from oral tradition.\u201d\n\n 1\n There lives a lass in yonder dale,\n In yon bonny borrows-town,\n Her name it is Catherine Jeffrey,\n She is loved by mony a ane.\n\n 2\n Lord Lochinvar has courted her\n These twelve months and a day;\n With flattering words and fair speeches\n He has stown her heart away.\n\n 3\n There came a knight from south sea-bank,\n From north England I mean,\n He alighted at her father\u2019s yetts,\n His stile is Lord Lymington.\n\n 4\n He has courted her father and moth\n Her kinsfolk ane and aye,\n But he never told the lady hersell\n Till he set the wedding-day.\n\n 5\n \u2018Prepare, prepare, my daughter dear,\n Prepare, to you I say;\n For the night it is good Wednesday night,\n And the morn is your wedding-day.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018O tell to me, father,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018O tell me who it is wi;\n For I\u2019ll never wed a man on earth\n Till I know what he be.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018He\u2019s come a knight from the south sea-bank.\n From north England I mean,\n For when he lighted at my yetts,\n His stile is Lord Lymington.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018O where will I get a bonny boy\n Will win baith meet and fee,\n And will run on to Lochinvar\n And come again to me?\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018O here am I, a bonny boy\n That will win baith hose and sheen,\n And will run on to Lochinvar,\n And come right seen again.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018Where ye find the brigs broken,\n Bend your bow and swim;\n Where ye find the grass growing,\n Slack your bow and run.\n\n 11\n \u2018When ye come on to Lochinvar,\n Byde not to chap nor ca,\n But set your bent bow to your breast\n And lightly loup the wa.\n\n 12\n \u2018Bid him mind the words he last spake,\n When we sendered on the lee;\n Bid him saddle and ride full fast,\n If he be set for me.\u2019\n\n 13\n Where he found the brigs broken,\n He bent his bow and swam;\n Where he found the grass growing,\n He slackt his bow and ran.\n\n 14\n When he came on to Lochinvar,\n He did not chap nor ca;\n He set his bent bow till his breast\n And lightly leapt the wa.\n\n 15\n \u2018What news? what news, my bonny boy?\n What news have ye to me?\u2019\n \u2018Bad news, bad news, my lord,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018Your lady awa will be.\n\n 16\n \u2018You\u2019r bidden mind the words ye last spake,\n When we sendered on the lee;\n You\u2019r bidden saddle and ride full fast,\n Gin ye set for her be.\u2019\n\n 17\n When he came to her father\u2019s yetts,\n There he alighted down;\n The cups of gold of good red wine\n Were going roun and roun.\n\n 18\n \u2018Now came ye here for sport?\u2019 they said,\n \u2018Or came ye here for play?\n Or for a sight of our bonny bride,\n And then to boun your way? \u2019\n\n 19\n \u2018I came not here for sport,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018Nor came I here for play,\n But if I had a sight of your bonny bride\n Then I will boun my way.\u2019\n\n 20\n When Lymington he called on her,\n She would not come at a\u2019,\n But Lochinvar he called on her,\n And she was not sweer to draw.\n\n 21\n He has taen her by the milk-white hand,\n And by her silken sleeve,\n He has mounted her high him behind,\n He spiered nae mair their leave.\n 22\n And aye she scoffed and scorned them,\n And aye she rode away,\n And aye she gart the trumpet sound\n The voice of foul play,\n To take the bride frae her bridegroom\n Upon her wedding-day.\n\n 23\n As they came in by Foudlin dyke,\n And in by Foudlin stane,\n There were mony gallant Englishmen\n Lay gasping on the green.\n\n 24\n Now a\u2019 you that are English lords,\n And are in England born,\n Come never here to court your brides,\n For fear ye get the scorn.\n\n 25\n For aye they\u2019ll scoff and scorn you,\n And aye they\u2019ll ride away;\n They\u2019ll gie you frogs instead of fish,\n And call it foul play.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n L\n\n Macmath MS., p. 72, communicated January 13, 1883, by Dr Robert\n Trotter, as remembered from the recitation of his father, Dr Robert\n Trotter, of Dalry, Kirkcudbrightshire.\n\n 1\n They ask\u00ebd him and speir\u00ebd him,\n And unto him did say,\n \u2018O saw ye ocht o an armed band,\n As ye cam on your way?\u2019\n\n 2\n He jested them and jeer\u00ebd them,\n And thus to them did say,\n \u2018O I saw nocht but a fairy troop,\n As I rode on my way.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A.#\n\n #a.#\n\n _The second copy has some different spellings, and drops the\n second_ the _in_ 11^1. 3, 5 _are_ 5, 3 _in both. Sense requires\n the change: cf. also_ #F# 5, #H# 5, #I# 4.\n\n #b.#\n\n 1^4. to many. 3==_the MS._ 3. 4^4. All mounted.\n\n#B.#\n\n _The first copy is written in long lines (two to a stanza);\n neither is divided into stanzas. There are differences of\n spelling._ 3^1, 5^3, fere _seems to be meant for_ fair: _cf._\n #C# 5^3. 4^4. At her, _both: cf._ #E# 7, #G# 4, #H# 8. 5^2.\n _Both copies have_ doom. 5^2, 15^4. _First_, behold, garned, _in\n my copy, probably by error. Second_, beheld, gard.\n\n _The second copy has these variations._ 2^3. got the. 3^1, 5^3.\n fere _wanting_. 15^1. thing _wanting_. 16^1. that are.\n\n _The first edition of the ballad in Scott\u2019s Minstrelsy is made up\n as follows (it being remembered that the editor did not profess\n or practice a servile fidelity in the treatment of his\n materials)_: #B# 1\u20136; #B# 10, #A# 7; #A# 8, #B# 11; #A# 9; #B#\n 12; #B# 13 (_but mostly Scott\u2019s_); #A# 11, #B# 14; #B# 15; #B#\n 16; #A# 13.\n\n _12 of these 15 stanzas are repeated in the later edition; the new\n stanzas in that copy are 1\u20135, 14\u201316, 20. These are\n substantially_ #C# 1\u20135, 12\u201314, 16.\n\n _Some variations will be noticed under_ #C#.\n\n#C.#\n\n O, _the tag to the second and fourth lines, is not written in_ 2,\n 4, 16^2, 17^4.\n\n 1^2. into _written over_ up.\n\n 2^4. Weel _in the margin against_ A\u2019.\n\n 3^2. rest _struck out before_ lave.\n\n 4^1. Up _struck out before_ Out. Faughan Wood, _here and_ 7^1;\n _in_ 12^1, Faughan Wood.\n\n 7^1. Up the then.\n\n 9^1. gude _struck out before_ red, _and_ red _written over_.\n\n 15^1. _Originally_ down by; down _struck out_.\n\n 15^2. _Originally_ in by; in _struck out. These last two changes,\n and others, seem to be editorial._\n\n _1\u20135, 12\u201314, 16, with variations, are 1\u20135, 14\u201316, 20 of the later\n edition of the ballad in Scott\u2019s Minstrelsy. Slight alterations,\n such as Scott was accustomed to make, do not require notice._\n\n Scott, 3^{1,2}. He told na _in the Minstrelsy: almost certainly an\n arbitrary change, and not a good one, since it makes the\n hardship to Lauderdale the less._\n\n 4^1. Lochinvar (_also in_ 14^1) _for_ Lord Faughanwood;\n _introduced from_ #D#.\n\n 15^2. clad in the Johnstone grey: _for which no authority is\n known_.\n\n 16^3. Leader lads _for_ ladies gay: _probably a conjectural\n emendation_.\n\n 20^4. For fear of sic disorder: _presumably a change for rhyme_,\n disorder _suggested by_ 2^4.\n\n#D.#\n\n 9^1. 24.\n\n 12^1. It\u2019s _is of later insertion, perhaps editorial._\n\n 14^1. I came not here: _obscured in the process of binding_.\n\n 20. _This must be a mixture of two stanzas. The third line has no\n sense, and is not much improved by reading_ temper good, _as in\n #C# 17^1._\n\n#E.#\n\n _Written mostly in long lines, without separation of stanzas,\n sometimes without a proper separation of verses. The division\n here made is partly conjectural._\n\n 2^1. She courted him.\n\n 3^4. entreid _or_ entried: _indistinct_.\n\n 6, 7^{1,2}.\n His father an his mother came they came a\n but he came no\n It was a foul play Lochinvar\n As his comrades sat drinkine at the wine\n\n 7^3. ... on.\n\n 13^2. Lodged _for_ Loved.\n\n 16^3. Gae man glass me your.\n\n 17^{2,3}.\n between them tva man\n Man I see, _etc._\n\n#F.#\n\n 23^1. _We have had a similar verse in the north-Scottish version\n of_ \u2018Hugh Spencer,\u2019 No 158, #C# 11: O bridles brak and great\n horse lap.\n\n#H.#\n\n 11^4. It was awful foul foul play. Awful _was probably a\n misunderstanding of_ a foul.\n\n#I.#\n\n 8^3. Lank-a-Shires.\n\n 14^3. He _is written over_ And.\n\n 15^1. bank, _the original reading, is changed to_ heuch.\n\n#J.#\n\n 12^1. Oh.\n\n 15^4. go _is written over_ ride. _Motherwell made two slight\n changes in his printed copy._\n\n#K.#\n\n 1^4. my mony.\n\n 2^1. Loch-in-var; _and always_.\n\n 3^1. South sea bank.\n\n 7^1. the South sea bank.\n\n 10^3. For _for_ Where: _probably a misprint, perhaps a\n preservation of the northern_ f _for_ wh.\n\n 13^3. the brigs broken, _wrongly repeated_.\n\n 16^2. When we, _preserved from_ 12^2.\n\n 23^3. Englishman.\n\n#L.#\n\n \u201cThe story of the ballad was that Lochinvar went to Netherby with\n a band of men dressed in green, whom he concealed near the\n tower, and with whose assistance he forcibly abducted the young\n lady.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n 222\n\n BONNY BABY LIVINGSTON\n\n #A.# \u2018Bonny Baby Livingston.\u2019 #a.# Jamieson-Brown MS. #b.# Jamieson\u2019s\n Popular Ballads, II, 135.\n\n #B.# \u2018Barbara Livingston,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s MSS, I, 77.\n\n #C.# Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 375; \u2018Barbara Livingston,\u2019 Motherwell\u2019s\n Minstrelsy, p. 304.\n\n #D.# \u2018Annie Livingston,\u2019 Campbell MSS, II, 254.\n\n #E.# \u2018Baby Livingstone,\u2019 Kinloch MSS, V, 355.\n\n\nMrs Brown was not satisfied with #A b#, which Jamieson had taken down\nfrom her mouth, and after a short time she sent him #A a#. The verbal\ndifferences are considerable. We need not suppose that Mrs Brown had\nheard two \u201csets\u201d or \u201cways,\u201d of which she blended the readings; the fact\nseems to be that, at the time when she recited to Jamieson, she was not\nin good condition to remember accurately.\n\n#A a.# Glenlion carries off Barbara Livingston from Dundee and takes her\nto the Highlands. She is in a stupor of grief. Glenlion folds her in his\narms, and says that he would give all his flocks and herds for a kind\nlook. She tells him that he shall never get look or smile unless he\ntakes her back to Dundee; and he her that she shall never see Dundee\ntill he has married her. His brother John tries to dissuade him; he\nhimself would scorn a hand without a heart; but Glenlion has long loved\nher, and is resolved to keep her, nevertheless. Glenlion\u2019s three sisters\nreceive Baby kindly, and the youngest begs her to disclose the cause of\nher grief. Baby tells the sympathetic Jean that she has been stolen from\nher friends and from her lover, and obtains not only the means of\nwriting a letter to Johny Hay, the lover, but a swift-footed boy to\ncarry it to Dundee. Johny Hay, with a band of armed men, makes all speed\nto Glenlion\u2019s castle. He calls to Baby to jump, and he will catch her;\nshe, more prudently, slips down on her sheets; her lover takes her on\nhis horse and rides away. Glenlion hears the ring of a bridle and thinks\nit is the priest come to marry him. His brother corrects the mistake;\nthere are armed men at the castle-gate, and it turns out that there are\nenough of them to deter Glenlion\u2019s Highlanders from an attack. So Johny\nHay conveys Baby Livingstone safely back to Dundee.\n\nThe other versions give the story a tragical catastrophe. In #B#,\nBarbara is forced into Glenlion\u2019s bed. Afterwards she exclaims that if\nshe had paper and pen she would write to her lover in Dundee. No\ndifficulty seems to be made; she writes her letter, and sends it by the\never-ready boy. Geordie, lying in a window, sees the boy, asks for news,\nand is told that his love is stolen by Glenlion. He orders his horse, in\nfact three horses, and also a mourning hat and cloak; but though he\ntires out all three horses, his love is dead before he reaches Glenlion.\nThis copy is pieced out with all sorts of commonplaces from other\nballads: see 9 (which is nonsense), 10, 13, 14, 19, 21, 23, 25, 27, 29,\n30.\n\n#C# is a briefer, that is, an unfarced, form of #B#. Glenlion is\ncorrupted to Linlyon.\n\n#D# has its commonplaces again. For Barbara we have Annie, and\nGlendinning for Glenlion, and a brother Jemmy instead of a lover. In #E#\nthe ravisher is Lochell.\n\nDr Joseph Robertson in his Adversaria, MS., p. 87, gives these two lines\nof \u2018Baby Livingston:\u2019\n\n O bony Baby Livingston\n Was playin at the ba.[122]\n\nThe kidnapping of women for a compulsory marriage was a practice which\nprevailed for hundreds of years, and down to a late date, and, of\ncourse, not only in Great Britain. The unprotected female, especially if\nshe had any property, must have been in a state of miserable insecurity,\nand even a convent was far from furnishing her an asylum. See for\nEngland, in the first half of the fifteenth century, Beamont\u2019s Annals of\nthe Lords of Warrington, pp. 256\u201361 and 265 f.; for Scotland, in the\nsame century and the two following, Sharpe\u2019s Ballad Book, p. 99 ff., R.\nChambers\u2019s Domestic Annals of Scotland, 1858, I, 223\u20135, 415 f.; for\nIreland, Froude, The English in Ireland in the Eighteenth Century, 1872,\nI, 417 ff. Other Scottish ballads celebrating similar abductions are\n\u2018Eppie Morrie,\u2019 \u2018The Lady of Arngosk,\u2019 and \u2018Rob Roy,\u2019 which immediately\nfollow.[123]\n\n\n#A b# is translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, p.\n126, No 18.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n #a.# Jamieson-Brown MS., Appendix, p. xii, sent by Mrs Brown to\n Jamieson, in a letter dated September 15, 1800. #b.# Jamieson\u2019s\n Popular Ballads, II, 135, as taken from Mrs Brown\u2019s recitation a\n short time before a was written down.\n\n 1\n O bonny Baby Livingston\n Went forth to view the hay,\n And by it came him Glenlion,\n Sta bonny Baby away.\n\n 2\n O first he\u2019s taen her silken coat,\n And neest her satten gown,\n Syne rowd her in a tartan plaid,\n And hapd her round and rown.\n\n 3\n He has set her upon his steed\n And roundly rode away,\n And neer loot her look back again\n The live-long summer\u2019s day.\n\n 4\n He\u2019s carried her oer hills and muirs\n Till they came to a Highland glen,\n And there he\u2019s met his brother John,\n With twenty armed men.\n\n 5\n O there were cows, and there were ewes,\n And lasses milking there,\n But Baby neer anse lookd about,\n Her heart was filld wi care.\n\n 6\n Glenlion took her in his arms,\n And kissd her, cheek and chin;\n Says, I\u2019d gie a\u2019 these cows and ewes\n But ae kind look to win.\n\n 7\n \u2018O ae kind look ye neer shall get,\n Nor win a smile frae me,\n Unless to me you\u2019ll favour shew,\n And take me to Dundee.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018Dundee, Baby? Dundee, Baby?\n Dundee you neer shall see\n Till I\u2019ve carried you to Glenlion\n And have my bride made thee.\n\n 9\n \u2018We\u2019ll stay a while at Auchingour,\n And get sweet milk and cheese,\n And syne we\u2019ll gang to Glenlion,\n And there live at our ease.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018I winna stay at Auchingour,\n Nor eat sweet milk and cheese,\n Nor go with thee to Glenlion,\n For there I\u2019ll neer find ease.\u2019\n\n 11\n Than out it spake his brother John,\n \u2018O were I in your place,\n I\u2019d take that lady hame again,\n For a\u2019 her bonny face.\n\n 12\n \u2018Commend me to the lass that\u2019s kind,\n Tho na so gently born;\n And, gin her heart I coudna gain,\n To take her hand I\u2019d scorn.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018O had your tongue now, John,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018You wis na what you say;\n For I\u2019ve lood that bonny face\n This twelve month and a day.\n\n 14\n \u2018And tho I\u2019ve lood her lang and sair\n A smile I neer coud win;\n Yet what I\u2019ve got anse in my power\n To keep I think nae sin.\u2019\n\n 15\n When they came to Glenlion castle,\n They lighted at the yate,\n And out it came his sisters three,\n Wha did them kindly greet.\n\n 16\n O they\u2019ve taen Baby by the hands\n And led her oer the green,\n And ilka lady spake a word,\n But bonny Baby spake nane.\n\n 17\n Then out it spake her bonny Jean,\n The youngest o the three,\n \u2018O lady, dinna look sae sad,\n But tell your grief to me.\u2019\n\n 18\n \u2018O wherefore should I tell my grief,\n Since lax I canna find?\n I\u2019m stown frae a\u2019 my kin and friends,\n And my love I left behind.\n\n 19\n \u2018But had I paper, pen, and ink,\n Before that it were day,\n I yet might get a letter sent\n In time to Johny Hay.\u2019\n\n 20\n O she\u2019s got paper, pen, and ink,\n And candle that she might see,\n And she has written a broad letter\n To Johny at Dundee.\n\n 21\n And she has gotten a bonny boy,\n That was baith swift and strang,\n Wi philabeg and bonnet blue,\n Her errand for to gang.\n\n 22\n \u2018O boy, gin ye\u2019d my blessing win\n And help me in my need,\n Run wi this letter to my love,\n And bid him come wi speed.\n\n 23\n \u2018And here\u2019s a chain of good red gowd,\n And gowdn guineas three,\n And when you\u2019ve well your errand done,\n You\u2019ll get them for your fee.\u2019\n\n 24\n The boy he ran oer hill and dale.\n Fast as a bird coud flee,\n And eer the sun was twa hours height\n The boy was at Dundee.\n\n 25\n And when he came to Johny\u2019s door\n He knocked loud and sair;\n Then Johny to the window came,\n And loudly cry\u2019d, \u2018Wha\u2019s there?\u2019\n\n 26\n \u2018O here\u2019s a letter I have brought,\n Which ye maun quickly read,\n And, gin ye woud your lady save,\n Gang back wi me wi speed.\u2019\n\n 27\n O when he had the letter read,\n An angry man was he;\n He says, Glenlion, thou shalt rue\n This deed of villany!\n\n 28\n \u2018O saddle to me the black, the black,\n O saddle to me the brown,\n O saddle to me the swiftest steed\n That eer rade frae the town.\n\n 29\n \u2018And arm ye well, my merry men a\u2019.\n And follow me to the glen,\n For I vow I\u2019ll neither eat nor sleep\n Till I get my love again.\u2019\n\n 30\n He\u2019s mounted on a milk-white steed,\n The boy upon a gray,\n And they got to Glenlion\u2019s castle\n About the close of day.\n\n 31\n As Baby at her window stood,\n The west wind saft did bla;\n She heard her Johny\u2019s well-kent voice\n Beneath the castle wa.\n\n 32\n \u2018O Baby, haste, the window jump!\n I\u2019ll kep you in my arm;\n My merry men a\u2019 are at the yate,\n To rescue you frae harm.\u2019\n\n 33\n She to the window fixt her sheets\n And slipped safely down,\n And Johny catchd her in his arms,\n Neer loot her touch the ground.\n\n 34\n When mounted on her Johny\u2019s horse,\n Fou blithely did she say,\n \u2018Glenlion, you hae lost your bride!\n She\u2019s aff wi Johny Hay.\u2019\n\n 35\n Glenlion and his brother John\n Were birling in the ha,\n When they heard Johny\u2019s bridle ring,\n As first he rade awa.\n\n 36\n \u2018Rise, Jock, gang out and meet the priest,\n I hear his bridle ring;\n My Baby now shall be my wife\n Before the laverocks sing.\u2019\n\n 37\n \u2018O brother, this is not the priest;\n I fear he\u2019ll come oer late;\n For armed men with shining brands\n Stand at the castle-yate.\u2019\n\n 38\n \u2018Haste Donald, Duncan, Dugald, Hugh!\n Haste, take your sword and spier!\n We\u2019ll gar these traytors rue the hour\n That eer they ventured here.\u2019\n\n 39\n The Highland men drew their claymores,\n And gae a warlike shout,\n But Johny\u2019s merry men kept the yate,\n Nae ane durst venture out.\n\n 40\n The lovers rade the live-lang night,\n And safe gat on their way,\n And bonny Baby Livingston\n Has gotten Johny Hay.\n\n 41\n \u2018Awa, Glenlion! fy for shame!\n Gae hide ye in some den!\n You\u2019ve lettn your bride be stown frae you.\n For a\u2019 your armed men.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n Buchan\u2019s MSS, I, 77.\n\n 1\n Bonny Barbara Livingston\n Went out to take the air,\n When came the laird o Glenlyon\n And staw the maiden fair.\n\n 2\n He staw her in her cloak, her cloak,\n He staw her in her gown;\n Before he let her look again,\n Was mony mile frae town.\n\n 3\n So they rade over hills and dales,\n Through m[o]ny a wilsome way,\n Till they came to the head o yon hill,\n And showed her ewes and kye.\n\n 4\n \u2018O will ye stay with me, Barbara,\n And get good curds and whey?\n Or will ye go to Glenlyon,\n And be a lady gay?\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018The Highlands is nae for me, kind sir,\n The Highlands is nae for me,\n But, gin ye woud my favour win,\n Have me to bonny Dundee.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018Dundee, Barbara? Dundee, Barbara?\n That town ye\u2019se never see;\n I\u2019ll hae you to a finer place\n Than eer was in Dundee.\u2019\n\n 7\n But when she came to Glenlyon,\n And lighted on the green,\n Every lady spake Earse to her,\n But Barbara could speak nane.\n\n 8\n When they were all at dinner set,\n And placed the table round,\n Every one took some of it,\n But Barbara took nane.\n\n 9\n She put it to her cheek, her cheek,\n She put it to her chin,\n And put it to her rosey lips,\n But neer a bit gaed in.\n\n 10\n When day was gone, and night was come,\n And a\u2019 man bound for bed,\n Glenlyon and that fair lady\n To one chamber were laid.\n\n 11\n \u2018O strip, O strip, my love,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018O strip and lay you down;\u2019\n \u2018How can I strip? How can I strip,\n To bed wi an unco man?\u2019\n\n 12\n He\u2019s taen out his little pen-knife,\n And he slit down her gown,\n And cut her stays behind her back,\n And forc\u2019d her to lie down.\n\n 13\n \u2018O day, dear sir! O day, dear sir!\n O dear! if it were day,\n And me upon my father\u2019s steed,\n I soon shoud ride away.\u2019\n\n 14\n \u2018Your father\u2019s steed is in my stable,\n Eating good corn and hay,\n And ye are in my arms twa;\n What needs you lang for day?\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018If I had paper, pens, and ink,\n And light that I may see,\n I woud write a broad, broad letter\n To my love in Dundee.\u2019\n\n 16\n They brought her paper, pen, and ink,\n And light that she might see,\n And she has written a broad letter\n To her love in Dundee.\n\n 17\n And aye she wrote, and aye she grat,\n The saut tear blinded her ee;\n And aye at every verse\u2019s end,\n \u2018Haste, my bonny love, to me!\u2019\n\n 18\n \u2018If I had but a little wee boy,\n Would work for meat and fee,\n Would go and carry this letter\n To my love in Dundee!\u2019\n\n 19\n \u2018O here am I, a little wee boy\n Will work for meat and fee,\n Will go and carry that letter\n To your love in Dundee.\u2019\n\n 20\n Upstarts the morn, the boy he ran\n Oer mony a hill and dale,\n And he wan on to bonny Dundee\n About the hour o twall.\n\n 21\n There Geordy oer a window lay,\n Beholding dale and down;\n And he beheld a little wee boy\n Come running to the town.\n\n 22\n \u2018What news? what news, my little wee boy,\n You run sae hastilie?\u2019\n \u2018Your love is stown by Glenlyon,\n And langs your face to see.\u2019\n\n 23\n \u2018Gae saddle to me the black, the black,\n Gae saddle to me the brown;\n Gae saddle to me the swiftest steed\n Will hae me to the town.\n\n 24\n \u2018Get me my hat, dyed o the black,\n My mourning-mantle tee,\n And I will on to Glenlyon,\n See my love ere she die.\u2019\n\n 25\n First he tired the black, the black,\n And then he tired the brown,\n And next he tired the swiftest steed\n Ere he wan to the town.\n\n 26\n But for as fast as her love rade,\n And as fast as he ran,\n Before he wan to Glenlyon\n His love was dead and gane.\n\n 27\n Then he has kissd her cheek, her cheek,\n And he has kissd her chin,\n And he has kissd her comely mouth,\n But no life was therein.\n\n 28\n \u2018O wae mat worth you, Glenlyon,\n An ill death mat ye die!\n Ye\u2019ve twind me and the fairest flower\n My eyes did ever see.\n\n 29\n \u2018But I will kiss your cheek, Barbara,\n And I will kiss your chin,\n And I will kiss your comely mouth,\n But neer woman\u2019s again.\n\n 30\n \u2018Deal well, deal well at my love\u2019s lyke\n The beer but and the wine,\n For ere the morn at this same time\n Ye\u2019ll deal the same at mine.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n C\n\n Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 375, from the recitation of Agnes Lyle of\n Kilbarchan.\n\n 1\n Four-and-twenty ladies fair\n Was playing at the ba,\n And out cam Barbra Livingston,\n The flower amang them a\u2019.\n\n 2\n Out cam Barbra Livingston,\n The flower amang them a\u2019;\n The lusty laird of Linlyon\n Has stown her clean awa.\n\n 3\n \u2018The Hielands is no for me, kind sir,\n The Hielands is no for me;\n But, if you wud my favour win,\n You\u2019ll tak me to Dundee.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018The Hielands\u2019ll be for thee, my dear,\n The Hielands will be for thee;\n To the lusty laird o Linlyon\n A-married ye shall be.\u2019\n\n 5\n When they came to Linlyon\u2019s yetts,\n And lichted on the green,\n Every ane spak Earse to her,\n The tears cam trinkling down.\n\n 6\n When they went to bed at nicht,\n To Linlyon she did say,\n \u2018Och and alace, a weary nicht!\n Oh, but it\u2019s lang till day!\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018Your father\u2019s steed in my stable,\n He\u2019s eating corn and hay,\n And you\u2019re lying in my twa arms;\n What need you long for day?\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018If I had paper, pen, and ink,\n And candle for to see,\n I wud write a lang letter\n To my love in Dundee.\u2019\n\n 9\n They brocht her paper, pen, and ink,\n And candle for to see,\n And she did write a lang letter\n To her love in Dundee.\n\n 10\n When he cam to Linlyon\u2019s yetts,\n And lichtit on the green,\n But lang or he wan up the stair\n His love was dead and gane.\n\n 11\n \u2018Woe be to thee, Linlyon,\n An ill death may thou die!\n Thou micht hae taen anither woman,\n And let my lady be.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n D\n\n Campbell MSS, II, 254.\n\n 1\n Bonnie Annie Livingstone\n Was walking out the way,\n By came the laird of Glendinning,\n And he\u2019s stolen her away.\n The Highlands are no for me, kind sir,\n The Highlands are no for me,\n And, if you wad my favour win,\n You\u2019d take me to Dundee.\n\n 2\n He mounted her on a milk-white steed,\n Himself upon a grey,\n He\u2019s taen her to the Highland hills,\n And stolen her quite away.\n\n 3\n When they came to Glendinning gate,\n They lighted on the green;\n There many a Highland lord spoke free,\n But fair Annie she spake nane.\n\n 4\n When bells were rung, and mass begun,\n And a\u2019 men bound for bed,\n Bonnie Annie Livingstone\n Was in her chamber laid.\n\n 5\n \u2018O gin it were but day, kind sir!\n O gin it were but day!\n O gin it were but day, kind sir,\n That I might win away!\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018Your steed stands in the stall, bonnie Ann,\n Eating corn and hay,\n And you are in Glendinning\u2019s arms;\n What need ye long for day?\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018O fetch me paper, pen, and ink,\n A candle that I may see,\n And I will write a long letter\n To Jemmy at Dundee.\u2019\n\n 8\n When Jemmie looked the letter on,\n A loud laughter gave he;\n But eer he read the letter oer\n The tear blinded his ee.\n\n 9\n \u2018Gar saddle,\u2019 he cried, \u2018my war-horse fierce,\n Warn a\u2019 my trusty clan,\n And I\u2019ll away to Glendinning Castle\n And see my sister Ann.\u2019\n\n 10\n When he came to Glendinning yet,\n He lighted on the green,\n But ere that he wan up the stair\n Fair Annie she was gane.\n\n 11\n \u2018The Highlands were not for thee, bonnie Ann,\n The Highlands were not for thee,\n And they that would have thy favour won\n Should have brought you home to me.\n\n 12\n \u2018O I will kiss thy cherry cheeks,\n And I will kiss thy chin,\n And I will kiss thy rosy lips,\n For they will neer kiss mine.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n E\n\n Kinloch MSS, V, 355, in the handwriting of John Hill Burton.\n\n 1\n Bonny Baby Livingstone\n Went out to view the hay,\n And by there came a Hieland lord,\n And he\u2019s stown Baby away.\n\n 2\n He\u2019s stown her in her coat, her coat,\n And he\u2019s stown her in her gown,\n And he let not her look back again\n Ere she was many a mile from town.\n\n 3\n He set her on a milk-white steed,\n Himself upon another,\n And they are on to bonny Lochell,\n Like sister and like brother.\n\n 4\n The bells were rung, the mass was sung,\n And all men bound to bed,\n And Baby and her Hieland lord\n They were both in one chamber laid.\n\n 5\n \u2018Oh day, kind sir! Oh day, kind sir!\n Oh day fain would I see!\n I would gie a\u2019 the lands o Livingstone\n For day-light, to lat me see.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018Oh day, Baby? Oh day, Baby?\n What needs you long for day?\n Your steed is in a good stable,\n And he\u2019s eating baith corn and hay.\n\n 7\n \u2018Oh day, Baby? Oh day, Baby?\n What needs you long for day?\n You\u2019r lying in a good knight\u2019s arms,\n What needs you long for day?\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll get me paper, pen, and ink,\n And light to let me see,\n Till I write on a broad letter\n And send \u2018t to Lord ...\u2019\n\n\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A.#\n\n \u201cOn the other page you will find the whole ballad of Bonny Baby\n Livingston. I found upon recollection that I had the whole story\n in my memory, and thought it better to write it out entire, as\n what I repeated to you was, I think, more imperfect.\u201d _Mrs\n Brown, MS., Appendix, p. xv._\n\n#a.#\n\n 35^4. first _may be_ fast, _as in_ #b#.\n\n#b.#\n\n 1^2. gaed out.\n\n 2^1. And first.\n\n 2^3. in his.\n\n 3^1. He\u2019s mounted her upon a.\n\n 4^1. oer yon hich hich hill.\n\n 4^2. Intill #a.#\n\n 4^3. He met.\n\n 5^1. And there.\n\n 5^2. And there were kids sae fair.\n\n 5^3. But sad and wae was bonny Baby.\n\n 5^4. was fu o.\n\n 6^1. He\u2019s taen her in his arms twa.\n\n 6^3. I wad gie a\u2019 my flocks and herds.\n\n 6^4. Ae smile frae thee to.\n\n 7.\n A smile frae me ye\u2019se never win,\n I\u2019ll neer look kind on thee;\n Ye\u2019ve stown me awa frae a\u2019 my kin,\n Frae a\u2019 that\u2019s dear to me.\n\n Dundee, kind sir, Dundee, kind sir,\n Tak me to bonny Dundee!\n For ye sall neer my favour win\n Till it ance mair I see.\n\n 8^3. But I will carry you.\n\n 8^4. Where you my bride shall be.\n\n 9^1. Or will ye stay at.\n\n 9^2. And get.\n\n 9^3. Or gang wi me to.\n\n 9^4. we\u2019ll live.\n\n 10^2. I care neither for milk nor.\n\n 10^3. gang.\n\n 11^2. If I were in.\n\n 11^3. I\u2019d send.\n\n 12^3. coudna win.\n\n 13^1. tongue, my brother John.\n\n 13^3. I hae.\n\n 13^4. This mony a year and day.\n\n 14^1. I\u2019ve lued her lang and lued her weel.\n\n 14^2. But her love I.\n\n 14^3. And what I canna fairly gain.\n\n 14^4. To steal.\n\n 15^3. they cam, his three sisters.\n\n 15^4. Their brother for to greet.\n\n 16^1. And they have taen her bonny Baby.\n\n 17^3. why look ye sae.\n\n 17^4. Come tell.\n\n 18^3. I\u2019m far frae.\n\n 19^2. Afore.\n\n 19^3. letter wrate.\n\n 19^4. And sent to.\n\n _After 19_:\n\n And gin I had a bonny boy\n To help me in my need,\n That he might rin to bonny Dundee,\n And come again wi speed.\n\n 20. _Wanting._\n\n 21^1. And they hae.\n\n 21^2. Their errand for to gang.\n\n 21^3. And bade him run to bonny Dundee.\n\n 21^4. And nae to tarry lang.\n\n 22, 23. _Wanting._\n\n 24^1. oer muir.\n\n 24^2. As fast as he.\n\n 25, 26. _Wanting._\n\n 27.\n Whan Johnie lookit the letter on,\n A hearty laugh leuch he;\n But ere he read it till an end\n The tear blinded his ee.\n\n O wha is this, or what is that,\n Has stown my love frae me?\n Although he were my ae brither,\n An ill dead sall he die.\n\n 28^1. Gae saddle to me the black, he says.\n\n 28^{2,3}. Gae.\n\n 29^1. He\u2019s called upon his merry.\n\n 29^2. To follow him to.\n\n 29^3. And he\u2019s vowd he\u2019d neither.\n\n 29^4. he got his. 30^1. him on.\n\n 30^2. And fast he rade away.\n\n 30^3. And he\u2019s come to Glenlyon\u2019s yett.\n\n 31^2. And the.\n\n 31^4. Aneath.\n\n 32^1. window loup.\n\n 34. _Wanting._\n\n 35^4. As fast.\n\n 36^4. laverock.\n\n 37^1. nae the.\n\n#B.#\n\n 3^4. ewes. _Indistinctly written._\n\n 5^2. fore.\n\n\n\n\n 223\n\n EPPIE MORRIE\n\n \u2018Eppie Morrie,\u2019 Maidment\u2019s North Countrie Garland, p. 40, 18\n\n\n\u201cThis ballad,\u201d says Maidment, \u201cis probably much more than a century old,\nthough the circumstances which have given rise to it were unfortunately\ntoo common to preclude the possibility of its being of a later date.\u201d He\ndoes not tell us where the ballad came from, and no other editor seems\nto know of it. Two stanzas, 10, 11, occur in a copy of \u2018Rob Roy\u2019 (No\n225, #J#) which had once been in Maidment\u2019s hands, and perhaps was\nobtained from the same region.\n\nFour-and-twenty Highlanders, the leader of whom is one Willie, come to\nStrathdon from Carrie (Carvie?) side to steal away Eppie Morrie, who has\nrefused to marry Willie. They tie her on a horse and take her to a\nminister, whom Willie, putting a pistol to his breast, orders to marry\nthem. The minister will not consent unless Eppie is willing, and she\nstrenuously refuses; so they take her to Carrie side and put her to bed.\nShe defends herself successfully, and in the morning comes in her lover,\nBelbordlane, or John Forsyth, well armed, and we presume well supported,\nwho carries her back to her mother, to be his bride.\n\nScott, Introduction to Rob Roy, Appendix, No V, cites two stanzas of a\nballad derived from tradition which, if we had the whole, might possibly\nturn out to be the same story with different names.\n\n Four-and-twenty Hieland men\n Came doun by Fiddoch side,\n And they have sworn a deadly aith\n Jean Muir suld be a bride.\n\n And they have sworn a deadly aith,\n Ilke man upon his durke,\n That she should wed with Duncan Ger,\n Or they\u2019d make bloody worke.\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1\n Four-and-twenty Highland men\n Came a\u2019 from Carrie side\n To steal awa Eppie Morrie,\n Cause she would not be a bride.\n\n 2\n Out it\u2019s came her mother,\n It was a moonlight night,\n She could not see her daughter,\n Their swords they shin\u2019d so bright.\n\n 3\n \u2018Haud far awa frae me, mother,\n Haud far awa frae me;\n There\u2019s not a man in a\u2019 Strathdon\n Shall wedded be with me.\u2019\n\n 4\n They have taken Eppie Morrie,\n And horse back bound her on,\n And then awa to the minister,\n As fast as horse could gang.\n\n 5\n He\u2019s taken out a pistol,\n And set it to the minister\u2019s breast:\n \u2018Marry me, marry me, minister,\n Or else I\u2019ll be your priest.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018Haud far awa frae me, good sir,\n Haud far awa frae me;\n For there\u2019s not a man in all Strathdon\n That shall married be with me.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018Haud far awa frae me, Willie,\n Haud far awa frae me;\n For I darna avow to marry you,\n Except she\u2019s as willing as ye.\u2019\n\n 8\n They have taken Eppie Morrie,\n Since better could nae be,\n And they\u2019re awa to Carrie side,\n As fast as horse could flee.\n\n 9\n When mass was sung, and bells were rung,\n And all were bound for bed,\n Then Willie an Eppie Morrie\n In one bed they were laid.\n\n 10\n \u2018Haud far awa frae me, Willie,\n Haud far awa frae me;\n Before I\u2019ll lose my maidenhead,\n I\u2019ll try my strength with thee.\u2019\n\n 11\n She took the cap from off her head\n And threw it to the way;\n Said, Ere I lose my maidenhead,\n I\u2019ll fight with you till day.\n\n 12\n Then early in the morning,\n Before her clothes were on,\n In came the maiden of Scalletter,\n Gown and shirt alone.\n\n 13\n \u2018Get up, get up, young woman,\n And drink the wine wi me;\u2019\n \u2018You might have called me maiden,\n I\u2019m sure as leal as thee.\u2019\n\n 14\n \u2018Wally fa you, Willie,\n That ye could nae prove a man\n And taen the lassie\u2019s maidenhead!\n She would have hired your han.\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018Haud far awa frae me, lady,\n Haud far awa frae me;\n There\u2019s not a man in a\u2019 Strathdon\n The day shall wed wi me.\u2019\n\n 16\n Soon in there came Belbordlane,\n With a pistol on every side:\n \u2018Come awa hame, Eppie Morrie,\n And there you\u2019ll be my bride.\u2019\n\n 17\n \u2018Go get to me a horse, Willie,\n And get it like a man,\n And send me back to my mother\n A maiden as I cam.\n\n 18\n \u2018The sun shines oer the westlin hills;\n By the light lamp of the moon,\n Just saddle your horse, young John Forsyth,\n And whistle, and I\u2019ll come soon.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n 5^1. pistol, and.\n\n 5^2. Set.\n\n 16^1. their.\n\n\n\n\n 224\n\n THE LADY OF ARNGOSK\n\n Sharpe\u2019s Ballad Book, 1823, p. 99.\n\n\n\u201cThe following fragment,\u201d says Sharpe in his preface (he had not then\nrecovered the second stanza), \u201cI cannot illustrate either from history\nor tradition.\u201d Very soon after the publication of the Ballad Book, full\nparticulars of the carrying off of the Lady of Arngosk were procured for\nhim by David Webster, the bookseller. Webster addressed himself to Mrs\nIsobell Dow, otherwise Mrs Mac Leish, of Newburgh, Fife, whose mother,\nhe had learned, was waiting-maid to the lady at the time of the rape.\n\u201cIn my very early years,\u201d he wrote, July 4, 1823, \u201cI have listened with\ngreat delight to my mother when she sung me a song the first stanza of\nwhich was this:\n\n The Highlandmen are a\u2019 cum down,\n They\u2019re a\u2019 cum down almost,\n They\u2019ve stowen awa the bonny lass,\n The lady of Arngosk.\n\n\u201cNow Miss Finlay informs me that Isobel Stewart, your mother, was\nwaiting-maid to the \u2018bonny lass\u2019 at the time she was \u2018stowen awa,\u2019 and\nthat you are the most likely person now alive who will be able to\nrecollect the song, or the particulars that gave rise to it. My reason\nfor requesting this favour from a lady I have not the pleasure to know\nis, some gentlemen, my acquaintance, are making a collection of old\nScots songs, which is printing, and they are anxious to have it as full\nas possible. We therefore wish a copy of the song entire, if you can\nrecollect it, and the name of the lady who was the \u2018bonny lass,\u2019\u201d etc.\nMrs Dow replied, July 8, through John Masterton, that she was \u201csorrow\u201d\nto say that she could not recollect more of the song than Webster was\nalready in possession of, but the story she could never forget, having\nheard her mother repeat it so often: and this story Masterton proceeds\nto give in Mrs Dow\u2019s own words. Although Mrs Dow was liberal of details,\nWebster seems to have wanted to hear more, and accordingly Masterton\nwrites at greater length July 30, repeating what had been said before,\nwith \u201csome particular incidents\u201d omitted in the former letter, but\nnothing very material except that Miss Gibb was rich, and that Isobell\nDow had \u201cbrought to her recolection another verse of the song\u201d (st. 2).\nThe earlier letter even is somewhat out of proportion to so meagre a\nrelic of verse, an intolerable deal of bread to a half-penny worth of\nsack; but it is very readable, and has some value as a chapter from\ndomestic life in Scotland in the first half of the last century.[124]\n\n NEWBURGH, _8 July, 1823_.\n\n DEAR SIR. I am directed by Isobell Dow to acknowledge the receipt of\n your letter, and to write you an answer to your request respecting\n the stealing awa the Lady of Arngosk. She is sorrow to say she\n cannot recolect any more of the song than what you are in possession\n off already. As for the truth of the story, she can never forget,\n having heard her mother repeat it so often. I will therefore give\n you it in her own words.\n\n Yours, &c.,\n\n JN MASTERSON.\n\n My mother was waiting-maid to the Lady of Arngask, whose name was\n Miss Margret Gibb, at which time two gentlemen paid addresses to\n her; the one a Mr Jamieson, a writer in Strathmiglo, the other a Mr\n Graham, of Bracko Castle, who was the subject of the story; but his\n love did not meet with a return suitable to his wishes; he therefore\n came to the strong resolution of taking her away by force. It will\n be proper to mention that he came two nights previous, when my\n mother was in the barn dighting corn, and accosted her thus: Tiby, I\n want to see Margret. She answerd: I doubt, Mr Graham, you canna see\n her the night, but I\u2019ll gang an tell her. She went and was orderd to\n tell him that he could not see her; which put him in such a frenzy\n that he ran up and down the barn through chaff and corn up to the\n middle; however, he forced in to her company, but what passed\n betwixt them my mother did not know. But on the second night after,\n at midnight, when in bed (my mother alway sleeping with Miss\n Gibb),[125] a very sharp knock was heard at the door, which alarmd\n them very much, it being a lonely place. My mother went and called,\n who was there; she was answered, Open the door, Tiby, and see. She\n said: Keep me! Mr Graham, what way are you here at this time? Ye\n canna won in the night. She drew the bar, and was almost frighted\n out of her sences by the appearance of above thirty Hillandmen on\n horseback, all armed with swords and dirks, &c. She atempted to shut\n the door again, but Mr Graham pressed his knee in and forced his\n way. He went ben, and ordered them to put on their clothes an go\n along with him. Miss Gibb insisted on stoping ere daylight, and she\n would go with good will; but he would admit of no delay, but ordered\n her to dress herself imediately, otherwise he would do it by force.\n She then said she would not go unless Tiby acompanied her, which he\n said he intended to propose had she not mentioned it; but my mother\n would not go, she said, to ride behind none of these Hillandmen. Mr\n Graham then proposed to take her behind himself. They did then all\n mount; he at the same time used the precaution of placing sentries\n on the houses where the other servants lodged, to prevent them\n giving the alarm, and also three stout men at the bell of the\n church, to prevent it being rung. They kept their posts till they\n thought them a sufficient distance on the way, Mr Graham always\n joking to my mother about something or other, asuring her so soon as\n he had all over he would make her happy and comfortable all the days\n of her life. They rode on over hill and dale till within sight of\n Bracko Castle, when all of a sudden the Hillanmen dispersed, or\n deserted them, excepting his own imediate servants; which my mother\n thought was because he had deceived them, saying that the lady was\n willing to marry him but her friends would not alow, which by this\n time they must have found out. He told my mother that a minister was\n waiting them at Bracko, but he must have been disappointed, for the\n minister never appeared; else, she always thought, they would been\n married. Report said that Mr Jamieson had so contrived to stop his\n arrival. My mother and Miss Margret were then secured in an uper\n room in the castle till the next day, when there appeared mostly all\n the men of the parishes of Arngask and Strathmiglo, demanding their\n lady; my father among the rest, demanding my mother as his intended\n wife. It seemed so soon as the Hillan sentries were gone from the\n houses and church-bell of Arngask, that the servants ran to the\n bell, and rang such a peal as made all the Ochles resound wi the sad\n news that their lady was stowen awa by Graham an his clan. Mr\n Jamieson was no less busy in alarming and rousing the indignation of\n the good folk of Strathmiglo, who were much atached to her interest,\n so that both parishes rose to a man, and armed themselves with\n whatever came in the way, and marched in a body to make an attack on\n the castle, and rescue their much esteemed lady. But on their making\n their appearance before the castle in such formidable array, Mr\n Graham thought it prudent to surender rather than sustain the attack\n of such a body of desperate men. Mr Graham conducted them down\n stairs with his cap in hand (the gentlemen in those days wore velvet\n caps), and addressed her thus: I shall see you on your horse,\n Margret, for a\u2019 the ill you\u2019ve done me, and bade her a long and\n lasting farewell; at which she stamped with her foot and recommended\n him to the devil. They all came home in safety, and the bells, that\n so lately rang to alarm and spread the dismal news, were again rung\n to proclaim the happy return of the lady that was stowen awa.\n Bonefires were also erected on the highest of the Ochles. She was\n married that same year to Mr Jamieson, and I suppose some of their\n children are alive to this day. It was generaly reported that Mr\n Graham was so much affronted at the dissapointment that he left the\n country soon after.\n\n Such, sir, is the story that gave rise to the song you are so much\n in request off, which I have gathered from Isobell Dow, and put in\n order according to my weak capacity, knowing it will fall into\n better and abler hands, and that, altho the song be a wanting, there\n is ample mater for composition.\n\n I remain your most Obed^t H^{le} Serv^t,\n\n JOHN MASTERTON, for ISOBELL DOW.\n\n P. S. I had almost forgot to mention as to the period of time when\n it happened, which cannot be less than 87 years, which Isobell makes\n out in the following maner; it being two years before her father and\n mother was married, and that they lived together fifty-one years, it\n being now thirty-four years since her mother died, which makes it to\n have been about the year 1736.\n\n J. M.\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1\n The Highlandmen hae a\u2019 come down,\n They\u2019ve a\u2019 come down almost,\n They\u2019ve stowen away the bonny lass,\n The Lady of Arngosk.\n\n 2\n They hae put on her petticoat,\n Likewise her silken gown;\n The Highland man he drew his sword,\n Said, Follow me ye\u2019s come.\n\n 3\n Behind her back they\u2019ve tied her hands,\n An then they set her on;\n \u2018I winna gang wi you,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018Nor ony Highland loon.\u2019\n\n\n\n\n 225\n\n ROB ROY\n\n #A.# Skene MS., p. 44.\n\n #B.# \u2018Rob Roy,\u2019 Kinloch MSS, I, 343.\n\n #C.# \u2018Rob Roy MacGregor,\u2019 Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 93.\n\n #D.# \u2018Rob Roy,\u2019 \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No\n 147, Abbotsford.\n\n #E.# \u2018Rob Roy,\u2019 Pitcairn\u2019s MSS, III, 41.\n\n #F.# \u2018Rob Roy,\u2019 Campbell MSS, II, 229.\n\n #G.# \u2018Rob Roy,\u2019 Cromek\u2019s Select Scotish Songs, 1810, II, 199.\n\n #H.# Sir Walter Scott\u2019s Introduction to \u201cRob Roy,\u201d Appendix, No V.\n\n #I.# \u2018Rob Roy,\u2019 Campbell\u2019s MSS, II, 58.\n\n #J.# \u2018Rob Oig,\u2019 A Garland of Old Historical Ballads, p. 10, Aungervyle\n Society, 1881.\n\n #K.# \u2018Rob Roy,\u2019 Laing\u2019s Thistle of Scotland, p. 93.\n\n\nThe hero of this ballad was the youngest of the five sons of the Rob Roy\nwho has been immortalized by Sir Walter Scott, and was known as Robert\nOig, young, or junior. When a mere boy (only twelve years old, it is\nsaid) he shot a man mortally whom he considered to have intruded on his\nmother\u2019s land, and for not appearing to underlie the law for this murder\nhe was outlawed in 1736. He had fled to the continent, and there he\nenlisted in the British army, and was wounded and made prisoner at\nFontenoy in 1745. He was exchanged, returned to Scotland and obtained a\ndischarge from service, and, though still under ban, was able to effect\na marriage with a woman of respectable family. She lived but a few\nyears, and after her death, whether spontaneously or under the influence\nof his brother James, a man of extraordinary hardihood, Rob Oig formed a\nplan of bettering his own fortune, and incidentally that of his kin, by\na marriage of the Sabine fashion with a woman of means. The person\nselected was Jean Key, who had been two months the widow of John Wright.\nShe was but nineteen years of age, and was living with her mother at\nEdinbelly, in Stirlingshire, and her property is said to have been, not\nthe twenty thousand pounds of some of the ballads, but some sixteen or\neighteen thousand marks.\n\nOn the night of December 8, 1750, Rob Oig, accompanied by his brothers\nJames and Duncan and others, first placing guards at the door and\nwindows, to prevent escape from within and help from without, entered\nthe house of Jean Key, and not finding her, because she had taken alarm\nand hidden herself in a closet, obliged the mother to produce her\ndaughter, under threats \u201cto murder every person in the family, or to\nburn the house and every person in it alive.\u201d Jean Key, on being brought\nout, was told by James MacGregor that the party had come to marry her to\nRobert, his brother.\u201d Upon her desiring to be allowed till next morning,\nor some few hours, to deliberate upon the answer she was to give to so\nunexpected and sudden a proposal as a marriage betwixt her, then not two\nmonths a widow, and a man with whom she had no manner of acquaintance,\u201d\nafter some little expostulation, they laid hands upon her, dragged her\nout of doors, tied her on the back of a horse, and carried her first to\na house at Buchanan, six miles from Edinbelly, thence to Rowerdennan,\n\u201cthence, by water, to some part of the Highlands about the upper part of\nLoch Lomond, out of the reach of her friends and relations, where she\nwas detained in captivity and carried from place to place for upwards of\nthree months.\u201d At Rowerdennan, or further north, a priest read the\nmarriage-service while the resolute James held up the young woman before\nhim, and declared Rob Oig and her to be man and wife.\n\nThe rest of the story does not come into the ballad, but it may be added\nthat both the military and the civil power took the matter in hand; that\nthe MacGregors found it necessary to release their captive (who died,\nbut not of the violence she had undergone, ten months after she was\ntaken away); that James MacGregor was brought to trial in July, 1752,\nfor hamesucken (invasion of a private house), forcible abduction of a\nwoman, and constraining her to a marriage, was convicted of a part of\nthe charge but not of the last count, and while the court had the\nverdict under consideration made his escape from Edinburgh castle; that\nRob Oig was apprehended the following year, tried and condemned to\ndeath, and was executed in February, 1754.[126]\n\nWe may easily believe that, as Scott says, the imagination of\nhalf-civilized Highlanders was not much shocked at the idea of winning a\nwife in a violent way. It had been common, and they may naturally have\nwondered why it should seem so particular in their instance. It is\ncertain that Jean Key did not receive the sympathy of all of her own\nsex. A lady of much celebrity has told us that it is safest in matrimony\nto begin with a little aversion, and there were those in Jean Key\u2019s day,\nand after, who thought it mere silliness to make a coil about a little\ncompulsion. \u201cIt is not a great many years,\u201d Sir Walter Scott testifies,\n\u201csince a respectable woman, above the lower rank of life, expressed\nherself very warmly to the author on his taking the freedom to censure\nthe behaviour of the MacGregors on the occasion in question. She said,\n\u2018that there was no use in giving a bride too much choice upon such\noccasions; that the marriages were happiest lang syne which had been\ndone off hand.\u2019 Finally, she averred that her \u2018own mother had never seen\nher father till the night he brought her up from the Lennox with ten\nhead of black cattle, and there had not been a happier couple in the\ncountry.\u2019\u201d\n\nThe ballad adheres to fact rather closely; indeed a reasonably good\n\u201cdittay\u201d could be made out of it. The halt at Buchanan is mentioned #B#\n8, #C# 10, #K# 14; the road would be through Drymen, as in #C# 10, #K#\n13; and Balmaha, #H# 2, is a little beyond Buchanan. Ballyshine is\nsubstituted for Buchanan in #E# 6, #J# 4. At Buchanan, or Ballyshine\n(\u2018as they came in by Drimmen town, and in by Edingarry,\u2019 #K# 13), a\ncloak and gown are bought (fetched) for the young woman to be married\nin, #B# 8, #C# 10, #F# 4. It is a cotton gown, #E# 6, coat and gown, #A#\n8; in cotton gown she is married, #J# 4; meaning probably that she was\nmarried in a night-gown, having been roused from her bed. It is at\nBuchanan, or Ballyshine, that she is married. Four held her up to the\npriest, #A#, #C#, #F# (two, #D#, #I#, #K#, three, #E#, #J#, six, #B#),\nfour laid her in bed, #A#, #B#, #E#, #F#, #I#, #J#, #K# (two, #C#, #D#).\n\nRob Roy is said to come from Drunkie (the home of his first wife), #J#\n1; to come over the Loch of Lynn, #G# 2. Jean Key\u2019s abode seems to be\ncalled White House (Wright?) in #A# 2, but Blackhills, #C# 2, and in #K#\n2 Jean Key is called Blackhill\u2019s daughter. Blackhill is apparently a\ncorruption of Mitchell, Jean\u2019s mother\u2019s maiden name. The mother is\ncalled Jean Mitchell in #J# 2.\n\nIn #A# 8, Rob Roy\u2019s party are wrongly said to tarry at Stirling. In #J#\n2, Glengyle is said to go with him to steal Jean Mitchell\u2019s daughter.\nGlengyle, Rob Oig\u2019s cousin, and chief of his immediate family was, for a\nMacGregor, an orderly man,[127] and did not countenance the proceeding.\n#J# 6, 7 belong to the ballad of \u2018Eppie Morrie,\u2019 No 223.\n\nRob Oig puts Jean Key\u2019s fortune at \u00a320,000, #A# 13, #C# 19; 50,000\nmerks, #D# 14; 30,000, #K# 23; 20,000, which was not very far from\nright, #E# 10. The reading in #B# 15 is a manifest corruption of thirty\nthousand merks.\n\nOld Rob Roy is in several copies spoken of as still alive. Though the\ntime both of his birth and death is not accurately known, this was\ncertainly not the case.\n\n\n#H# is translated by Fiedler, Geschichte der schottischen\nLiederdichtung, I, 52.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n Skene MS., p. 44; from recitation in the north of Scotland, 1802\u20133.\n\n 1\n Rob Roy, frae the high Highlands,\n Came to the Lawlan border;\n It was to steel a lady away,\n To keep his Highland house in order.\n\n 2\n As he came in by White House,\n He sent nae ane before him;\n She wad hae secured the house,\n For she did ay abhor him.\n\n 3\n Twenty men surrount the house, an twenty they went in,\n They found her wi her mither;\n Wi sighs an cries an watery eyes\n They parted frae ane anither.\n\n 4\n \u2018O will ye be my dear?\u2019 he says,\n \u2018Or will ye be my honnie?\n O will ye be my wedded wife?\n I lee you best of ony.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018I winna be your dear,\u2019 [she says,]\n \u2018Nor will I be your honnie,\n Nor will I be your wedded wife;\n Ye lee me for my money.\u2019\n\n 6\n . . . . by the way,\n This lady aftimes fainted;\n Says, Woe be to my cursed gold,\n This road for me\u2019s invented!\n\n 7\n He gave her no time for to dress\n Like ladies when they\u2019re ridin,\n But set her on hie horseback,\n Himsel was ay beside her.\n\n 8\n Whan they came to the Black House,\n And at Stirling tarried,\n There he bought her coat an gown,\n But she would not [be] married.\n\n 9\n Four men held her to the priest,\n An four they did her bed,\n Wi sighs an cries an watery eyes\n Whan she by him was laid.\n\n 10\n \u2018Be content, be content,\n Be content wi me, lady;\n Now ye are my wedded wife\n Untill the day ye die, lady.\n\n 11\n \u2018My father was a Highlan laird,\n McGrigor was his name, lady;\n A\u2019 the country roun about\n They dreadit his great fame, lady.\n\n 12\n \u2018He kept a hedge about his lands,\n A prickle to his foes, lady,\n An every ane that did him wrang,\n He took him by the nose, lady.\n\n 13\n \u2018My father he delights in nout and goats,\n An me in horse and sheep, lady;\n You an twenty thousan pounds\n Makes me a man complete, lady.\n\n 14\n \u2018You\u2019re welcome to this Highlan lan,\n It is my native plain, lady;\n Think nae mair of gauin back,\n But tak it for your hame, lady.\n\n 15\n \u2018I\u2019m gauin, [I\u2019m gauin,]\n I\u2019m gauin to France, lady;\n Whan I come back\n I\u2019ll learn ye a dance, lady.\n\n 16\n \u2018Set your foot, [set your foot,]\n Set your foot to mine, lady;\n Think nae mair of gauin back,\n But tak it for your hame, lady.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n Kinloch MSS, I, 343.\n\n 1\n Rob Roy frae the Hielands cam\n Unto the Lawland border,\n And he has stown a ladie fair,\n To hand his house in order.\n\n 2\n He guarded the house round about,\n Himsel went in and found her out,\n She hung close by her mither;\n Wi dolefu cries and watery eyes\n They parted frae each ither.\n\n 3\n \u2018Gang wi me, my dear,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018Gang and be my honey;\n Gang and be my wedded wife,\n I loe ye best o onie.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018I winna gang wi you,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018I winna be your honey;\n I winna be your wedded wife;\n Ye loe me for my money.\u2019\n\n 5\n He gied na her na time to dress\n As ladies whan they\u2019re brides,\n But hurried her awa wi speed,\n And rowd her in his plaids.\n\n 6\n He gat her up upon a horse,\n Himsel lap on ahind her;\n And they\u2019re awa to the Hieland hills;\n Her friends they canna find her.\n\n 7\n As they gaed oure the Hieland hills,\n This lady aften fainted,\n Saying, Wae be to my cursed gowd,\n This road to me invented!\n\n 8\n As they gaed oure the Hieland hills,\n And at Buchanan tarried,\n He bought to her baith cloak and goun,\n Yet she wadna be married.\n\n 9\n Six held her up afore the priest,\n Four laid her in a bed, O;\n Maist mournfully she wept and cried\n Whan she bye him was laid, O.\n\n 10\n \u2018O be content, be content,\n Be content to stay, ladie;\n For now ye are my wedded wife\n Unto your dying day, ladie.\n\n 11\n \u2018Rob Roy was my father calld,\n M\u2019Gregor was his name, ladie;\n And in a\u2019 the country whare he dwalt\n He exceeded ae in fame, ladie.\n\n 12\n \u2018He was a hedge unto his friends,\n A heckle to his faes, ladie;\n And ilka ane that did him wrang,\n He beat him on the neis, ladie.\n\n 13\n \u2018I\u2019m as bold, I am as bold\n As my father was afore, ladie;\n Ilka ane that does me wrang\n Sall feel my gude claymore, ladie.\n\n 14\n \u2018There neer was frae Lochlomond west\n That eer I did him fear, ladie;\n For, if his person did escape,\n I seizd upon his gear, ladie.\n\n 15\n \u2018My father delights in horse and kye,\n In sheep and goats and a\u2019, ladie,\n And thee wi me and thirty merks\n Will mak me a man fu braw, ladie.\n\n 16\n \u2018I hae been in foreign lands,\n And servd the king o France, ladie;\n We will get the bagpipes,\n And we\u2019ll hae a dance, ladie.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n C\n\n Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 93.\n\n 1\n Rob Roy\u2019s from the Hielands come\n Unto our Lowland border,\n And he has stolen a lady away,\n To keep his house in order.\n\n 2\n Rob Roy\u2019s come to Blackhill\u2019s gate,\n Twenty men his arms did carry,\n And he has stolen a lady away,\n On purpose her to marry.\n\n 3\n None knew till he surrounded the house,\n No tidings came before him,\n Or else she had been gone away,\n For she did still abhor him.\n\n 4\n All doors and windows guarded were,\n None could the plot discover;\n Himself went in and found her out,\n Professing how he loved her.\n\n 5\n \u2018Come go with me, my dear,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018Come go with me, my honey,\n And you shall be my wedded wife,\n I love you best of onie.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018I will not go with you,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018Nor will I be your honey;\n I neer shall be your wedded wife,\n You love me for my money.\u2019\n\n 7\n But he her drew amongst his crew,\n She holding by her mother;\n With mournful cries and watery eyes\n They parted from each other.\n\n 8\n No time they gave her to be dressed\n As ladies when they\u2019re brides, O,\n But hurried her away in haste;\n They rowed her in their plaids, O.\n\n 9\n As they went over hills and rocks,\n The lady often fainted;\n Says, Wae may it be, my cursed money,\n This road to me invented!\n\n 10\n They passed away by Drymen town,\n And at Buchanan tarried;\n They bought to her a cloak and gown,\n Yet she would not be married.\n\n 11\n But without consent they joined their hands;\n By law ought not to carry;\n The priest his zeal it was so hot\n On her will he would not tarry.\n\n 12\n Four held her up before the priest,\n Two laid her in the bed, O;\n Och, mournfully she weeped and cried\n When she by him was laid, O.\n\n 13\n \u2018Now you\u2019re come to the Highland hills,\n Out of your native clime, lady,\n Never think of going back,\n But take this for your hame, lady.\n\n 14\n \u2018Be content, be content,\n Be content to stay, lady;\n Now ye are my wedded wife\n Unto your dying day, lady.\n\n 15\n \u2018O Rob Roy was my father called,\n But McGregor was his name, lady;\n In all the country far and near\n None did exceed his fame, lady.\n\n 16\n \u2018I\u2019m as bold, I\u2019m as bold,\n I\u2019m as bold as he, lady;\n In France and Ireland I\u2019ll dance and fight,\n And from them take the gree, lady.\n\n 17\n \u2018He was a hedge about his friends,\n But a heckle to his faes, lady,\n And every one that did him wrong,\n He took them owre the nose, lady.\n\n 18\n \u2018I\u2019m as bold, I\u2019m as bold,\n I\u2019m as bold, and more, lady;\n Every one that does me wrong\n Shall feel my good claymore, lady.\n\n 19\n \u2018My father he has stots and ewes,\n And he has goats and sheep, lady,\n But you and twenty thousand punds\n Makes me a man complete, lady.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n D\n\n \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 147,\n Abbotsford; in a handwriting of the early part of this century.\n\n 1\n Rob Roy from the Highlands came\n Unto the Lowland border;\n It was to steal a ladie away,\n To keep his house in order.\n\n 2\n He gae her nae time to dress herself\n Like a lady that was to be married,\n But he hoisd her out among his crew,\n And rowd her in his plaidie.\n\n 3\n \u2018Will ye go wi me, my dear?\u2019 he says,\n \u2018Will ye go wi me, my honey?\n Will ye go wi me, my dear?\u2019 he says,\n \u2018For I love you best of ony.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018I winna be your dear,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018Nor I\u2019ll never be your honey;\n I\u2019ll never be your wedded wife,\n For you love me but for my money.\u2019\n\n 5\n He hoisd her out among his crew,\n She holding by her mother;\n Wi watry eyes and mournfu cries\n They parted from each other.\n\n 6\n As they gaed oer yon high hill,\n The ladie often fainted;\n \u2018Oh, wae be to my gold,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018This road for me invented!\u2019\n\n 7\n Two held her up before the priest,\n And two put her to bed,\n Wi mournful cries and watry eyes\n As she lay by his side.\n\n 8\n \u2018Be content, be content,\n Be content wi me, ladie,\n For now you are my wedded wife\n Until the day ye die, ladie.\n\n 9\n \u2018Rob Roy was my father calld,\n McGrigor was his name, ladie,\n And a\u2019 the country round about\n Has heard of Roy\u2019s fame, ladie.\n\n 10\n \u2018You do not think yourself a match\n For such a one as I, ladie;\n But I been east and I been west,\n And saird the king of France, ladie.\n\n 11\n \u2018And now we hear the bag-pipe play,\n And we maun hae a dance, ladie,\n And a\u2019 the country round about\n Has heard of Roy\u2019s fame, ladie.\n\n 12\n \u2018Shake your foot, shake your foot,\n Shake your foot wi me, ladie,\n For now you are my wedded bride\n Until the day ye die, ladie.\n\n 13\n \u2018My father dealt in cows and ewes,\n Likewise in goats and sheep, ladie,\n And a\u2019 the country round about\n Has heard of Roy\u2019s fame, ladie.\n\n 14\n \u2018And ye have fifty thousand marks,\n Makes me a man compleat, ladie;\n Why mayn\u2019t I maid\n May I not ride in state, ladie?\n\n 15\n \u2018My father was a Highland laird,\n Altho he be now dead, ladie,\n And a\u2019 the country round about\n Has heard of Roy\u2019s fame, ladie.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n E\n\n Pitcairn\u2019s MSS, III, 41; \u201cfrom tradition (Widow Stevenson).\u201d\n\n 1\n Rob Roy from the Highlands cam\n Unto our Scottish border,\n And he has stown a lady fair,\n To hand his house in order.\n\n 2\n And when he cam he surrounded the house;\n Twenty men their arms did carry;\n And he has stown this lady fair,\n On purpose her for to marry.\n\n 3\n And whan he cam he surrounded the house;\n No tidings there cam before him,\n Or else the lady would have been gone,\n For still she did abhor him.\n\n 4\n Wi murnfu cries and watery eyes,\n Fast hauding by her mother,\n Wi murnfu cries and watery eyes\n They parted frae each other.\n\n 5\n Nae time he gied her to be dressed\n As ladys do when they\u2019re bride, O,\n But he hastened and hurried her awa,\n And he rowd her in his plaid, O.\n\n 6\n They rade till they cam to Ballyshine,\n At Ballyshine they tarried;\n He bought to her a cotton gown,\n Yet would she never be married.\n\n 7\n Three held her up before the priest,\n Four carried her to bed, O,\n Wi watery eyes and murnfu sighs\n When she behind was laid, O.\n\n 8\n \u2018O be content, be content,\n Be content to stay, lady,\n For you are my wedded wife\n Unto my dying day, lady.\n Be content, _etc._\n\n 9\n \u2018My father is Rob Roy called,\n MacGregor is his name, lady;\n In all the country whare he dwells,\n He does succeed the fame, lady.\n Be content, _etc._\n\n 10\n \u2018My father he has cows and ewes,\n And goats he has anew, lady,\n And you and twenty thousand merks\n Will mak me a man complete, lady.\u2019\n Be content, _etc._\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n F\n\n Campbell MSS, II, 229.\n\n 1\n Rob Roy frae the Highlands came\n Unto the Lawland border,\n And he has stolen a lady away,\n To hand his house in order.\n\n 2\n He\u2019s pu\u2019d her out amang his men,\n She holding by her mother;\n With mournfu cries and watery eyes\n They parted frae each other.\n\n 3\n When they came to the heigh hill-gate,\n O it\u2019s aye this lady fainted:\n \u2018O wae! what has that cursed monie\n That\u2019s thrown to me invented?\u2019\n\n 4\n When they came to the heigh hill-gate,\n And at Buchanan tarried,\n They fetchd to her a cloak and gown,\n Yet wad she not be married.\n\n 5\n Four held her up before the priest,\n Four laid her on her bed,\n With mournfu cries and watery eyes\n When she by him was laid.\n\n 6\n \u2018I\u2019ll be kind, I\u2019ll be kind,\n I\u2019ll be kind to thee, lady,\n And all the country for thy sake\n Shall surely favoured be, lady.\n\n 7\n \u2018Be content, be content,\n Be content and stay, lady;\n Now ye are my weded wife\n Until your dying-day, ladie.\n\n 8\n \u2018Rob Roy was my father called,\n McGregor was his name, lady;\n In every country where he was,\n He did exceed the fame, lady.\n\n 9\n \u2018He was a hedge about his friends,\n A terror to his foes, lady,\n And every one that did him wrong,\n He hit them oer the nose, lady.\n\n 10\n \u2018Be content, be content,\n Be content and stay, lady;\n Now ye are my wedded wife\n Until your dying-day, lady.\n\n 11\n \u2018We will go, we will go,\n We will go to France, lady,\n Where I before for safety fled,\n And there wee\u2019l get a dance, lady.\n\n 12\n \u2018Shake a fit, shake a fit,\n Shake a fit to me, lady;\n Now ye are my wedded wife\n Until your dying-day, lady.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n G\n\n Cromek, Select Scotish Songs, 1810, II, 194, 199; sent by Burns to\n William Tytler, in a letter.\n\n 1\n Rob Roy from the Highlands cam\n Unto the Lawlan border,\n To steal awa a gay ladie,\n To hand his house in order.\n\n 2\n He cam owre the Lock o Lynn,\n Twenty men his arms did carry;\n Himsel gaed in an fand her out,\n Protesting he would marry.\n\n 3\n \u2018O will ye gae wi me\u2019? he says,\n \u2018Or will ye be my honey?\n Or will ye be my wedded wife?\n For I love you best of any.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018I winna gae wi you,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018Nor will I be your honey,\n Nor will I be your wedded wife;\n You love me for my money.\u2019\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 5\n But he set her on a coal-black steed,\n Himsel lap on behind her,\n An he\u2019s awa to the Highland hills,\n Whare her friens they canna find her.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 6\n \u2018Rob Roy was my father ca\u2019d,\n MacGregor was his name, ladie;\n He led a band o heroes bauld,\n An I am here the same, ladie.\n\n 7\n \u2018Be content, be content,\n Be content to stay, ladie;\n For thou art my wedded wife\n Until thy dying day, ladie.\n\n 8\n \u2018He was a hedge unto his friens,\n A heckle to his foes, ladie,\n Every one that durst him wrang,\n He took him by the nose, ladie.\n\n 9\n \u2018I\u2019m as bold, I\u2019m as bold,\n I\u2019m as bold, an more, ladie;\n He that daurs dispute my word\n Shall feel my guid claymore, ladie.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n H\n\n Sir Walter Scott\u2019s Introduction to his novel \u201c Rob Roy,\u201d Appendix,\n No V, Waverley Novels, Cadell, 1846, VII, cxxxiii; \u201cfrom memory.\u201d\n\n 1\n Rob Roy is frae the Hielands come\n Down to the Lowland border,\n And he has stolen that lady away,\n To haud his house in order.\n\n 2\n He set her on a milk-white steed,\n Of none he stood in awe,\n Untill they reached the Hieland hills,\n Aboon the Balmaha.\n\n 3\n Saying, Be content, be content,\n Be content with me, lady;\n Where will ye find in Lennox land\n Sae braw a man as me, lady?\n\n 4\n \u2018Rob Roy he was my father called,\n MacGregor was his name, lady;\n A\u2019 the country, far and near,\n Have heard MacGregor\u2019s fame, lady.\n\n 5\n \u2018He was a hedge about his friends,\n A heckle to his foes, lady;\n If any man did him gainsay,\n He felt his deadly blows, lady.\n\n 6\n \u2018I am as bold, I am as bold,\n I am as bold, and more, lady;\n Any man that doubts my word\n May try my gude claymore, lady.\n\n 7\n \u2018Then be content, be content,\n Be content with me, lady,\n For now you are my wedded wife\n Until the day ye die, lady.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n I\n\n Campbell MSS, II, 58.\n\n 1\n Rob Roy is frae the Highlands come\n Unto the Scottish border,\n And he has stolen a lady gay,\n To keep his house in order.\n\n 2\n He and his crew surrounded the house;\n No tidings came before him,\n Or else I\u2019m sure she wad been gone,\n For she did still abhore him.\n\n 3\n He drew her thro amang his crew,\n She holding by her mother;\n With watery eyes and mournfu cries\n They parted from each other.\n\n 4\n He\u2019s set her on a milk-white steed,\n Himself jumped on behind her,\n And he\u2019s awa to the Highland hills,\n And her friends they couldna find her.\n\n 5\n \u2018O be content, be content,\n O be content and stay, lady,\n And never think of going back\n Until your dying day, lady.\u2019\n\n 6\n As they went over hills and dales,\n This lady oftimes fainted;\n Cries, Wae be to that cursed money\n This road to me invented!\n\n 7\n \u2018O dinna think, O dinna think,\n O dinna think to ly, lady;\n O think na ye yersell weel matchd\n On sic a lad as me, lady?\n\n 8\n \u2018What think ye o my coal-black hair,\n But and my twinkling een, lady,\n A little bonnet on my head,\n And cocket up aboon, lady?\n\n 9\n \u2018O dinna think, O dinna think,\n O dinna think to ly, lady;\n O think nae ye yersell weel matchd\n On sic a lad as me, lady?\n\n 10\n \u2018Rob Roy was my father calld,\n But Gregory was his name, lady;\n There was neither duke nor lord\n Could eer succeed his fame, lady.\n\n 11\n \u2018O may not I, may not I,\n May not I succeed, lady?\n My old father did so design;\n O now but he is dead, lady.\n\n 12\n \u2018My father was a hedge about his friends,\n A heckle to his foes, lady,\n And every one that did him wrang,\n He hit them oer the nose, lady.\n\n 13\n \u2018I [\u2019m] as bold, I [\u2019m] as bold,\n I [\u2019m] as bold, and more, lady,\n And every one that does me wrong\n Shall feel my good claymore, lady.\n\n 14\n \u2018You need not fear our country cheer,\n Ye\u2019se hae good entertain, lady;\n For ye shall hae a feather-bed,\n Both lang and broad and green, lady.\n\n 15\n \u2018Come, be content, come, be content,\n Come, be content and stay, lady,\n And never think of going back\n Until yer dying day, lady.\u2019\n\n 16\n Twa held her up before the priest,\n Four laid her in her bed,\n And sae mournfully she weeping cry\u2019d\n When she by him was laid!\n\n 17\n \u2018Come, dinna think, come, dinna think,\n Come, dinna think to ly, lady;\n You\u2019ll surely think yersell weel matchd\n On sic a lad as me, lady.\n\n 18\n \u2018Come, be content, come, be content,\n Come, be content and stay, lady,\n And never think of going back\n Until your dying day, lady.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n J\n\n A Garland of Old Historical Ballads, p. 10, Aungervyle Society,\n 1881, from a manuscript which had belonged to Maidment.\n\n 1\n From Drunkie in the Highlands,\n With four and twenty men,\n Rob Oig is cam, a lady fair\n To carry from the plain.\n\n 2\n Glengyle and James with him are cam,\n To steal Jean Mitchell\u2019s dauchter,\n And they have borne her far away,\n To haud his house in order.\n\n 3\n And he has taen Jean Key\u2019s white hand,\n And torn her grass-green sleeve,\n And rudely tyed her on his horse,\n At her friends asked nae leave.\n\n 4\n They rode till they cam to Ballyshine,\n At Ballyshine they tarried;\n Nae time he gave her to be dressed,\n In cotton gown her married.\n\n 5\n Three held her up before the priest,\n Four carried her to bed, O;\n Wi watery eyes and mournfu sighs\n She in bed wi Rob was laid, O.\n\n 6\n \u2018Haud far awa from me, Rob Oig,\n Haud far awa from me!\n Before I lose my maidenhead,\n I\u2019ll try my strength with thee.\u2019\n\n 7\n She\u2019s torn the cap from off her head\n And thrown it to the way,\n But ere she lost her maidenhead\n She fought with him till day.\n\n 8\n \u2018Wae fa, Rob Oig, upon your head!\n For you have ravished me,\n And taen from me my maidenhead;\n O would that I could dee!\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018My father he is Rob Roy called,\n And he has cows and ewes,\n And you are now my wedded wife,\n And can nae longer chuse.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n K\n\n Laing\u2019s Thistle of Scotland, p. 93; compounded, with some\n alterations, from two copies, one from Miss Harper, Kildrummy, the\n other from the Rev. R. Scott, Glenbucket.\n\n 1\n Rob Roy frae the Highlands came\n Doun to our Lowland border;\n It was to steal a lady away,\n To haud his house in order.\n\n 2\n With four-and-twenty Highland men,\n His arms for to carry,\n He came to steal Blackhill\u2019s daughter,\n That lady for to marry.\n\n 3\n Nae are kend o his comming,\n Nae tiddings came before him,\n Else the lady woud hae been away,\n For still she did abhore him.\n\n 4\n They guarded doors and windows round,\n Nane coud their plot discover;\n Rob Roy enterd then alane,\n Expressing how he lovd her.\n\n 5\n \u2018Come go with me, my dear,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018Come go with me, my honey,\n And ye shall be my wedded wife,\n For I love you best of any.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018I will not go with you,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018I\u2019ll never be your honey;\n I will not be your wedded wife,\n Your love is for my money.\u2019\n\n 7\n They woud noc stay till she was drest\n As ladies when thei\u2019r brides, O,\n But hurried her awa in haste,\n And rowd her in their plaids, O.\n\n 8\n He drew her out among his crew,\n She holding by her mother;\n With mournful cries and watry eyes\n They parted from each other.\n\n 9\n He placed her upon a steed,\n Then jumped on behind her,\n And they are to the Highlands gone,\n Her friends they cannot find her.\n\n 10\n With many a heavy sob and wail,\n They saw, as they stood by her,\n She was so guarded round about\n Her friends could not come nigh her.\n\n 11\n Her mournful cries were often heard,\n But no aid came unto her;\n They guarded her on every side\n That they could not rescue her.\n\n 12\n Over rugged hills and dales\n They rode; the lady fainted;\n Cried, Woe be to my cursed gold\n That has such roads invented!\n\n 13\n As they came in by Drimmen town\n And in by Edingarry,\n He bought to her both cloak and gown,\n Still thinking she would marry.\n\n 14\n As they went down yon bonny burn-side,\n They at Buchanan tarried;\n He clothed her there as a bride,\n Yet she would not be married.\n\n 15\n Without consent they joind their hands,\n Which law ought not to carry;\n His passion waxed now so hot\n He could no longer tarry.\n\n 16\n Two held her up before the priest,\n Four laid her in the bed then,\n With sighs and cries and watery eyes\n When she was laid beside him.\n\n 17\n \u2018Ye are come to our Highland hills,\n Far frae thy native clan, lady;\n Never think of going back,\n But take it for thy home, lady.\n\n 18\n \u2018I\u2019ll be kind, I\u2019ll be kind,\n I\u2019ll be kind to thee, lady;\n All the country, for thy sake,\n Shall surely favourd be, lady.\n\n 19\n \u2018Rob Roy was my father calld,\n MacGregor was his name, lady,\n And all the country where he dwelt\n He did exceed for fame, lady.\n\n 20\n \u2018Now or then, now or then,\n Now or then deny, lady;\n Don\u2019t you think yourself well of\n With a pretty man like I, lady?\n\n 21\n \u2018He was a hedge about his friends,\n A heckle to his foes, lady,\n And all that did him any wrong,\n He took them by the nose, lady.\n\n 22\n \u2018Don\u2019t think, don\u2019t think,\n Don\u2019t think I lie, lady,\n Ye may know the truth by what\n Was done in your country, lady.\n\n 23\n \u2018My father delights in cows and horse,\n Likewise in goats and sheep, lady,\n And you with thirty thousand marks\n Makes me a man complete, lady.\n\n 24\n \u2018Be content, be content,\n Be content and stay, lady;\n Now ye are my wedded wife\n Untill your dying day, lady.\n\n 25\n \u2018Your friends will all seek after me,\n But I\u2019ll give them the scorn, lady;\n Before dragoons come oer the Forth,\n We shall be doun by Lorn, lady.\n\n 26\n \u2018I am bold, I am bold,\n But bolder than before, lady;\n Any one dare come this way\n Shall feel my good claymore, lady.\n\n 27\n \u2018We shall cross the raging seas,\n We shall go to France, lady;\n There we\u2019ll gar the piper play,\n And then we\u2019ll have a dance, lady.\n\n 28\n \u2018Shake a foot, shake a foot,\n Shake a foot wi me, lady,\n And ye shall be my wedded wife\n Until the day ye die, lady.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A.#\n\n 6^{1,2}. _In one line_: By the way this lady aftimes fainted.\n _Cf._ #B# 7, #C# 9, _etc._\n\n 12^2. prickle: _a bad reading for_ heckle.\n\n 15, 16. _Each written in two lines in the MS._\n\n#B.#\n\n 15^3. wi me and thirty merks. _Corrupted from_ wi, _or_ and,\n thirty thousand merks: _cf._ #K#, 23^8.\n\n#C.#\n\n \u201cTune, Gipsy Laddy,\u201d 1\u201312.\n\n 13. \u201cTune changes to Haud awa fra me, Donald.\u201d\n\n 14, 16, 18 _are written as a burden to the stanzas preceding_\n them.\n\n 7^8. weepin _originally written for_ watery, _and erased_.\n\n 18^2. as bold I\u2019ll roar: more _written over_ roar.\n\n#D.#\n\n _After 7_: Answer to Rob Roy. 8\u201315 _are written in four stanzas of\n long lines_.\n\n 9^4. Rob _struck out before_ Roy\u2019s.\n\n#E.#\n\n \u201cThe first part [1\u20137] is sung to the air of Bonny House of Airly,\n and the last, Haud awa frae me, Donald.\u201d\n\n 7^4. was laid behind, O: behind _wrongly for_ by him. _Cf._ A 9^4,\n _etc._\n\n 9^4. succeed the fame. _So_ #I# 10 _nearly_: #F# 8 did exceed the\n fame. _This line evidently troubled reciters. Another set, says\n Pitcairn, gives_. It did exceed the same. #B# 11, #C# 15, #K# 19\n _have a reading which we may take to be near the original_.\n\n#F.#\n\n 1^4. To keep (haud).\n\n#G.#\n\n _In stanzas of eight lines._ \u201cTune, a rude set of Mill, Mill O.\u201d\n _After 4_: \u201cThe song went on to narrate the forcing her to bed;\n when the tune changes to something like Jenny dang the weaver.\u201d\n\n#I.#\n\n 12^4. _As a variation, but wrongly_ (_see_ 13^4), Did feel his\n good claymore, lady.\n\n#J.#\n\n \u201cI had the first copy from Miss Harper, Kildrummy; but fearing\n imperfections, I made application, and by chance got another\n copy from the Rev. R. Scott, Glenbucket. These I blended\n together and formed a very good copy; but I have taken the\n liberty of altering the order of some of the stanzas, and in\n particular, taking out the ninth and making it the eleventh, and\n changing some of the words to make it more agreeable.\u201d p. 97.\n _Original readings in 2^2, specified by Laing, have been\n restored, and his 11 put back to 9. What follows 16 has the\n title_, Variation.\n\n\n\n\n 226\n\n LIZIE LINDSAY\n\n #A.# \u2018Lizie Lindsay.\u2019 #a.# Jamieson-Brown MS., Appendix, p. ii. #b.#\n Jamieson\u2019s Popular Ballads. II, 149.\n\n #B.# \u2018Donald of the Isles,\u2019 Kinloch MSS, I, 237. Aytoun\u2019s Ballads of\n Scotland, 1859, I, 277.\n\n #C.# \u2018Donald of the Isles,\u2019 Kinloch MSS, I, 253.\n\n #D.# \u2018Lizzy Lindsay,\u2019 from a Note-Book of Dr Joseph Robertson,\n January, 1830, No 6.\n\n #E.# \u2018Bonny Lizie Lindsay,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland,\n II, 102.\n\n #F.# \u2018Lizzie Lindsay,\u2019 Whitelaw\u2019s Book of Scottish Ballads, p. 51.\n\n #G.# \u2018Leezie Lindsay,\u2019 Notes and Queries, Third Series, I, 463.\n\n\nOf #A# a Professor Robert Scott says, in the letter in which it was\nenclosed: \u201cYou will find above, all I have been able to procure in order\nto replace the lost fragment of \u2018Lizie Lindsay.\u2019 I believe it is not so\ncorrect or so complete as what was formerly sent, but there are\nmaterials enough to operate upon, and by forcing the memory of the\nrecorder more harm than good might have been done.\u201d Jamieson says of\n#b#: \u201cTransmitted to the editor by Professor Scott of Aberdeen, as it\nwas taken down from the recitation of an old woman.[128] It is very\npopular in the northeast[north-east] of Scotland, and was familiar to\nthe editor in his early youth; and from the imperfect recollection which\nhe still retains of it he has corrected the text in two or three\nunimportant passages.\u201d\n\nThere is nothing to show whether the lost copy was recovered, unless it\nbe the fact that Jamieson prints about twice as many stanzas as there\nare in #a#. But Jamieson was not always precise in the account he gave\nof the changes he made in his texts.\n\nIn his preface to #B#, Kinloch remarks that the ballad is very popular\nin the North, \u201cand few milk-maids in that quarter but can chaunt it, to\na very pleasant tune. Lizie Lindsay,\u201d he adds, \u201caccording to the\ntradition of Mearnsshire, is said to have been a daughter of Lindsay of\nEdzell; but I have searched in vain for genealogical confirmation of the\ntradition.\u201d Kinloch gave Aytoun a copy of this version, changing a few\nphrases, and inserting st. 20 of #C#.\n\nThe following stanza, printed as No 434 of the Musical Museum, was sent\nwith the air to Johnson by Burns, who intended to communicate something\nmore. (Museum, 1853, IV, 382):\n\n Will ye go to the Highlands, Leezie Lindsay?\n Will ye go to the Highlands wi me?\n Will ye go to the Highlands, Leezie Lindsay,\n My pride and my darling to be?\n\nRobert Allan added three stanzas to this, Smith\u2019s Scotish Minstrel, II,\n100, and again, p. 101 of the same, others (in which Lizie Lindsay is,\nwithout authority, made \u2018a puir lassie\u2019). The second stanza of the\nsecond \u201cset\u201d is traditional (cf. #B# 8, #C# 6, #D# 6, #E# 8):\n\n To gang to the Hielands wi you, sir,\n I dinna ken how that may be,\n For I ken nae the road I am gaeing,\n Nor yet wha I\u2019m gaun wi.\n\nDonald MacDonald, heir of Kingcausie, wishes to go to Edinburgh for a\nwife (or to get Lizie Lindsay for his wife). His mother consents, on\ncondition that he shall use no flattery, and shall \u2018court her in great\npoverty\u2019 (policy, #D#). He sees many bonny young ladies at Edinburgh,\nbut Lizie Lindsay is above compare with others. He presents himself to\nher in simple Highland garb; what he can offer is a diet of curds and\nwhey and a bed of green rushes (bracken). Lizie would like to know where\nshe would be going, and with whom. His father is an old shepherd\n(couper, souter), his mother an old dey, and his name is Donald\nMacDonald. Lizie\u2019s father and mother threaten to have him hanged, which\ndaunts him not in the least. Her maid warmly seconds the suit. Lizie\npacks up her clothes and sets forth with Donald to foot the steep and\ndirty ways; she wishes herself back in Edinburgh. They come at last to a\nshieling, where a woman welcomes Sir Donald; he bids her call him Donald\nher son, and orders a supper of curds and whey, and a bed of green\nrushes. Lizie, \u2018weary with travel,\u2019 lies late in the morning, and is\nroused as if to help at the milking; this makes her repine again. But\nDonald takes her out of the hut and shows her Kingcausie, where she is\nto be lady.\n\nKingcausie is some seven miles from Aberdeen, on the south side of the\nDee.\n\nBallads of this description are peculiarly liable to interpolation and\ndebasement, and there are two passages, each occurring in several\nversions, which we may, without straining, set down to some plebeian\nimprover.\n\nIn #B# 10, #D# 10, #E# 19, Lizie Lindsay, not quite ready to go with\nDonald, makes him an offer of five or ten guineas if he will stay long\nenough for her to take his picture, \u2018to keep her from thinking long.\u2019 In\n#F# 11 Donald makes the same offer for her picture. In #E# 10, #F# 6,\nLizie tells Donald, who has asked where she lives, that if he will call\nat the Canongate Port, she will drink a bottle of sherry with him, and\nin the next stanza she is as good as her word. This convivial way of the\nyoung ladies of Edinburgh is, owing to an injury to the text, not\nperceptible in #D# 14, where Donald seems to be inviting Lizie\u2019s mother\nto bring a bottle of sherry with her in case she should call on him at\nthe Canongate Port.\n\n\n#A b# is translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, p.\n122; by Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder der Vorzeit, p. 125, with\ndeficient verses supplied from #F#. Knortz, Lieder u. Romanzen\nAlt-Englands, p. 158, translates Allingham\u2019s ballad.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n #a.# Jamieson-Brown MS., Appendix, p. ii, as sent Jamieson by\n Professor Scott of Aberdeen, June 9, 1805. b. Jamieson\u2019s Popular\n Ballads, 1806, II, 149, \u201ctransmitted to the editor by Professor\n Scott of Aberdeen, as it was taken down from the recitation of an\n old woman,\u201d but \u201ccorrected\u201d from Jamieson\u2019s recollection in two or\n three passages.\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1\n Out it spake Lizee Linzee,\n The tear blinket in her ee;\n How can I leave father and mother,\n Along with young Donald to gae!\n\n 2\n Out spoke Lizee\u2019s young handmaid,\n A bonny young lassie was she;\n Said, Were I heress to a kingdom,\n Along with young Donald I\u2019d ga.\n\n 3\n \u2018O say ye so to me, Nelly?\n O say ye so to me?\n Must I leave Edinburgh city,\n To the high Highland to gae?\u2019\n\n 4\n Out spoke Lizie\u2019s own mother,\n A good old lady was she;\n If you speak such a word to my dochter,\n I\u2019ll gar hang [you] hi.\n\n 5\n \u2018Keep well your dochter from me, madam.\n Keep well your dochter fa me;\n For I care as little for your dochter\n As ye can care for me.\u2019\n\n 6\n The road grew wetty and dubby,\n And Lizee began to think lang;\n Said, I wish had staid with my mother,\n And nae wi young Donald had gane.\n\n 7\n \u2018You\u2019r welcome hame, Sir Donald,\n You\u2019r thrice welcome to me;\n You\u2019r welcome hame, Sir Donald,\n And your young lady you wi.\u2019\n\n 8\n . . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n \u2018Ye call na me Sir Donald,\n But ca me Donald your son.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018Rise up, Lizee Linzee,\n You [have] lain too long in the day;\n Ye might have helped my mother\n To milch her goats and her kie.\u2019\n\n 10\n Out it spake Lizee Linzee,\n The tear blinket in her eye;\n \u2018The ladys of Edinb_u_r_gh_ city,\n They neither milch goats nor kie.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n Kinloch MSS, I, 237, from Miss Catherine Beattie, Mearnsshire.\n\n 1\n It\u2019s of a young lord o the Hielands,\n A bonnie braw castle had he,\n And he says to his lady mither,\n \u2018My boon ye will grant to me:\n Sail I gae to Edinbruch city,\n And fesh hame a lady wi me?\u2019\n\n 2\n \u2018Ye may gae to Edinbruch city,\n And fesh hame a lady wi thee,\n But see that ye bring her but flattrie,\n And court her in grit povertie.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018My coat, mither, sall be o the plaiden,\n A tartan kilt oure my knee,\n Wi hosens and brogues and the bonnet;\n I\u2019ll court her wi nae flattrie.\u2019\n\n 4\n Whan he cam to Edinbruch city,\n He playd at the ring and the ba,\n And saw monie a bonnie young ladie,\n But Lizie Lindsay was first o them a\u2019.\n\n 5\n Syne, dressd in his Hieland grey plaiden,\n His bonnet abune his ee-bree,\n He called on fair Lizie Lindsay;\n Says, Lizie, will ye fancy me?\n\n 6\n \u2018And gae to the Hielands, my lassie,\n And gae, gae wi me?\n O gae to the Hielands, Lizie Lindsay,\n I\u2019ll feed ye on curds and green whey.\n\n 7\n \u2018And ye\u2019se get a bed o green bracken,\n My plaidie will hap thee and me;\n Ye\u2019se lie in my arms, bonnie Lizie,\n If ye\u2019ll gae to the Hielands wi me.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018O how can I gae to the Hielands,\n Or how can I gae wi thee,\n Whan I dinna ken whare I\u2019m gaing,\n Nor wha I hae to gae wi?\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018My father, he is an auld shepherd,\n My mither, she is an auld dey;\n My name it is Donald Macdonald,\n My name I\u2019ll never deny.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018O Donald, I\u2019ll gie ye five guineas\n To sit ae hour in my room,\n Till I tak aff your ruddy picture;\n Whan I hae\u2019t, I\u2019ll never think lang.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018I dinna care for your five guineas;\n It\u2019s ye that\u2019s the jewel to me;\n I\u2019ve plenty o kye in the Hielands,\n To feed ye wi curds and green whey.\n\n 12\n \u2018And ye\u2019se get a bonnie blue plaidie,\n Wi red and green strips thro it a\u2019;\n And I\u2019ll be the lord o your dwalling,\n And that\u2019s the best picture ava.\n\n 13\n \u2018And I am laird o a\u2019 my possessions;\n The king canna boast o na mair;\n And ye\u2019se hae my true heart in keeping,\n There\u2019ll be na ither een hae a share.\n\n 14\n \u2018Sae gae to the Hielands, my lassie,\n O gae awa happy wi me;\n O gae to the Hielands, Lizie Lindsay,\n And hird the wee lammies wi me.\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018O how can I gae wi a stranger,\n Oure hills and oure glens frae my hame?\u2019\n \u2018I tell ye I am Donald Macdonald;\n I\u2019ll ever be proud o my name.\u2019\n\n 16\n Doun cam Lizie Lindsay\u2019s ain father,\n A knicht o a noble degree;\n Says, If ye do steal my dear daughter,\n It\u2019s hangit ye quickly sall be.\n\n 17\n On his heel he turnd round wi a bouncie,\n And a licht lauch he did gie:\n \u2018There\u2019s nae law in Edinbruch city\n This day that can dare to hang me.\u2019\n\n 18\n Then up bespak Lizie\u2019s best woman,\n And a bonnie young lass was she;\n \u2018Had I but a mark in my pouchie,\n It\u2019s Donald that I wad gae wi.\u2019\n\n 19\n \u2018O Helen, wad ye leave your coffer,\n And a\u2019 your silk kirtles sae braw,\n And gang wi a bare-houghd puir laddie,\n And leave father, mither, and a\u2019?\n\n 20\n \u2018But I think he\u2019s a witch or a warlock,\n Or something o that fell degree,\n For I\u2019ll gae awa wi young Donald,\n Whatever my fortune may be.\u2019\n\n 21\n Then Lizie laid doun her silk mantle,\n And put on her waiting-maid\u2019s goun,\n And aff and awa to the Hielands\n She\u2019s gane wi this young shepherd loun.\n\n 22\n Thro glens and oure mountains they wanderd,\n Till Lizie had scantlie a shoe;\n \u2018Alas and ohone!\u2019 says fair Lizie,\n \u2018Sad was the first day I saw you!\n I wish I war in Edinbruch city;\n Fu sair, sair this pastime I rue.\u2019\n\n 23\n \u2018O haud your tongue now, bonnie Lizie,\n For yonder\u2019s the shieling, my hame;\n And there\u2019s my guid auld honest mither,\n That\u2019s coming to meet ye her lane.\u2019\n\n 24\n \u2018O ye\u2019re welcome, ye\u2019re welcome, Sir Donald,\n Ye\u2019re welcome hame to your ain.\u2019\n \u2018O ca me na young Sir Donald,\n But ca me Donald my son;\u2019\n And this they hae spoken in Erse,\n That Lizie micht not understand.\n\n 25 The day being weetie and daggie,\n They lay till \u2019twas lang o the day:\n \u2018Win up, win up, bonnie Lizie,\n And help at the milking the kye.\u2019\n\n 26\n O slowly raise up Lizie Lindsay,\n The saut tear blindit her ee:\n \u2018O, war I in Edinbruch city,\n The Hielands shoud never see me!\u2019\n\n 27\n He led her up to a hie mountain\n And bade her look out far and wide:\n \u2018I\u2019m lord o thae isles and thae mountains,\n And ye\u2019re now my beautiful bride.\n\n 28\n \u2018Sae rue na ye\u2019ve come to the Hielands,\n Sae rue na ye\u2019ve come aff wi me,\n For ye\u2019re great Macdonald\u2019s braw lady,\n And will be to the dav that ye dee.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n C\n\n Kinloch MSS, I, 253; from the recitation of Mrs Bouchart, of Dundee.\n\n 1\n What wad ye gie to me, mither,\n What wad ye gie to me,\n If I wad gae to Edinbruch city\n And bring hame Lizie Lindsey to thee?\u2019\n\n 2\n \u2018Meikle wad I gie to thee, Donald,\n Meikle wad I gie to thee,\n If ye wad gang to Edinbruch city\n And court her as in povertie.\u2019\n\n 3\n Whan he cam to Edinbruch city,\n And there a while to resort,\n He called on fair Lizie Lindsey,\n Wha lived at the Canongate-Port.\n\n 4\n \u2018Will ye gang to the Hielands, Lizie Lindsey?\n Will ye gae to the Hielands wi me?\n And I will gie ye a cup o the curds,\n Likewise a cup of green whey.\n\n 5\n \u2018And I will gie ye a bed o green threshes,\n Likewise a happing o grey,\n If ye will gae to the Hielands, Lizie Lindsey,\n If ye\u2019ll gae to the Hielands wi me.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018How can I gang?\u2019 says Lizie Lindsey,\n \u2018How can I gang wi thee?\n I dinna ken whare I am gaing,\n Nor wha I am gaing wi.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018My father is a cowper o cattle,\n My mither is an auld dey;\n My name is Donald Macdonald,\n My name I\u2019ll never deny.\u2019\n\n 8\n Doun cam Lizie Lindsey\u2019s father,\n A revrend auld gentleman was he:\n \u2018If ye steal awa my dochter,\n Hie hanged ye sall be.\u2019\n\n 9\n He turned him round on his heel\n And [a] licht lauch gied he:\n \u2018There is na law in a\u2019 Edinbruch city\n This day that can hang me.\u2019\n\n 10\n It\u2019s doun cam Lizie\u2019s hand-maid,\n A bonnie young lass was she:\n \u2018If I had ae crown in a\u2019 the warld,\n Awa wi that fellow I\u2019d gae.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018Do ye say sae to me, Nelly?\n Do ye say sae to me?\n Wad ye leave your father and mither,\n And awa wi that fellow wad gae?\u2019\n\n 12\n She has kilted her coats o green silk\n A little below her knee,\n And she\u2019s awa to the Hielands wi Donald,\n To bear him companie.\n\n 13\n And whan they cam to the vallies\n The hie hills war coverd wi snow,\n Which caused monie a saut tear\n From Lizie\u2019s een to flow.\n\n 14\n \u2018O, gin I war in Edinbruch city,\n And safe in my ain countrie,\n O, gin I war in Edinbruch city,\n The Hielands shoud never see me.\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018O haud your tongue, Lizie Lindsey,\n Na mair o that let me see;\n I\u2019ll tak ye back to Edinbruch city,\n And safe to your ain countrie.\u2019\n\n 16\n \u2018Though I war in Edinbruch city,\n And safe in my ain countrie,\n Though I war in Edinbruch city,\n O wha wad care for me!\u2019\n\n 17\n Whan they cam to the shiels o Kilcushneuch,\n Out there cam an auld dey:\n \u2018Ye\u2019re welcome here, Sir Donald,\n You and your lady gay.\u2019\n\n 18\n \u2018Ca me na mair Sir Donald,\n But ca me Donald your son,\n And I\u2019ll ca ye my auld mither,\n Till the lang winter nicht is begun.\u2019\n\n 19\n \u2018A\u2019 this was spoken in Erse,\n That Lizie micht na ken;\n A\u2019 this was spoken in Erse,\n And syne the broad English began.\n\n 20\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll gae and mak to our supper\n A cup o the curds and whey,\n And ye\u2019ll mak a bed o green threshes,\n Likewise a happing o grey.\u2019\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 21\n \u2018Won up, won up, Lizie Lindsey,\n Ye\u2019ve lain oure lang in the day;\n Ye micht hae been helping my mither\n To milk the ewes and the kye.\u2019\n\n 22\n Then up got Lizie Lindsey,\n And the tear blindit her ee:\n \u2018O, gin I war in Edinbruch city,\n The Hielands shoud never see me!\u2019\n\n 23\n \u2018Won up, won up, Lizie Lindsey,\n A fairer sicht ye hae to see:\n Do ye see yon bonnie braw castle?\n Lady o it ye will be.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n D\n\n From a Note-Book of Joseph Robertson, January, 1830, No. 6; derived\n from John Hill Burton.\n\n 1\n There dwalt a lass in the South Countrie,\n Lizzy Lindsay called by name,\n And many a laird and lord sought her,\n But nane o them a\u2019 could her gain.\n\n 2\n Out spoke the heir o Kinkawsie,\n An down to his fader spoke he;\n \u2018Fat would ye think o me, fadther,\n Fat would ye think o me,\n To go to Edinburgh city,\n Bring hame Lizzy Lindsay wi me?\u2019\n\n 3\n Out and spoke his auld modther,\n An auld revrend lady was she;\n \u2018Court her wi nae fause flatterie,\n But in great policie.\u2019\n\n 4\n He was nae in Edinbruch citie\n But a twalmont an a day,\n When a\u2019 the young lairds an the ladies\n Went forth to sport an play:\n There was nane like Lizzy Lindsay,\n She was baith gallan an gay.\n\n 5\n \u2018Will ye go to the Hielans, Lizzy Linsay?\n Will ye go to the Hielans wi me?\n If ye\u2019ll go to the Hielans, Lizz[y] Linsay,\n I\u2019ll gar ye get crouds an green whey.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018How can I go to the Hielans?\n Or hoo will I go with thee?\n I dinna ken whaar I\u2019m going,\n Or fa \u2018t is I would go wi.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018My fadther he is an auld couper,\n My modther a brave auld dey;\n If ye\u2019ll go to the Hieland[s], Lizzy Linsay,\n I\u2019ll gar ye get cruds and green whey.\u2019\n\n 8\n Out it spoke Lizzy\u2019s best maiden,\n A wat a fine creature was she;\n \u2018Tho I were born heir till a crown,\n It\u2019s young Donald t_ha_t I would go wi.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018Oh say ye sae to me, Nelly?\n Oh say ye sae to me?\n Will I cast off my fine gowns and laces,\n An gae to the Highlans him wi?\u2019\n\n 10\n She\u2019s putten her hand in her pocket,\n She\u2019s taen out ten guineas roun:\n \u2018And that wad I gie to thee, Donald,\n To stay but ae hour i my room,\n Till I get your fair pictur painted,\n To haud me unthought lang.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018I care as little for your guineas\n As you can care for mine;\n But gin that ye like my fair face,\n Then gae wi me, if that ye incline.\u2019\n\n 12\n Out it spak Lizzy\u2019s auld mither,\n I wite a fine lady was she;\n \u2018Gin I hear you speak sae to my daughter,\n I vow I\u2019se cause them hang thee.\u2019\n\n 13\n He turned about on his heel,\n And a loud, loud laughter gae he:\n \u2018They are not in Edinburgh city,\n I trow, that dare hang me.\n\n 14\n \u2018But an ye come to the Canongate-Port\u2014\n An there ye\u2019ll be sure to see me\u2014\n Bring wi ye a bottle of sherry,\n I\u2019ll bear you good company.\u2019\n\n 15\n They sought all Edinboro citie,\n They sought it roun an roun,\n Thinkin to fin Lizzy Lindsay,\n But awa to the Highlans she\u2019s gane.\n\n 16\n Whan they came to the shielin,\n Out bespoke the ould dye;\n \u2018You\u2019re welcome home, Sir Donald,\n Lang hae we been thinkin for thee.\u2019\n\n 17\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll call me nae mair Sir Donald,\n Ye\u2019ll call me nae sic thing;\n But ye\u2019se be my auld mither,\n And I\u2019se be Donald your sin.\n\n 18\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll mak for us a supper,\n A supper o cruds and green whey,\n And likewise a bed o green rashes,\n For Lizzy and I to ly.\u2019\n\n 19\n She\u2019s made for them a supper,\n A supper o cruds and why,\n And likewise a bed o green rashes,\n For Lizzy an him to ly.\n\n 20\n But Donald rose up i the mornin,\n The rest o his glens to spy;\n It was to look for his goats,\n His goats, his yows, an his kye.\n\n 21\n But Lizzy, beein wearied wi travel,\n She lay till \u2019twas lang i the day:\n \u2018Get up, get up, Lizzy Linsay,\n What maks you sae lang for to ly?\n You had better been helping my mither\n To milk her yews and her kye.\u2019\n\n 22\n But Lizzy drew till her her stockins,\n The tears fell down on her eye:\n \u2018I wish I were at Edinboro city,\n I can neither milk yews nor kye.\u2019\n\n 23\n \u2018Oh hold your tongue, Lizzy Linsay,\n Your weepin I mustna be wi;\n I\u2019ll sen you hame to your mither,\n In the greatest o safety.\u2019\n\n 24\n But he has tane her by the han,\n And has shewn her the straight way to go:\n \u2018An dont you see bonny Kincawsie,\n Wher you and I is to ly?\u2019\n\n 25\n Out then comes his old mither,\n An twenty brave knichts her wi:\n \u2018Y\u2019er welcome home, Sir Donald,\n Lang hae we been thinkin for thee.\u2019\n\n 26\n Out then comes his old father,\n An twenty brave ladies him wi:\n \u2018You\u2019r welcome home, Sir Donald,\n An that fair creature you wi.\u2019\n\n 27\n He\u2019s taken her by the han,\n An he\u2019s shewn her the straight way in:\n \u2018An ye\u2019se be Lady Kincawsie,\n An ye\u2019se hae Donal, my sin.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n E\n\n Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 102.\n\n 1\n In Edinburgh lived a lady,\n Was ca\u2019d Lizie Lindsay by name,\n Was courted by mony fine suitors,\n And mony rich person of fame:\n Tho lords o renown had her courted,\n Yet none her favour could gain.\n\n 2\n Then spake the young laird o Kingcaussie,\n And a bonny young boy was he;\n \u2018Then let me a year to the city,\n I\u2019ll come, and that lady wi me.\u2019\n\n 3\n Then spake the auld laird o Kingcaussie,\n A canty auld mannie was he;\n \u2018What think ye by our little Donald,\n Sae proudly and crously cracks he?\n\n 4\n \u2018But he\u2019s win a year to the city,\n If that I be a living man;\n And what he can mak o this lady,\n We shall lat him do as he can.\u2019\n\n 5\n He\u2019s stript aff his fine costly robes,\n And put on the single liverie;\n With no equipage nor attendance,\n To Edinburgh city went he.\n\n 6\n Now there was a ball in the city,\n A ball o great mirth and great fame;\n And fa danced wi Donald that day\n But bonny Lizie Lindsay on the green!\n\n 7\n \u2018Will ye gang to the Hielands, bonny Lizie?\n Will ye gang to the Hielands wi me?\n Will ye leave the South Country ladies,\n And gang to the Hielands wi me?\u2019\n\n 8\n The lady she turned about,\n And answered him courteouslie;\n \u2018I\u2019d like to ken faer I am gaun first,\n And fa I am gaun to gang wi.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018O Lizie, ae favour I\u2019ll ask you,\n This favour I pray not deny;\n Ye\u2019ll tell me your place o abode,\n And your nearest o kindred do stay.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll call at the Canogate-Port,\n At the Canogate-Port call ye;\n I\u2019ll gie you a bottle o wine,\n And I\u2019ll bear you my companie.\u2019\n\n 11\n Syne he called at the Canogate-Port,\n At the Canogate-Port calld he;\n She gae him a bottle o wine,\n And she gae him her companie.\n\n 12\n \u2018Will ye gang to the Hielands, bonny Lizie?\n Will ye gang to the Hielands wi me?\n Will ye leave the South Country ladies,\n And gang to the Hielands wi me?\u2019\n\n 13\n Then out spake Lizie\u2019s auld mither,\n For a very auld lady was she;\n \u2018If ye cast ony creed on my dochter,\n High hanged I\u2019ll cause you to be.\u2019\n\n 14\n \u2018O keep hame your dochter, auld woman,\n And latna her gang wi me;\n I can cast nae mair creed on your dochter,\n Nae mair than she can on me.\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018Now, young man, ae question I\u2019ll ask you,\n Sin ye mean to honour us sae;\n Ye\u2019ll tell me how braid your lands lie,\n Your name, and faer ye hae to gae.\u2019\n\n 16\n \u2018My father he is an auld soutter,\n My mither she is an auld dey,\n And I\u2019m but a puir broken trooper,\n My kindred I winna deny.\n\n 17\n \u2018Yet I\u2019m nae a man o great honour,\n Nor am I a man o great fame;\n My name it is Donald M\u2019Donald,\n I\u2019ll tell it, and winna think shame.\n\n 18\n \u2018Will ye gang to the Hielands, bonny Lizie?\n Will ye gang to the Hielands wi me?\n Will ye leave the South Country ladies,\n And gang to the Hielands wi me?\u2019\n\n 19\n \u2018O Donald, I\u2019ll gie you ten guineas,\n If ye woud but stay in my room\n Until that I draw your fair picture,\n To look on it fan I think lang.\u2019\n\n 20\n \u2018No, I carena mair for your guineas,\n Nae mair than ye care for mine;\n But if that ye love my ain person,\n Gae wi me, maid, if ye incline.\u2019\n\n 21\n Then out spake Lizie\u2019s bower-woman,\n And a bonny young lassie was she;\n Tho I was born heir to a crown,\n Young Donald, I woud gang him wi.\n\n 22\n Up raise then the bonny young lady,\n And drew till her stockings and sheen,\n And packd up her claise in fine bundles,\n And awa wi young Donald she\u2019s gane.\n\n 23\n The roads they were rocky and knabby,\n The mountains were baith strait and stay;\n When Lizie grew wearied wi travel,\n For she\u2019d travelld a very lang way.\n\n 24\n \u2018O turn again, bonny Lizie Lindsay,\n O turn again,\u2019 said he;\n \u2018We\u2019re but ae day\u2019s journey frae town,\n O turn, and I\u2019ll turn wi thee.\u2019\n\n 25\n Out speaks the bonny young lady,\n Till the saut tear blinded her ee;\n Altho I\u2019d return to the city,\n There\u2019s nae person woud care for me.\n\n 26\n When they came near the end o their journey,\n To the house o their father\u2019s milk-dey,\n He said, Stay still there, Lizie Lindsay,\n Till I tell my mither o thee.\n\n 27\n When he came into the shielen,\n She hailed him courteouslie;\n Said, Ye\u2019re welcome hame, Sir Donald,\n There\u2019s been mony ane calling for thee.\n\n 28\n \u2018O ca me nae mair, Sir Donald,\n But Donald M\u2019Donald your son;\n We\u2019ll carry the joke a bit farther,\n There\u2019s a bonny young lady to come.\u2019\n\n 29\n When Lizie came into the shielen,\n She lookd as if she\u2019d been a feel;\n She sawna a seat to sit down on,\n But only some sunks o green feall.\n\n 30\n \u2018Now make us a supper, dear mither,\n The best o your cruds and green whey;\n And make us a bed o green rashes,\n And covert wi huddins sae grey.\u2019\n\n 31\n But Lizie being wearied wi travel,\n She lay till \u2019twas up i the day:\n \u2018Ye might hae been up an hour seener,\n To milk baith the ewes and the kye.\u2019\n\n 32\n Out then speaks the bonny young lady,\n Whan the saut tear drapt frae her eye;\n I wish that I had bidden at hame,\n I can neither milk ewes nor kye.\n\n 33\n \u2018I wish that I had bidden at hame,\n The Hielands I never had seen,\n Altho I love Donald M\u2019Donald,\n The laddie wi blythe blinking een.\u2019\n\n 34\n \u2018Win up, win up, O bonny Lizie,\n And dress in the silks sae gay;\n I\u2019ll show you the yetts o Kingcaussie,\n Whare I\u2019ve playd me mony a day.\u2019\n\n 35\n Up raise the bonny young lady,\n And drest in the silks sae fine,\n And into young Donald\u2019s arms\n Awa to Kingcaussie she\u2019s gane.\n\n 36\n Forth came the auld laird o Kingcaussie,\n And hailed her courteouslie;\n Says, Ye\u2019re welcome, bonny Lizie Lindsay,\n Ye\u2019re welcome hame to me.\n\n 37\n \u2018Tho lords o renown hae you courted,\n Young Donald your favour has won;\n Ye\u2019se get a\u2019 the lands o Kingcaussie,\n And Donald M\u2019Donald, my son.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n F\n\n Whitelaw\u2019s Book of Scottish Ballads, p. 51, \u201cfrom the recitation of\n a lady in Glasgow.\u201d\n\n 1\n There was a braw ball in Edinburgh,\n And mony braw ladies were there,\n But nae ane at a\u2019 the assembly\n Could wi Lizzie Lindsay compare.\n\n 2\n In cam the young laird o Kincassie,\n An a bonnie young laddie was he:\n \u2018Will ye lea yere ain kintra, Lizzie,\n An gang to the Hielands wi me?\u2019\n\n 3\n She turned her roun on her heel,\n An a very loud laughter gaed she:\n \u2018I wad like to ken whar I was ganging,\n And wha I was gaun to gang wi.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018My name is young Donald M\u2019Donald,\n My name I will never deny;\n My father he is an auld shepherd,\n Sae weel as he can herd the kye!\n\n 5\n \u2018My father he is an auld shepherd,\n My mother she is an auld dame;\n If ye\u2019ll gang to the Hielands, bonnie Lizzie,\n Ye\u2019s neither want curds nor cream.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018If ye\u2019ll call at the Canongate-Port,\n At the Canongate-Port call on me,\n I\u2019ll give you a bottle o sherry,\n And bear you companie.\u2019\n\n 7\n He ca\u2019d at the Canongate-Port,\n At the Canongate-Port called he;\n She drank wi him a bottle o sherry,\n And bore him guid companie.\n\n 8\n \u2018Will ye go to the Hielands, bonnie Lizzie?\n Will ye go to the Hielands wi me?\n If ye\u2019ll go to the Hielands, bonnie Lizzie,\n Ye shall not want curds nor green whey.\u2019\n\n 9\n In there cam her auld mither,\n A jolly auld lady was she:\n \u2018I wad like to ken whar she was ganging,\n And wha she was gaun to gang wi.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018My name is young Donald M\u2019Donald,\n My name I will never deny;\n My father he is an auld shepherd,\n Sae weel as he can herd the kye!\n\n 11\n \u2018O but I would give you ten guineas\n To have her one hour in a room,\n To get her fair body a picture,\n To keep me from thinking long.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018O I value not your ten guineas,\n As little as you value mine;\n But if that you covet my daughter,\n Take her with you, if you do incline.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018Pack up my silks and my satins,\n And pack up my hose and my shoon,\n And likewise my clothes in small bundles,\n And away wi young Donald I\u2019ll gang.\u2019\n\n 14\n They packd up her silks and her satins,\n They packd up her hose and her shoon,\n And likewise her clothes in small bundles,\n And away with young Donald she\u2019s gane.\n\n 15\n When that they cam to the Hielands,\n The braes they were baith lang and stey;\n Bonnie Lizzie was wearied wi ganging,\n She had travelld a lang summer day.\n\n 16\n \u2018O are we near hame, Sir Donald?\n O are we near hame, I pray?\u2019\n \u2018We\u2019re no near hame, bonnie Lizzie,\n Nor yet the half o the way.\u2019\n\n 17\n They cam to a homely poor cottage,\n An auld man was standing by:\n \u2018Ye\u2019re welcome hame, Sir Donald,\n Ye\u2019ve been sae lang away.\u2019\n\n 18\n \u2018O call me no more Sir Donald,\n But call me young Donald your son,\n For I have a bonnie young lady\n Behind me for to come in.\u2019\n\n 19\n \u2018Come in, come in, bonnie Lizzie,\n Come in, come in,\u2019 said he;\n \u2018Although that our cottage be little,\n Perhaps the better we\u2019ll gree.\n\n 20\n \u2018O make us a supper, dear mother,\n And make it of curds an green whey;\n And make us a bed o green rushes,\n And cover it oer wi green hay.\u2019\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 21\n \u2018Rise up, rise up, bonnie Lizzie,\n Why lie ye so long in the day?\n Ye might hae been helping my mother\n To make the curds and green whey.\u2019\n\n 22\n \u2018O haud your tongue, Sir Donald,\n O haud your tongue, I pray;\n I wish I had neer left my mother;\n I can neither make curds nor whey.\u2019\n\n 23\n \u2018Rise up, rise up, bonnie Lizzie,\n And put on your satins so fine,\n For we maun to be at Kincassie\n Before that the clock strikes nine.\u2019\n\n 24\n But when they came to Kincassie\n The porter was standing by:\n \u2018Ye\u2019re welcome home, Sir Donald,\n Ye\u2019ve been so long away.\u2019\n\n 25\n It\u2019s down then came his auld mither,\n With all the keys in her hand,\n Saying, Take you these, bonnie Lizzie,\n All under them\u2019s at your command.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n G\n\n Notes and Queries, Third Series, I, 463; \u201cfrom recitation,\n September, 1828.\u201d\n\n 1\n \u2018Will you go to the Highlands wi me, Leezie?\n Will you go to the Highlands wi me?\n Will you go to the Highlands wi me, Leezie?\n And you shall have curds and green whey.\u2019\n\n 2\n Then up spoke Leezie\u2019s mother,\n A gallant old lady was she;\n \u2018If you talk so to my daughter,\n High hanged I\u2019ll gar you be.\u2019\n\n 3\n And then she changed her coaties,\n And then she changed them to green,\n And then she changed her coaties,\n Young Donald to gang wi.\n\n 4\n But the roads grew broad and broad,\n And the mountains grew high and high,\n Which caused many a tear\n To fall from Leezie\u2019s eye.\n\n 5\n But the roads grew broad and broad,\n And the mountains grew high and high,\n Till they came to the glens of Glen Koustie,\n And out there came an old die.\n\n 6\n \u2018You\u2019re welcome here, Sir Donald,\n And your fair ladie,\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n 7\n \u2018O call not me Sir Donald,\n But call me Donald your son,\n And I will call you mother,\n Till this long night be done.\u2019\n\n 8\n These words were spoken in Gaelic,\n And Leezie did not them ken;\n These words were spoken in Gaelic,\n And then plain English began.\n\n 9\n \u2018O make her a supper, mother,\n O make her a supper wi me;\n O make her a supper, mother,\n Of curds and green whey.\u2019\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 10\n \u2018You must get up, Leezie Lindsay,\n . . . . . . .\n You must get up, Leezie Lindsay,\n For it is far in the day.\u2019\n\n 11\n And then they went out together,\n And a braw new bigging saw she,\n And out cam Lord Macdonald,\n And his gay companie.\n\n 12\n \u2018You \u2018re welcome here, Leezie Lindsay,\n The flower of a\u2019 your kin,\n And you shall be Lady Macdonald,\n Since you have got Donald, my son.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A. a.#\n\n _Written in stanzas of two long lines._\n\n 3^2. Oh.\n\n#b.#\n\n #a# _and_ #b# _correspond nearly as follows_: #a.# 4, 5, 2,\n 3^{1,2}, 8^{3,4}, 7, 9^{1,2}, 9^{3,4}, 10. #b.# 2, 3, 4,\n 5^{1,2}, 13^{3,4}, 14, 16^{3,4}, 17^{3,4}, 18.\n\n 1\n \u2018Will ye go to the Highlands, Lizie Lindsay?\n Will ye go to the Highlands wi me?\n Will ye go to the Highlands, Lizie Lindsay,\n And dine on fresh cruds and green whey?\u2019\n\n 2\n Then out spak Lizie\u2019s mother,\n A good old lady was she;\n Gin ye say sic a word to my daughter,\n I\u2019ll gar ye be hanged high.\n\n 3\n \u2018Keep weel your daughter frae me, madam;\n Keep weel your daughter frae me;\n I care as little for your daughter\n As ye can care for me.\u2019\n\n 4\n Then out spak Lizie\u2019s ain maiden,\n A bonny young lassie was she;\n Says, Were I the heir to a kingdom,\n Awa wi young Donald I\u2019d be.\n\n 5\n \u2018O say you sae to me, Nelly?\n And does my Nelly say sae?\n Maun I leave my father and mother,\n Awa wi young Donald to gae?\u2019\n\n 6\n And Lizie\u2019s taen till her her stockings,\n And Lizie\u2019s taen till her her shoen,\n And kilted up her green claithing,\n And awa wi young Donald she\u2019s gane.\n\n 7\n The road it was lang and weary;\n The braes they were ill to climb;\n Bonny Lizie was weary wi travelling,\n And a fit furder coudna win.\n\n 8\n And sair, O sair, did she sigh,\n And the saut tear blin\u2019d her ee:\n \u2018Gin this be the pleasures o looing,\n They never will do wi me!\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018Now haud your tongue, bonny Lizie,\n Ye never shall rue for me;\n Gie me but your love for my love,\n It is a\u2019 that your tocher will be.\n\n 10\n \u2018And haud your tongue, bonny Lizie,\n Altho that the gait seem lang,\n And you\u2019s hae the wale o good living\n Whan to Kincawsen we gang.\n\n 11\n \u2018There my father he is an auld cobler,\n My mother she is an auld dey,\n And we\u2019ll sleep on a bed o green rashes,\n And dine on fresh cruds and green whey.\u2019\n\n 12\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n \u2018You\u2019re welcome hame, Sir Donald,\n You\u2019re welcome hame to me.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018O ca me nae mair Sir Donald;\n There\u2019s a bonny young lady to come;\n Sae ca me nae mair Sir Donald,\n But ae spring Donald your son.\u2019\n\n 14\n \u2018Ye\u2019re welcome hame, young Donald,\n Ye\u2019re welcome hame to me;\n Ye\u2019re welcome hame, young Donald,\n And your bonny young lady wi ye.\u2019\n\n 15\n She\u2019s made them a bed of green rashes,\n Weel coverd wi hooding o grey;\n Bonny Lizie was weary wi travelling,\n And lay till \u2019twas lang o the day.\n\n 16\n \u2018The sun looks in oer the hill-head,\n And the laverock is liltin gay;\n Get up, get up, bonny Lizie,\n You\u2019ve lain till it\u2019s lang o the day.\n\n 17\n \u2018You might hae been out at the shealin,\n Instead o sae lang to lye,\n And up and helping my mother\n To milk baith her gaits and kye.\u2019\n\n 18\n Then out spak Lizie Lindsay,\n The tear blindit her eye;\n \u2018The ladies o Edinburgh city,\n They neither milk gaits nor kye.\u2019\n\n 19\n Then up spak young Sir Donald,\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n 20\n \u2018For I am the laird o Kincawsyn,\n And you are the lady free,\n And . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n#D.#\n\n 9^1. nay (not) sae, not _struck out_.\n\n 25^4. wi.\n\n#E.#\n\n 29. _In a much altered chap-book copy, printed by J. Morren,\n Edinburgh, we have_:\n\n When they came to the braes o Kinkassie,\n Young Lizie began for to fail;\n There was not a seat in the house\n But what was made of the green fell.\n\n#F.#\n\n 16^1, 22^1. _The_ Sir _is an anticipation._\n\n#G.#\n\n 7^1, 9^{1\u20133}. Oh.\n\n\n\n\n 227\n\n BONNY LIZIE BAILLIE\n\n #a.# \u2018Bonny Lizie Balie, A New Song very much in Request,\u2019 Laing\n broadsides, No 46; no date or place. #b.# \u2018Bonny Lizzie Bailie,\u2019\n Maidment\u2019s Scotish Ballads and Songs, 1859, p. 13. #c.# \u2018My bonny\n Lizzie Baillie,\u2019 Johnson\u2019s Museum, ed. 1853, IV, *451. #d.# \u2018Lizae\n Baillie,\u2019 Herd\u2019s MSS, I, 101, and, in part, II, 121. #e.# \u2018Lizie\n Baillie,\u2019 Campbell MSS, I, 98. #f.# \u2018Lizzie Bailie,\u2019 Smith\u2019s Scotish\n Minstrel, IV, 90. #g.# \u2018Lizie Baillie,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the\n North of Scotland, II, 173.\n\n\n#a#, from the collection of broadsides made by David Laing, now in the\npossession of Lord Rosebery, may probably have been printed at the\nbeginning of the last century, at Edinburgh. #b# was taken \u201cfrom a\ntolerably old copy printed at Glasgow.\u201d Excepting the lack of two\nstanzas, the variations from a are mostly of slight consequence; two or\nthree are for the better, #c# (only the beginning, stanzas 1\u20134^1) was\ncommunicated by C. K. Sharpe, from a \u201cMS. copy of some antiquity.\u201d #d-g#\nare of no authority. #d#, #e# are fragmentary stanzas, misremembered if\nnot corrupted. #f# has ten stanzas, eight of which (some with a word or\ntwo changed) are from #d.# #g# is a washy _rifacimento_.\n\n#d# is printed in Herd\u2019s Ancient and Modern Scottish Songs, 1776, II, 3.\nThe copy in Johnson\u2019s Museum, No 456, p. 469, is #d# without the first\nstanza.\n\nStanzas 19\u201321 of #a#, #b#, and their representatives in #d#, #e#, recall\n\u2018The Gypsy Laddie.\u2019\n\nLizzie Baillie, of Castle Gary, Stirlingshire, while paying a visit to a\nsister at Gartartan, Perthshire, makes an excursion to Inchmahome, an\nisland in Loch Menteith. Here she meets Duncan Graham, who, against the\nopposition of her parents, persuades her to prefer a Highland husband to\nany Lowland or English match.\n\n\u201cThe heroine of this song,\u201d says Sharpe, \u201cwas a daughter of Baillie of\nCastle Carey, and sister, as it is said, to the wife of Macfarlane of\nGartartan.\u201d The Baillies, as Maidment has shown, acquired Castle Gary\n\u201cat a comparatively recent date,\u201d and that editor must be nearly, or\nquite, right in declaring the ballad to be not older than the\ncommencement of the last century. Buchan has a bit of pseudo-history\nanent Lizie Baillie in his notes, at II, 326.\n\nThe story is told in a somewhat disorderly way even in a, and we may\nbelieve that we have not attained the original yet, though this copy is\nmuch older than any that has appeared in previous collections.\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1\n It fell about the Lambmass tide,\n When the leaves were fresh and green,\n Lizie Bailie is to Gartartain [gane],\n To see her sister Jean.\n\n 2\n She had not been in Gartartain\n Even but a little while\n Till luck and fortune happend her,\n And she went to the Isle.\n\n 3\n And when she went into the Isle\n She met with Duncan Grahame;\n So bravely as he courted her!\n And he convoyd her hame.\n\n 4\n \u2018My bonny Lizie Bailie,\n I\u2019ll row thee in my pladie,\n If thou will go along with me\n And be my Highland lady.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018If I would go along with thee,\n I think I were not wise;\n For I cannot milk cow nor ewe,\n Nor yet can I speak Erse.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018Hold thy tongue, bonny Lizie Bailie,\n And hold thy tongue,\u2019 said he;\n \u2018For any thing that thou does lack,\n My dear, I\u2019ll learn thee.\u2019\n\n 7\n She would not have a Lowland laird,\n He wears the high-heeld shoes;\n She will marry Duncan Grahame,\n For Duncan wears his trews.\n\n 8\n She would not have a gentleman,\n A farmer in Kilsyth,\n But she would have the Highland man,\n He lives into Monteith.\n\n 9\n She would not have the Lowland man,\n Nor yet the English laddie,\n But she would have the Highland man,\n To row her in his pladie.\n\n 10\n He took her by the milk-white hand,\n And he convoyed her hame,\n And still she thought, both night and day,\n On bonny Duncan Grahame.\n\n 11\n \u2018O bonny Duncan Grahame,\n Why should ye me miscarry?\n For, if you have a love for me,\n We\u2019ll meet a[t] Castle Carry.\n\n 12\n \u2018As I came in by Dennie bridge,\n And by the holland-bush,\n My mother took from me my cloaths,\n My rings, ay and my purse.\n\n 13\n \u2018Hold your tongue, my mother dear,\n For that I do not care;\n For I will go with Duncan Grahame\n Tho I should ner get mair.\n\n 14\n \u2018For first when I met Duncan Grahame\n I met with meikle joy,\n And many pretty Highland men\n Was there at my convoy.\u2019\n\n 15\n And now he is gone through the muir,\n And she is through the glen:\n \u2018O bonny Lizie Bailie,\n When will we meet again!\u2019\n\n 16\n Shame light on these logerheads\n That lives in Castle Carry,\n That let away the bonny lass\n The Highland man to marry!\n\n 17\n \u2018O bonny Lizie, stay at home!\n Thy mother cannot want thee;\n For any thing that thou does lack,\n My dear, I\u2019ll cause get thee.\u2019\n\n 18\n \u2018I would not give my Duncan Grahame\n For all my father\u2019s land,\n Although he had three lairdships more,\n And all at my command.\u2019\n\n 19\n And she\u2019s cast off her silken gowns,\n That she weard in the Lowland,\n And she\u2019s up to the Highland hills,\n To wear [the] gowns of tartain.\n\n 20\n And she\u2019s cast off her high-heeld shoes,\n Was made of the gilded leather,\n And she\u2019s up to Gillecrankie,\n To go among the heather.\n\n 21\n And she\u2019s cast off her high-heeld shoes,\n And put on a pair of laigh ones,\n And she\u2019s away with Duncan Grahame,\n To go among the brachans.\n\n 22\n \u2018O my bonny Lizie Bailie,\n Thy mother cannot want thee;\n And if thou go with Duncan Grahame\n Thou\u2019ll be a Gilliecrankie.\u2019\n\n 23\n \u2018Hold your tongue, my mother dear,\n And folly let thee be;\n Should not I fancie Duncan Grahame\n When Duncan fancies me?\n\n 24\n \u2018Hold your tongue, my father dear,\n And folly let thee be;\n For I will go with Duncan Grahame\n Fore all the men I see.\u2019\n\n 25\n \u2018Who is it that\u2019s done this turn?\n Who has done this deed?\u2019\n \u2018A minister it\u2019s, father,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018Lives at the Rughburn bridge.\u2019\n\n 26\n \u2018A minister, daughter?\u2019 he says,\n \u2018A minister for mister!\u2019\n \u2018O hold your tongue, my father dear,\n He married first my sister.\u2019\n\n 27\n \u2018O fare you well, my daughter dear,\n So dearly as I lovd thee!\n Since thou wilt go to Duncan Grahame,\n My bonny Lizie Bailie.\u2019\n\n 28\n \u2018O fare you well, my father dear,\n Also my sister Betty;\n O fare you well, my mother dear,\n I leave you all compleatly.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n#a.#\n\n 3^4. conveyd; _cf._ 10^2.\n\n 17^4. _Suspicious._ I\u2019ll surely grant thee _in_ #b#, _which\n preserves the rhyme, and is otherwise preferable_.\n\n 20^3. #b# _avoids_ Gillecrankie _here by reading_ to the Highland\n hills, _and lacks_ 22.\n\n 23^2, 24^2. _Hardly possible._ _In 23^2_ #b# _has_, With your\n folly let me be.\n\n 27^1. fair ye: _cf._ 28^{1,3}.\n\n#b#.\n\n 1^1, upon the.\n\n 1^3. gane.\n\n 2^1. been long at.\n\n 2^3. to her.\n\n 3^4. convoyd.\n\n 4^3. wilt.\n\n 5^1. I should: with you.\n\n 5^2. They\u2019d think.\n\n 5^3. can neither.\n\n 6^3. dost.\n\n 6^4. I will teach.\n\n 7^2. That wears.\n\n 7^3. But she would.\n\n 7^4. he wears trews.\n\n 8^3. have a.\n\n 8^4. That lives.\n\n 11^2. you.\n\n 11^4. at.\n\n 14^3. mony a: Highlandman.\n\n 15^1. now she.\n\n 15^2. And he.\n\n 15^3. O my.\n\n 17^3. dost want.\n\n 17^4. I\u2019ll surely grant thee: _better_.\n\n 19^1. Now she\u2019s: gown.\n\n 19^2. wore: Lowlands.\n\n 19^4. the gowns.\n\n 20^2. oiled _for_ the gilded.\n\n 20^3. to the Highland hills.\n\n 20^4, 21^4. gang.\n\n 21^2. And _wanting_.\n\n 22. _Wanting._\n\n 23^2. With your folly let me be.\n\n 23^4. \u2018Fore all the men I see.\n\n 24 (_or_, 23^4 24^{1\u20133}). _Wanting._\n\n 25^1. that has.\n\n 25^2. Or who hath.\n\n 25^4. Red Burn.\n\n 27^1. So _for_ O.\n\n 27^2. love.\n\n 27^3. go with.\n\n 27^4. Thou\u2019lt get no gear from me.\n\n#c.#\n\n _Only_ 1\u20134^1 _given_.\n\n 1^1. It was in and about the Martinmass.\n\n _Absurd. Lammas, even, is late enough for leaves to be fresh and\n green; in fact both are verbiage._\n\n 1^3. gane.\n\n 2^1. She was nae in.\n\n 2^2. Even _wanting_.\n\n 2^3. When luck.\n\n 2^4. she gaed.\n\n 3^1. When she gaed to the bonny Isle.\n\n#d.#\n\n 11 _stanzas:_ 1^{3,4}, 3^{2,4}; 4; 5, _in two forms, one struck\n out_; 6 (?), 20, 19, 9, 11 (?), 12, 18, 16.\n\n 5.\n \u2018I am sure they wad nae ca me wise,\n Gin I wad gang wi you, sir,\n For I can neither card nor spin,\n Nor yet milk ewe nor cow, sir.\u2019\n\n 6.\n \u2018My bonie Liza Baillie,\n Let nane o these things daunt ye;\n Ye\u2019ll hae nae need to card or spin,\n Your mither weel can want ye.\u2019\n\n 9.\n She wad nae hae a Lawland laird,\n Nor be an English ladie,\n But she wad gang wi Duncan Grame,\n And row her in his plaidie.\n\n 11.\n (?)She was nae ten miles frae the town\n When she began to weary;\n She often looked back and said,\n \u2018Farewell to Castlecarry!\u2019\n\n 12.\n The first place I saw my Duncan Grame\n Was near yon holland-bush;\n My father took frae me my rings,\n My rings but and my purse.\n\n 19.\n And she\u2019s cast aff her bonie goun,\n Made o the silk and sattin,\n And she\u2019s put on a tartan plaid,\n To row amang the bracken. (21^4.)\n\n 20.\n Now she\u2019s cast aff her bonie shoon,\n Made o the gilded leather,\n And she\u2019s put on her Highland brogues,\n To skip amang the heather.\n\n _This is enough to show the quality of #d#. It has been\n extensively corrupted. 11 is out of character, and suggested by_\n \u2018Lizie Lindsay.\u2019\n\n#e.#\n\n _Stanzas 4, 5, 17, 20, 19, 9, only._\n\n 5.\n \u2018If I wad gang alang wi you\n They wadna ca me wise, sir;\n For I can neither card nor spin,\n Nor yet can I speak Erse, sir.\u2019\n\n 9.\n She wadna hae a Lawland laird,\n Nor be a English lady,\n But she\u2019s awa wi Duncan Grahame\n He\u2019s rowd her in his plaidy.\n\n 17.\n \u2018My bonny Lizie Baillie,\n Your minny canna want you;\n Sae let the trooper gang his lane,\n And carry his ain portmanteau.\u2019\n\n 19. _Nearly as in_ #d#. A\u2019 wrought wi gowd an satin: To sport\n amang.\n\n 20. _Nearly as in_ #d#. Spanish leather.\n\n 17^{3,4} _is not intelligible, and may have slipped in from some\n \u201cTrooper\u201d ballad._\n\n#f.#\n\n 10 _stanzas, edited from some copy of_ #d#. f 3\u20139, 10==d 2\u20138, 12,\n _nearly_.\n\n 1^1. Lammas time.\n\n 1^2. trees were.\n\n 1^3. L. B. gaed to Garter town.\n\n 2,3.\n She\u2019d no been lang in Garter town\n Till she met wi Duncan Graham,\n Wha kindly there saluted her,\n And wad convoy her hame.\n\n 4^2. Ye\u2019s hae a tartan plaidie.\n\n 9^3. wad gang wi Duncan Graham.\n\n 9^4. And wear a tartan plaidie.\n\n 19^1. her lowland braws.\n\n 19^3. put on the worset gown.\n\n 19^4. To skip amang the breckin.\n\n#g.#\n\n 14 stanzas.\n\n 2.\n She meant to go unto that place\n To stay a little while;\n But mark what fortune her befell\n When she went to the Isle.\n\n It fell out upon a day,\n Sheep-shearing at an end,\n Lizie Baillie she walkd out,\n To see a distant friend.\n\n 3.\n But going down in a low glen\n She met wi Duncan Gr\u00e6me,\n Who courted her along the way,\n Likewise convoyed her hame.\n\n _The whole ballad is treated with the like freedom and\n feebleness._\n\n 22.\n \u2018O stay at hame,\u2019 her father said,\n \u2018Your mither cannot want thee;\n And gin ye gang awa this night\n We\u2019ll hae a Killycrankie.\u2019\n\n Killycrankie _for a_ row: _a droll emendation of #a#, and the only\n spirited line in the piece._\n\n\n\n\n 228\n\n GLASGOW PEGGIE\n\n #A.# \u2018Glasgow Peggie,\u2019 Sharpe\u2019s Ballad Book, p. 40.\n\n #B.# #a.# \u2018Glasgow Peggy,\u2019 Kinloch\u2019s Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 174.\n b. Kinloch MSS, VII, 259. c. \u2018Glasgow Peggie,\u2019 Aytoun\u2019s Ballads of\n Scotland, 1859, II, 230.\n\n #C.# #a.# \u2018Galla Water,\u2019 \u2018Bonny Peggy,\u2019 Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 89. b.\n \u2018Glasgow Peggie,\u2019 \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d\n No 116, and Sharpe\u2019s Ballad Book, ed. 1880, p. 137, one stanza.\n\n #D.# \u2018Donald of the Isles,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland,\n II, 155.\n\n #E.# \u2018Glasgow Peggy,\u2019 Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 70.\n\n #F.# \u2018The Young Maclean,\u2019 Alexander Laing\u2019s MS., p. 5.\n\n\n\u201cCommon in stalls,\u201d says Motherwell, \u201cunder this title [\u2018Glasgow\nPeggie\u2019], or that of the \u2018Earl of Hume,\u2019 or \u2018The Banks of Omey:\u2019\u201d\nMinstrelsy, p. xciii, note 133. In his MS., p. 90, the stall-copy is\nsaid to be better than the imperfect #C a#.\n\nA young Highlander comes to Glasgow and is smitten with bonnie Peggie.\nHer father says the Highlander may steal cow or ewe, but not Peggie; and\nher mother asks in disgust whether her daughter, so long the object of\nher care, would end with going off in such company. For all that, Peggie\ngoes. The Earl of Argyle, or the Earl of Hume, or the young Earl of\nHume, takes this much to heart. The pair ride to a low glen in the north\ncountry, and lie down on the grass. The Lowland lass has some\ncompunctions, stimulated by the lack of the good beds at home. The\ncaptivating Highlander reassures her. He has the same comforts which she\nmisses; they are his, and will soon be hers. He points out a fine castle\nwhich is his too, and he himself is Donald, Earl of Skye, and she will\nbe a lady. #B# and #E#, to make the contrast of her two homes the\ngreater, maintain that, despite her regrets for the comforts of her\nfather\u2019s mansion, all that Peggie left was a wee cot-house and a wee\nkail-yairdie.\n\nIn the fragment #F#, Maclean replaces Macdonald.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n Sharpe\u2019s Ballad Book, No XV, p. 40.\n\n 1\n \u2018As I cam in by Glasgow town,\n The Highland troops were a\u2019 before me,\n And the bonniest lass that eer I saw,\n She lives in Glasgow, they ca her Peggie.\n\n 2\n \u2018I wad gie my bonnie black horse,\n So wad I my gude grey naigie,\n If I were twa hundred miles in the north,\n And nane wi me but my bonnie Peggie.\u2019\n\n 3\n Up then spak her father dear,\n Dear wow! but he was wondrous sorrie;\n \u2018Weel may ye steal a cow or a yowe,\n But ye dare nae steal my bonnie Peggie.\u2019\n\n 4\n Up then spak her mother dear,\n Dear wow! but she spak wondrous sorrie;\n Now since I have brought ye up this length,\n Wad ye gang awa wi a Highland fellow?\u2019\n\n 5\n He set her on his bonnie black horse,\n He set himsel on his gude gray naigie,\n And they have ridden oer hills and dales,\n And he\u2019s awa wi his bonnie Peggie.\n\n 6\n They have ridden oer hills and dales,\n They have ridden oer mountains many,\n Until they cam to a low, low glen,\n And there he\u2019s lain down wi his bonnie Peggie.\n\n 7\n Up then spak the Earl of Argyle,\n Dear wow! but he spak wondrous sorrie;\n \u2018The bonniest lass in a\u2019 Scotland\n Is off and awa wi a Highland fellow!\u2019\n\n 8\n Their bed was of the bonnie green grass,\n Their blankets war o the hay sae bonnie;\n He folded his philabeg below her head,\n And he\u2019s lain down wi his bonnie Peggie.\n\n 9\n Up then spak the bonny Lowland lass,\n And wow! but she spak wondrous sorrie;\n \u2018I\u2019se warrant my mither wad hae a gay sair heart\n To see me lien here wi you, my Willie.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018In my father\u2019s house there\u2019s feather-beds,\n Feather-beds, and blankets mony;\n They\u2019re a\u2019 mine, and they\u2019ll sune be thine,\n And what needs your mither be sae sorrie, Peggie?\n\n 11\n \u2018Dinna you see yon nine score o kye,\n Feeding on yon hill sae bonnie?\n They\u2019re a\u2019 mine, and they\u2019ll sune be thine,\n And what needs your mither be sorrie, Peggie?\n\n 12\n \u2018Dinna ye see yon nine score o sheep,\n Feeding on yon brae sae bonnie?\n They\u2019re a\u2019 mine, and they\u2019ll sune be thine,\n And what needs your mither be sorrie for ye?\n\n 13\n \u2018Dinna ye see yon bonnie white house,\n Shining on yon brae sae bonnie?\n And I am the Earl of the Isle of Skye,\n And surely my Peggie will be ca\u2019d a lady.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n #a.# Kinloch\u2019s Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 174; from recitation,\n #b.# Kinloch MSS, VII, 259; \u201cfrom Mrs K.\u2019s recitation.\u201d #c.#\n Aytoun\u2019s Ballads of Scotland, 1859, II, 230.\n\n 1\n The Lawland lads think they are fine,\n But the Hieland lads are brisk and gaucy,\n And they are awa, near Glasgow toun,\n To steal awa a bonnie lassie.\n\n 2\n \u2018I wad gie my gude brown steed,\n And sae wad I my gude grey naigie,\n That I war fifty miles frae the toun,\n And nane wi me but my bonnie Peggy.\u2019\n\n 3\n But up then spak the auld gudman,\n And vow! but he spak wondrous saucie;\n \u2018Ye may steal awa our cows and ewes,\n But ye sanna get our bonnie lassie.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018I have got cows and ewes anew,\n I\u2019ve got gowd and gear already;\n Sae I dinna want your cows nor ewes,\n But I will hae your bonnie Peggy.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018I\u2019ll follow you oure moss and muir,\n I\u2019ll follow you oure mountains many,\n I\u2019ll follow you through frost and snaw,\n I\u2019ll stay na langer wi my daddie.\u2019\n\n 6\n He set her on a gude brown steed,\n Himself upon a gude grey naigie;\n They\u2019re oure hills, and oure dales,\n And he\u2019s awa wi his bonnie Peggy.\n\n 7\n As they rade out by Glasgow toun,\n And doun by the hills o Achildounie,\n There they met the Earl of Hume,\n And his auld son, riding bonnie.\n\n 8\n Out bespak the Earl of Hume,\n And O! but he spak wondrous sorry;\n \u2018The bonniest lass about a\u2019 Glasgow toun\n This day is awa wi a Hieland laddie!\u2019\n\n 9\n As they rade bye auld Drymen toun,\n The lasses leuch and lookit saucy,\n That the bonniest lass they ever saw\n Sud be riding awa wi a Hieland laddie.\n\n 10\n They rode on through moss and muir,\n And so did they owre mountains many,\n Until that they cam to yonder glen,\n And she\u2019s lain doun wi her Hieland laddie.\n\n 11\n Gude green hay was Peggy\u2019s bed,\n And brakens war her blankets bonnie,\n Wi his tartan plaid aneath her head;\n And she\u2019s lain doun wi her Hieland laddie.\n\n 12\n \u2018There\u2019s beds and bowsters in my father\u2019s house,\n There\u2019s sheets and blankets, and a\u2019 thing ready,\n And wadna they be angry wi me,\n To see me lie sae wi a Hieland laddie!\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018Tho there\u2019s beds and beddin in your father\u2019s house,\n Sheets and blankets, and a\u2019 made ready,\n Yet why sud they be angry wi thee,\n Though I be but a Hieland laddie?\n\n 14\n \u2018It\u2019s I hae fifty acres of land,\n It\u2019s a\u2019 plowd and sawn already;\n I am Donald, the Lord of Skye,\n And why sud na Peggy be calld a lady?\n\n 15\n \u2018I hae fifty gude milk kye,\n A\u2019 tied to the staws already;\n I am Donald, the Lord of Skye,\n And why sud na Peggy be calld a lady?\n\n 16\n \u2018See ye no a\u2019 yon castles and towrs?\n The sun sheens owre them a sae bonnie;\n I am Donald, the Lord of Skye,\n I think I\u2019ll mak ye as blythe as onie.\u2019\n\n 17\n A\u2019 that Peggy left behind\n Was a cot-house and a wee kail-yardie;\n Now I think she is better by far\n Than tho she had got a Lawland lairdie.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n C\n\n #a.# Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 89; from recitation. #b.# \u201cScotch Ballads,\n Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 116, and Sharpe\u2019s Ballad Book,\n ed. 1880, p. 137, the last stanza.\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1\n \u2018He set her on his bonnie black horse,\n He set himsel on his good gray naigie;\n He has ridden over hills, he has ridden over dales,\n And he\u2019s quite awa wi my bonny Peggy.\n\n 2\n \u2018Her brow it is brent and her middle it is jimp,\n Her arms are long and her fingers slender;\n One sight of her eyes makes my very heart rejoice,\n And wae\u2019s my heart that we should sunder!\u2019\n\n 3\n His sheets were of the good green hay,\n His blankets were of the brackens bonnie;\n He\u2019s laid his trews beneath her head,\n And she\u2019s lain down wi her Highland laddie.\n\n 4\n \u2018I am my mother\u2019s ae daughter,\n And she had nae mair unto my daddie,\n And this night she would have a sore, sore heart\n For to see me lye down with a Highland laddie.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018Ye are your mother\u2019s ae daughter,\n And she had nae mae unto your daddie;\n This night she need not have a sore, sore heart\n For to see you lie down with a Highland laddie.\n\n 6\n \u2018I have four-and-twenty acres of land,\n It is ploughed, it is sown, and is always ready,\n And you shall have servants at your command;\n And why should you slight a Highland laddie?\n\n 7\n \u2018I have four-and-twenty good milk-kye,\n They are feeding on yon meadow bonnie;\n Besides, I have both lambs and ewes,\n Going low in the haughs o Galla water.\n\n 8\n \u2018My house it stands on yon hill-side,\n My broadsword, durk, and bow is ready,\n And you shall have servants at your command;\n And why may not Peggy be called a lady?\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n D\n\n Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 155.\n\n 1\n A bonny laddie brisk and gay,\n A handsome youth sae brisk and gaddie,\n And he is on to Glasgow town,\n To steal awa his bonny Peggy.\n\n 2\n When he came into Glasgow town,\n Upon her father\u2019s green sae steady,\n \u2018Come forth, come forth, old man,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018For I am come for bonny Peggy.\u2019\n\n 3\n Out it spake her father then;\n \u2018Begone from me, ye Highland laddie;\n There\u2019s nane in a\u2019 the West Country\n Dare steal from me my bonny Peggy.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018I\u2019ve ten young men all at my back,\n That ance to me were baith true and steady;\n If ance I call, they\u2019ll soon be nigh,\n And bring to me my bonny Peggy.\u2019\n\n 5\n Out it spake her mother then,\n Dear! but she spake wondrous saucy;\n Says, Ye may steal my cow or ewe,\n But I\u2019ll keep sight o my ain lassie.\n\n 6\n \u2018Hold your tongue, old woman,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018Ye think your wit it is fu ready;\n For cow nor ewe I ever stole,\n But I will steal your bonny Peggy.\u2019\n\n 7\n Then all his men they boldly came,\n That was to him baith true and steady,\n And thro the ha they quickly went,\n And forth they carried bonny Peggy.\n\n 8\n Her father gae mony shout and cry,\n Her mother cursed the Highland laddie;\n But he heard them as he heard them not,\n But fixd his eye on bonny Peggy.\n\n 9\n He set her on his milk-white steed,\n And he himsell on his grey naigie;\n Still along the way they rode,\n And he\u2019s awa wi bonny Peggy.\n\n 10\n Says, I wad gie baith cow and ewe,\n And sae woud I this tartan plaidie,\n That I was far into the north,\n And alang wi me my bonny Peggy.\n\n 11\n As they rode down yon pleasant glen,\n For trees and brambles were right mony,\n There they met the Earl o Hume,\n And his young son, were riding bonny.\n\n 12\n Then out it spake the young Earl Hume,\n Dear! but he spake wondrous gaudie;\n \u2018I\u2019m wae to see sae fair a dame\n Riding alang wi a Highland laddie.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018Hold your tongue, ye young Earl Hume,\n O dear! but ye do speak right gaudie;\n There\u2019s nae a lord in a\u2019 the south\n Dare eer compete wi a Highland laddie.\u2019\n\n 14\n Then he rade five miles thro the north,\n Thro mony hills sae rough and scroggie,\n Till they came down to a low glen,\n And he lay down wi bonny Peggy.\n\n 15\n Then he inclosed her in his arms,\n And rowd her in his tartan plaidie:\n \u2018There are blankets and sheets in my father\u2019s house,\n How have I lien down wi a Highland laddie!\u2019\n\n 16\n Says he, There are sheep in my father\u2019s fauld,\n And every year their wool is ready;\n By the same our debts we pay,\n Altho I be but a Highland laddie.\n\n 17\n \u2018There are fifty cows in my father\u2019s byre,\n That all are tyed to the stakes and ready;\n Five thousand pounds I hae ilk year,\n Altho I be but a Highland laddie.\n\n 18\n \u2018My father has fifty well shod horse,\n Besides your steed and my grey naigie;\n I\u2019m Donald o the Isle o Sky,\n Why may not you be ca\u2019d a lady?\n\n 19\n \u2018See ye not yon fine castle,\n On yonder hill that stands sae gaudie?\n And there we\u2019ll win this very night,\n Where ye\u2019ll enjoy your Highland laddie.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n E\n\n Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 70, as sang by an old woman\n living near Keith, Banffshire.\n\n 1\n The Hielan lads sae brisk and braw,\n The Hielan lads sae brisk and gaudie,\n Hae gane awa to Glasgow town,\n To steal awa the bonny Peggy.\n\n 2\n As they cam on to Glasgow town,\n And passd the banks and braes sae bonny,\n There they espied the weel-faurd may,\n And she said to them her name was Peggy.\n\n 3\n Their chief did meet her father soon,\n And O! but he was wondrous angry;\n Says, Ye may steal my owsen and kye,\n But ye maunna steal my bonnie Peggy.\n\n 4\n \u2018O haud your tongue, ye gude auld man,\n For I\u2019ve got cows and ewes already;\n I come na to steal your owsen and kye,\n But I will steal your bonny Peggy.\u2019\n\n 5\n He set her on a milk-white steed,\n And he himsel rode a gude grey naigie,\n And they are on mony miles to the north,\n And nane wi them but the bonny Peggy.\n\n 6\n \u2018I hae fifty acres o gude red lan,\n And a\u2019 weel ploughd and sawn already,\n And why should your father be angry wi me,\n And ca me naething but a Hielan laddie?\n\n 7\n \u2018I hae twenty weel mounted steeds,\n Black and brown and grey, already;\n And ilk ane o them is tended by a groom,\n Altho I be but a Hielan laddie.\n\n 8\n \u2018I hae now ten thousand sheep,\n A\u2019 feeding on yon braes sae bonny,\n And ilka hundred a shepherd has,\n Altho I be but a Hielan laddie.\n\n 9\n \u2018I hae a castle on yonder hill,\n It\u2019s a\u2019 set roun wi windows many;\n I\u2019m Lord M\u2019Donald o the whole Isle of Skye;\n And why shouldna Peggy be ca\u2019d my Lady?\u2019\n\n 10\n Now a\u2019 that Peggy had before\n Was a wee cot-house and a little kail-yairdie,\n But now she is lady o the whole Isle of Skye,\n And now bonny Peggy is ca\u2019d my Lady.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n F\n\n Alexander Laing\u2019s MS., 1829, p. 5.\n\n 1\n The young Maclean is brisk an bauld,\n The young Maclean is rash an ready.\n An he is to the Lowlands gane,\n To steal awa a bonnie ladye.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 2\n Out an spak her auld father,\n An O! but he spak wondrous angry;\n \u2018Ye may steal my cows an ewes,\n But ye shall not steal my dochter Peggie.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018O haud your tongue, ye gude auld man,\n For I hae gear enough already;\n I cum na for your cows an ewes,\n But I cum for your dochter Peggie.\u2019\n\n 4\n He set her on a milk-white steed,\n Himsel upon a gude gray naggie,\n An they are to the Highlands gane,\n The young Maclean an his bonnie ladye.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#B. b.#\n\n _Stanzas_ 7, 3, 12^2, 6, 4.\n\n 3.\n And then out and spak her father dear,\n And oh! but he was wondrous angrie;\n \u2018It\u2019s ye may steal my cows and ews,\n But ye maunna steal my bonnie Peggy.\u2019\n\n 4.\n \u2018Hold your tongue, you silly auld man,\n For ye\u2019ve said eneuch already;\n I\u2019ll neither steal your cows nor ews,\n But I wat I\u2019ll steal your bonnie Peggy.\u2019\n\n 6^1. He\u2019s mounted her on a milk-white.\n\n 6^2. are ouer hill and they\u2019re ouer dale.\n\n 6^4. he\u2019s clean awa.\n\n 7^1. As I cam in by.\n\n 7^3. I met.\n\n 7^4. son, war.\n\n 12^2. Feather beds and bowsters many. (A, 10.^2)\n\n#c.#\n\n \u201cI have carefully collated these [_Kinloch\u2019s copy_, #B a#, _and\n Sharpe\u2019s_, #A#] with another _copy_, giving, for the most part,\n the preference to the version of Mr Kinloch.\u201d _Readings (quite\n unimportant) which do not occur in_ #B a#, #A#:\n\n 1^3. they hae come doun to Glasgow toun.\n\n 2^1. O I.\n\n 2^3. were a hundred.\n\n 4^3. or.\n\n _After 4_, _cf._ #A# 4^{1,2}:\n\n But up then spak the auld gudewife,\n And wow! but she lookd wondrous yellow.\n\n 5^{1\u20133}. follow him.\n\n 5^4. I\u2019ll bide.\n\n 7^1. out frae.\n\n 7^2. And by the side o Antermony.\n\n 7^4. Wi him his.\n\n 8^2. sadly _for_ sorry.\n\n 10^1. It\u2019s they.\n\n 11^4. wi the.\n\n 12^1. There\u2019s mair than ae bed in.\n\n 16^2. on them.\n\n 16^3. It\u2019s I.\n\n#C.# #b.#\n\n 8. _In a letter of John Hamilton\u2019s to Sir W. Scott, dated August\n 17, 1803 (\u201cScotch Ballads,\u201d etc., No 116), this stanza is given\n thus_:\n\n My palace stands on yon burn-brae,\n My bow is bent an arrows ready;\n My name is Donald, in the Isle of Sky,\n Although I be but a Highland laddie.\n\n _Scott probably trusted to his memory when making the following\n note to a, printed in Sharpe\u2019s Ballad Book, ed. 1880_:\n\n \u2018I have a dirk and a gude claymore,\n My bow is bent and my arrow ready;\n My castle stands in the Isle of Skye,\n Although I am but a Highland laddie.\u2019\n\n \u201cThe above stanza, which I got from the late Mr Hamilton,\n music-seller in Edinburgh, seems to belong to \u2018Glasgow Peggie.\u2019\u201d\n\n\n\n\n 229\n\n EARL CRAWFORD\n\n #A. a.# \u2018Earl Crawford,\u2019 Christie\u2019s Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 290,\n from recitation. #b.# From recitation.\n\n #B.# \u2018Earl Crawford,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I,\n 61. Abridged, in Christie\u2019s Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 68.\n\n\n#A.# One of seven handsome sisters makes a great match with the Earl of\nCrawford. In a fit of jealousy at the fondness which he shows his young\nson, Ladie Lillie addresses to her husband a quip on that head, to which\nthe earl replies in the same tone. But the matter does not end there.\nThe earl sets his wife on a horse, with her son, and sends her home to\nher father at Stobhall, never to enter his gates again. Her father is\nsurprised that she should come without notice or attendants; she tells\nhim that a word from her merry mouth has parted her and her lord. The\nfather offers to make a better match for her; she would not give a kiss\nof Crawford\u2019s for all her father\u2019s gold. She sends a messenger to the\nearl to see whether he retains affection for her; word is brought back\nthat she is to stay with her father and never enter Crawford\u2019s gates\nagain. Her heart breaks. Her father puts on black, rides to Crawford\u2019s,\nand finds the earl just setting forth with a party to bring Lady Lillie\nhome. Upon learning that his wife is dead, the earl declares that the\nsun shall nevermore shine on him.\n\n#B.# Lady Crawford rides to her husband\u2019s castle in person to see if the\nearl will pity her. He shuts his gates and steeks his doors, and will\nneither come down to speak with her himself nor send his man. She\nretires weeping. The earl in turn now goes to the castle where his lady\nis lying, to see if she will pity him. She shuts the gates and steeks\nthe doors, and will neither come down to speak with him nor send her\nwaiting-maid. Not the less she takes to her bed, both she and Crawford\ndie before morning, and both are buried in one tomb.\n\nThe late Earl of Crawford recognized an agreement with fact in some of\nthe details of this story: Christie, I, 289. David, eleventh earl of\nCrawford, who succeeded his father in 1574, married Lilias Drummond,\ndaughter of David, second Lord Drummond, the Laird of Stobhall. This was\nconsidered so great a match for the lady that a tocher was given with\nher \u201cfar beyond what was customary in those times, to wit, ten thousand\nmerks.\u201d Although the peerages mention no children by this marriage,\nthere is evidence that Earl David had by Lilias \u201can only child, David,\nwho died in infancy.\u201d \u201cThese collateral verities\u201d seemed to Earl\nCrawford \u201cto found a presumption in favor of the truth of the main\nincident of the ballad.\u201d Crawford did not live at Crawford Castle, as\nthe ballad has it. \u201cThat place had ceased to be the family residence for\na long while. Earl David lived at Finhaven Castle, in Angus; not too far\nfrom Stobhall to be in keeping with the riding to and fro recorded in\nthe ballad.\u201d\n\nThe first lines of the ballad are probably borrowed from \u2018Gil Brenton:\u2019\nsee No 5, #A# 43, #B# 34, #C# 1, #D# 1, #H# 1, 2. #A# 11, 12, #B# 15,\n16, is a commonplace: see most of the versions of \u2018Jamie Douglas,\u2019 No\n204, and of \u2018The Braes o Yarrow,\u2019 No 214, and \u2018Clerk Saunders,\u2019 No 69,\n#E# 15, #G# 27.\n\n#B# is translated by Gerhard, p. 108.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n #a.# Christie\u2019s Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 290, as taken down\n 1867\u201373, from the recitation of Mrs Mary Robertson, wife of James\n Robertson, shoemaker, Bogmoor, near Fochabers. #b.# Obtained by Mr\n Macmath, March 25, 1890, from the daughter of Mrs Robertson, Mrs\n Mary Thomson, wife of James Thomson, gardener at Gordon Castle\n gardens, Fochabers.\n\n 1\n O we were sisters, sisters seven,\n We were a comely crew to see,\n And some got lairds, and some got lords,\n And some got knichts o hie degree;\n And I mysel got the Earl o Crawford,\n And wasna that a great match for me!\n\n 2\n It was at fifteen that I was married,\n And at sixteen I had a son;\n And wasna that an age ower tender\n For a lady to hae her first-born!\n And wasna, etc.\n\n 3\n But it fell ance upon a day\n I gaed into the garden green,\n And naebody was therein walking\n But Earl Crawford and his young son.\n\n 4\n \u2018I wonder at you, ye Earl Crawford,\n I wonder at you wi your young son;\n Ye daut your young son mair than your Lillie;\n [I\u2019m sure you got na him your lane.\u2019]\n\n 5\n [He turned about upon his heel,\n I wite an angry man was he;\n Says, If I got nae my young son my lane,\n Bring me here the one that helpet me.]\n\n 6\n [\u2018O hold your tongue, my Earl Crawford,\n And a\u2019 my folly lat it be;\n There was nane at the gettin o oor son,\n Nae body only but you and me.\u2019]\n\n 7\n He set her on a milk-white steed,\n Her little young son her before;\n Says, Ye maun gae to bonny Stobha,\n For ye will enter my yates no more.\n\n 8\n When she cam to her father\u2019s bowers,\n She lichtit low down on the stane,\n And wha sae ready as her auld father\n To welcome Lady Lillie in?\n\n 9\n \u2018O how\u2019s a\u2019 wi you, my daughter Lillie,\n That ye come here sae hastilie?\n And how\u2019s a\u2019 wi\u2019 the Earl o Crawford,\n That he didna send a boy wi thee?\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018O haud your tongue now, my old father,\n And ye\u2019ll lat a\u2019 your folly be;\n For ae word that my merry mou spak\n Has parted my good lord and me.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018O haud your tongue, my daughter Lillie,\n And a\u2019 your follies lat them be;\n I\u2019ll double your portion ten times ower,\n And a better match I\u2019ll get for thee.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018O haud your tongue now, my old father,\n And a\u2019 your folly lat it be;\n I wouldna gie ae kiss o Crawford\n For a\u2019 the goud that ye can gie.\n\n 13\n \u2018Whare will I get a bonny boy,\n That\u2019s willin to win meat and fee,\n Wha will gae on to Earl Crawford\n An see an\u2019s heart be fawn to me?\u2019\n\n 14\n When he cam to the yates o Crawford,\n They were a\u2019 sitting down to dine:\n \u2018How comes it now, ye Earl Crawford,\n Ye arena takin Lady Lillie hame?\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018Ye may gae tell her Lady Lillie,\n And ye maun neither lee nor len,\n She may stay in her father\u2019s bowers,\n For she\u2019ll not enter my yates again.\u2019\n\n 16\n When he cam back to her father\u2019s yates,\n He lichtit low down on his knee:\n \u2018What news, what news, my bonny boy?\n What news, what news hae ye to me ?\u2019\n\n 17\n \u2018I\u2019m bidden tell you, Lady Lillie\u2014\n I\u2019m bidden neither to lee nor len\u2014\n She may stay in her father\u2019s bowers,\n For she\u2019ll not enter my yates again.\u2019\n\n 18\n She stretched out her lily hand,\n Says, \u2018Adieu, adieu to ane and a!\n Adieu, adieu to Earl Crawford!\u2019\n Wi that her sair heart brak in twa.\n\n 19\n Then dowie, dowie her father raise up,\n And dowie, dowie the black put on,\n And dowie, dowie he mounted the brown,\n And dowie, dowie sat thereon.\n\n 20\n And dowie rade to the yates o Crawford,\n And when to Crawford\u2019s yates he came,\n They were a\u2019 dressd in the robes o scarlet,\n Just gaun to tak Lady Lillie hame.\n\n 21\n \u2018Ye may cast aff your robes o scarlet\u2014\n I wyte they set you wondrous weel\u2014\n And now put on the black sae dowie,\n And come and bury your Lady Lill.\u2019\n\n 22\n He took his hat into his hand,\n And laid it low down by his knee:\n \u2018An it be true that Lillie\u2019s dead,\n The sun shall nae mair shine on me.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 61.\n\n 1\n O we were seven bonny sisters,\n As fair women as fair could be,\n And some got lairds, and some got lords,\n And some got knights o high degree:\n When I was married to Earl Crawford,\n This was the fate befell to me.\n\n 2\n When we had been married for some time,\n We walked in our garden green,\n And aye he clappd his young son\u2019s head,\n And aye he made sae much o him.\n\n 3\n I turnd me right and round about,\n And aye the blythe blink in my ee:\n \u2018Ye think as much o your young son\n As ye do o my fair body.\n\n 4\n \u2018What need ye clap your young son\u2019s head?\n What need ye make so much o him?\n What need ye clap your young son\u2019s head?\n I\u2019m sure ye gotna him your lane.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018O if I gotna him my lane,\n Show here the man that help\u00ebd me;\n And for these words your ain mouth spoke\n Heir o my land he neer shall be.\u2019\n\n 6\n He calld upon his stable-groom\n To come to him right speedilie:\n \u2018Gae saddle a steed to Lady Crawford,\n Be sure ye do it hastilie.\n\n 7\n \u2018His bridle gilt wi gude red gowd,\n That it may glitter in her ee;\n And send her on to bonny Stobha,\n All her relations for to see.\u2019\n\n 8\n Her mother lay oer the castle wa,\n And she beheld baith dale and down,\n And she beheld her Lady Crawford,\n As she came riding to the town.\n\n 9\n \u2018Come here, come here, my husband dear,\n This day ye see not what I see;\n For here there comes her Lady Crawford,\n Riding alane upon the lee.\u2019\n\n 10\n When she came to her father\u2019s yates,\n She tirled gently at the pin:\n \u2018If ye sleep, awake, my mother dear,\n Ye\u2019ll rise lat Lady Crawford in.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018What news, what news, ye Lady Crawford,\n That ye come here so hastilie?\u2019\n \u2018Bad news, bad news, my mother dear,\n For my gude lord\u2019s forsaken me.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018O wae\u2019s me for you, Lady Crawford,\n This is a dowie tale to me;\n Alas! you were too young married\n To thole sic cross and misery.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018O had your tongue, my mother dear,\n And ye\u2019ll lat a\u2019 your folly be;\n It was a word my merry mouth spake\n That sinderd my gude lord and me.\u2019\n\n 14\n Out it spake her brither then,\n Aye as he stept ben the floor:\n \u2018My sister Lillie was but eighteen years\n When Earl Crawford ca\u2019ed her a whore.\n\n 15\n \u2018But had your tongue, my sister dear,\n And ye\u2019ll lat a\u2019 your mourning bee;\n I\u2019ll wed you to as fine a knight,\n That is nine times as rich as hee.\u2019\n\n 16\n \u2018O had your tongue, my brither dear,\n And ye\u2019ll lat a\u2019 your folly bee;\n I\u2019d rather yae kiss o Crawford\u2019s mouth\n Than a\u2019 his gowd and white monie.\n\n 17\n \u2018But saddle to me my riding-steed,\n And see him saddled speedilie,\n And I will on to Earl Crawford\u2019s,\n And see if he will pity me.\u2019\n\n 18\n Earl Crawford lay o\u2019er castle wa,\n And he beheld baith dale and down,\n And he beheld her Lady Crawford,\n As she came riding to the town.\n\n 19\n He called ane o his livery men\n To come to him right speedilie:\n \u2018Gae shut my yates, gae steek my doors,\n Keep Lady Crawford out frae me.\u2019\n\n 20\n When she came to Earl Crawford\u2019s yates,\n She tirled gently at the pin:\n \u2018O sleep ye, wake ye, Earl Crawford,\n Ye\u2019ll open, lat Lady Crawford in.\n\n 21\n \u2018Come down, come down, O Earl Crawford,\n And speak some comfort unto me;\n And if ye winna come yoursell,\n Ye\u2019ll send your gentleman to me.\u2019\n\n 22\n \u2018Indeed I winna come mysell,\n Nor send my gentleman to thee;\n For I tauld you when we did part\n Nae mair my spouse ye\u2019d ever bee.\u2019\n\n 23\n She laid her mouth then to the yates,\n And aye the tears drapt frae her ee;\n Says, Fare ye well, Earl Crawford\u2019s yates,\n You again I\u2019ll nae mair see.\n\n 24\n Earl Crawford calld on his stable-groom\n To come to him right speedilie,\n And sae did he his waiting-man,\n That did attend his fair bodie.\n\n 25\n \u2018Ye will gae saddle for me my steed,\n And see and saddle him speedilie,\n And I\u2019ll gang to the Lady Crawford,\n And see if she will pity me.\u2019\n\n 26\n Lady Crawford lay oer castle-wa,\n And she beheld baith dale and down,\n And she beheld him Earl Crawford,\n As he came riding to the town.\n\n 27\n Then she has calld ane o her maids\n To come to her right speedilie:\n \u2018Gae shut my yates, gae steek my doors,\n Keep Earl Crawford out frae me.\u2019\n\n 28\n When he came to Lady Crawford\u2019s yates,\n He tirled gently at the pin:\n \u2018Sleep ye, wake ye, Lady Crawford,\n Ye\u2019ll rise and lat Earl Crawford in.\n\n 29\n \u2018Come down, come down, O Lady Crawford,\n Come down, come down, and speak wi me;\n And gin ye winna come yoursell,\n Ye\u2019ll send your waiting-maid to me.\u2019\n\n 30\n \u2018Indeed I winna come mysell,\n Nor send my waiting-maid to thee;\n Sae take your ain words hame again\n At Crawford castle ye tauld me.\n\n 31\n \u2018O mother dear, gae make my bed,\n And ye will make it saft and soun,\n And turn my face unto the west,\n That I nae mair may see the sun.\u2019\n\n 32\n Her mother she did make her bed,\n And she did make it saft and soun;\n True were the words fair Lillie spake,\n Her lovely eyes neer saw the sun.\n\n 33\n The Earl Crawford mounted his steed,\n Wi sorrows great he did ride hame;\n But ere the morning sun appeard\n This fine lord was dead and gane.\n\n 34\n Then on ae night this couple died,\n And baith were buried in ae tomb:\n Let this a warning be to all,\n Their pride may not bring them low down.\n\n#A. a.#\n\n 4^4, 5, 6. _Omitted; supplied from #b#. Dean Christie notes that\n the lines omitted will be found in a copy which, with other\n things of the kind, he had destined for use in this collection.\n Unfortunately, and quite unaccountably, these pieces never came\n to hand._\n\n 19^2. put on the black.\n\n#b.#\n\n _Of #b#, which was obtained some twenty years after #a# was\n written down, Mrs Thomson says_: Enclosed is the whole of the\n ballad, as I had it from my mother.... She never sang those two\n verses to us [5, 6]. She only repeated them to me when Dean\n Christie wanted the ballad. _We may, perhaps, infer from these\n last words that the ballad was originally taken down by the\n daughter from her mother\u2019s recitation, and not by Dean Christie.\n It is to be observed that the mother was still living in 1890,\n but when #b# was committed to paper is not said._\n\n#a#\n\n 8^{3, 4}, 9^{1, 2}, are wanting in #b#; #b# _has a stanza, an\n inevitable one, which #a# lacks, in answer to_ 13.\n\n 1^1. It\u2019s we were sisters and.\n\n 1^3. Some got dukes.\n\n 1^4. got men.\n\n 1^5. But I: Earl Crawford.\n\n 1^6. a meet.\n\n 2^1. Fifteen years that.\n\n 2^2. And sixteen years I.\n\n 2^3. that a tender age.\n\n 3^2. We were walking in yon.\n\n 3^3. There was nae body walking there.\n\n 3^4. But the earl himself and.\n\n 4^1. you, Earl.\n\n 4^2. You mak sae much o your.\n\n 4^3. I wonder at you, Earl Crawford.\n\n 4^4, 5, 6. _Inserted in_ #a#.\n\n 7^2. little son he set her.\n\n 7^3. gee on to your father\u2019s bowers.\n\n 8^2. down on her knee.\n\n 8^{3, 4}, 9^{1, 2}, _wanting_.\n\n 9^3. Hoo\u2019s a\u2019, hoo\u2019s a.\n\n 9^4. thee wi.\n\n 10^1. now _wanting_.\n\n 10^2. And a\u2019 my folly lat it.\n\n 10^3. For one: mouth.\n\n 11^1. my Lady.\n\n 11^2. And I\u2019ll lat a\u2019 your folly.\n\n 11^3. portion oer again.\n\n 11^4. I\u2019ll provide for.\n\n 12^1. now _wanting_.\n\n 12^2. And speak nae mair o this to me.\n\n 12^3. For I wad nae.\n\n 12^4. ye could.\n\n 13^3. That will: Crawford\u2019s.\n\n 13^4. see gin\u2019s hairt be faen tae.\n\n _After 13_:\n\n \u2018O here am I, a bonny boy,\n That\u2019s willin to win meat and fee,\n That will go on to Earl Crawford\u2019s,\n And see an\u2019s hairt be faen to thee.\u2019\n\n 14^1. to Earl Crawford\u2019s gates.\n\n 14^2. He lighted low down on a stane.\n\n 14^3. Says, I wonder at you, E. C.\n\n 14^4. You\u2019r nae gaun to tak.\n\n 15^1. tell to Lady.\n\n 15^2. Ye may neither.\n\n 15^3. stay weel in.\n\n 15^4. she\u2019ll never.\n\n 16^1. came to her father\u2019s bowers.\n\n 17^1. tell to Lady.\n\n 17^3. You\u2019r bidden stay well in your.\n\n 17^4. For yu\u2019ll never enter his.\n\n 18^1. lily-white.\n\n 18^3. to the Earl himsell.\n\n 18^4. And wi that her bonny hairt did brack.\n\n 19^1. Dowie, dowie raise up her father.\n\n 19^2. And _wanting_: the black put on.\n\n 19^3. And _wanting_: his steed he mounted.\n\n 20^1. When he came to Earl Crawford\u2019s gates.\n\n 20^2. They were all going to dine.\n\n 20^3. And were all drest in robes of white.\n\n 21^1. He says, You may put aff the robes o white.\n\n 21^3. And ye\u2019ll put on the dowie black.\n\n 22^1. Earl Crawford took his hat in\u2019s hand.\n\n 22^3. Says, If this be true that L[ady] L[illie\u2019s].\n\n 22^4. sin shall never shine.\n\n\n\n\n 230\n\n THE SLAUGHTER OF THE LAIRD OF MELLERSTAIN\n\n In a folio volume with the title \u201cMiscellanies,\u201d the last piece in\n the volume, Abbotsford.\n\n\nBirrel\u2019s Diary has this entry under date of January 3, 1603: \u201cThe 3 of\nJanuar Johne Hai[t]lie of Millstanes slaine at the Salt Tron be Williame\nHome hes guidfather. This William of Ball[int]a wes of the hous of\nCowdenknowis.\u201d P. 57. In a proclamation of the Privy Council against\nreset of criminals, 20th January, 1603, the list of cases begins with\n\u201cthe reset of the persons who lately most shamefully and barbarously\nslew the Laird of Mellestanes.\u201d Register, VI, 525 f. There is nothing to\nshow that these persons were ever brought to justice, and the efforts\nmade by the public authorities to stop hostilities between the families\nconcerned were, as usual, not readily successful. April 28, 1608, the\nparties to the \u201cfeud between James Haitlie, now of Mellirstanes [son of\nJohn], and Mr James Home of Eccles, on account of the slaughter of John\nHaitlie of Mellirstanes,\u201d are ordered to appear before the Council on\nthe 12th of May following, to be reconciled and to chop hands together.\nRegister, VIII, 81 f.\n\nAn entry of the 4th of December, 1599, censures Sir George Home, sheriff\nof Berwick, for not proceeding against \u201cWilliam Home, younger, called of\nColdenknowis and now of Ballinta, who slew within the said shire Mr\nAlexander Dicksoun,\u201d and was denounced therefor 29th December, 1596.\nThis William we may presume to have been the undegenerate son of the\nWilliam whom Birrel calls Mellerstain\u2019s \u201cguidfather.\u201d Register, VI, 57.\n\nThe lady of st. 1 was Marion Lumsden (otherwise Mariot, Margaret), \u201cLady\nMellirstanes,\u201d \u201crelicta Joannis Haitlie de Mellerstanes.\u201d Register P.\nC., VIII, 101; 366, Register of the Great Seal, VI, 722. Mellerstain\nstands on a rising ground near the right bank of the Eden, 1^2.\nCowdenknows in 3^1 may have been Sir John Home of Cowdenknows, named as\none of the curators of James Haitlie (a minor in 1607). Earlstoun is not\ndeterminate. Bemerside is an alternative reading for Earlstoun. The\nlaird of Bemerside at the date of the slaughter was the turbulent James\nHaig. The lady in st. 4 is looking in several directions for the arrival\nof her husband\u2019s body. (I have not found Fieldiesha and Yirdandstane.)\nThe Salt Tron is a locality of much note in the history of Edinburgh:\nsee Wilson\u2019s Memorials, p. 249.\n\nThis fragment appears to have come into Sir Walter Scott\u2019s hands through\nMr W. Yellowlees, who filled out two of the defective stanzas, and\nappended some remarks under the date of 29th October, 1828.[129]\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1\n . . . . . . .\n As they came in by the Eden side,\n They heard a lady lamenting sair,\n Bewailing the time she was a bride.\n\n 2\n . . . . . . .\n A stately youth of blude and lane,\n . . . . . . .\n John Hately, the laird of Mellerstain.\n\n 3\n \u2018Cowdenknows, had ye nae lack?\n And Earlstoun, had ye nae shame?\n Ye took him away beside my back,\n But ye never saw to bring him hame.\u2019\n\n 4\n And she has lookit to Fieldiesha,\n So has she through Yirdandstane;\n She lookit to Earlstoun, and she saw the Fans,\n But he\u2019s coming hame by West Gordon.\n\n 5\n And she staggerd and she stood,\n\n 6\n \u2019 . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . . wude;\n How can I keep in my wits,\n When I look on my husband\u2019s blood?\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018Had we been men as we are women,\n And been at his back when he was slain,\n It should a been tauld for mony a lang year,\n The slaughter o the laird of Mellerstain.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n 2^4 [James/John]Hately\n\n 3^2 [Earlstoun/Bemerside] had.\n\n _Between 3 and 4 are two half stanzas which belong to_ \u2018James\n Hatley,\u2019 No. 241, _and are there given_.\n\n 4^1. Fieldies ha.\n\n 4^2. yird and stane.\n\n\n\n\n 231\n\n THE EARL OF ERROL\n\n #A. a.# \u2018Kate Carnegie,\u2019 Campbell MSS, II, 94. #b.# The Edinburgh\n Magazine, or Literary Miscellany, June, 1803, p. 458.\n\n #B.# Skene MS., p. 113.\n\n #C.# \u2018The Countess of Erroll,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of\n Scotland, II, 176.\n\n #D. a.# \u2018Lord and Lady Errol,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s Gleanings, p. 158. #b.#\n \u2018Errol\u2019s Place,\u2019 Maidment\u2019s North Countrie Garland, p. 31. #c.#\n \u2018Earl of Errol,\u2019 Kinloch\u2019s Ballad Book, p. 31.\n\n #E.# Letters from and to Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, edited by\n Alexander Allardyce, I, 180; Sharpe\u2019s Ballad Book, p. 89, No. 31.\n\n #F.# \u2018The Earl of Erroll,\u2019 Kinloch MSS, III, 133.\n\n\nSir Gilbert Hay, tenth Earl of Errol, was married to Lady Catherine\nCarnegy, younger daughter of James, second Earl of Southesk, January 7,\n1658, and had no children by her. He died in 1674. The ballad, says the\nperson who communicated #A b# to the Edinburgh Miscellany, was \u201cfounded,\nit would seem, on some attempt to withhold from the Earl of Errol his\nconsort\u2019s portion.\u201d It will be observed that the father proposes a\nbeguiling to his daughter, and that she is ready to assent, in #A#, 12,\n13.\n\nIt appears from a letter cited by Sharpe in his Ballad Book that the\nmatters treated in the ballad were agitating, and had even \u201ccome to\npublic hearing,\u201d in February, 1659.\n\nSir John Hay of Killour, as the nearest male heir, became the eleventh\nEarl of Errol. His wife was Lady Anne Drummond, only daughter of James,\nthird Earl of Perth, so that the Earl of Perth might seem to have an\ninterest in this affair of Errol\u2019s. She, however, was not born till\nJanuary, 1656. Perth is actually made the other party in legal\nproceedings in #A a# 1, but in #A b# seems to espouse Errol\u2019s side.\n\nCarnegy\u2019s other daughter, who in most of the versions censures her\nsister\u2019s conduct, is called Jean in #A# 5, #D a# 7, #F# 10, Anne in #D b\nc#. These are stock ballad-names, and we need not suppose that Anne\ncomes from Lady Anne Drummond. The older daughter\u2019s name was Elizabeth.\n\nErrol is in the Carse of Gowrie, a tract noted for its fertility; which\naccounts for #B# 2, #D a# 1, #D c# 1, #F# 2.\n\n#E#, #F# go the length of imputing to Lady Errol an attempt to poison\nher husband with wine which she offers him. A page, of Errol\u2019s kin,\nexposes her in #E#; in #F# Errol gives the drink to a greyhound, and the\ndog bursts.\n\nThe last stanza of #A b#, #C#, #D c# has reference to \u201cthe ancient\nseparate maintenance of a lady dissatisfied with or apart from her\nhusband.\u201d (Edinburgh Magazine, as above.)\n\n#E# is introduced in Sharpe\u2019s letter by some pages of mild pleasantry in\nthe form of a preface to \u201ca specimen of the fourth volume of the Border\nMinstrelsy, speedily to be published.\u201d\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n #a.# Campbell MSS., II, 94. #b.# The Edinburgh Magazine, or Literary\n Miscellany, June, 1803, p. 458.\n\n 1\n There was a jury sat at Perth,\n In the merry month of May,\n Betwixt the noble Duke of Perth\n But and Sir Gilbert Hay.\n\n 2\n My lord Kingside has two daughters,\n They are proper, straight and tall;\n But my lord Carnegie he has two\n That far excells them all.\n\n 3\n Then Errol he has dressd him,\n As very well he could;\n I\u2019m sure there was not one cloth-yard\n But what was trimmd with gold.\n\n 4\n \u2018Ane asking, ane asking, my lord Carnegie,\n Ane asking I\u2019ve to thee;\n I\u2019m come to court your daughter Jean,\n My wedded wife to be.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018My daughter Jean was wed yestreen,\n To one of high degree,\n But where Jean got one guinea of gold\n With Kate I\u2019ll give thee three.\n\n 6\n \u2018Full fifteen hundred pounds\n Had Jean Carnegie,\n But three fifteen hundred pounds\n With Kate I\u2019ll gie to thee.\u2019\n\n 7\n Then Errol he has wed her,\n And fairly brought her hame;\n There was nae peace between them twa\n Till they sundered oer again.\n\n 8\n When bells were rung, and mess was sung,\n And a\u2019 man bound to bed,\n The Earl of Errol and his countess\n In one chamber was laid.\n\n 9\n Early in the morning\n My lord Carnegie rose,\n The Earl of Errol and his countess,\n And they\u2019ve put on their clothes.\n\n 10\n Up spake my lord Carnegie;\n \u2018Kate, is your toucher won?\u2019\n \u2018Ye may ask the Earl of Errol,\n If he be your good-son.\n\n 11\n \u2018What need I wash my petticoat\n And hing it on a pin?\n For I am as leal a maid yet\n As yestreen when I lay down.\n\n 12\n \u2018What need I wash my apron\n And hing it on the door?\n It\u2019s baith side and wide enough,\n Hangs even down before.\u2019\n\n 13\n Up spake my lord Carnegie;\n \u2018O Kate, what do ye think ?\n We\u2019ll beguile the Earl of Errol\n As lang as he\u2019s in drink.\u2019\n\n 14\n \u2018O what will ye beguile him wi?\n Or what will ye do than?\n I\u2019ll swear before a justice-court\n That he\u2019s no a sufficient man.\u2019\n\n 15\n Then Errol he cam down the stair,\n As bold as oney rae:\n \u2018Go saddle to me my Irish coach,\n To Edinbro I\u2019ll go.\u2019\n\n 16\n When he came to Edinbro,\n He lighted on the green;\n There were four-and-twenty maidens\n A\u2019 dancing in a ring.\n\n 17\n There were four-and-twenty maidens\n A\u2019 dancing in a row;\n The fatest and the fairest\n To bed wi him must go.\n\n 18\n He\u2019s taen his Peggy by the hand,\n And he led her thro the green,\n And twenty times he kissd her there,\n Before his ain wife\u2019s een.\n\n 19\n He\u2019s taen his Peggy by the hand,\n And he\u2019s led her thro the hall,\n And twenty times he\u2019s kissd her there,\n Before his nobles all.\n\n 20\n \u2018Look up, look up, my Peggy lass,\n Look up, and think nae shame;\n Ten hundred pounds I\u2019ll gie to you\n To bear to me a son.\u2019\n\n 21\n He\u2019s keepit his Peggy in his room\n Three quarter of a year,\n And just at the nine months\u2019 end\n She a son to him did bear.\n\n 22\n \u2018Now if ye be Kate Carnegie,\n And I Sir Gilbert Hay,\n I\u2019ll make your father sell his lands\n Your toucher for to pay.\u2019\n\n 23\n \u2018To make my father sell his lands,\n It wad be a great sin,\n To toucher oney John Sheephead\n That canna toucher win.\u2019\n\n 24\n \u2018Now hold your tongue, ye whorish bitch,\n Sae loud as I hear ye lie!\n For yonder sits Lord Errol\u2019s son,\n Upon his mother\u2019s knee;\n For yonder sits Lord Errol\u2019s son,\n Altho he\u2019s no by thee.\u2019\n\n 25\n \u2018You may take hame your daughter Kate,\n And set her on the glen;\n For Errol canna please her,\n Nor nane o Errol\u2019s men;\n For Errol canna please her,\n Nor twenty of his men.\u2019\n\n 26\n The ranting and the roving,\n The thing we a\u2019 do ken,\n The lady lost her right that night,\n The first night she lay down;\n And the thing we ca the ranting o\u2019t,\n The lady lies her lane.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n Skene MS., p. 113; taken down from recitation in the north of\n Scotland, 1802\u20133.\n\n 1\n Earell is a bonny place,\n It stands upon yon plain;\n The greatest faut about the place\n Earell\u2019s no a man.\n What ye ca the danting o\u2019t,\n According as ye ken,\n For the pearting...\n Lady Earell lyes her lane.\n\n 2\n Earell is a bonny place,\n It stands upon yon plain;\n The roses they graw red an white,\n An apples they graw green.\n\n 3\n \u2018What need I my apron wash\n An hing upon yon pin?\n For lang will I gae out an in\n Or I hear my bairnie\u2019s din.\n\n 4\n \u2018What need I my apron wash\n An hing upo yon door?\n For side and wide is my petticoat,\n An even down afore.\n\n 5\n \u2018But I will lace my stays again,\n My middle jimp an sma;\n I\u2019l gae a\u2019 my days a maiden.\n [Awa], Earell, awa!\u2019\n\n 6\n It fell ance upon a day Lord Earell\n Went to hunt him lane,\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n 7\n He was na a mile fra the town,\n Nor yet sae far awa,\n Till his lady is on to Edinburgh,\n To try hir all the law.\n\n 8\n Little did Lord Earell think,\n Whan he sat down to dine,\n That his lady was on to Edinburgh,\n Nor what was in her mind.\n\n 9\n Till his best servant came\n For to lat him ken\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n 10\n She was na in at the toun-end,\n Nor yet sae far awa,\n Till Earell was at her back,\n His gaudy locks to sha.\n\n 11\n She was na in at the loan-head,\n Nor just at the end,\n Till Earell he was at her back,\n Her errand for to ken.\n\n 12\n \u2018As lang as they ca ye Kate Carnegie,\n An me Sir Gilbert Hay,\n I\u2019s gar yer father sell Kinaird,\n Yer tocher for to pay.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018For to gar my father sell Kinnaird,\n It wad be a sin,\n To gee it to ony naughty knight\n That a tocher canna win.\u2019\n\n 14\n Out spak the first lord,\n The best amang them a\u2019;\n \u2018I never seed a lady come\n Wi sick matters to the law.\u2019\n\n 15\n Out spak the neest lord,\n The best o the town;\n \u2018Ye get fifteen well-fared maids,\n An put them in a roun,\n An Earell in the midst o them,\n An lat him chuse out ane.\u2019\n\n 16\n They ha gotten fifteen well-fared maids,\n An pit them in a roun,\n An Earell in the mids o them,\n An bad him chuse out ane.\n\n 17\n He viewed them a\u2019 intill a raw,\n Even up an down,\n An he has chosen a well-fared may,\n An Meggie was her name.\n\n 18\n He took her by the hand,\n Afore the nobles a\u2019,\n An twenty times he kissed her mou,\n An led her thro the ha.\n\n 19\n \u2018Look up, Megie, look up, Megie,\n [Look up,] an think na shame;\n As lang as ye see my gaudy locks,\n Lady Earell\u2019s be yer name.\u2019\n\n 20\n There were fifteen noblemen,\n An as mony ladies gay,\n To see Earell proven a man\n . . . . . . .\n\n 21\n \u2018Ye tak this well-fared may,\n And keep her three roun raiths o a year,\n An even at the three raiths\u2019 end\n I sall draw near.\u2019\n\n 22\n They hae taen that well-fared may,\n An keepd her three roun raiths o a year,\n And even at the three raiths\u2019 end\n Earell\u2019s son she bare.\n\n 23\n The gentlemen they ga a shout,\n The ladies ga a caa,\n Fair mat fa him Earell!\n But ran to his lady.\n\n 24\n He was na in at the town-head,\n Nor just at the end,\n Till the letters they were waiting him\n That Earell had a son.\n\n 25\n \u2018Look up, Meggie, look up, Meggie,\n [Look up,] an think na shame;\n As lang as ye see my bra black hat,\n Lady Earell\u2019s be yer name.\n\n 26\n \u2018I will gie my Meggie a mill,\n But an a piece o land,\n . . . . . . .\n To foster my young son.\n\n 27\n \u2018Faur is a\u2019 my merry men a\u2019,\n That I pay meat an gaire,\n To convey my Meggy hame,\n . . . . . . .?\u2019\n\n 28\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n Even in Lord Earell\u2019s coach\n They conveyed the lassie hame.\n\n 29\n \u2018Take hame yer daughter, Lord Kinnaird,\n An take her to the glen,\n For Earell canna pleas her,\n Earell nor a\u2019 his men.\u2019\n\n 30\n \u2018Had I ben Lady Earell,\n Of sic a bonny place,\n I wad na gaen to Edinburgh\n My husband to disgrace.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n C\n\n Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 176.\n\n 1\n Erroll it\u2019s a bonny place,\n It stands upon a plain;\n A bad report this ladie\u2019s raisd,\n That Erroll is nae a man.\n\n 2\n But it fell ance upon a day\n Lord Erroll went frae hame,\n And he is on to the hunting gane,\n Single man alane.\n\n 3\n But he hadna been frae the town\n A mile but barely twa,\n Till his lady is on to Edinburgh,\n To gain him at the law.\n\n 4\n O Erroll he kent little o that\n Till he sat down to dine,\n And as he was at dinner set\n His servant loot him ken.\n\n 5\n \u2018Now saddle to me the black, the black,\n Go saddle to me the brown,\n And I will on to Edinburgh,\n Her errands there to ken.\u2019\n\n 6\n She wasna well thro Aberdeen,\n Nor passd the well o Spa,\n Till Erroll he was after her,\n The verity to shaw.\n\n 7\n She wasna well in Edinburgh,\n Nor even thro the town,\n Till Erroll he was after her,\n Her errands there to ken.\n\n 8\n When he came to the court-house,\n And lighted on the green,\n This lord was there in time enough\n To hear her thus compleen:\n\n 9\n \u2018What needs me wash my apron,\n Or drie \u2018t upon a door?\n What needs I eek my petticoat,\n Hings even down afore?\n\n 10\n \u2018What needs me wash my apron,\n Or hing it upon a pin?\n For lang will I gang but and ben\n Or I hear my young son\u2019s din.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018They ca you Kate Carnegie,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018And my name\u2019s Gilbert Hay;\n I\u2019ll gar your father sell his land,\n Your tocher down to pay.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018To gar my father sell his land\n For that would be a sin,\n To such a noughtless heir as you,\n That canno get a son.\u2019\n\n 13\n Then out it speaks him Lord Brechen,\n The best an lord ava;\n \u2018I never saw a lady come\n Wi sic matters to the law.\u2019\n\n 14\n Then out it speaks another lord,\n The best in a\u2019 the town;\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll wyle out fifeteen maidens bright\n Before Lord Erroll come:\u2019\n And he has chosen a tapster lass,\n And Meggie was her name.\n\n 15\n They kept up this fair maiden\n Three quarters of a year,\n And then at that three quarters\u2019 end\n A young son she did bear.\n\n 16\n They hae gien to Meggie then\n Five ploughs but and a mill,\n And they hae gien her five hundred pounds,\n For to bring up her chill.\n\n 17\n There was no lord in Edinburgh\n But to Meggie gae a ring;\n And there was na a boy in a\u2019 the town\n But on Katie had a sang.\n\n 18\n \u2018Kinnaird, take hame your daughter,\n And set her to the glen,\n For Erroll canna pleasure her,\n Nor nane o Erroll\u2019s men.\u2019\n\n 19\n Seven years on Erroll\u2019s table\n There stand clean dish and speen,\n And every day the bell is rung,\n Cries, Lady, come and dine.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n D\n\n #a.# Buchan\u2019s Gleanings, p. 158. #b.# Maidment\u2019s North Countrie\n Garland, p. 31. #c.# Kinloch\u2019s Ballad Book, p. 31.\n\n 1\n O Errol\u2019s place is a bonny place,\n It stands upon yon plain;\n The flowers on it grow red and white,\n The apples red and green.\n The ranting o \u2018t and the danting o \u2018t,\n According as ye ken,\n The thing they ca the danting o \u2018t,\n Lady Errol lies her lane.\n\n 2\n O Errol\u2019s place is a bonny place,\n It stands upon yon plain;\n But what\u2019s the use of Errol\u2019s place?\n He\u2019s no like other men.\n\n 3\n \u2018As I cam in by yon canal,\n And by yon bowling-green,\n I might hae pleased the best Carnegy\n That ever bore that name.\n\n 4\n \u2018As sure\u2019s your name is Kate Carnegy,\n And mine is Gibbie Hay,\n I\u2019ll gar your father sell his land,\n Your tocher for to pay.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018To gar my father sell his land,\n Would it not be a sin,\n To give it to a naughtless lord\n That couldna get a son?\u2019\n\n 6\n Now she is on to Edinburgh,\n For to try the law,\n And Errol he has followed her,\n His manhood for to shaw.\n\n 7\n Then out it spake her sister,\n Whose name was Lady Jane;\n \u2018Had I been Lady Errol,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018Or come of sic a clan,\n I would not in this public way\n Have sham\u2019d my own gudeman.\u2019\n\n 8\n But Errol got it in his will\n To choice a maid himsel,\n And he has taen a country-girl,\n Came in her milk to sell.\n\n 9\n He took her by the milk-white hand,\n And led her up the green,\n And twenty times he kissd her there,\n Before his lady\u2019s een.\n\n 10\n He took her by the milk-white hand,\n And led her up the stair;\n Says, Thrice three hundred pounds I\u2019ll gie\n To you to bear an heir.\n\n 11\n He kept her there into a room\n Three quarters of a year,\n And when the three quarters were out\n A braw young son she bear.\n\n 12\n \u2018Tak hame your daughter, Carnegy,\n And put her till a man,\n For Errol he cannot please her,\n Nor any of his men.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n E\n\n C. K. Sharpe\u2019s Letters, ed. Allardyce, I, 180 ff; written down from\n the recitation of Violet Roddick, a woman living near Hoddam Castle,\n 1803. Sharpe\u2019s Ballad Book, 1823, p. 89.\n\n 1\n O Errol it\u2019s a bonny place,\n It stands in yonder glen;\n The lady lost the rights of it\n The first night she gaed hame.\n A waly and a waly!\n According as ye ken,\n The thing we ca the ranting o \u2018t,\n Our lady lies her lane, O.\n\n 2\n \u2018What need I wash my apron,\n Or hing it on yon door?\n What need I truce my petticoat?\n It hangs even down before.\u2019\n\n 3\n Errol\u2019s up to Edinburgh gaen,\n That bonny burrows-town;\n He has chusit the barber\u2019s daughter,\n The top of a\u2019 that town.\n\n 4\n He has taen her by the milk-white hand,\n He has led her through the room,\n And twenty times he\u2019s kisst her,\n Before his lady\u2019s een.\n\n 5\n \u2018Look up, look up now, Peggy,\n Look up, and think nae shame,\n For I\u2019ll gie thee five hundred pound,\n To buy to thee a gown.\n\n 6\n \u2018Look up, look up, now, Peggy,\n Look up, and think nae shame,\n For I\u2019ll gie thee five hundred pound\n To bear to me a son.\n\n 7\n \u2018As thou was Kate Carnegie,\n And I Sir Gilbert Hay,\n I\u2019ll gar your father sell his lands,\n Your tocher-gude to pay.\n\n 8\n \u2018Now he may take her back again,\n Do wi her what he can,\n For Errol canna please her,\n Nor ane o a\u2019 his men.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018Go fetch to me a pint of wine,\n Go fill it to the brim,\n That I may drink my gude lord\u2019s health,\n Tho Errol be his name.\u2019\n\n 10\n She has taen the glass into her hand,\n She has putten poison in,\n She has signd it to her dorty lips,\n But neer a drop went in.\n\n 11\n Up then spake a little page,\n He was o Errol\u2019s kin;\n \u2018Now fie upon ye, lady gay,\n There\u2019s poison there within.\n\n 12\n \u2018It\u2019s hold your hand now, Kate,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018Hold it back again,\n For Errol winna drink on \u2018t,\n Nor none o a\u2019 his men.\u2019\n\n 13\n She has taen the sheets into her arms,\n She has thrown them oer the wa:\n \u2018Since I maun gae maiden hame again,\n Awa, Errol, awa!\u2019\n\n 14\n She\u2019s down the back o the garden,\n And O as she did murne!\n \u2018How can a workman crave his wage,\n When he never wrought a turn?\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n F\n\n Kinloch MSS, III, 133.\n\n 1\n O Errol is a bonny place,\n And stands upon yon plane,\n But the lady lost the rights o it\n Yestreen or she came hame.\n\n 2\n O Erroll is a bonny place,\n And lyes forenent the sun,\n And the apples they grow red and white,\n And peers o bonny green.\n\n 3\n \u2018I nedna wash my apron,\n Nor hing it on the door;\n But I may tuck my petticoat,\n Hangs even down before.\n\n 4\n \u2018Oh, Erroll, Erroll,\n Oh, Erroll if ye ken,\n Why sh_oul_d I love Erroll,\n Or any of his men?\u2019\n\n 5\n She\u2019s turned her right and round about,\n Poured out a glass o wine;\n Says, I will drink to my true love,\n He\u2019ll drink to me again.\n\n 6\n O Erroll stud into the fleer,\n He was an angry man:\n \u2018See here it is a good gray-hun,\n We\u2019ll try what is the run.\u2019\n\n 7\n Then Erroll stud into the fleer,\n Steered neither ee nor bree,\n Till that he saw his good gray-hun\n Was burst and going free.\n\n 8\n \u2018But ye are Kate Carnegie,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018And I am Sir Gilbert Hay;\n I\u2019se gar your father sell Kinnaird,\n Your tocher-good to pay.\u2019\n\n 9\n Now she is on to Edinburgh,\n A\u2019 for to use the law,\n And brave Erroll has followed her,\n His yellow locks to sheu.\n\n 10\n Out and spak her sister Jean,\n And an angry woman was she;\n \u2018If I were lady of Erroll,\n And hed as fair a face,\n I w_oul_d no go to Edinburgh,\n My good lord to disgrace.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A. a.#\n\n 23^4. toucher one.\n\n 26. _May have been a burden._\n\n#b.#\n\n Ballad of Gilbert, Earl of Errol, and Lady Catherine Carnegie\n\n . . . . . . .\n\n 13\n Up spake Lord Carnegie,\n \u2019 O Kate, what do you think?\n We\u2019ll beguile the Earl of Errol,\n As long as he\u2019s in drink.\u2019\n\n 14\n \u2018O what need you beguile him?\n Or what would you do than?\n For I can easy vow and testify\n Lord Errol\u2019s not a man.\n\n 12\n \u2018You need not wash my petticoat\n And hang it at the door;\n For it\u2019s baith side and wide enough,\n And hangs even down before.\n\n 11\n \u2018You need not wash my apron\n And hang it on a pin;\n For I\u2019m as leil a maiden\n As first when I went in.\u2019\n\n 15\n Down came the Earl of Errol,\n As swift as any roe:\n \u2018Come harness me my Irish coach,\n To Edinburgh I go.\u2019\n\n 16\n And when he came to Edinburgh,\n A ganging through the green,\n Full four-and-twenty maidens\n A\u2019 dancing there were seen.\n\n 17\n And there were fifteen maidens\n All dancing in a row,\n And the fairest and the fattest\n To prove that she must go.\n\n 18\n He\u2019s taen his Peggy by the hand,\n And led her through the green,\n And twenty times he\u2019s kissed her,\n Before his lady\u2019s een.\n\n 19\n He\u2019s taen his Peggy by the hand,\n And led her through the hall,\n And twenty times he\u2019s kissed her,\n Before the nobles all.\n\n He\u2019s taen his Peggy by the hand,\n And led her to a room,\n And gave her a cup of claret wine,\n And syne a bed of down.\n\n\n 20^{1,2}\n \u2018Stand up, stand up, my Peggy,\n Stand up, and think na shame,\n Na hide your face within your hand,\n On me be all the blame.\n\n \u2018For you shall have a thousand pounds\n As soon as it is won,\n 20^{3,4}\n And you shall have ten thousand pounds\n If you bear to me a son.\u2019\n\n 21\n He kept his Peggy in a room\n Full nine months and a day,\n And at the very nine months\u2019 end\n She bore a son so gay.\n\n As they were all at dinner sat,\n And merrily went the can,\n Up spake the noble Earl of Perth,\n \u2018Kate, what ails you at your man?\u2019\n\n \u2018Oh, all the lands and earldom\n Are now to ruin gone,\n For I can easy vow and testify\n He\u2019ll never get a son.\u2019\n\n 24^{1\u20134}\n \u2018Ye lie, ye lie, you filthy jade,\n So loud I hear you lie!\n For there sits Lord Errol\u2019s son,\n Upon his mither\u2019s knee.\u2019\n\n 22\n \u2018As you are Kate Carnegie\n And I Sir Gilbert Hay,\n I\u2019ll gar your father sell his land\n Your tocher for to pay.\u2019\n\n 23\n \u2018To gar my father sell his land\n I\u2019m sure would be a sin,\n For to tocher any John Sheephead\n Who could neer a tocher win.\u2019\n\n 25^{1\u20134}\n \u2018You may take hame your daughter Kate,\n And set her in a glen,\n For Lord Errol cannot please her,\n Nor none of Errol\u2019s men.\n\n \u2018You may provide a knife and fork,\n A trencher and a spoon,\n A little boy to call her,\n Come to your dinner, dame;\n A little boy to call her\n Till seven years are done.\u2019\n\n#B.#\n\n _Written in long lines, without division into stanzas; carelessly\n and in a bad hand, like other transcripts by Skene. The frequent\n gaps (of which only one is indicated, 5^4) make the division\n here adopted doubtful in some cases._\n\n _The burden is given at the end only, and is badly corrupted._ 1.\n the Darton all. 3. Pearting?\n\n 7^4. hir all. _Corrupted?_ hir, _or_ him, at?\n\n 10^1. tour end: _see_ 24^{1\u20132}.\n\n 15^3, 16^3. Earl.\n\n 20^2. gay ladies.\n\n 23^4. _Corrupted? some malediction on the lady?_\n\n 27^2. gaire is, _I suppose_, gear.\n\n#D.# #b.#\n\n _Burden._\n 1. The wally o \u2018t, the wally o \u2018t.\n 3. the ranting o \u2018t.\n 4. Our lady lies alane.\n\n 1^3. at it.\n\n 3^1. It\u2019s I.\n\n 4^1. As sure as you\u2019re Jean.\n\n 4^2. And I am.\n\n 4^3. I\u2019ll cause.\n\n 5^1. To cause.\n\n 5^2. I think would be.\n\n 5^3. give to such a rogue as you.\n\n 5^4. Who never could it win.\n\n 6^1. So he must go.\n\n 6^2. Amang the nobles a\u2019.\n\n 6^3. And there before good witnesses.\n\n 7^2. was called Miss Anne.\n\n 9^3. she says _wanting_.\n\n 8\u201312\n A servant girl there was found out,\n On whom to show his skill;\n He gave to her a hundred pounds,\n To purchase her good-will.\n\n And still he cried, Look up, Peggy,\n Look up, and think no shame,\n And you shall have your hundred pounds\n Before I lay you down.\n\n Now he has lain him down wi her,\n A hundred pounds in pawn,\n And all the noblemen cried out\n That Errol is a man.\n\n \u2018Tak hame your daughter,\u2019 Errol said,\n \u2018And tak her to a glen,\n For Errol canna pleasure her,\n Nor can no other man.\u2019\n\n#c.#\n\n _Burden._\n 1. And the.\n 3. And the thing we.\n 4. Is, Errol\u2019s na a man.\n\n 1^1, 2^1. O Errol is.\n\n 1^2. Into the simmer time.\n\n 1^3. The apples they grow.\n\n 1^4. And the pears they grow green.\n\n 3^4. bore the.\n\n 4^1. Tho your name be Dame Cathrine Carnegie.\n\n 4^2. mine Sir Gilbert.\n\n 4^3. sell Kinnaird.\n\n 4^4. tocher gude to.\n\n 5^1. If ye gar my father sell Kinnaird.\n\n 5^2. \u2018T will be a crying.\n\n 5^{3,4}. To tocher onie weary dwrf, That canna tocher win.\n\n 6^1. The lady is.\n\n 6^2. A\u2019 for.\n\n 6^4. His ainsell.\n\n 7^1. O up bespak.\n\n 7^2. Lady Ann.\n\n 7^3. she says _wanting_.\n\n _After 7, two stanzas which are clearly a spurious interpolation._\n\n 8^1. Errol has got (But _wanting_).\n\n 8^3. has chosen a weel-faurd may.\n\n 8^4. Come. _After 8_ (==10):\n\n \u2018Look up, look up, my weel-faurd may,\n Look up, and think na shame;\n I\u2019ll gie to thee five hundred merk\n To bear to me a son.\u2019\n\n 9^1. He\u2019s tane the lassie by the han.\n\n 9^3. there _wanting_.\n\n 9^4. Afore.\n\n _After 9_:\n\n When they war laid in the proof-bed,\n And a\u2019 the lords looking on,\n Then a\u2019 the fifteen vowd and swore\n That Errol was a man.\n\n 11^1. But they hae keepit this lassie.\n\n 11^3. And at the end o nine lang months.\n\n 11^4. A son to him she bare.\n\n _After 11_:\n\n And there was three thairbut, thairbut,\n And there was three thairben,\n And three looking oure the window hie,\n Crying, Errol\u2019s provd a man!\n\n And whan the word gaed thro the toun,\n The sentry gied a cry,\n \u2018O fair befa you, Errol, now!\n For ye hae won the day.\u2019\n\n \u2018O I\u2019ll tak off my robes o silk,\n And fling them oure the wa,\n And I\u2019ll gae maiden hame again,\n Awa, Errol, awa!\u2019\n\n 12^1. Sir Carnegie.\n\n 12^2. till the glen.\n\n 12^3. he _wanting_.\n\n 12^4. nane o Errol\u2019s.\n\n (_12 is found in Kinloch\u2019s MSS,_ VII, 95, _with_ Sir Carnegie\n _beginning the line._)\n\n _After 12_:\n\n And ilka day her plate was laid,\n Bot an a siller spune,\n And three times cried oure Errol\u2019s yett,\n \u2018Lady Errol, come and dine.\u2019\n\n _Kinloch gives the following as a variant. It is found in\n Kinloch\u2019s MSS_, VII, 95:\n\n Seven years the trencher sat,\n And seven years the spune;\n Seven years the servant cried,\n \u2018Lady Errol, come and dine.\u2019\n\n _Burden, at the end._ 3. ye ca. 4. Lady Errol lies her leen.\n\n#E.#\n\n _Sharpe made these changes in his Ballad Book_:\n\n 3^4. the toss.\n\n 4^2. He\u2019s led her oer the green.\n\n 4^3. he kist.\n\n 7^1. Your name is.\n\n 7^2. And I\u2019m.\n\n 12^3. shall not.\n\n#F.#\n\n 1^1, 2^1, 6^1. Oh.\n\n\n\n\n 232\n\n RICHIE STORY\n\n #A.# \u2018Ritchie Storie,\u2019 Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 426.\n\n #B.# Skene MS., p. 96.\n\n #C. a.# \u2018Richie Story,\u2019 \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border\n Minstrelsy,\u201d No 65, MS. of Thomas Wilkie, 1813\u201315, p. 53,\n Abbotsford. #b.# \u2018Ritchie\u2019s Tory Laddie,\u2019 Campbell MSS, II, 116.\n\n #D.# \u2018Richy Story,\u2019 the late Mr Robert White\u2019s papers.\n\n E. \u2018Richard Storie,\u2019 \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border\n Minstrelsy,\u201d No 76, Abbotsford.\n\n #F. a.# \u2018Richie Storie,\u2019 Sharpe\u2019s Ballad Book, 1823, p. 95. #b.#\n \u2018Richie Storrie,\u2019 Nimmo, Songs and Ballads of Clydesdale, 1882, p.\n 211.\n\n #G. a.# \u2018Richard Storry,\u2019 Kinloch MSS, I, 203. #b.# \u2018Richie Tory,\u2019\n Gibb MS., p. 77. #c.# \u2018Ritchie\u2019s Lady,\u2019 Murison MS., p. 82. #d.#\n \u2018Richie\u2019s Lady,\u2019 Christie\u2019s Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 72. #e.#\n Kinloch MSS, VII, 263, a fragment. #f.# \u2018The Earl of Winton\u2019s\n Daughter,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s MSS, I, 87.\n\n #H.# The Scots Magazine, 1803, LXV, 253, one stanza.\n\n\nThe youngest (eldest, #A#) and fairest of the daughters of the Earl of\nWigton, #A#, #F# (bonniest of his sisters, #E#), has fallen in love with\nher footman, Richie Story (Tory). Richie brings her a letter from a\nnobleman who desires to be her suitor; the Earl of Hume, #A#, #B#, #F#,\n#G a#, #d#, #e#; the Earl of Hume\u2019s son, #D#; the Earl of Aboyne, #E#;\nof Cumbernauld, #G b#; of Mohun, #G c#; of Wemyss, #G f# and a variant\nof #E#; the Earls of Hume and Skimmerjim, Skimmerham (Kimmerghame), #C#.\nThe lady has made a vow, and will keep it, to marry none but Richie.\nRichie deprecates; he has nothing to maintain her with; she is ready to\ndescend to the lowest fortune. (In several versions she has enough of\nher own. Hunten Tour and Tillebarn and the House of Athol are hers, #B#;\nMusselburgh, #C#; the House of Athol and Taranadie, #G d#;\nBlair-in-Athol and Dunkeld, #H#.) Asked by her sister, by Richie, or by\nsome one else, whether she is not sorry to have left Cumbernauld (Castle\nNorry, #G f#) to follow a footman, she answers that there is no reason,\nshe has her heart\u2019s desire and the lot that was ordained her. As she\ngoes up the Parliament close, rides through Edinburgh town, Glasgow city\n(London city, #C b#, absurdly), she is greeted by many a lord, but few\nor none of them thought she was a footman\u2019s lady. Arrived at the\ndomicile of the Storys, her good-mother bids her, gars her, kilt up her\ncoats and muck the byres with Richie.\n\n#F#, #G#, are not satisfied with this conclusion. The footman is really\na lover in disguise, the Earl of Hume or of Cumbernauld, #F#, #G a b#.\n(#G b 2# spoils the plot by making the Earl of Hume write to the lady\nthat he will be her footman-laddie.) Four-and-twenty gentlemen welcome\nthe bride at Ritchie\u2019s gates, or elsewhere, and she blesses the day that\nshe was Richie\u2019s lady. This is incontestably a later invention.\n\n#G f#, which is otherwise embellished, goes a good step beyond #G a-e#.\nRichie is an Englishman and takes the lady to London. \u2018Madam\u2019 has left\nher kindred to gang with a servant; he has \u2018left the sceptre and the\ncrown\u2019 her servant for to be; little she knew that her waiting-man was\nEngland\u2019s royal king.\n\n\u201cLillias Fleming, second daughter of John, Earl of Wigton by his wife\nJane Drummond (a daughter of the Earl of Perth), did elope with and\nmarry one of her father\u2019s servants, named Richard Storry. In 1673, she,\nwith consent of her husband, resigned her portion, consisting of the\nfive-merk land of Smythson, etc., in the barony of Lenzie, into the\nhands of her brother, Lieutenant-Colonel Fleming. The Fleming family\nafterwards procured for Richie a situation in the Custom-House.\u201d So\nHunter, Biggar and the House of Fleming, p. 555, and, in part, Douglas\u2019s\nPeerage, where, however, Lady Lillias is said to have married Richard\nStorry, \u201cEsq.:\u201d ed. Wood, II, 616.\n\nDouglas notes that \u201cJohn, third Earl of Wigton, ... had a charter of the\nlordship of Cumbernauld, 1st February, 1634.\u201d This place (Comarnad,\nCampernadie, etc., #B#, #D#, #G a#, #c#, #d#) is in Dumbartonshire. In\n#F 11# it is attributed to the young Earl of Hume, and the disguised\nlover is the Earl of Cumbernauld in #G b#.\n\nThe lady, ready for any extremity, says in #F 6# that she will lie ayont\na dyke (on the other side of a wall), in #E 6# sit below the dyke, in #D\n5# sit aneath the duke, and that she will be at Richie\u2019s command at all\ntimes. This matter was not understood by the reciter of #B#, and in #B\n7# the lady is made to say, We will go to sea, I\u2019ll sit upon the _deck_\n(and be your servant, as in the other cases). In #A# the difficulty,\nsuch as it is, seems to have been evaded, and we read, #6#, I\u2019ll live\nwhereer you please (and be ready at your call late or early).\n\nFor the relation of this ballad to \u2018Huntingtower\u2019 and \u2018The Duke of\nAthol,\u2019 see an appendix.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 426; from the recitation of Mrs \u2014\u2014, of\n Kilbarchan, January 3, 1826.\n\n 1\n The Earl of Wigton had three daughters,\n Oh and a waly, but they were unco bonnie!\n The eldest of them had the far brawest house,\n But she\u2019s fallen in love with her footman-laddie.\n\n 2\n As she was a walking doun by yon river-side,\n Oh and a wally, but she was unco bonnie!\n There she espied her own footman,\n With ribbons hanging over his shoulders sae bonnie.\n\n 3\n \u2018Here\u2019s a letter to you, madame,\n Here\u2019s a letter to you, madame;\n The Earl of Hume is waiting on,\n And he has his service to you, madame.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018I\u2019ll have none of his service,\u2019 says she,\n \u2018I\u2019ll have none of his service,\u2019 says she,\n \u2018For I\u2019ve made a vow, and I\u2019ll keep it true,\n That I\u2019ll marry none but you, Ritchie.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018O say not so again, madame,\n O say not so again, madame;\n For I have neither lands nor rents\n For to keep you on, madam.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018I\u2019ll live where eer you please, Ritchie,\n I\u2019ll live where eer you please, [Ritchie,]\n And I\u2019ll be ready at your ca\u2019,\n Either late or early, Ritchie.\u2019\n\n 7\n As they went in by Stirling toun,\n O and a wally, but she was unco bonnie!\n A\u2019 her silks were sailing on the ground,\n But few of them knew of Ritchie Story.\n\n 8\n As they went in by the Parliament Close,\n O and a wally, but she was unco bonnie!\n All the nobles took her by the hand,\n But few of them knew she was Ritchie\u2019s lady.\n\n 9\n As they came in by her goodmother\u2019s yetts,\n O and a wally, but she was unco bonnie!\n Her goodmother bade her kilt her coats,\n And muck the byre with Ritchie Storie.\n\n 10\n \u2018Oh, may not ye be sorry, madame,\n Oh, may not ye be sorry, madame,\n To leave a\u2019 your lands at bonnie Cumbernaud,\n And follow home your footman-laddie?\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018What need I be sorry?\u2019 says she,\n \u2018What need I be sorry?\u2019 says she,\n \u2018For I\u2019ve gotten my lot and my heart\u2019s desire,\n And what Providence has ordered for me.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n Skene MS., p. 96; taken down in the north of Scotland, 1802\u20133.\n\n 1\n Comarnad is a very bonny place,\n And there is ladies three, madam,\n But the fairest and rairest o them a\u2019\n Has married Richard Storry.\n\n 2\n \u2018O here is a letter to ye, madam,\n Here is a letter to ye, madam;\n The Earle of Hume, that gallant knight,\n Has fallen in love wi ye, madam.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018There is a letter to ye, madam,\n [There is a letter to ye, madam;]\n That gallant knight, the Earl of Hume,\n Desires to be yer servan true, madam.\n\n 4\n \u2018I\u2019ll hae nane o his letters, Richard,\n I\u2019ll hae nane o his letters, [Richard;]\n I hae voued, and will keep it true,\n I\u2019ll marry nane but ye, Richie.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018Say ne sae to me, lady,\n Say ne sae to me, [lady,]\n For I hae neither lands nor rents\n To mentain ye, lady.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018Hunten Tour and Tillebarn,\n The House o Athol is mine, Richie,\n An ye sal hae them a\u2019\n Whan ere ye incline, Richie.\n\n 7\n \u2018For we will gae to sea, Richie,\n I\u2019ll sit upon the deck, Richie,\n And be your servant ere and late,\n At any hour ye like, [Richie.\u2019]\n\n 8\n \u2018O manna ye be sad, sister,\n An mann ye be sae sorry,\n To leave the house o bonny Comarnad,\n An follow Richard Storry?\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018O what neads I be sad, sister,\n An how can I be sorry?\n A bonny lad is my delit,\n And my lot has been laid afore me.\u2019\n\n 10\n As she went up the Parliament Close,\n Wi her laced shoon so fine,\n Many ane bad the lady good day,\n But few thought o Richard\u2019s lady.\n\n 11\n As she gaed up the Parliament Close,\n Wi her laced shoon so fine,\n Mony ane hailed that gay lady,\n But few hailed Richard Storry.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n C\n\n #a.# \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 65, MS.\n of Thomas Wilkie, 1813\u201315, p. 53, from the singing or recitation of\n Miss Euphemia Hislope. #b.# Campbell MSS, II, 116.\n\n 1\n There are three white hens i the green, madam,\n There are three white hens i the green, madam,\n But Richie Story he\u2019s comd by,\n And he\u2019s stollen away the fairest of them.\n\n 2\n \u2018O are\u2019int ye now sad, sister,\n O are\u2019in[t] ye now sad, sister,\n To leave your bowers and your bony Skimmerknow,\n And follow the lad they call Richie Story?\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018O say not that again, sister,\n O say not that again, sister,\n For he is the lad that I love best,\n And he is the lot that has fallen to me.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018O there\u2019s a letter to thee, madam,\n O there\u2019s a letter to thee, madam;\n The Earl of Hume and Skimmerjim,\n For to be sweethearts to thee, madam.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018But I\u2019ll hae none of them, Richie,\n But I\u2019ll hae none of them, Richie,\n For I have made a vow, and I\u2019ll keep it true,\n I\u2019ll have none but Ric[h]ie Story.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018O say not that again, madam,\n O say not that again, madam,\n For the Earl of Hume and Skimmerjim,\n They are men of high renown.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018Musslebury\u2019s mine, Richie,\n Musslebury\u2019s mine, Richie,\n And a\u2019 that\u2019s mine it shall be thine,\n If you will marry me, Richie.\u2019\n\n 8\n As she went up through Glasgow city,\n Her gold watch was shining pretty;\n Many [a] lord bade her good day,\n But none thought she was a footman\u2019s lady.\n\n 9\n As she went up through London city,\n There she met her scolding minny:\n \u2018Cast off your silks and kilt your coats,\n And muck the byre wi Richie Story.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018Hold your tongue, my scolding minnie,\n Hold your tongue, my scolding minnie;\n For I\u2019ll cast of my silks and kilt my coats,\n And muck the byres wi Richie Story.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n D\n\n The late Mr Robert White\u2019s papers.\n\n 1\n As I came in by Thirlwirl Bridge,\n A coming frae the land of fair Camernadie,\n There I met my ain true love,\n Wi ribbons at her shoulders many.\n\n 2\n \u2018Here is a letter to you, madam;\n [Here is a letter to you, madam;]\n The Earl of Hume\u2019s eldest son\n Sent this letter to you, madam.\n\n 3\n \u2018I\u2019ll have none of his [letters], Richy,\n I\u2019ll have none of his letters, Richy;\n I made a vow, and I\u2019ll keep it true,\n I\u2019ll wed wi nane but you, Richy.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018Say not so again, madam,\n Say not so again, madam;\n I have neither lands nor rents\n To maintain you on, madam.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018I\u2019ll sit aneath the duke, Richy,\n I\u2019ll sit aneath the duke, Richy;\n I\u2019ll sit on hand, at your command\n At ony time ye like, Richy.\u2019\n\n 6\n As they came in by Thirlewirle bridge,\n A coming frae fair Cummernadie,\n She brak the ribbons that tied her shoon\n Wi following after the footman-laddie.\n\n 7\n \u2018O but ye be sad, sister,\n O but ye be sad and sorry,\n To leave the lands o bonnie Cummernad,\n To gang alang wi a footman-laddie!\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018How can I be sad, sister?\n How can I be sad or sorry?\n I have gotten my heart\u2019s delight;\n And what can ye get mair?\u2019 says she.\n\n 9\n To the house-end Richy brought his lady,\n To the house-end Richy brought his lady;\n Her mother-in-law gart her kilt her coats,\n And muck the byre wi Richy Story.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n E\n\n \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 76,\n Abbotsford.\n\n 1\n The Earl of Wigton has seven sisters,\n And O but they be wondrous bonnie!\n And the bonniest lass amang them a\u2019\n Has fallen in love wi Richie Storie.\n\n 2\n As I came down by yon river-side,\n And down by the banks of Eache bonnie,\n There I met my own true-love,\n Wi ribbons on her shoulders bonnie.\n\n 3\n \u2018Here is a letter for you, madam,\n Here is a letter for you, madam;\n The Earl of Aboyne has a noble design\n To be a suitor to you, madam.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018I\u2019ll hae nane of his letters, Richie,\n I\u2019ll hae nane of his letters, Richie,\n For I\u2019ve made a vow, and I\u2019ll keep it true,\n That I\u2019ll hae nane but you, Richie.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018Take your word again, madam,\n Take your word again, madam,\n For I have neither land nor rents\n For to mentain you on, madam.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018I\u2019ll sit below the dyke, Richie,\n I\u2019ll sit below the dyke, Richie,\n And I will be at your command\n At ony time you like, Richie.\n\n 7\n \u2018Ribbons you shall wear, Richie,\n Ribbons you shall wear, Richie,\n A cambric band about your neck,\n And vow but ye\u2019ll be braw, Richie!\u2019\n\n 8\n As they came in by the West Port,\n The naps of gold were bobbing bonnie;\n Many a one bade this lady gude-day,\n But neer a one to Richie Storie.\n\n 9\n As they came up the Parliament Close,\n Naps of gold were bobbing bonnie;\n Many a gentleman lifted his cap,\n But few kennd she was Richie\u2019s lady.\n\n 10\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n And ay methinks we\u2019ll drink the night\n In Cambernauld sae bonnie.\n\n 11\n \u2018It\u2019s are not you sick, sister,\n Are not you very sorrie,\n To leave the lands of bonnie Cambernauld,\n And run awae wi Richie Storie?\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018Why should I be sick, sister,\n O why should I be any sorrie,\n When I hae gotten my heart\u2019s delight?\n I hae gotten the lot was laid afore me.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n F\n\n #a.# Sharpe\u2019s Ballad Book, p. 95, 1823. #b#. Nimmo, Songs and\n Ballads of Clydesdale, p. 211, 1882.\n\n 1\n The Erle o Wigton had three daughters,\n O braw wallie, but they were bonnie!\n The youngest o them, and the bonniest too,\n Has fallen in love wi Richie Storie.\n\n 2\n \u2018Here\u2019s a letter for ye, madame,\n Here\u2019s a letter for ye, madame;\n The Erle o Home wad fain presume\n To be a suitor to ye, madame.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018I\u2019l hae nane o your letters, Richie;\n I\u2019l hae nane o your letters, Richie;\n For I\u2019ve made a vow, and I\u2019ll keep it true,\n That I\u2019l have none but you, Richie.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018O do not say so, madame;\n O do not say so, madame;\n For I have neither land nor rent,\n For to maintain you o, madame.\n\n 5\n \u2018Ribands ye maun wear, madame,\n Ribands ye maun wear, madame;\n With the bands about your neck\n O the goud that shines sae clear, madame.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018I\u2019l lie ayont a dyke, Richie,\n I\u2019l lie ayont a dyke, Richie;\n And I\u2019l be aye at your command\n And bidding, whan ye like, Richie.\u2019\n\n 7\n O he\u2019s gane on the braid, braid road,\n And she\u2019s gane through the broom sae bonnie,\n Her silken robes down to her heels,\n And she\u2019s awa wi Richie Storie.\n\n 8\n This lady gade up the Parliament stair,\n Wi pendles in her lugs sae bonnie;\n Mony a lord lifted his hat,\n But little did they ken she was Richie\u2019s lady.\n\n 9\n Up then spak the Erle o Home\u2019s lady;\n \u2018Was na ye richt sorrie, Annie,\n To leave the lands o bonnie Cumbernauld\n And follow Richie Storie, Annie?\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018O what need I be sorrie, madame?\n O what need I be sorrie, madame?\n For I\u2019ve got them that I like best,\n And war ordained for me, madame.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018Cumbernauld is mine, Annie,\n Cumbernauld is mine, Annie;\n And a\u2019 that\u2019s mine, it shall be thine,\n As we sit at the wine, Annie.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n G\n\n #a.# Kinloch MSS, I, 203, from Alexander Kinnear, of Stonehaven.\n #b.# Gibb MS., p. 77, from Mrs Gibb, senior. #c.# Murison MS., p.\n 82. #d#. Christie\u2019s Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 72, from the\n recitation of a native of Buchan. #e.# Kinloch MSS, VII, 263 (a\n fragment). #f.# Buchan\u2019s MSS, I, 87.\n\n 1\n There were five ladies lived in a bouer,\n Lived in a bouer at Cumbernaldie;\n The fairest and youngest o them a\u2019\n Has fa\u2019n in love wi her footman-laddie.\n\n 2\n \u2018Here is a letter to you, ladye,\n Here is a letter to you, ladye;\n The Earl o Hume has written doun\n That he will be your footman-laddie.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018I want nane o his service, Ritchie,\n I want nane o his service, Ritchie;\n For I\u2019ve made a vow, and I\u2019ll keep it true,\n That I\u2019ll wed nane but thee, Ritchie.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018O that canna be, ladye,\n O that canna be, ladye;\n For I\u2019ve neither house nor land,\n Nor ought suiting ye, ladye.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018Livd ye on yonder hill, Ritchie,\n Livd ye on yonder hill, Ritchie,\n There\u2019s my hand, I\u2019m at your command,\n Marry me whan ye will, Ritchie!\u2019\n\n 6\n This boy he went to his bed,\n It was a\u2019 to try this fair ladye;\n But she went up the stair to him:\n \u2018Ye maun leave your comrades, Ritchie.\n\n 7\n \u2018To the Borders we maun gang, Ritchie,\n To the Borders we maun gang, Ritchie,\n For an my auld father he get word,\n It\u2019s you he will cause hang, Ritchie.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018To the Borders we\u2019ll na gang, ladye,\n To the Borders we\u2019ll na gang, ladye;\n For altho your auld father got word,\n It\u2019s me he dare na hang, ladye.\u2019\n\n 9\n As they passed by her mither\u2019s bouer,\n O but her sisters they were sorry!\n They bade her tak aff the robes o silk,\n And muck the byres wi Ritchie Storry.\n\n 10\n Whan they cam to yon hie hill,\n Dear vow, but the lady she was sorry!\n She looked oure her left showther\u2014\n \u2018O an I war in bonny Cumbernaldie!\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018O are na ye sorry now, ladye,\n O are na ye sorry now, ladye,\n For to forsake the Earl o Hume,\n And follow me, your footman-laddie?\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018How could I be sorry, Ritchie,\n How could I be sorry, Ritchie?\n Such a gudely man as you,\n And the lot that lies afore me, Ritchie.\u2019\n\n 13\n As they rode up through Edinburgh toun,\n Her gowd watch hang doun sae gaudie;\n Monie a lord made her a bow,\n But nane o them thoucht she was Ritchie\u2019s ladye.\n\n 14\n Whan they cam to Ritchie\u2019s yetts,\n Dear vow, but the music playd bonnie!\n There were four-and-twenty gay ladies\n To welcome hame Richard Storry\u2019s ladye.\n\n 15\n He called for a priest wi speed,\n A priest wi speed was soon ready,\n And she was na married to the Earl of Hume,\n But she blesses the day she got Richard Storry.\n\n 16\n A coach and six they did prepare,\n A coach and six they did mak ready,\n A coach and six they did prepare,\n And she blesses the day made her Ritchie\u2019s lady.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n H\n\n The Scots Magazine, LXV, 253, 1803, James Hogg.\n\n Blair-in-Athol\u2019s mine, Ritchie,\n Blair-in-Athol\u2019s mine, Ritchie,\n And bonny Dunkeld, where I do dwell,\n And these shall a\u2019 be thine, Ritchie.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A.#\n\n 5^1. Oh.\n\n 7^4. Ritchie\u2019s story.\n\n#B.#\n\n 7^4. ye lake, _or_ take.\n\n 8^2. manna ye be sorry?\n\n 9^2. An who.\n\n#C. a.#\n\n _The air is said in the MS. to be beautiful and very plaintive._\n\n 5^{1,2}. madam _instead of_ Richie. _Richie in_ #b#.\n\n 6^3. Skimmerjim _is glossed in the margin_ Kimmerghame.\n\n 8^1. _Written twice._\n\n 8^2. hining. shining _in_ #b#.\n\n#b.#\n\n 2^{1,2}, 3^{1,2}, 4^{1,2}, 5^{1,2}, 6^{1,2}, _are written in one\n line_.\n\n 10^2. _is indicated by_ &c.\n\n 1^{1,2}. There\u2019s.\n\n 1^3. And Richies tory he\u2019s come by.\n\n 2^{1,2}. O care ye not sad.\n\n 2^3. Skimmer knowes.\n\n 2^4. And go wi the lad they ca Richies tory.\n\n 3^{1,2}. not so again.\n\n 4^{1,2}. O _wanting_.\n\n 4^2. madam _wanting_.\n\n 4^3. For the: Skimmerham.\n\n 4^4. They will be: to you.\n\n 5^{1,2}. Richie, _for_ madam _of_ #a#.\n\n 5^4. none but thee, Richie.\n\n 6. _Wanting._\n\n 7^2. Richie _wanting_.\n\n 8^1. London city.\n\n 8^2. shining.\n\n 8^3. Many a.\n\n 8^4. But few thought her a.\n\n 9^2. mammy.\n\n 9^4. Richies Torry.\n\n 10^{1,2}. Now hold: mammy.\n\n 10^3. and cast (_wrongly_).\n\n 10^4. And I\u2019ll muck the byre wi Richies Torry.\n\n#D.#\n\n 1^4. At his? _The ribbons seem more likely to belong to the\n footman_: _see_ #A# 2, #G f# 1. _But compare_ #E 2#, #G d#,\n _after_ 1.\n\n#E.#\n\n 1^4. _Var._: wi her brother\u2019s foot-boy.\n\n 2^3. On his?\n\n 3^3. _Var._: Earl Wemyss.\n\n 11^3. _Marginal note_: Lady Hume, whose son was suitor to the\n runnaway lady.\n\n#F. b.#\n\n _Evidently furbished, and therefore not collated. After 6 is\n inserted this stanza, corresponding to 11_:\n\n Fair Powmoodie is mine, dear Richie,\n And goud and pearlins too;\n Gin ye\u2019ll consent to be mine, dear Richie,\n I will gie them a\u2019 to you.\n\n#G.#\n\n _Trivial variations are not noticed._\n\n#a#,\n\n 15^{3,4}. _It is certain from 16 and from other copies of G that\n she was married to the_ Earl of Hume, _but I have let the text\n stand as delivered._\n\n#b.#\n\n _Stanzas_ 1, 9^{3,4}, 2, 7, 8, 10\u201314, 15^{3,4} (?), 16: _four\n marked as wanting_.\n\n 1^{1,2}. Theres seven bonny ladies in yonder ha (_twice_).\n\n 1^3. The youngest an bonniest amon.\n\n 2^{3,4}. It\u2019s from the Earl o Cumbernauld, An he is seekin you,\n lady.\n\n 7^1. we will go, Richie.\n\n 7^2. go, laddie.\n\n 9^3. Ye\u2019ll cast aff your gowns o silk.\n\n 9^4. wi your Richie Tory.\n\n 10^{1,2}. As they gaed down by yon bonny waterside, O but the sma\n birds they sang bonnie!\n\n 11^2. sorry, lassie.\n\n 11^3. To leave the Earl o Cumbernauld.\n\n 12^2. sorry, laddie.\n\n 12^{3,4}. The thing that\u2019s afore us we maun endure, So what need I\n be sorry, laddie?\n\n 13^{1,2}. As they gaed down by yon bonny waterside, O but her gold\n watch it hung bonny!\n\n 13^3. #a# ane gaed her a low bow.\n\n 13^4. But few kent she.\n\n 14^{1,2}. As she gaed doun by yon bonny ha-house, Oh but the\n pibrochs they sang bonny!\n\n 14^3. f. an t. belted knichts.\n\n 15^{3,4}. Says, I\u2019m the Earl o Cumbernauld, That for your sake was\n a footman-laddie.\n\n 16^{3,4}. Now she rides in her coach-an-six, An blesses the day\n she saw Richie Tory.\n\n#c.#\n\n 11 _stanzas_: 1, 6\u20139, 13, 10, 14, 16, _and_ 11, 12 _as a \u201cchorus\u201d\n to each of the others_.\n\n 1^{1,2}. Seven sisters in yonder ha, Seven sisters in Campernadie.\n\n 6^{1\u20133}. Ritchie he went up the stair, Thinking for to meet his\n lady; But sae quick as she turn\u00ebd round.\n\n 7^{1,2}. we will go.\n\n 8^{1,2}. I\u2019ll nae go.\n\n 9^1. they rode up by her sisters\u2019 bowers.\n\n 9^3. Says, Ye mann tak aff the goons.\n\n 9^4. byres, nor wi Ritchie tarry.\n\n 10^2. lady grew unco weary.\n\n 10^4. were back at Campernadie.\n\n 11^3. the yerl o Mohun.\n\n 11^4. And wed wi me but.\n\n 12^{3,4}.\n What is before me must nae I endure?\n An why should I be sorry, Ritchie?\n\n 13^2. O but her gowd it was shinin bonnie!\n\n 13^3. Monie ane gae her a low bow.\n\n 13^4. But few o.\n\n 14^1. As they rode doon by yonder glen.\n\n 14^2. the organs they.\n\n 14^{3,4}. Four-an-twenty gentlemen Cam a\u2019.\n\n 16^3. An now she rides in her coach-an-six.\n\n#d.#\n\n 16 _stanzas_: 1; _a stanza corresponding to_ #A# 2, #D# 1, 2\u20139,\n 13, 10\u201312, 14, 16.\n\n 1^{1,2}. There were ladies in yon ha, Seven ladies in\n Cumbernaudie. _After 1_: He gaed down the garden green, In amang\n the birks sae bonnie, And there he saw his lady gay, Wi ribbons\n on her shoulders mony.\n\n 2^{3,4}. With Earl Hume\u2019s humble desire Your servant for to be.\n\n 3^1. I\u2019ll hae nane o his letters.\n\n 3^2. Nane from Earl Hume.\n\n 3^{3,4}. But I\u2019ll hae him that I like best, And I\u2019ll hae nane but\n you, Richie.\n\n 4^{1,2}. Say na that to me.\n\n 4^3. lands nor rents.\n\n 4^4. For to maintain you wi.\n\n 5^{1,2}. Say na that again, Richie.\n\n 5^{3,4}. The House o Athole it is mine, Taranadie shall be thine,\n Richie.\n\n 6^{1,2}. He gaed from the garden green, Thinking he would shun his\n lady.\n\n 6^3. But quickly she followed after him.\n\n 7^2. I\u2019ll gae to them wi thee, Richie.\n\n 8^{1,2}. To the Borders we will gae, We will to them gang, lady.\n\n 9^1. rode by her sister\u2019s bowers.\n\n 9^4. And gang and beg wi her Richard Storie: _editorial nicety_.\n\n 10^2. she grew wondrous weary.\n\n 12^{3,4}. When I get him that I like best, And what is laid before\n me, Richie.\n\n 13^1. rode thro yon burrow-town.\n\n 14^1. As they rode by yon bonny House.\n\n 14^{3,4}. And four-and-twenty gallant knichts Came.\n\n 16^3. And now she rides in her coach-and-four. _Christie touched\n up his text here and there._\n\n#e.#\n\n 11^{3,4}, 12, 14, 16^{3,4}. _Wanting._\n\n 12^4. What wad make me sorry?\n\n 14^1. yonder gates.\n\n 14^2. playd pretty.\n\n 14^3. four-and-twenty noble knichts.\n\n 14^4. welcome in Ritchie Torry\u2019s lady.\n\n 16^{3,4}. Now she rides in her coach-and-six, She blesses the day\n she got Ritchie Torry.\n\n#f.#\n\n _18 stanzas. Much manipulated, and not entitled to confidence._\n\n 1.\n As I came in yon bonny burn-side,\n And down below the bloom sae bonny,\n There _I_ espied a handsome lad,\n Wi ribbons on his shoulders mony.\n\n (_Cf._ A 2.)\n\n 2^{3,4}. Here\u2019s a letter frae the Earl o Wemyss, That he\u2019s in suit\n o thee, madam.\n\n 11.\n Out it speaks her mother then;\n O daughter, may not you be sorry\n To gang alang wi a servant-man,\n And lose the rights o Castle Norry?\n\n 12^{3,4}. I\u2019m sure I\u2019ve chosen a bonny lad, The lot has just been\n laid afore me.\n\n 14.\n When they gaed through the Parliament Closs,\n The silver loops hang down sae bonny;\n Then four-and-twenty noble lords\n Came hat in hand to Richard Storry.\n\n\n APPENDIX\n\nAytoun, II, 239, says of \u2018Richie Storie,\u2019 The words, recast in a\nromantic form and applied to a more interesting subject, have been set\nto music by a noble lady, and are now very popular under the title of\n\u2018Huntingtower.\u2019 The history of \u2018Huntingtower\u2019 is not so well known as\nmight be expected. I have not been able to ascertain the authorship or\nthe date of its first appearance (which was very probably in society\nrather than in print). \u2018Richie Storie\u2019 is not carried by our texts\nfurther back than 1802\u20133 (#B#, #H#). Kinloch published in 1827 a ballad\nfrom recitation, \u2018The Duke of Athol,\u2019 which is \u2018Huntingtower\u2019 passed\nthrough the popular mouth; for \u2018Huntingtower\u2019 became, and has continued\nto be, a favorite with the people. Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, I,\n166, says that he had often heard \u2018The Duke of Athol\u2019 in his early\nyears, and he gives eight stanzas which do not differ remarkably from\nKinloch\u2019s ballad.\n\nThe marks of the derivation of \u2018Huntingtower\u2019 are the terminations of\nlines 1, 2, 4 of each stanza, and substantial agreements in the last two\nstanzas with #A#, #B#, #E#, 5, #D#, #F#, #G#, 4, and with #B# 6, #C# 7,\n#H#, respectively. The name Huntingtower occurs only in #B# 6 of \u2018Richie\nStorie.\u2019 The author of \u2018Huntingtower\u2019 was no doubt possessed of a\nversion of \u2018Richie Storie\u2019 which had its own peculiarities.\n\n\u2018Huntingtower\u2019 is too well known to require citing. It has been often\nprinted; as, for example, in Mr G. F. Graham\u2019s Popular Songs of\nScotland, revised by J. Muir Wood, Balmoral Edition, Glasgow, 1887, p.\n152; The Songs of Scotland, the words revised by Dr Charles Mackay, p.\n5, London, Boosey & Co. (Altered by the Baroness Nairne, and very little\nleft of it, Life and Songs of the Baroness Nairne, edited by the Rev.\nCharles Rogers, 1872, p. 177.) The pleasing air strongly resembles, says\nMr Wood, one in D\u2019Urfey\u2019s Pills to Purge Melancholy, V, 42, ed. 1719.\n\n\u2018The Duke of Athol\u2019 may be given for the interest it has as a popular\n_rifacimento_.\n\n\n THE DUKE OF ATHOL\n\n \u201cTaken down from the recitation of an idiot boy in Wishaw;\u201d\n Kinloch\u2019s Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 170.\n\n 1\n \u2018I am gaing awa, Jeanie,\n I am gaing awa;\n I am gaing ayont the saut seas,\n I\u2019m gaing sae far awa.\u2019\n\n 2\n \u2018What will ye buy to me, Jamie?\n What will ye buy to me?\u2019\n \u2018I\u2019ll buy to you a silken plaid,\n And send it wi vanitie.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018That\u2019s na love at a\u2019, Jamie,\n That\u2019s na love at a\u2019;\n All I want is love for love,\n And that\u2019s the best ava.\n\n 4\n \u2018Whan will ye marry me, Jamie?\n Whan will ye marry me?\n Will ye tak me to your countrie,\n Or will ye marry me?\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018How can I marry thee, Jeanie?\n How can I marry thee,\n Whan I\u2019ve a wife and bairns three?\n Twa wad na weill agree.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018Wae be to your fause tongue, Jamie,\n Wae be to your fause tongue;\n Ye promised for to marry me,\n And has a wife at hame!\n\n 7\n \u2018But if your wife wad dee, Jamie,\n And sae your bairns three,\n Wad ye tak me to your countrie,\n Or wad ye marry me?\n\n 8\n \u2018But sin they\u2019re all alive, Jamie,\n But sin they\u2019re all alive,\n We\u2019ll tak a glass in ilka hand,\n And drink, Weill may they thrive!\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018If my wife wad dee, Jeanie,\n And sae my bairns three,\n I wad tak ye to my ain countrie,\n And married we wad be.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018O an your head war sair, Jamie,\n O an your head war sair,\n I\u2019d tak the napkin frae my neck\n And tie doun your yellow hair.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018I hae na wife at a\u2019, Jeanie,\n I hae na wife at a\u2019;\n I hae neither wife nor bairns three;\n I said it to try thee.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018Licht are ye to loup, Jamie,\n Licht are ye to loup;\n Licht are ye to loup the dyke,\n Whan I maun wale a slap.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018Licht am I to loup, Jeanie,\n Licht am I to loup;\n But the hiest dyke that we come to\n I\u2019ll turn and tak you up.\n\n 14\n \u2018Blair in Athol is mine, Jeanie,\n Blair in Athol is mine;\n Bonnie Dunkel is whare I dwell,\n And the boats o Garry\u2019s mine.\n\n 15\n \u2018Huntingtower is mine, Jeanie,\n Huntingtower is mine,\n Huntingtower, and bonnie Belford,\n And a\u2019 Balquhither\u2019s mine.\u2019\n\n\n\n\n 233\n\n ANDREW LAMMIE\n\n #A.# \u2018The Trumpeter of Fyvie,\u2019 Jamieson\u2019s Popular Ballads, I, 126,\n 1806.\n\n #B#. \u2018Tifty\u2019s Nanny,\u2019 Jamieson\u2019s Popular Ballads, II, 382, from a\n stall-copy.\n\n #C. a.# \u2018Andrew Lammie,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s Gleanings, p. 98, 1825 ; Laing\u2019s\n Thistle of Scotland, p. 55, 1823. #b.# Motherwell\u2019s Minstrelsy, p.\n 239.\n\n\nJamieson, in his preface, 1806, says that this ballad was current in the\nBorder counties within a few years, and that #A# was taken down by\nLeyden from the recitation of a young lady who learned it in Teviotdale.\nWriting to Scott, in November, 1804, of such ballads as he had already\nprepared for the press, he says, \u201cTrumpeter of Fyvie, from tradition,\nfurnished by Mr Leyden, and collated with a stall-copy\u201d (probably #B#):\nLetters addressed to Sir Walter Scott, Abbotsford, I, No. 117.\n\nBuchan, in the notes to his Gleanings, 1825, p. 197, says of #C a#:\n\u201cThis is one of the greatest favorites of the people in Aberdeenshire\nthat I know. I took it first down from the memory of a very old woman,\nand afterwards published thirty thousand copies of it. There are two\nversions, an old and a new; but, although I have both, I prefer this\none, the younger of the two, having been composed and acted in the year\n1674.\u201d Laing, who reprints #A# in his Thistle of Scotland, p. 63, calls\nthat the \u201cold way of Andrew Lammie.\u201d Motherwell, 1827, reprints \u201ca\nstall-copy published at Glasgow several years ago, collated with a\nrecited copy which has furnished one or two verbal improvements:\u201d #C b#.\nThere are a great many variations from #C a#, of which precisely one or\ntwo are verbal improvements. But Motherwell also gives six stanzas which\nare not in #a#. His copy is repeated in The Ballad Minstrelsy of\nScotland, Glasgow, 1871, and there the editor says that in a chap-book\nprinted by J. and M. Robertson, Saltmarket, Glasgow, 1808, \u201cAndrew\nLammie is given with only a few slight verbal differences between it and\nthe copy here printed.\u201d Such stall-copies as I have seen are late, and\nare reprints of #C a# or of #C b#. Motherwell assures us that the ballad\nas he has given it \u201cagrees with any recited copy which the Editor has\nhitherto met with in the West Country.\u201d\n\nA professed edition, \u201cmost carefully collated with all previous\neditions,\u201d was published at Peterhead, 1872: \u201cMill o Tifty\u2019s Annie, A\nBuchan Ballad, with Introduction,\u201d etc. This is attributed to the Rev.\nDr John Muir of Aberdeen. \u2018Mill o Tiftie\u2019s Annie\u2019 in Christie, I, 48 \u201cis\nepitomized from traditional copies;\u201d that is to say, it is taken from\nMotherwell, with a trifling change here and there. A copy given in\nSmith\u2019s New History of Aberdeenshire is compounded of #A#, #B#, and a\ncouple of lines from #C b#.\n\nAnnie, daughter to a well-to-do miller, loses her heart to a handsome\ntrumpeter in the service of Lord Fyvie. Her father will not hear of such\na match. (Annie has five thousand marks, and the man not a penny, #A#\n11.) The trumpeter is obliged to go to Edinburgh for a time, and Annie\nappoints him a tryst at a bridge. He will buy her her wedding-gear while\nhe is away, and marry her when he comes back. Annie knows that she shall\nbe dead ere he returns, and bids him an everlasting adieu.[130] The\ntrumpeter goes to the top of the castle and blows a blast which is heard\nat his love\u2019s house. Her father beats her, her mother beats her; her\nbrother beats her and breaks her back. Lord Fyvie is passing on one of\nthese occasions, comes in, and urges Mill of Tiftie to yield to his\ndaughter\u2019s inclinations. The father is immovable; she must marry higher\nthan with a trumpeter. Annie is put to bed, with her face towards Fyvie,\nand dies of a broken heart and of the cruel treatment which she has\nundergone.\n\nThis is a homely ditty,[131] but the gentleness and fidelity of Annie\nunder the brutal behavior of her family are genuinely pathetic, and\njustify the remarkable popularity which the ballad has enjoyed in the\nnorth of Scotland. In those parts the story has been played as well as\nsung. \u201cThe ballad used in former times to be presented in a dramatic\nshape at rustic meetings in Aberdeenshire,\u201d says Chambers (Scottish\nBallads, p. 143); perhaps misinterpreting and expanding the enunciation\nmade by Buchan and in the title of some stall-copies that \u201cthis tragedy\nwas acted in the year 1674,\u201d which may rather refer to the date of the\nstory. But however it may have been in former times, two rival companies\nin Aberdeenshire were performing plays founded on the ballad in\n1887\u20138.[132]\n\n\u201cBonny Andrew Lammie\u201d was a well-known personage at the beginning of the\nlast century, for, as Jamieson has pointed out, he is mentioned in a way\nthat implies this by Allan Ramsay, in the second of his two cantos in\ncontinuation of Christ\u2019s Kirk on the Green, written, as Ramsay says, in\n1718. (Poems, London, 1731, I, 76, v. 70.)\n\nMill of Tiftie is, or was, a farm-house on the side of a glen about half\na mile northeast of the castle of Fyvie, and in view of its turrets (on\none of which there now stands a figure of the Trumpeter sounding towards\nTiftie). The mill proper, now a ruin, was in the bottom of the glen, and\ngave its name to the house. The bridge of Sleugh, otherwise Skeugh,\netc., was in the hollow between Tiftie and the castle.[133]\n\nAnnie was Agnes Smith, Nannie being among her people an affectionate\nform for Agnes. There is reason to believe that she may have been\ndaughter of a William Smith who is known to have been a brother or near\nkinsman of the laird of Inveramsay, a person of some local\nconsequence.[134] An inscription on her gravestone makes Agnes Smith to\nhave died January 19, 1673.[135]\n\n\u201cSome years subsequent to the melancholy fate of poor Tifty\u2019s Nanny,\u201d\nsays Jamieson, II, 387, citing the current tradition of Fyvie, \u201cher sad\nstory being mentioned and the ballad sung in a company in Edinburgh when\n[Andrew Lammie] was present, he remained silent and motionless, till he\nwas discovered by a groan suddenly bursting from him and _several of the\nbuttons flying from his waistcoat_.\u201d The peasants of Fyvie, Jamieson\ncontinues, \u201cborrowed this striking characteristic of excessive grief\u201d\nneither from the Laoco\u00f6n group nor from Shakspere\u2019s King Lear, but from\nnature. The anecdote, and the comment too, is apt to be repeated by\neditors of \u2018Andrew Lammie.\u2019 That \u201caffecting image of overpowering\ngrief,\u201d as Chambers calls it, the flying off of the buttons (or the\nbursting of a waistcoat), we have had several times already, though in\nno ballad (or version) of much note: see II, 118, #D# 17, 186, #C# 15,\n308, 4; IV, 101, I 15, 185, 11. It must be owned to be a stroke that\ndoes not well bear iteration. Mrs. Littlewit in \u2018Bartholomew Fair\u2019 has a\ntedious life with her Puritan, she says: \u201che breaks his buttons and\ncracks seams at every saying he sobs out.\u201d Ben Jonson has taken out one\nof the best things in our tragedy and put it into his comedy.\n\nThe air to which this ballad was usually sung, Jamieson informs us, was\n\u201cof that class which in Teviotdale they term a northern drawl; and a\nPerthshire set of it, but two notes lower than it is commonly sung, is\nto be found in Johnson\u2019s Scots Musical Museum [No. 175, p. 183], to the\nsong \u2018How long and dreary is the night.\u2019\u201d\n\n#C b# is translated by Wolff, Hausschatz, p. 199, Halle der V\u00f6lker, I,\n65.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n Jamieson\u2019s Popular Ballads, I, 126; \u201ctaken down by Dr Leyden from\n the recitation of a young lady, Miss Robson, of Edinburgh, who\n learned it in Teviotdale.\u201d\n\n 1\n \u2018At Fyvie\u2019s yetts there grows a flower,\n It grows baith braid and bonny;\n There\u2019s a daisie in the midst o it,\n And it\u2019s ca\u2019d by Andrew Lammie.\n\n 2\n \u2018O gin that flower war in my breast,\n For the love I bear the laddie!\n I wad kiss it, and I wad clap it,\n And daut it for Andrew Lammie.\n\n 3\n \u2018The first time me and my love met\n Was in the woods of Fyvie;\n He kissed my lips five thousand times,\n And ay he ca\u2019d me bonny,\n And a\u2019 the answer he gat frae me,\n Was, My bonny Andrew Lammie!\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018Love, I maun gang to Edinburgh;\n Love, I maun gang and leave thee!\u2019\n \u2018I sighed right sair, and said nae mair\n But, O gin I were wi ye!\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018But true and trusty will I be,\n As I am Andrew Lammie;\n I\u2019ll never kiss a woman\u2019s mouth\n Till I come back and see thee.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018And true and trusty will I be,\n As I am Tiftie\u2019s Annie;\n I\u2019ll never kiss a man again\n Till ye come back and see me.\u2019\n\n 7\n Syne he\u2019s come back frae Edinburgh\n To the bonny hows o Fyvie,\n And ay his face to the nor-east,\n To look for Tiftie\u2019s Annie.\n\n 8\n \u2018I hae a love in Edinburgh,\n Sae hae I intill Leith, man;\n I hae a love intill Montrose,\n Sae hae I in Dalkeith, man.\n\n 9\n \u2018And east and west, whereer I go,\n My love she\u2019s always wi me;\n For east and west, whereer I go,\n My love she dwells in Fyvie.\n\n 10\n \u2018My love possesses a\u2019 my heart,\n Nae pen can eer indite her;\n She\u2019s ay sae stately as she goes\n That I see nae mae like her.\n\n 11\n \u2018But Tiftie winna gie consent\n His dochter me to marry,\n Because she has five thousand marks,\n And I have not a penny.\n\n 12\n \u2018Love pines away, love dwines away,\n Love, love decays the body;\n For love o thee, oh I must die;\n Adieu, my bonny Annie!\u2019\n\n 13\n Her mither raise out o her bed,\n And ca\u2019d on baith her women:\n \u2018What ails ye, Annie, my dochter dear?\n O Annie, was ye dreamin?\n\n 14\n \u2018What dule disturbd my dochter\u2019s sleep?\n O tell to me, my Annie!\u2019\n She sighed right sair, and said nae mair\n But, O for Andrew Lammie!\n\n 15\n Her father beat her cruellie,\n Sae also did her mother;\n Her sisters sair did scoff at her;\n But wae betide her brother!\n\n 16\n Her brother beat her cruellie,\n Till his straiks they werena canny;\n He brak her back, and he beat her sides,\n For the sake o Andrew Lammie.\n\n 17\n \u2018O fie, O fie, my brother dear!\n The gentlemen\u2019ll shame ye;\n The Laird o Fyvie he\u2019s gaun by,\n And he\u2019ll come in and see me.\n\n 18\n \u2018And he\u2019ll kiss me, and he\u2019ll clap me,\n And he will speer what ails me;\n And I will answer him again,\n It\u2019s a\u2019 for Andrew Lammie.\u2019\n\n 19\n Her sisters they stood in the door,\n Sair grievd her wi their folly:\n \u2018O sister dear, come to the door,\n Your cow is lowin on you.\u2019\n\n 20\n \u2018O fie, O fie, my sister dear!\n Grieve me not wi your folly;\n I\u2019d rather hear the trumpet sound\n Than a\u2019 the kye o Fyvie.\n\n 21\n \u2018Love pines away, love dwines away,\n Love, love decays the body;\n For love o thee now I maun die;\n Adieu to Andrew Lammie!\u2019\n\n 22\n But Tiftie\u2019s wrote a braid letter,\n And sent it into Fyvie,\n Saying his daughter was bewitchd\n By bonny Andrew Lammie.\n\n 23\n \u2018Now, Tiftie, ye maun gie consent,\n And lat the lassie marry;\u2019\n \u2018I\u2019ll never, never gie consent\n To the trumpeter of Fyvie.\u2019\n\n 24\n When Fyvie looked the letter on,\n He was baith sad and sorry:\n Says, The bonniest lass o the country-side\n Has died for Andrew Lammie.\n\n 25\n O Andrew\u2019s gane to the house-top\n O the bonny house o Fyvie,\n He\u2019s blawn his horn baith loud and shill\n Oer the lawland leas o Fyvie.\n\n 26\n \u2018Mony a time hae I walkd a\u2019 night,\n And never yet was weary;\n But now I may walk wae my lane,\n For I\u2019ll never see my deary.\n\n 27\n \u2018Love pines away, love dwines away,\n Love, love decays the body;\n For the love o thee now I maun die;\n I come, my bonny Annie!\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n Jamieson\u2019s Popular Ballads, II, 382; \u201cfrom a stall copy, procured\n from Scotland.\u201d\n\n 1\n \u2018There springs a rose in Fyvie\u2019s yard,\n And O but it springs bonny!\n There\u2019s a daisy in the middle of it,\n Its name is Andrew Lammie.\n\n 2\n \u2018I wish the rose were in my breast,\n For the love I bear the daisy;\n So blyth and merry as I would be,\n And kiss my Andrew Lammie.\n\n 3\n \u2018The first time I and my love met\n Was in the wood of Fyvie;\n He kiss\u00ebd and he dawted me,\n Calld me his bonny Annie.\n\n 4\n \u2018Wi apples sweet he did me treat,\n Which stole my heart so canny,\n And ay sinsyne himself was kind,\n My bonny Andrew Lammie.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018But I am going to Edinburgh,\n My love, I\u2019m going to leave thee;\u2019\n She sighd full sore, and said no more,\n \u2018I wish I were but wi you.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018I will buy thee a wedding-gown,\n My love, I\u2019ll buy it bonny;\u2019\n \u2018But I\u2019ll be dead or ye come back,\n My bonny Andrew Lammie.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018I will buy you brave bridal shoes,\n My love, I\u2019ll buy them bonny;\u2019\n \u2018But I\u2019ll be dead or ye come back,\n My bonny Andrew Lammie.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018If you\u2019ll be true and trusty too,\n As I am Andrew Lammie,\n That you will neer kiss lad nor lown\n Till I return to Fyvie.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018I shall be true and trusty too,\n As my name\u2019s Tifty\u2019s Nanny,\n That I\u2019ll kiss neither lad nor lown\n Till you return to Fyvie.\u2019\u2014\n\n 10\n \u2018Love pines awa, love dwines awa,\n Love pines awa my body;\n And love\u2019s crept in at my bed-foot,\n And taen possession o me.\n\n 11\n \u2018My father drags me by the hair,\n My mother sore does scold me;\n And they would give one hundred merks\n To any one to wed me.\n\n 12\n \u2018My sister stands at her bower-door,\n And she full sore does mock me,\n And when she hears the trumpet sound,\u2014\n \u201cYour cow is lowing, Nanny!\u201d\n\n 13\n \u2018O be still, my sister Jane,\n And leave off all your folly;\n For I\u2019d rather hear that cow low\n Than all the kye in Fyvie.\n\n 14\n \u2018My father locks the door at night,\n Lays up the keys fu canny,\n And when he hears the trumpet sound,\u2014\n \u201cYour cow is lowing, Nanny!\u201d\n\n 15\n \u2018O hold your tongue, my father dear,\n And let be a\u2019 your folly;\n For I would rather hear that cow\n Than all the kye in Fyvie.\u2019\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 16\n \u2018If you ding me, I will greet,\n And gentlemen will hear me;\n Laird Fyvie will be coming by,\n And he\u2019ll come in and see me.\u2019\n\n 17\n \u2018Yea, I will ding you though ye greet\n And gentlemen should hear you;\n Though Laird Fyvie were coming by,\n And did come in and see you.\u2019\n\n 18\n So they dang her, and she grat,\n And gentlemen did hear her,\n And Fyvie he was coming by,\n And did come in to see her.\n\n 19\n \u2018Mill of Tifty, give consent,\n And let your daughter marry;\n If she were full of as high blood\n As she is full of beauty,\n I would take her to myself,\n And make her my own lady.\u2019\n\n 20\n \u2018Fyvie lands ly broad and wide,\n And O but they ly bonny!\n But I would not give my own true-love\n For all the lands in Fyvie.\n\n 21\n \u2018But make my bed, and lay me down,\n And turn my face to Fyvie,\n That I may see before I die\n My bonny Andrew Lammie.\u2019\n\n 22\n They made her bed, and laid her down,\n And turnd her face to Fyvie;\n She gave a groan, and died or morn,\n So neer saw Andrew Lammie.\n\n 23\n Her father sorely did lament\n The loss of his dear Nannie,\n And wishd that he had gien consent\n To wed with Andrew Lammie.\n\n 24\n But ah! alas! it was too late,\n For he could not recall her;\n Through time unhappy is his fate,\n Because he did controul her.\n\n 25\n You parents grave who children have,\n In crushing them be canny,\n Lest for their part they break their heart,\n As did young Tifty\u2019s Nanny.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n C\n\n #a.# Buchan\u2019s Gleanings, p. 98; taken down \u201cfrom the memory of a\n very old woman\u201d (p. 197). #b.# Motherwell\u2019s Minstrelsy, p. 239; a\n stall copy collated with a recited copy.\n\n 1\n At Mill of Tifty lived a man,\n In the neighbourhood of Fyvie;\n He had a luvely daughter fair,\n Was call\u00ebd bonny Annie.\n\n 2\n Her bloom was like the springing flower\n That hails the rosy morning,\n With innocence and graceful mein\n Her beautous form adorning.\n\n 3\n Lord Fyvie had a trumpeter\n Whose name was Andrew Lammie;\n He had the art to gain the heart\n Of Mill of Tifty\u2019s Annie.\n\n 4\n Proper he was, both young and gay,\n His like was not in Fyvie,\n Nor was ane there that could compare\n With this same Andrew Lammie.\n\n 5\n Lord Fyvie he rode by the door\n Where liv\u00ebd Tifty\u2019s Annie;\n His trumpeter rode him before,\n Even this same Andrew Lammie.\n\n 6\n Her mother called her to the door:\n \u2018Come here to me, my Annie:\n Did eer you see a prettier man\n Than the trumpeter of Fyvie?\u2019\n\n 7\n Nothing she said, but sighing sore,\n Alas for bonnie Annie!\n She durst not own her heart was won\n By the trumpeter of Fyvie.\n\n 8\n At night when all went to their bed,\n All slept full soon but Annie;\n Love so oppresst her tender breast,\n Thinking on Andrew Lammie.\n\n 9\n \u2018Love comes in at my bed-side,\n And love lies down beyond me;\n Love has possest my tender breast,\n And love will waste my body.\n\n 10\n \u2018The first time me and my love met\n Was in the woods of Fyvie;\n His lovely form and speech so soft\n Soon gaind the heart of Annie.\n\n 11\n \u2018He called me mistress; I said, No,\n I\u2019m Tifty\u2019s bonny Annie;\n With apples sweet he did me treat,\n And kisses soft and mony.\n\n 12\n \u2018It\u2019s up and down in Tifty\u2019s den,\n Where the burn runs clear and bonny,\n I\u2019ve often gane to meet my love,\n My bonny Andrew Lammie.\u2019\n\n 13\n But now alas! her father heard\n That the trumpeter of Fyvie\n Had had the art to gain the heart\n Of Mill of Tifty\u2019s Annie.\n\n 14\n Her father soon a letter wrote,\n And sent it on to Fyvie,\n To tell his daughter was bewitchd\n By his servant, Andrew Lammie.\n\n 15\n Then up the stair his trumpeter\n He call\u00ebd soon and shortly:\n \u2018Pray tell me soon what\u2019s this you\u2019ve done\n To Tifty\u2019s bonny Annie.\u2019\n\n 16\n \u2018Woe be to Mill of Tifty\u2019s pride,\n For it has ruined many;\n They\u2019ll not have\u2019t said that she should wed\n The trumpeter of Fyvie.\n\n 17\n \u2018In wicked art I had no part,\n Nor therein am I canny;\n True love alone the heart has won\n Of Tifty\u2019s bonny Annie.\n\n 18\n \u2018Where will I find a boy so kind\n That will carry a letter canny,\n Who will run to Tifty\u2019s town,\n Give it to my love Annie?\n\n 19\n \u2018Tifty he has daughters three\n Who all are wonderous bonny;\n But ye\u2019ll ken her oer a\u2019 the rest;\n Give that to bonny Annie.\n\n 20\n \u2018It\u2019s up and down in Tifty\u2019s den,\n Where the burn runs clear and bonny,\n There wilt thou come and I\u2019ll attend;\n My love, I long to see thee.\n\n 21\n \u2018Thou mayst come to the brig of Slugh,\n And there I\u2019ll come and meet thee;\n It\u2019s there we will renew our love,\n Before I go and leave you.\n\n 22\n \u2018My love, I go to Edinburgh town,\n And for a while must leave thee;\u2019\n She sigh\u00ebd sore, and said no more\n But \u2018I wish that I were with you!\u2019\n\n 23\n \u2018I\u2019ll buy to thee a bridal gown,\n My love, I\u2019ll buy it bonny;\u2019\n \u2018But I\u2019ll be dead ere ye come back\n To see your bonny Annie.\u2019\n\n 24\n \u2018If ye\u2019ll be true and constant too,\n As I am Andrew Lammie,\n I shall thee wed when I come back\n To see the lands of Fyvie.\u2019\n\n 25\n \u2018I will be true and constant too\n To thee, my Andrew Lammie,\n But my bridal bed or then\u2019ll be made\n In the green church-yard of Fyvie.\u2019\n\n 26\n \u2018The time is gone, and now comes on\n My dear, that I must leave thee;\n If longer here I should appear,\n Mill of Tifty he would see me.\u2019\n\n 27\n \u2018I now for ever bid adieu\n To thee, my Andrew Lammie;\n Or ye come back I will be laid\n In the green church-yard of Fyvie.\u2019\n\n 28\n He hied him to the head of the house,\n To the house-top of Fyvie,\n He blew his trumpet loud and shrill,\n It was heard at Mill of Tifty.\n\n 29\n Her father lockd the door at night,\n Laid by the keys fu canny,\n And when he heard the trumpet sound\n Said, Your cow is lowing, Annie.\n\n 30\n \u2018My father dear, I pray forbear,\n And reproach not your Annie;\n I\u2019d rather hear that cow to low\n Than all the kye in Fyvie.\n\n 31\n \u2018I would not for my braw new gown,\n And all your gifts so many,\n That it was told in Fyvie land\n How cruel ye are to Annie.\n\n 32\n \u2018But if ye strike me I will cry,\n And gentlemen will hear me;\n Lord Fyvie will be riding by,\n And he\u2019ll come in and see me.\u2019\n\n 33\n At the same time the lord came in;\n He said, What ails thee Annie?\n \u2018It\u2019s all for love now I must die,\n For bonny Andrew Lammie.\u2019\n\n 34\n \u2018Pray, Mill of Tifty, give consent,\n And let your daughter marry;\u2019\n \u2018It will be with some higher match\n Than the trumpeter of Fyvie.\u2019\n\n 35\n \u2018If she were come of as high a kind\n As she\u2019s advanced in beauty,\n I would take her unto myself,\n And make her my own lady.\u2019\n\n 36\n \u2018Fyvie lands are far and wide,\n And they are wonderous bonny;\n But I would not leave my own true-love\n For all the lands in Fyvie.\u2019\n\n 37\n Her father struck her wonderous sore,\n As also did her mother;\n Her sisters also did her scorn,\n But woe be to her brother!\n\n 38\n Her brother struck her wonderous sore,\n With cruel strokes and many;\n He broke her back in the hall-door,\n For liking Andrew Lammie.\n\n 39\n \u2018Alas! my father and my mother dear,\n Why so cruel to your Annie?\n My heart was broken first by love,\n My brother has broke my body.\n\n 40\n \u2018O mother dear, make me my bed,\n And lay my face to Fyvie;\n Thus will I lie, and thus will die\n For my dear Andrew Lammie.\n\n 41\n \u2018Ye neighbours hear, baith far and near,\n And pity Tifty\u2019s Annie,\n Who dies for love of one poor lad,\n For bonny Andrew Lammie.\n\n 42\n \u2018No kind of vice eer staind my life,\n Or hurt my virgin honour;\n My youthful heart was won by love,\n But death will me exoner.\u2019\n\n 43\n Her mother than she made her bed,\n And laid her face to Fyvie;\n Her tender heart it soon did break,\n And never saw Andrew Lammie.\n\n 44\n Lord Fyvie he did wring his hands,\n Said, Alas for Tifty\u2019s Annie!\n The fairest flower\u2019s cut down by love\n That ever sprang in Fyvie.\n\n 45\n \u2018Woe be to Mill of Tifty\u2019s pride!\n He might have let them marry;\n I should have given them both to live\n Into the lands of Fyvie.\u2019\n\n 46\n Her father sorely now laments\n The loss of his dear Annie,\n And wishes he had given consent\n To wed with Andrew Lammie.\n\n 47\n When Andrew home frae Edinburgh came,\n With muckle grief and sorrow,\n \u2018My love is dead for me to-day,\n I\u2019ll die for her to-morrow.\n\n 48\n \u2018Now I will run to Tifty\u2019s den,\n Where the burn runs clear and bonny;\n With tears I\u2019ll view the brig of Slugh,\n Where I parted from my Annie.\n\n 49\n \u2018Then will I speed to the green kirk-yard,\n To the green kirk-yard of Fyvie,\n With tears I\u2019ll water my love\u2019s grave,\n Till I follow Tifty\u2019s Annie.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n#C. a.#\n\n 9^3. Love so oppressd: #b#, has possessd.\n\n 11^4. mony: #b#, many.\n\n 44^3. flower: #b#, flower\u2019s.\n\n 47^1. home: #b#, hame.\n\n 48^2. For _perhaps Aberdonian for_ Where: #b#, Where.\n\n#b.#\n\n _Insignificant variations will not be noted._\n\n 7^1. She sighed sore, but said no more.\n\n 8^2. Sound _for_ soon (soun?).\n\n 9^3. Love has possessd.\n\n 11^4. many.\n\n 13^4. Of Tiftie\u2019s bonny Annie. _After 14_:\n\n When Lord Fyvie had this letter read,\n O dear! but he was sorry:\n \u2018The bonniest lass in Fyvie\u2019s land\n Is bewitched by Andrew Lammie.\u2019\n\n 16, 17 _are_ 17, 16.\n\n 16^1. Woe betide Mill.\n\n 16^3. He\u2019ll no hae\u2019t. _After 18_:\n\n \u2018Here you shall find a boy so kind\n Who\u2019ll carry a letter canny,\n Who will run on to Tiftie\u2019s town,\n And gie\u2019t to thy love Annie.\u2019\n\n 19^3. a\u2019 the lave.\n\n 20^{3,4}. and meet thy love, Thy bonny Andrew Lammie.\n\n 21.\n \u2018When wilt thou come, and I\u2019ll attend?\n My love, I long to see thee:\u2019\n \u2018Thou mayst come to the bridge of Sleugh,\n And there I\u2019ll come and meet thee.\u2019\n\n 24^2. As my name\u2019s.\n\n 26^1. Our time.\n\n 28^3. schill.\n\n 30^4. Than hae a\u2019 the kine.\n\n 35^2. she\u2019s adorned with.\n\n 36^1. are fair.\n\n _After 43_:\n\n But the word soon went up and down,\n Through all the lands of Fyvie,\n That she was dead and buried,\n Even Tiftie\u2019s bonny Annie.\n\n 44^3. flower\u2019s.\n\n 45^1. O woe betide Mill.\n\n _After 46_:\n\n Her mother grieves both air and late,\n Her sisters, cause they scornd her;\n Surely her brother doth mourn and grieve\n For the cruel usage he\u2019d givn her.\n\n But now alas! it was too late,\n For they could not recal her;\n Through life unhappy is their fate\n Because they did controul her.\n\n 47^1. hame.\n\n 47^3. love has died.\n\n 48^2. Where.\n\n 48^4. parted last with Annie. _After 49_:\n\n Ye parents grave who children have,\n In crushing them be canny,\n Lest when too late you do repent;\n Remember Tiftie\u2019s Annie.\n\n\n\n\n 234\n\n CHARLIE MACPHERSON\n\n #A.# \u2018Charlie MacPherson,\u2019 Harris MS., fol. 23 b.\n\n #B.# \u2018Charlie M\u2019Pherson,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland,\n I, 85.\n\n\nCharlie Macpherson comes to Kinaldie with a large party of men from the\nWest Isle to take away Helen, whom he has long courted, #A# 1, 4.\nHelen\u2019s mother is obliged to admit them. When her daughter is asked for,\nMacPherson is told that she has gone to Whitehouse, to marry auld Gairn,\n#A# 5 (Dalgairn, #B# 12). The party go on to Whitehouse, where indeed\nthey find Helen, and everybody there calling her bride. We expect a\ncollision, and judging by #A# 8 there was one, with the bride wishing\nwell to the assailants. But in #B# (where there is no hint that Helen\nfavors her irregular suitor), MacPherson comports himself very mildly,\nand only wishes, as he goes off, that his heavy heart may light on\nWhitehouse of Cromar.\n\nThe ballad was known to Mrs Brown of Falkland.[136] She gives it the\ntitle of \u2018The Carrying-off of the Heiress of Kinady,\u2019 from which it is\nwarrantable to conclude that MacPherson was so far successful.\n\nThere are several Kinaldies and more than one Whitehouse. The Kinaldie\nwhich we have to do with here is a small place in the parish of\nLogie-Coldstone, Cromar. Milton of Whitehouse is about a mile to the\nsouth of Kinaldie, and seems to be the place intended by Whitehouse o\nCromar, #B# 18, 20. Braemar, #A# 7^1, should then be Cromar.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n Harris MS., fol. 23 b; from Mrs Harris\u2019s singing.\n\n 1\n Charlie MacPherson, that braw Hieland lad[die],\n On Valentine\u2019s even cam doun to Kinaltie,\n Courtit Burd Hellen, baith wakin an sleepin:\n \u2018Oh, fair fa them has my love in keepin!\u2019\n\n 2\n Charlie MacPherson cam doun the dykeside,\n Baith Milton an Muirton an a\u2019 bein his guide;\n Baith Milton an Muirton an auld Water Nairn,\n A\u2019 gaed wi him, for to be his warn.\n\n 3\n Whan he cam to the hoose o Kinaltie,\n \u2018Open your yetts, mistress, an lat us come in!\n Open your yetts, mistress, an lat us come in!\n For here\u2019s a commission come frae your gude-son.\n\n 4\n \u2018Madam,\u2019 says Charlie, \u2018whare [i]s your dochter?\n Mony time have I come to Kinatie an socht her;\n Noo maun she goe wi me mony a mile,\n Because I\u2019ve brocht mony men frae the West Isle.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018As for my dochter, she has gane abroad.\n You\u2019ll no get her for her tocher gude;\n She\u2019s on to Whitehouse, to marry auld Gairn:\n Oh, fair fa them that wait on my bairn!\u2019\n\n 6\n Charlie MacPherson gaed up the dykeside,\n Baith Muirtoun an Milton an a\u2019 bein his guide;\n Baith Muirton an Milton an auld Water Nairn,\n A\u2019 gaed wi him, for to be his warn.\n\n 7\n Whan he cam to the hoose in Braemar,\n Sae weel as he kent that his Nellie was there!\n An Nellie was sittin upon the bed-side,\n An every one there was ca\u2019ing her, bride.\n\n 8\n The canles gaed oot, they waurna weel licht,\n Swords an spears they glancet fou bricht;\n Sae laith as she was her true-love to beguile,\n Because he brocht mony men frae the West Isle.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 85.\n\n 1\n Charlie M\u2019Pherson, that brisk Highland laddie,\n At Valentine even he came to Kinadie:\n\n 2\n To court her Burd Helen, baith waking and sleeping;\n Joy be wi them that has her a keeping!\n\n 3\n Auldtown and Muirtown, likewise Billy Beg,\n All gaed wi Charlie, for to be his guide.\n\n 4\n Jamie M\u2019Robbie, likewise Wattie Nairn,\n All gaed wi Charlie, for to be his warran.\n\n 5\n When they came to Kinadie, they knockd at the door;\n When nae ane woud answer, they gaed a loud roar.\n\n 6\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll open the door, mistress, and lat us come in;\n For tidings we\u2019ve brought frae your appearant guid-son.\u2019\n\n 7\n For to defend them, she was not able;\n They bangd up the stair, sat down at the table.\n\n 8\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll eat and drink, gentlemen, and eat at your leisure;\n Nae thing\u2019s disturb you, take what\u2019s your pleasure.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018O madam,\u2019 said he, \u2018I\u2019m come for your daughter;\n Lang hae I come to Kinadie and there sought her.\n\n 10\n \u2018Now she\u2019s gae wi me for mony a mile,\n Before that I return unto the West Isle.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018My daughter\u2019s not at home, she is gone abroad;\n Ye darena now steal her, her tocher is guid.\n\n 12\n \u2018My daughter\u2019s in Whitehouse, wi Mistress Dalgairn;\n Joy be wi them that waits on my bairn!\u2019\n\n 13\n The swords an the targe that hang about Charlie,\n They had sic a glitter, and set him sae rarelie!\n\n 14\n They had sic a glitter, and kiest sic a glamour,\n They showed mair light than they had in the chamour.\n\n 15\n To Whitehouse he went, and when he came there\n Right sair was his heart when he went up the stair.\n\n 16\n Burd Helen was sitting by Thomas\u2019 bed-side,\n And all in the house were addressing her, bride.\n\n 17\n \u2018O farewell now, Helen, I\u2019ll bid you adieu;\n Is this a\u2019 the comfort I\u2019m getting frae you?\n\n 18\n \u2018It was never my intention ye shoud be the waur;\n My heavy heart light on Whitehouse o Cromar!\n\n 19\n \u2018For you I hae travelled full mony lang mile,\n Awa to Kinadie, far frae the West Isle.\n\n 20\n \u2018But now ye are married, and I am the waur;\n My heavy heart light on Whitehouse o Cromar!\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A.#\n\n _Air_, Whilk o ye lasses.\n\n#B.#\n\n _Printed in stanzas of four short lines._\n\n\n\n\n 235\n\n THE EARL OF ABOYNE\n\n #A.# \u2018The Earl of Aboyne,\u2019 Kinloch MSS, V, 351.\n\n #B.# \u2018The Earl of Aboyne.\u2019 #a.# Buchan\u2019s Gleanings, p. 71. #b#. Gibb\n MS., p. 29, No 5.\n\n #C.# Skene MS., p. 58.\n\n #D.# \u2018The Earl o Boyn,\u2019 \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border\n Minstrelsy,\u201d No 17, Abbotsford.\n\n #E.# \u2018Earl of Aboyne,\u2019 Harris MS., fol. 21 b.\n\n #F.# \u2018The Earl of Aboyne,\u2019 Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 635.\n\n #G.# Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 131.\n\n #H.# \u2018Bonny Peggy Irvine,\u2019 Campbell MSS, II, 105.\n\n #I.# \u2018Earl of Aboyne,\u2019 or, \u2018Bonny Peggy Irvine,\u2019 Motherwell\u2019s MS., p.\n 128.\n\n #J.# \u2018Earl of Aboyne,\u2019 or, \u2018Bonny Peggy Irvine,\u2019 Motherwell\u2019s MS., p.\n 135.\n\n #K.# From the recitation of Miss Fanny Walker, two stanzas.\n\n #L.# \u2018Earl of Aboyne,\u2019 Motherwell\u2019s Note-Book, p. 54, one stanza.\n\n\nThe copy in The New Deeside Guide, by James Brown [Joseph Robertson],\nAberdeen, 1832, p. 26, is #B a# with a few editorial changes. It is\nrepeated in The Deeside Guide, Aberdeen, 1889, with slight variations.\nThe copy in Christie\u2019s Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 22, is \u201cgiven from\nthe way the editor has heard it sung, assisted by Mr Buchan\u2019s copy in\nhis Gleanings;\u201d in fact, it is #B a# with unimportant variations, which\nmust be treated as arbitrary. Smith\u2019s New History of Aberdeenshire, I,\n207, repeats Aytoun, nearly, and Aytoun, II, 309, 1859, #B a#, nearly.\n\nNone of the versions here given go beyond 1800. Mrs Brown of Falkland,\nin an unprinted letter to Alexander Fraser Tytler, December 23, 1800,\noffers him \u2018The Death of the Countess of Aboyne,\u2019 which she had heard\nsung when a child: see p. 309, note.\n\n#A-I.# The Earl of Aboyne (who is kind but careless, #E#) goes to London\nwithout his wife, and stays overlong. Information comes by letter that\nhe has married there, #B#, or that he is in love with another woman,\n#D#. Word is brought that he is on his way home, and very near. His lady\norders stable-grooms, minstrels, cooks, housemaids, to bestir\nthemselves, #A-E#, #I#, #K#, makes a handsome toilet, #A#, #B#, #D#,\n#E#, #F#, and calls for wine to drink his health, #B#, #C#, #D#, #G#.\nShe comes down to the close to take him from his horse, #B#, #C#, #D#,\n#F#, and bids him thrice welcome. \u201cKiss me then for my coming,\u201d says the\nearl, and surprises his wife, and all of us, by adding that the morrow\nwould have been his wedding-day, if he had stayed in London. The lady\ngives him an angry and disdainful answer. This he resents, and orders\nhis men to mount again; he will go first to the Bog of Gight to see the\nMarquis of Huntly, and then return to London. The lady attempts, through\na servant, to get permission to accompany him, but is repulsed, #A#,\n#B#, #C#, #D# (misplaced in #G#). According to #A#, #C#, #D# 24, #F#,\nthe countess languished for about a twelvemonth, and then died of a\nbroken heart; but #D# 25, #G#, #H#, make her death ensue before or\nshortly after the earl\u2019s arrival at the Bog o Gight. Aboyne is very much\ndistressed at the tidings; he would rather have lost all his lands than\nMargaret Irvine, #C#, #D#, #E#, #G#, #H#. He goes to the burial with a\ntrain of gentlemen, all in black from the hose to the hat, #A#, #C#\n(horse to the hat, #B#, #E#, #F#).\n\n#J.# No Earl of Aboyne ever married an Irvine, and no Earl of Aboyne\nwould have meditated open bigamy, and have informed his wife while\nreceiving her welcome home how near he had come to perpetrating the\nsame. The historical difficulty and the practical absurdity are removed\nby assuming that #J# alone has preserved (or restored) the true and\noriginal story, and that all the other copies, beginning with Mrs\nBrown\u2019s, which calls the lady the Countess of Aboyne, have gone wrong.\nIn #J#, Peggy Irvine is only Aboyne\u2019s love, 1^3, and Aboyne is her true\nlover, 8^3. Aboyne was careless and kind, and kind to every woman, and\nAboyne staid over long in London, #A#, and the ladies they did invite\nhim, #H#. Under these circumstances, some Aboyne may have been on the\nbrink of deserting a Peggy Irvine to whom he was engaged.\n\nAboyne is Boyn, #D#, Boon, #H#; Irvine is Harboun, Harvey, #D#, Ewan,\n#E#, #K#; Bog o Gight is Bogs o the Geich, #D#, Bogs o the Gay, #G#,\nBughts o the Gight, #H#, Bog o Keith, #J#. The Bog o Gight is made\nAboyne\u2019s property in #D#, #G#, #H#. The Marquis of Huntly is blamed by\nAboyne for inciting him to unkindness, #D# 28, #G# 11.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n Kinloch MSS, V, 351; in the handwriting of John Hill Burton.\n\n 1\n The Earl of Aboyne he\u2019s courteous and kind,\n He\u2019s kind to every woman,\n And the Earl of Aboyne he\u2019s courteous and kind,\n But he stays ower lang in London.\n\n 2\n The ladie she stood on her stair-head,\n Beholding his grooms a coming;\n She knew by their livery and raiment so rare\n That their last voyage was from London.\n\n 3\n \u2018My groms all, ye\u2019ll be well in call,\n Hold all the stables shining;\n With a bretther o degs ye\u2019ll clear up my nags,\n Sin my gude Lord Aboyne is a coming.\n\n 4\n \u2018My minstrels all, be well in call,\n Hold all my galleries ringing;\n With music springs ye\u2019ll try well your strings,\n Sin my gude lord\u2019s a coming.\n\n 5\n \u2018My cooks all, be well in call,\n Wi pots and spits well ranked;\n And nothing shall ye want that ye call for,\n Sin my gude Lord Aboyne\u2019s a coming.\n\n 6\n \u2018My chamber-maids, ye\u2019ll dress up my beds,\n Hold all my rooms in shining;\n With Dantzic waters ye\u2019ll sprinkle my walls,\n Sin my good lord\u2019s a coming.\u2019\n\n 7\n Her shoes was of the small cordain,\n Her stockings silken twisting;\n Cambrick so clear was the pretty lady\u2019s smock,\n And her stays o the braided sattin.\n\n 8\n Her coat was of the white sarsenent,\n Set out wi silver quiltin,\n And her gown was o the silk damask,\n Set about wi red gold walting.\n\n 9\n Her hair was like the threads of gold,\n Wi the silk and sarsanet shining,\n Wi her fingers sae white, and the gold rings sae grite,\n To welcome her lord from London.\n\n 10\n Sae stately she steppit down the stair,\n And walkit to meet him coming;\n Said, O ye\u2019r welcome, my bonny lord,\n Ye\u2019r thrice welcome home from London!\n\n 11\n \u2018If this be so that ye let me know,\n Ye\u2019ll come kiss me for my coming,\n For the morn should hae been my bonny wedding-day\n Had I stayed the night in London.\u2019\n\n 12\n Then she turned her about wi an angry look,\n O for such an a sorry woman!\n \u2018If this be so that ye let me know,\n Gang kiss your ladies in London.\u2019\n\n 13\n Then he looked ower his left shoulder\n To the worthie companie wi him;\n Says he, Isna this an unworthy welcome\n The we\u2019ve got, comin from London!\n\n 14\n \u2018Get yer horse in call, my nobles all,\n And I\u2019m sorry for yer coming,\n But we\u2019ll horse, and awa to the bonny Bog o Gight,\n And then we\u2019ll go on to London.\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018If this be Thomas, as they call you,\n You\u2019ll see if he\u2019ll hae me with him;\n And nothing shall he be troubled with me\n But myself and my waiting-woman.\u2019\n\n 16\n \u2018I\u2019ve asked it already, lady,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018And your humble servant, madam;\n But one single mile he winna lat you ride\n Wi his company and him to London.\u2019\n\n 17\n A year and mare she lived in care,\n And doctors wi her dealin,\n And with a crack her sweet heart brack,\n And the letters is on to London.\n\n 18\n When the letters he got, they were all sealed in black,\n And he fell in a grievous weeping;\n He said, She is dead whom I loved best\n If I had but her heart in keepin.\n\n 19\n Then fifteen o the finest lords\n That London could afford him,\n From their hose to their hat, they were all clad in black,\n For the sake of her corpse, Margaret Irvine.\n\n 20\n The furder he gaed, the sorer he wept,\n Come keping her corpse, Margaret Irvine.\n Until that he came to the yetts of Aboyne,\n Where the corpse of his lady was lying.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n #a.# Buchan\u2019s Gleanings, p. 71, 1825. #b.# Gibb MS., p. 29, No 5,\n 1882, as learned by Mrs Gibb, senior, \u201cfifty years ago,\u201d in\n Strachan, Kincardineshire.\n\n 1\n The Earl o Aboyne to old England\u2019s gone,\n An a his nobles wi him;\n Sair was the heart his fair lady had\n Because she wanna wi him.\n\n 2\n As she was a walking in her garden green,\n Amang her gentlewomen,\n Sad was the letter that came to her,\n Her lord was wed in Lunan.\n\n 3\n \u2018Is this true, my Jean,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018My lord is wed in Lunan?\u2019\n \u2018O no, O no, my lady gay,\n For the Lord o Aboyne is comin.\u2019\n\n 4\n When she was looking oer her castell-wa,\n She spied twa boys comin:\n \u2018What news, what news, my bonny boys?\n What news hae ye frae Lunan?\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018Good news, good news, my lady gay,\n The Lord o Aboyne is comin;\n He\u2019s scarcely twa miles frae the place,\n Ye\u2019ll hear his bridles ringin.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018O my grooms all, be well on call,\n An hae your stables shinin;\n Of corn an hay spare nane this day,\n Sin the Lord o Aboyne is comin.\n\n 7\n \u2018My minstrels all, be well on call,\n And set your harps a tunin,\n Wi the finest springs, spare not the strings,\n Sin the Lord o Aboyne is comin.\n\n 8\n \u2018My cooks all, be well on call,\n An had your spits a runnin,\n Wi the best o roast, an spare nae cost,\n Sin the Lord o Aboyne is comin.\n\n 9\n \u2018My maids all, be well on call,\n An hae your flours a shinin;\n Cover oer the stair wi herbs sweet an fair,\n Cover the flours wi linen,\n An dress my bodie in the finest array,\n Sin the Lord o Aboyne is comin.\u2019\n\n 10\n Her gown was o the guid green silk,\n Fastned wi red silk trimmin;\n Her apron was o the guid black gaze,\n Her hood o the finest linen.\n\n 11\n Sae stately she stept down the stair,\n To look gin he was comin;\n She called on Kate, her chamer-maid,\n An Jean, her gentlewoman,\n To bring her a bottle of the best wine,\n To drink his health that\u2019s comin.\n\n 12\n She\u2019s gaen to the close, taen him frae\u2019s horse,\n Says, You\u2019r thrice welcome fra Lunan!\n \u2018If I be as welcome hauf as ye say,\n Come kiss me for my comin,\n For tomorrow should been my wedding-day\n Gin I\u2019de staid on langer in Lunan.\u2019\n\n 13\n She turned about wi a disdainful look\n To Jean, her gentlewoman:\n \u2018If tomorrow should been your wedding-day,\n Go kiss your whores in Lunan.\u2019\n\n 14\n \u2018O my nobles all, now turn your steeds,\n I\u2019m sorry for my comin;\n For the night we\u2019ll alight at the bonny Bog o Gight,\n Tomorrow tak horse for Lunan.\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018O Thomas, my man, gae after him,\n An spier gin I\u2019ll win wi him;\u2019\n \u2018Yes, madam, I hae pleaded for thee,\n But a mile ye winna win wi him.\u2019\n\n 16\n Here and there she ran in care,\n An doctors wi her dealin;\n But in a crak her bonny heart brak,\n And letters gaed to Lunan.\n\n 17\n When he saw the letter sealed wi black,\n He fell on\u2019s horse a weeping:\n \u2018If she be dead that I love best,\n She has my heart a keepin.\n\n 18\n \u2018My nobles all, ye\u2019ll turn your steeds,\n That comely face [I] may see then;\n Frae the horse to the hat, a\u2019 must be black,\n And mourn for bonny Peggy Irvine.\u2019\n\n 19\n When they came near to the place,\n They heard the dead-bell knellin,\n And aye the turnin o the bell\n Said, Come bury bonny Peggy Irvine.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n C\n\n Skene MS., p. 58; taken down in the North of Scotland, 1802\u20133.\n\n 1\n The Earl of Aboyne he\u2019s careless an kin,\n An he is new come frae London;\n He sent his man him before,\n To tell o his hame-comin.\n\n 2\n First she called on her chamberline,\n Sin on Jeanie, her gentlewoman:\n \u2018Bring me a glass o the best claret win,\n To drink my good lord\u2019s well-hame-comin.\n\n 3\n \u2018My servants all, be ready at a call.\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n For the Lord of Aboyne is comin\n\n 4\n \u2018My cooks all, be ready at a call\n . . . . . . .\n Wi the very best of meat,\n For the Lord of Aboyne is comin.\n\n 5\n \u2018My maids all, be ready at a call,\n . . . . . . .\n The rooms I\u2019ve the best all to be dressd,\n For the Lord of Aboyn is comin.\u2019\n\n 6\n She did her to the closs to take him fra his horse,\n An she welcomed him frae London:\n . . . . . . .\n \u2018Ye\u2019r welcome, my good lord, frae London!\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018An I be sae welcome, he says,\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll kiss me for my comin,\n For the morn sud hae bin my weddin-day\n Gif I had staid in London.\u2019\n\n 8\n She turned her about wi a disdainfull look,\n Dear, she was a pretty woman!\n \u2018Gif the morn shud hae bin yer weddin-day,\n Ye may kiss your whores in London.\u2019\n\n 9\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n \u2018So I shall, madam, an ye\u2019s hae na mare to sey,\n For I\u2019ll dine wi the Marquis of Huntley.\u2019\n\n 10\n She did her to his servant-man,\n I wat they caed him Peter Gordon:\n \u2018Ye will ask my good lord if he will let me\n Wi him a single mile to ride [to London].\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018Ye need not, madam, . . .\n I have asked him already;\n He will not let ye a single mile ride,\n For he is to dine with the Marquis o Huntly.\u2019\n\n 12\n She called on her chamber-maid,\n Sin on Jean, her gentlewoman:\n \u2018Ge make my bed, an tye up my head,\n Woe\u2019s me for his hame-comin!\u2019\n\n 13\n She lived a year and day, wi mickle grief and wae,\n The doctors were wi her dealin;\n Within a crack, her heart it brack,\n An the letters they went to London.\n\n 14\n He gae the table wi his foot,\n An koupd it wi his knee,\n Gared silver cup an easer dish\n In flinders flee.\n\n 15\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n \u2018I wad I had lost a\u2019 the lands o Aboyne\n Or I had lost bonny Margat Irvine.\u2019\n\n 16\n He called on his best serving-man,\n I wat the caed him Peter Gordon:\n \u2018Gae get our horses saddled wi speed,\n Woe\u2019s me for our hame-comin!\n\n 17\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n \u2018For we will a\u2019 be in black, fra the hose to the hat,\n Woe\u2019s me for bonny Margat Irvine!\n\n 18\n \u2018We must to the North, to bury her corps,\n Alas for our hame-comin!\n I rather I had lost a\u2019 the lands o Aboyne\n Or I had lost bonny Margat Irvine.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n D\n\n \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 17; in the\n handwriting of Richard Heber.\n\n 1\n The guid Earl o Boyn\u2019s awa to Lonon gone,\n An a\u2019 his gallan grooms wie him,\n But, for a\u2019 the ribbons that hing at her hat,\n He has left his fair lady behind him.\n\n 2\n He had not been in London toun\n A month but barely one, O,\n Till the letters an the senes they came to her hand\n That he was in love with another woman.\n\n 3\n \u2018O what think ye o this, my bonny boy?\u2019 she says,\n \u2018What think ye o my lord at London?\n What think ye o this, my bonny boy?\u2019 she says,\n \u2018He\u2019s in love wie another woman.\u2019\n\n 4\n That lady lookd out at her closet-window,\n An saw the gallan grooms coming;\n \u2018What think ye o this, my bonny boy?\u2019 she says,\n \u2018For yonder the gallan grooms coming.\u2019\n\n 5\n Stately, stately steppit she doun\n To welcome the gallan grooms from London:\n \u2018Ye\u2019re welcome, ye\u2019re welcome, gallan grooms a\u2019;\n Is the guid Earl o Boyn a coming?\n\n 6\n \u2018What news, what news, my gallan grooms a\u2019?\n What news have ye from London?\n What news, what news, my gallan grooms a\u2019?\n Is the guid Earl o Boyn a-coming?\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018No news, no news,\u2019 said they gallan grooms a\u2019,\n \u2018No news hae we from London;\n No news, no news,\u2019 said the gallan grooms a\u2019,\n \u2018But the guid Earl o Boyn\u2019s a coming,\n An he\u2019s not two miles from the palace-gates,\n An he\u2019s fast coming hame from London.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018Ye stable-grooms a\u2019, be ready at the ca,\n An have a\u2019 your stables in shening,\n An sprinkle them over wie some costly water,\n Since the guid Earl o Boyn\u2019s a coming.\n\n 9\n \u2018Ye pretty cooks a\u2019, be ready at the ca,\n An have a\u2019 your spits in turning,\n An see that ye spare neither cost nor pains,\n Since the guid Earl o Boyn\u2019s a coming.\n\n 10\n \u2018Ye servant-maids, ye\u2019ll trim up the beds,\n An wipe a\u2019 the rooms oer wie linnen,\n An put a double daisy at every stair-head,\n Since the guid Earl o Boyn\u2019s a coming.\n\n 11\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll call to me my chambermaid,\n An Jean, my gentlewoman,\n An they\u2019ll dress me in some fine array.\n Since the good Earl o Boyn\u2019s a coming.\u2019\n\n 12\n Her stockens were o the good fine silk,\n An her shirt it was o the camric,\n An her goun it was a\u2019 giltit oer,\n An she was a\u2019 hung oer wie rubbies.\n\n 13\n That lady lookd out at her closet-window,\n An she thought she saw him coming:\n \u2018Go fetch to me some fine Spanish wine,\n That I may drink his health that\u2019s a coming.\u2019\n\n 14\n Stately, stately steppit she doun\n To welcome her lord from London,\n An as she walked through the close\n She\u2019s peed him from his horse.\n\n 15\n \u2018Ye\u2019re welcome, ye\u2019re welcome, my dearest dear,\n Ye\u2019re three times welcome from London!\u2019\n \u2018If I be as welcome as ye say,\n Ye\u2019ll kiss me for my coming;\n Come kiss me, come kiss me, my dearest dear,\n Come kiss me, my bonny Peggy Harboun.\u2019\n\n 16\n O she threw her arms aroun his neck,\n To kiss him for his coming:\n \u2018If I had stayed another day,\n I\u2019d been in love wie another woman.\u2019\n\n 17\n She turned her about wie a very stingy look,\n She was as sorry as any woman;\n She threw a napkin out-oure her face,\n Says, Gang kiss your whore at London.\n\n 18\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll mount an go, my gallan grooms a\u2019,\n Ye\u2019ll mount and back again to London;\n Had I known this to be the answer my Meggy\u2019s gein me,\n I had stayed some longer at London.\u2019\n\n 19\n \u2018Go, Jack, my livery boy,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018Go ask if he\u2019ll take me wie him;\n An he shall hae nae cumre o me\n But mysel an my waiting-woman.\u2019\n\n 20\n \u2018O the laus o London the\u2019re very severe,\n They are not for a woman;\n An ye are too low in coach for to ride,\n I\u2019m your humble servant, madam.\n\n 21\n \u2018My friends they were a\u2019 angry at me\n For marrying ane o the house o Harvey;\n And ye are too low in coach for to ride,\n I\u2019m your humble servant, lady.\n\n 22\n \u2018Go saddle for me my steeds,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018Go saddle them soon and softly,\n For I maun awa to the Bogs o the Geich,\n An speak wi the Marquess o Huntly.\u2019\n\n 23\n The guid Earl o Boyn\u2019s awa to London gone,\n An a\u2019 his gallan gro[o]ms wie him;\n But his lady fair he\u2019s left behind\n Both a sick an a sorry woman.\n\n 24\n O many were the letters she after him did send,\n A\u2019 the way back again to London,\n An in less than a twelvemonth her heart it did break,\n For the loss o her lord at London.\n\n 25\n He was not won well to the Bogs o the Geich,\n Nor his horses scarcely batit,\n Till the letters and the senes they came to his hand\n That his lady was newly strickit.\n\n 26\n \u2018O is she dead? or is she sick?\n O woe\u2019s me for my coming!\n I\u2019d rather a lost a\u2019 the Bogs o the Geich\n Or I\u2019d lost my bonny Peggy Harboun.\u2019\n\n 27\n He took the table wi his foot,\n Made a\u2019 the room to tremble:\n \u2018I\u2019d rather a lost a\u2019 the Bogs o the Geich\n Or I\u2019d lost my bonny Peggy Harboun.\n\n 28\n \u2018Oh an alas! an O woe\u2019s me!\n An wo to the Marquess o Huntly.\n Wha causd the Earl o Boyn prove sae very unkin\n To a true an a beautifu lady!\u2019\n\n 29\n There were fifteen o the bravest gentlemen,\n An the bravest o the lords o London,\n They went a\u2019 to attend her burial-day,\n But the Earl o Boyn could not go wi them.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n E\n\n Harris MS., fol. 21 b; from the recitation of Mrs Harris.\n\n 1\n \u2018My maidens fair, yoursels prepare.\u2019\n\n 2\n You may weel knaw by her hair, wi the diamonds sae rare,\n That the Earl of Aboyne was comin.\n\n 3\n \u2018My minstrels all, be at my call,\n Haud a\u2019 your rooms a ringin,\n . . . . . . .\n For the Earl of Aboyne is comin.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018Tomorrow soud hae been my bonnie waddin-day,\n If I had staid in London.\u2019\n\n 5\n She turned her aboot wi an angry look,\n An sic an angry woman!\n \u2018Gin tomorrow soud hae been your bonnie waddin-day,\n Gae back to your miss in Lunnon.\u2019\n\n 6\n For mony a day an year that lady lived in care,\n An doctors wi her dealin,\n Till just in a crack her very heart did brak,\n An her letters went on to Lunnon.\n\n 7\n There waur four-an-twenty o the noblest lords\n That Lonnon could aford him,\n A\u2019 clead in black frae the saidle to the hat,\n To convey the corpse o Peggy Ewan.\n\n 8\n \u2018I\u2019d rather hae lost a\u2019 the lands o Aboyne\n Than lost my pretty Peggy Ewan.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n F\n\n Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 635; \u201cfrom the recitation of Margaret Black,\n wife of Archie Black, sailor in Ayr, a native of Aberdeenshire.\u201d\n\n 1\n The Earl of Aboyne is to London gane,\n And a\u2019 his nobles with him;\n He\u2019s left his lady him behin,\n He\u2019s awa, to remain in Lundon.\n\n 2\n She\u2019s called upon her waiting-maid\n To busk her in her claithin;\n Her sark was o cambrick very fine,\n And her bodice was the red buckskin.\n\n 3\n Her stockings were o silk sae fine,\n And her shoon o the fine cordan;\n Her coat was o the guid green silk,\n Turnit up wi a siller warden.\n\n 4\n Her goun was also o the silk,\n Turned up wi a siller warden,\n And stately tripped she doun the stair,\n As she saw her gude lord comin.\n\n 5\n She gaed thro the close and grippit his horse,\n Saying, Ye\u2019re welcome hame frae London!\n \u2018Gin that be true, come kiss me now,\n Come kiss me for my coming.\n\n 6\n \u2018For blythe and cantie may ye be,\n And thank me for my comin,\n For the morn would hae been my wedding-day\n Had I remained in London.\u2019\n\n 7\n She turnd her richt and round about,\n She was a waefu woman:\n \u2018Gin the morn would hae been your weddin-day,\n Gae kiss your whores in London.\u2019\n\n 8\n He turned him richt and round about,\n He was sorry for his comin:\n \u2018Loup on your steeds, ye nobles a\u2019,\n The morn we\u2019ll dine in London.\u2019\n\n 9\n She lived a year in meikle wae,\n And the doctors dealin wi her;\n At lang and last her heart it brast\n And the letters gade to London.\n\n 10\n And when he saw the seals o black,\n He fell in a deadly weeping;\n He said, She\u2019s dead whom I loed best,\n And she had my heart in keeping.\n\n 11\n \u2018Loup on your steeds, ye nobles a\u2019,\n I\u2019m sorry for our comin;\n Frae our horse to our hat, we\u2019ll gae in black,\n And we\u2019ll murn for Peggy Irwine.\u2019\n\n 12\n They rade on but stap or stay\n Till they came to her father\u2019s garden,\n Whare fifty o the bravest lords\n Were convoying Peggy Irwine.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n G\n\n Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 131.\n\n 1\n The Earl Aboyne to London has gane,\n And all his nobles with him;\n For a\u2019 the braw ribbands he wore at his hat,\n He has left his lady behind him.\n\n 2\n She\u2019s called on her little foot-page,\n And Jean, her gentlewoman;\n Said, Fill to me a full pint of wine,\n And I\u2019ll drink it at my lord\u2019s coming.\n\n 3\n \u2018You\u2019re welcome, you\u2019re welcome, you\u2019re welcome,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018You\u2019re welcome home from London!\u2019\n \u2018If I be welcome as you now say,\n Come kiss me, my bonnie Peggy Irvine.\n\n 4\n \u2018Come kiss me, come kiss me, my lady,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018Come kiss me for my coming,\n For the morn should hae been my wedding-day,\n Had I staid any longer in London.\u2019\n\n 5\n She turned about with an angry look,\n Said, Woe\u2019s me for your coming!\n If the morn should hae been your wedding-day,\n Go back to your whore in London.\n\n 6\n He\u2019s called on his little foot-page,\n Said, Saddle both sure and swiftly,\n And I\u2019l away to the Bogs o the Gay,\n And speak wi the Marquis o Huntly.\n\n 7\n She has called on her little foot-page,\n Said, See if he\u2019ll take me with him;\n And he shall hae nae mair cumber o me\n But mysell and my servant-woman.\n\n 8\n \u2018O London streets they are too strait,\n They are not for a woman,\n And it is too low to ride in coach wi me\n With your humble servant-woman.\u2019\n\n 9\n He had not been at the Bogs o the Gay,\n Nor yet his horse was baited,\n Till a boy with a letter came to his hand\n That his lady was lying streekit.\n\n 10\n \u2018O woe! O woe! O woe!\u2019 he says,\n \u2018O woe\u2019s me for my coming!\n I had rather lost the Bogs o the Gay\n Or I\u2019d lost my bonny Peggy Irvine.\n\n 11\n \u2018O woe! O woe! O woe!\u2019 he said,\n \u2018O woe to the Marquis o Huntly,\n Gard the Earl of Aboyne prove very unkind\n To a good and a dutiful lady!\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n H\n\n Campbell MSS, II, 105.\n\n 1\n The Earl of Boon\u2019s to London gone,\n And all his merry men with him;\n For a\u2019 the ribbonds hang at his horse\u2019s main.\n He has left his lady behind him.\n\n 2 He had not been a night in town.\n Nor a day into the city,\n Until that the letters they came to him,\n And the ladies they did invite him.\n\n 3\n His lady has lookit oer her left shoulder,\n To see if she saw him coming,\n And then she saw her ain good lord,\n Just newly come from London.\n\n 4\n \u2018Come kiss me, my dear, come kiss me,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018Come kiss me for my coming,\n For if I had staid another day in town\n Tomorrow I would hae been married in Lunnon.\u2019\n\n 5\n She turned about wi a very saucy look,\n As saucy as eer did a woman;\n Says, If a\u2019 be true that I\u2019ve heard of you,\n You may go back and kiss your whores in Lunnon.\n\n 6\n \u2018Go call on Jack, my waiting-man,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018Go saddle and make him ready;\n For I maun away to the Bughts o Gight,\n To speak to the Marquess of Huntly.\u2019\n\n 7\n He had not been at the Bughts of the Gight,\n Nor the horses yet weel bated,\n Until that the letters came ta him\n That his lady was newly streeket.\n\n 8\n \u2018Wae\u2019s me, my dear! wae\u2019s me!\u2019 he said,\n \u2018It waes me for my coming;\n For I wad rather lost a\u2019 the Bughts o the Gight\n Or I had lost my bonny Peggy Irvine.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n I\n\n Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 128.\n\n 1\n The Earl of Aboyne to London has gone,\n And all his nobles with him;\n For all the braw ribbands he wore at his hat,\n He has left his lady behind him.\n\n 2\n She has to her high castle gane,\n To see if she saw him coming;\n And who did she spy but her own servant Jack,\n Coming riding home again from London.\n\n 3\n \u2018What news, what news, my own servant Jack?\n What news have you got from London?\u2019\n \u2018Good news, good news, my lady,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018For the Earl of Aboyne he is coming.\u2019\n\n 4\n She has to her kitchen-maid gane:\n \u2018Set your pots and your pans all a boiling;\n Have every thing fine for gentry to dine,\n For the Earl of Aboyne he is coming.\n\n 5\n \u2018Stable-grooms all, pray be well employed,\n Set your stable-bells all a ringing;\n Let your hecks be overlaid with the finest of good hay,\n For the Earl of Aboyne he is coming.\u2019\n\n 6\n She has to her low gates gane,\n To see if she saw him coming,\n And long seven miles before they came to town\n She heard their bridles ringing.\n\n 7\n \u2018Come kiss me, come kiss me, madam,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018Come kiss me for my coming,\n For the morn should hae been my wedding-day\n Had I staid any longer in London.\u2019\n\n 8\n She\u2019s turned about with an angry look,\n Says, Woe\u2019s me for thy coming!\n If the morn should hae been your wedding-day,\n Go back and kiss your whores in London.\n\n 9\n They\u2019ve turned their horses\u2019 heads around,\n Their faces all for London;\n With their hands to their hats they all rode off,\n And they\u2019re all away to London.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n J\n\n Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 135; from the recitation of Widow Nicol, of\n Paisley.\n\n 1\n The Earl of Aboyne has up to London gone,\n And all his nobles with him,\n And three broad letters he sent into his love\n He would wed another woman in London.\n\n 2\n She has turned the honey month about,\n To see if he was coming,\n And lang three miles ere he came to the town\n She heard his bridle ringing.\n\n 3\n She\u2019s went down unto the close and she\u2019s taen him from his horse,\n Says, Ye\u2019re welcome home from London!\n \u2018If I be as welcome, dear Peggy, as you say,\n Come kiss me for my coming.\n\n 4\n \u2018Come kiss me, come kiss me, dear Peggy,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018Come kiss me for my coming,\n For tomorrow should have been my wedding-day\n Had I tarried any longer in London.\u2019\n\n 5\n She has turned herself round about,\n And she was an angry woman:\n \u2018If tomorrow should have been your wedding-day,\n You may kiss with your sweethearts in London.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018Go saddle me my steed,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018Saddle and make him ready;\n For I must away to the bonny Bog of Keith,\n For to visit the Marquis of Huntley.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018Go ask him, go ask, dear Thomas,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018Go ask if he\u2019ll take me with him;\u2019\n \u2018I\u2019ve asked him once, and I\u2019ll ask him no more,\n For ye\u2019ll never ride a mile in his company.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018Go make to me my bed,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018Make it soft and narrow;\n For since my true lover has slighted me so,\n I will die for him ere morrow.\u2019\n\n 9\n She has called her waiting-man,\n And Jean her gentlewoman:\n \u2018Go bring to me a glass of red wine,\n For I\u2019m as sick as any woman.\u2019\n\n 10\n The bed it was not made nor well laid down,\n Nor yet the curtains drawn on,\n Till stays and gown and all did burst,\n And it\u2019s alace for bonny Peggy Irvine!\n\n 11\n The Earl of Aboyne was not at the Bog of Keith,\n Nor met wi the Marquis of Huntley,\n Till three broad letters were sent after him\n That his pretty Peggy Irvine had left him.\n\n 12\n He gave such a rap on the table where he sat\n It made all the room for to tremble:\n \u2018I would rather I had lost all the rents of Aboyne\n Than have lost my pretty Peggy Irvine.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n K\n\n Communicated by Mr Alexander Laing; from the recitation of Miss\n Fanny Walker, of Mount Pleasant, near Newburgh-on-Tay.\n\n 1\n The Earl o Aboyne is awa to Lunnon gane,\n An he\u2019s taen Joannan wi him,\n An it ill be Yule ere he come again;\n But he micht hae taen his bonnie Peggie Ewan.\n\n 2\n Cook-maidens all, be ready at my call,\n Hae a\u2019 your pats an pans a-reekin;\n For the finest o flowrs, gae through your bowrs,\n For the Earl o Aboyne \u2018s a comin.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n L\n\n Motherwell\u2019s Note-Book, p. 54. \u201cAn old woman (native of Banfshire)\n sings \u2018The Earl of Aboyne,\u2019 beginning:\u201d\n\n The Lord Aboyn\u2019s to London gone,\n And his hail court wi him;\n Better he had staid at hame,\n Or taen his lady wi him.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A.#\n\n 3^3. _Perhaps_ bretlher a: _not understood by me in either case._\n clear _may be_ clean.\n\n 20^2. keping. _Glossed_ \u201cmeeting\u201d _in a note, but the line is not\n intelligible to me, and does not seem to be consistent with what\n follows._\n\n#B. a.#\n\n 9^3. herbs sweet air. _Robertson, New Deeside Guide, prints_ herbs\n sweet an fair.\n\n 12^6. _Robertson prints_ ony langer.\n\n#b.#\n\n 1.\n The Earl o Aboyne he\u2019s courteous an kind,\n He\u2019s kind to every woman,\n An he has left the castle o Aboyne\n An gane to dwell in Lunan;\n An sair was the heart his lady had,\n Because she wan na wi him.\n\n 2.\n As she was walking in her garden green,\n Alang wi her gentlewoman,\n There was a letter brocht to her\n That her lord was wed in London.\n\n 3. _Wanting._\n\n 4^2. saw twa bonny boys.\n\n 4^4. bring ye.\n\n 5^1. ye lady.\n\n 5^2. For the Earl o.\n\n 5^{3,4}. _Wanting._\n\n 6^1. all _wanting_.\n\n 6^4, 8^4, 9^6. Earl _for_ Lord.\n\n 7, 8^{2,3}, 9^{2\u20135}, 10, 11^{1,2}. _Wanting._\n\n 9^1. maidens.\n\n 11^5. Gae bring me a pint o the gude red wine.\n\n 12^2. Says, Ye\u2019re welcome hame.\n\n 12^3. welcome, he cried, as.\n\n 12^5. wad hae been.\n\n 12^6. only langer.\n\n 13^1. her about wi a scornfu.\n\n 13^3. suld hae been his.\n\n 13^4. He may kiss his miss in.\n\n 14^1. My merry men a\u2019.\n\n 14^2. I\u2019m wae at heart for.\n\n 14^3. The nicht we\u2019ll licht.\n\n 14^4. An the morn tak.\n\n 15, 16^{1,2}, 17^4, 18^2. _Wanting._\n\n 18^1. My merry men a\u2019 now turn.\n\n 19^1. near to bonny Aboyne.\n\n 19^3. the tollin.\n\n #a# _may have been derived from a printed copy, and #b# learned from\n the same._\n\n#C.#\n\n _The latter half of the Skene MS. is very carelessly copied. Here,\n as in other places, stanzas are not separated, lines are\n improperly divided, and there are omissions which are in no way\n indicated._\n\n 1^3. man hin | Before to, _etc._\n\n#D.#\n\n 4^4. yonder\u2019s? _But_ yonder _may_==yonder are.\n\n 14^4. She speed.\n\n#G.#\n\n 7, 8 #are# 2, 3 _in the MS._\n\n#H.#\n\n 7^4. streeket. _MS._, _perhaps_, struket.\n\n#I.#\n\n 1^1, 3^4. of _is of later insertion_.\n\n 6^3. came hame, _originally_; hame _is erased and_ to town\n _written above_.\n\n#J.#\n\n 2^1. _I do not understand_ turned the honey month.\n\n 3^1. taen from him.\n\n 3^3. as you say: _originally written_ he says.\n\n 7^1. him _struck out after the second_ ask.\n\n\n\n\n 236\n\n THE LAIRD O DRUM\n\n #A. a.# Kinloch MSS, V, 9. #b#. \u2018Laird of Drum,\u2019 Kinloch\u2019s Ancient\n Scottish Ballads, p. 199.\n\n #B.# \u2018The Laird of Doune\u2019 [miswritten for Drum], Skene MS., p. 78.\n\n #C.# MS. copy formerly in the possession of Sir Walter Scott.\n\n #D. a.# Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 194. #b#. \u2018The\n Laird of Drum,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s MSS, II, 101; Dixon, Scottish Traditional\n Versions of Ancient Ballads, p. 53, Percy Society, vol. xvii. #c#.\n The New Deeside Guide, by James Brown, [1832,] p. 11. #d#. Gibb MS.,\n p. 21.\n\n #E.# \u2018The Laird of Drum,\u2019 MS., inserted in Dr Joseph Robertson\u2019s\n interleaved copy of The New Deeside Guide, Aberdeen [1832].\n\n #F. a.# \u2018The Ladye o the Drum,\u2019 Loudon MS., p. 7. #b#. \u2018The Laird o\n the Drum,\u2019 Macmath MS., p. 13.\n\n\nFirst taken into a collection by Kinloch, 1827, who remarks that the\nballad had been printed as a broadside in the North, and was extremely\npopular. #B#, the oldest version that has been recovered, was written\ndown in 1802\u20133. There are verbal agreements between #B#, especially, and\na fragment in Herd\u2019s MSS (I, 55, II, 187, Herd\u2019s Scottish Songs, 1776,\nII, 6), and there has been borrowing from one side or the other. Herd\u2019s\nfragment belongs to a ballad of a shepherd\u2019s daughter and an earl which\nis preserved in two copies in Motherwell\u2019s MS. (I, 37, 252). No 397 of\nThe Musical Museum, communicated to Johnson, says Stenhouse, by Burns,\n[1792,] and probably in a large measure his work, begins with stanzas\nwhich may have been suggested by the ballad before us or by the other.\nSee an appendix.\n\nThe copy in Christie, I, 24, was epitomized from #A b#, with some\nalterations. That in The Deeside Guide, 1889, p. 17, is Aytoun\u2019s,\ncompounded of #A b# and #D a#.\n\nAlexander Irvine, the young laird of Drum, says Spalding, was married to\nthe lady Mary Gordon on December 7, 1643: Memorials of the Trubles in\nScotland, etc., II, 296. Lady Mary Gordon was fourth daughter to George\nthe second Marquis of Huntly, and niece to the Marquis of Argyll. The\nLaird of Drum suffered extremely in his worldly fortunes through his\nfidelity to the cause of the Stuarts. This would have been a natural\nreason for his declining a peerage offered him at the Restoration, and\nfor his marrying, the second time, to win and not to spend. He took for\nhis second wife Margaret Coutts (#A# 9), \u201ca woman of inferior birth and\nmanners, which step gave great offence to his relations.\u201d (Kinloch.) He\ndied in 1687. After the death of Irvine of Drum, Margaret Coutts married\nIrvine of Cults. She died in 1710, at the age of only forty-five.[137]\n\nDrum is ten miles west of Aberdeen.[138]\n\nFor the commonplace in #A a# 3, #B# 8, #C# 5, etc., see II, 181 #b#.\n\n\nKnortz, Lieder und Romanzen Alt-Englands, No 29, p. 105, translates\nAllingham\u2019s ballad.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n#a.# Kinloch MSS, V, 9, in the handwriting of James Beattie. #b.#\nKinloch\u2019s Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 199; \u201cfrom recitation.\u201d\n\n 1\n O it fell out upon a day,\n When Drums was going to ride, O\n And there he met with a well-far\u2019d may,\n Keeping her flocks on yon side. O\n\n 2\n \u2018O fair may, O rare may,\n Can not you fancy me?\n Of a\u2019 the lasses here about\n I like nane so well as thee.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018Set your love on another, kind sir,\n Set it not on me,\n For I\u2019m not fit to be your bride,\n And your whore I\u2019ll never be.\u2019\n\n 4\n Drums is to her father gane,\n Keeping his flocks on yon hill,\n And he has gotten his consent,\n And the maid was at his will.\n\n 5\n \u2018My daughter can neither read nor write,\n She was neer brought up at school;\n But well can she milk cow and ewe,\n And make a kebbuck well.\n\n 6\n \u2018She\u2019ll winn in your barn at bear-seed time,\n Cast out your muck at Yule;\n She\u2019ll saddle your steed in time o need,\n Draw aff your boots hersell.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018Have not I no clergymen?\n Pay I no clergy fee?\n I\u2019ll school her as I think fit,\n And as I think fit to be.\u2019\n\n 8\n Drums is to the Highlands gane\n For to be made ready,\n And a\u2019 the gentry thereabout\n Says, Yonder comes Drums and his lady.]\n\n 9\n \u2018Peggy Coutts is a very bonnie bride,\n And Drums is a wealthy laddie;\n But Drums might hae chosen a higher match\n Than any shepherd\u2019s daughter.\u2019\n\n 10\n Then up bespake his brother John,\n Says, Brother you\u2019ve done us wrong;\n You\u2019ve married ane below our degree,\n A stain to a\u2019 our kin.\n\n 11\n \u2018Hold your tongue, my brother John,\n I have done you no wrong;\n For I\u2019ve married ane to wirk and win,\n And ye\u2019ve married ane to spend.\n\n 12\n \u2018The last time that I had a wife,\n She was above my degree;\n I durst not come in her presence\n But with my hat on my knee.\u2019\n\n 13\n There was four-and-twenty gentlemen\n Stood at the yetts o Drum;\n There was na ane amang them a\u2019\n That welcomd his lady in.\n\n 14\n He\u2019s taen her by the milk-white hand\n And led her in himsell,\n And in thro ha\u2019s and in thro bowers,\n \u2018And you\u2019re welcome, Lady o Drum.\u2019\n\n 15\n Thrice he kissd her cherry cheek,\n And thrice her cherry chin,\n And twenty times her comely mouth,\n \u2018And you\u2019re welcome, Lady o Drum.\u2019\n\n 16\n \u2018Ye shall be cook in my kitchen,\n Butler in my ha;\n Ye shall be lady at my command\n When I ride far awa.\u2019\n\n 17\n \u2018But what will I do when auld Drum dies,\n When auld Drum dies and leaves me?\n Then I\u2019ll tak back my word again,\n And the Coutts will come and see me.\u2019\n\n * * * * * *\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n Skene MS., p. 78; taken down from recitation in the north of\n Scotland, 1802\u20133.\n\n 1\n There was a knight, [an a gallant knight,]\n An a gallant knight was he,\n An he\u2019s faen in love\n Wi his shepherd\u2019s daghterie.\n\n 2\n . . . . . . .\n He could neither gang nor ride,\n He fell so deep in her fancy,\n Till his nose began to bleed.\n\n 3\n \u2018Bonny may, an bra may,\n Canna ye on me rue?\n By a\u2019 the maid[s] I ever saw,\n There is nane I loo by you.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018Ye\u2019r a shepherd\u2019s ae daghter,\n An I\u2019m a barron\u2019s son;\n An what pleasure I wad hae\n To see ye gae out an in!\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018I\u2019m a shepherd\u2019s ae dochter,\n An ye\u2019r a barron\u2019s son;\n An there is nae pleasure I could ha\n To see ye gae out or in.\n\n 6\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n \u2018For I wadna gie the fancy of my bonny love\n For na love nor favour o you.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018Bonny may, an bra may,\n Canna ye on me rue?\n By a\u2019 the maids I ever saw\n There is nane I loo by you.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018Lay na yer fancy, sir, on me,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018Lay na yer fancy on me;\n For I\u2019m our low to be yer bride,\n An yer quine I\u2019ll never be.\n\n 9\n \u2018For I will wear nane o yer silks,\n Nor nane o yer scarlet claes;\n For the hue o the whin shall be my gown,\n An I will gae as I pleas.\u2019\n\n 10\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n \u2018Ye\u2019r na our laigh to be my bride,\n An my quine ye\u2019s never be.\n\n 11\n \u2018Bonny may, and bra may,\n Winna ye on me rue?\n By a\u2019 the maids I ever see,\n There\u2019s nane I loo but you.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018Gin ye ha faen so deep in my fancy\n Ye can neither gan[g] nor ride,\n Gae tak me to the middle o the ring,\n An bring me guid companie.\u2019\n\n 13\n He has taen her by the milk-white hand\n And led her thro haas an bowers:\n \u2018Ye\u2019r the choice of my heart,\n An a\u2019 I hae is yours.\u2019\n\n 14\n He took her by the milk-white hand\n And led her out and in:\n \u2018Ye\u2019r the choice o my heart,\n My dear, ye\u2019r welcome in.\u2019\n\n 15\n Out spake his brither John,\n \u2018Brither, ye ha done great wrong;\n Ye hae married a wife this night\n Disdained by a\u2019 yer kin.\u2019\n\n 16\n \u2018Hold yer tong, my brither John,\n For I hae don na wrong;\n For I ha married a wife to ...,\n An ye ha ane to spend.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n C\n\n From a MS. copy formerly in possession of Sir Walter Scott;\n communicated by the Rev. W. Forbes-Leith, through Mr Macmath.\n\n 1\n There was a shepherd\u2019s daughter\n Sheering at the bear,\n And by cam the Laird o Drum,\n On an evening clear.\n\n 2\n \u2018O will ye fancy me, fair maid?\n O will ye fancy me?\n O will ye fancy me, fair maid,\n An lat the sheering be?\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018O say na sae again, kind sir,\n O say na sae again;\n I\u2019m owr low to be your bride,\n Ye\u2019r born owr high a man.\u2019\n\n 4\n Said, Fair maid, O rare maid,\n Will ye on me rue?\n Amang a\u2019 the lasses o the land\n I fancy nane but you.\n\n 5\n \u2018Lay your love on another,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018And lay it not on me,\n For I\u2019m owr low to be your bride,\n Your miss I\u2019ll never be.\n\n 6\n \u2018Yonder is my father dear,\n Wi hogs upon yon hill;\n Gif ye get but his consent,\n I shall be at your will.\u2019\n\n 7\n He\u2019s taen him to her father dear,\n Keeps hogs upon yon hill,\n An he has gotten his consent,\n The may was at his will.\n\n 8\n \u2018My daughter canna read or write,\n She never was at school;\n Weel can she milk cow and ewe,\n An serve your house fu weel.\n\n 9\n \u2018Weel can she shack your barns\n An gae to mill an kill,\n Saddle your steed in time o need,\n And draw your boots hirsel.\n\n 10\n \u2018She canna wear your silk sae fine,\n Nor yet your silver clear;\n The hue o the ewe man be her weed,\n Altho she was your dear.\u2019\n\n 11\n He\u2019s wedded the shepherd\u2019s daughter,\n An he has taen her hame;\n He\u2019s wedded the shepherd\u2019s daughter,\n An led her on to Drum.\n\n 12\n There were four an twenty bold barons\n Stood at the yet o Drum;\n There was na ane amang them a\u2019\n That welcomd his lady hame.\n\n 13\n Out then spak his brother dear,\n Says, Ye\u2019v done mickel wrong;\n Ye\u2019v wedded a mean woman,\n The lack o a\u2019 our kin.\n\n 14\n \u2018I never did thee wrong, brother,\n I never did thee wrong;\n I\u2019ve wedded a woman to work an win,\n An ye hae ane to spen.\n\n 15\n \u2018The last woman I wedded\n Was aboon my degree;\n I could na sit in her presence\n But wi hat upon my knee.\u2019\n\n 16\n He\u2019s taen her by the milk-white hand\n An led her but an ben,\n An in the ha, amang them a\u2019,\n He\u2019s hailed her Lady Drum.\n\n 17\n \u2018Now I\u2019ve wedded the shepherd\u2019s daughter,\n An I hae brought her hame,\n In the ha, amang ye a\u2019,\n She is welcome hame to Drum.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n D\n\n #a.# Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 194. #b.#\n Buchan\u2019s MSS, II, 101. #c.# The New Deeside Guide, by James Brown\n [Joseph Robertson], [1832], p. 11. #d.# Gibb MS., p. 21, No 4, from\n the recitation of a schoolfellow at Auchinblae, Kincardineshire,\n about 1851.\n\n 1\n The laird o Drum is a hunting gane,\n All in a morning early,\n And he did spy a well-far\u2019d may,\n Was shearing at her barley.\n\n 2\n \u2018O will ye fancy me, fair may,\n And let your shearing be, O\n And gang and be the lady o Drum?\n O will ye fancy me?\u2019 O\n\n 3\n \u2018I winna fancy you,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018Nor let my shearing be;\n For I\u2019m ower low to be Lady Drum,\n And your miss I\u2019d scorn to be.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018But ye\u2019ll cast aff that gown o grey,\n Put on the silk and scarlet;\n I\u2019ll make a vow, and keep it true,\n You\u2019ll neither be miss nor harlot.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018Then dee you to my father dear,\n Keeps sheep on yonder hill;\n To ony thing he bids me do\n I\u2019m always at his will.\u2019\n\n 6\n He has gane to her father dear,\n Keeps sheep on yonder hill:\n \u2018I\u2019m come to marry your ae daughter,\n If ye\u2019ll gie me your gude will.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018She\u2019ll shake your barn, and winna your corn,\n And gang to mill and kill;\n In time of need she\u2019ll saddle your steed;\n And I\u2019ll draw your boots mysell.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018O wha will bake my bridal bread,\n And wha will brew my ale,\n And wha will welcome my lady hame,\n It\u2019s mair than I can tell.\u2019\n\n 9\n Four an twenty gentle knights\n Gied in at the yetts o Drum;\n But nae a man lifted his hat\n Whan the lady o Drum came in.\n\n 10\n But he has taen her by the hand,\n And led her but and ben;\n Says, You\u2019r welcome hame, my lady Drum,\n For this is your ain land.\n\n 11\n For he has taen her by the hand,\n And led her thro the ha;\n Says, You\u2019r welcome hame, my lady Drum,\n To your bowers ane and a\u2019.\n\n 12\n Then he [\u2019s] stript her o the robes o grey,\n Drest her in the robes o gold,\n And taen her father frae the sheep-keeping,\n Made him a bailie bold.\n\n 13\n She wasna forty weeks his wife\n Till she brought hame a son;\n She was as well a loved lady\n As ever was in Drum.\n\n 14\n Out it speaks his brother dear,\n Says, You\u2019ve dune us great wrang;\n You\u2019ve married a wife below your degree,\n She\u2019s a mock to all our kin.\n\n 15\n Out then spake the Laird of Drum,\n Says, I\u2019ve dune you nae wrang;\n I\u2019ve married a wife to win my bread,\n You\u2019ve married ane to spend.\n\n 16\n \u2018For the last time that I was married,\n She was far abeen my degree;\n She wadna gang to the bonny yetts o Drum\n But the pearlin abeen her ee,\n And I durstna gang in the room where she was\n But my hat below my knee.\u2019\n\n 17\n When they had eaten and well drunken,\n And all men bound for bed,\n The Laird o Drum and his lady gay\n In ae bed they were laid.\n\n 18\n \u2018Gin ye had been o high renown,\n As ye are o low degree,\n We might hae baith gane down the streets\n Amang gude companie.\u2019\n\n 19\n \u2018I tauld you ere we were wed\n You were far abeen my degree;\n But now I\u2019m married, in your bed laid,\n And just as gude as ye.\n\n 20\n \u2018Gin ye were dead, and I were dead,\n And baith in grave had lain,\n Ere seven years were at an end,\n They\u2019d not ken your dust frae mine.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n E\n\n From Dr Joseph Robertson\u2019s interleaved and annotated copy of The New\n Deeside Guide, [nominally] by James Brown [but written by Joseph\n Robertson], Aberdeen [1832]; inserted at p. 12.\n\n 1\n The Laird of Drum is a wooing gane,\n All in a morning early,\n And there he spied a weel-far\u2019d may,\n She was shearing at her barley.\n\n 2\n \u2018Will you fancy me, my bonny may,\n And will you fancy me? O\n And will you come and be Lady Drum,\n And let your shearing a be?\u2019 O\n\n 3\n \u2018It\u2019s I winna fancy you, kind sir,\n I winna fancy thee;\n For I\u2019m too low to be lady o Drum,\n And your whore I would scorn to be.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll cast aff the robes of gray,\n And put on the silk and the scarlet,\n And here to you I\u2019ll make a vow\n Ye\u2019se neither be whore nor harlot.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018I winna cast aff the robes o gray,\n To put on the silk and the scarlet,\n But I\u2019ll wear the colour of the ewe,\n For they set me better than a\u2019 that.\n\n 6\n \u2018But ye\u2019ll do you doun to my father dear,\n Keeping sheep on yonder hill,\n And the first ae thing that he bids me I\u2019ll do,\n For I wirk aye at his will.\u2019\n\n 7\n He\u2019s done him doun to her father dear,\n Keeping sheep on yonder hill:\n \u2018Ye hae a pretty creature for your daughter;\n Dear me! but I like her well.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018It\u2019s she can neither read nor write,\n She was never brought up at the squeel;\n She canna wash your china cups,\n Nor yet mak a dish o tea.\n\n 9\n \u2018But well can she do a\u2019 ither thing,\n For I learnt the girly mysell;\n She\u2019ll fill in your barn, and winnow your corn,\n She\u2019ll gang to your kill and your mill,\n And, time o need, she\u2019ll saddle your steed,\n And draw your boots hersell.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018Wha will bake my bridal bread,\n And wha will brew my ale?\n Wha will welcome my lady in?\n For it\u2019s more than I can tell.\u2019\n\n 11\n There was four-and-twenty gentlemen\n Stood a\u2019 in the yetts o Drum,\n But there was nane o them lifted their hats\n To welcome the young lady in.\n\n 12\n But up spake his ae brither,\n Says, Brither, ye hae done wrang;\n Ye have married a wife this day\n A lauch to a\u2019 our kin.\n\n 13\n \u2018I\u2019ve married ane to win my bread,\n But ye married ane to spend;\n But as lang\u2019s I\u2019m able to walk to the yetts o Drum\n On me she may depend.\n\n 14\n \u2018The last lady that I did wed\n Was far above my command;\n I durst not enter the bower where she was\n But my hat low in my hand.\u2019\n\n 15\n When bells were rung, and mass was sung,\n And a\u2019 man bound for bed,\n The Laird o Drum and the shepherd\u2019s dother\n In one bed they were laid.\n\n 16\n \u2018If ye were come o noble bleed\n An were as high as me,\n We could gang to the yetts o Drum\n Amangst gueed companie.\u2019\n\n 17\n \u2018I tald you ere we was wed\n I was oer low for thee,\n But now we are wedd and in ae bed laid,\n And you must be content wi me.\n\n 18\n \u2018For an ye were dead, an I were dead,\n And laid in the dust low down,\n When we were baith turnd up again\n Wha could ken your mould frae mine?\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n F\n\n #a.# Manuscript of David Louden, Morham, Haddington, p. 7, 1873;\n from Mrs Dickson, Rentonhall, derived from her great-grandmother.\n #b.# Macmath MS., p. 13; from Mr William Traquair, S. S. C.,\n Edinburgh, obtained originally in Perthshire.\n\n 1\n \u2018Oh, will ye fancy me, fair maid?\n Oh, will ye fancy me? O\n Or will ye go to be ladye o the Drum,\n An let a\u2019 your shearin abe? O\n An let a\u2019 your shearin abe? O\n An let a\u2019 your shearin abe ?\u2019 O\n\n 2\n \u2018I can neither read nor write,\n Nor neer been brocht up at schule;\n But I can do all other things,\n An keep a hoose richt weel.\n\n 3\n \u2018My faither he\u2019s a puir shepherd-man,\n Herds his hogs on yonder hill;\n Gin ye will go get his consent,\n Then I\u2019ll be at your call.\u2019\n\n 4\n He has gane to her father,\n That herds hogs on yonder hill;\n He said, \u2018You\u2019ve got a pretty daughter,\n I\u2019d fain tak her to my sel.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018She can neither read nor write,\n Was neer brocht up at schule;\n But she can do all other things,\n An I learnt aye the lassie my sel.\n\n 6\n \u2018She\u2019ll milk your cows, she\u2019ll carry your corn,\n She\u2019ll gang to the mill or the kiln;\n She\u2019ll saddle your steed at any time of need,\n And she\u2019ll brush up your boots hersel.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018It\u2019s who will bake my bridal bread?\n Or who will brew my ale?\n Or who will welcome this bonnie lassie in?\n For it\u2019s more than I can tell.\u2019\n\n 8\n There\u2019s four-and-twenty gentlemen\n Stand doun at the gate o the Drum;\n Not one of them all would take off his hat\n For to welcome the bonnie lassie in.\n\n 9\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n \u2018Oh, brother, you\u2019ve married a wife this day\n A disgrace to all our kin.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018Oh, brother, I\u2019ve married a wife to win,\n And ye\u2019ve got one to spen,\n And as long as the bonnie lassie walks out and in\n She shall aye be the ladye o the Drum.\u2019\n\n 11\n When all was done, and no bells rung,\n And all men bound for their bed,\n The laird and the shepherd\u2019s bonnie daughter\n In one bed they were laid.\n\n 12\n \u2018Though I\u2019m not of as noble blood,\n Nor yet of as high degree,\n Now I lie locked in your arms two,\n And you must be contented wi me.\n\n 13\n \u2018If you were dead, and I were dead,\n And baith laid in one grave,\n If we were baith to be raised up again,\n Wha would ken your dust frae mine?\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A. a.#\n\n 1^3. wellfar\u2019d May.\n\n 2^1. fair May: rare May.\n\n 2^4. as thee May.\n\n 17. _This stanza looks like a spurious addition._\n\n #b.# _Kinloch has taken fourteen of the seventeen stanzas of #a#\n (all but 1, 2, 17) into his printed copy, with a change of a\n word here and there (not here noticed), as was his way. The\n remaining ten stanzas must be from recitation, if Kinloch is to\n be understood strictly._\n\n 1.\n The laird o Drum is a-wooing gane;\n It was on a morning early;\n And he has fawn in wi a bonnie may,\n A-shearing at her barley.\n\n 2.\n \u2018My bonnie may, my weel-faurd may,\n O will ye fancy me, O\n And gae and be the lady o Drum,\n And lat your shearing abee?\u2019 O\n\n 3.\n \u2018It\u2019s I canna fancy thee, kind sir,\n I winna fancy thee;\n I winna gae and be lady o Drum,\n And lat my shearing abee.\u2019\n\n _After 3._\n My father he is a shepherd mean,\n Keeps sheep on yonder hill,\n And ye may gae and spier at him,\n For I am at his will.\n\n 4. Drum: _and always_.\n\n _After 7_:\n\n \u2018I\u2019ll learn your lassie to read and write,\n And I\u2019ll put her to the scheel;\n She\u2019ll neither need to saddle my steed,\n Nor draw aff my boots hersell.\n\n \u2018But wha will bake my bridal bread,\n Or brew my bridal ale,\n And wha will welcome my bonnie bride,\n Is mair than I can tell.\u2019\n\n 10^4. lake _for_ stain, _and so entered in pencil in the MS._\n\n _After 12_:\n\n \u2018The first wife that I did wed,\n She was far abeen my degree;\n She wadna hae walkd to the yetts o Drum\n But the pearls abeen her bree.\n\n \u2018But an she was adord for as much gold\n As Peggie\u2019s for beautie,\n She micht walk to the yetts o Drum\n Amang gueed companie.\u2019\n\n 16^3. in my command, _a plausible reading_.\n\n _After 16_:\n\n \u2018But I told ye afore we war wed\n I was owre low for thee;\n But now we are wed, and in ae bed laid,\n And ye maun be content wi me.\n\n \u2018For an I war dead, and ye war dead,\n And baith in ae grave laid,\n And ye and I war tane up again,\n Wha could distan your mouls frae mine?\u2019\n\n O _is added to the second and fourth lines except when the rhyme\n is in two syllables, as in_ 1.\n\n#B.#\n\n _Title._ The Laird o Doune. _So written twice_: _at p. 75 by\n anticipation_, _again at p. 78_.\n\n 1^4. daighterie (i _undotted_): daghter he?\n\n 3^1. May: _and always_.\n\n 4^4, 11^4. May _added_, _for singing_.\n\n 6^4. Sir _added for singing_.\n\n _No division into stanzas, and no indication of gaps. The\n deficiency at the end of 16^3 is noted by ..._\n\n#D. a.#\n\n O _is added (for singing) to the second and fourth verse of every\n stanza except_ 1, 4, _which have two-syllable rhyme_.\n\n _19 is by mistake printed twice._\n\n#b.# O _added as in_ #a#.\n\n 2^1. me, bonny lassie.\n\n 2^3. O will ye fancy me, bonny lassie.\n\n 2^4. And lat your shearing be.\n\n 3^4, 4^4. whore _for_ miss.\n\n 4^1. ye cast.\n\n 7^4. And _wanting_.\n\n 12, 13. _Wanting._\n\n 16^{2,4}, 19^2. above _for_ abeen.\n\n 16^5. durst not.\n\n 17^2. all man.\n\n 19. _Repeated, as in_ #a#.\n\n 20^2. in your grave: lien.\n\n _Dixon made changes in printing this copy._\n\n#c#.\n\n O _is not added as in_ #a#.\n\n 1^3. he has spied.\n\n 2^1. you.\n\n 3^3. lady o.\n\n 5^1. go you.\n\n 7^1. winn.\n\n 7^2. mill or.\n\n 9^4. Drum was come.\n\n 10^4. is a\u2019 your ain.\n\n 12^2. in robes.\n\n 14^4. all your.\n\n 19^1. you weel ere.\n\n 20.\n Gin we were dead, and in grave laid,\n And then taen up again,\n I doubt they would look wi a gay clear ee\n That would ken your dust frae mine.\n\n _In Robertson\u2019s annotated and interleaved copy, besides some\n readings from #E#, there are noted in the margin the following_:\n\n 7^2. to your mill and your kill.\n\n 9^3. But there was nae ane did lift.\n\n 17^3. and the herd\u2019s dochter.\n\n 19^1. you before that we. _This stanza twice, as in_ #a#.\n\n 20 as in #a#.\n\n#d.#\n\n O is not added as in #a#, #b#.\n\n 1^2. Upon a.\n\n 1^3. he has spied.\n\n 2^2. O will you fancy me.\n\n 2^4. An let your shearin abee.\n\n 3^1. said.\n\n 3^2. abee.\n\n 3^3. For _wanting_. I\u2019m far ower: lady o.\n\n 3^4. your whore I winna.\n\n 4, 5. _Wanting._\n\n 6^1. her auld faither.\n\n 6^2. Kept sheep upon the.\n\n 6^3. _Wanting._\n\n 6^4. That the may was at his will.\n\n 7.\n But my daughter can neither read nor write,\n She was never at the schule;\n But she\u2019ll saddle your steed in time of need,\n An draw aff your boots hersel.\n\n 8^3. my bonny bride.\n\n 8^4. Is more.\n\n 9^1. gentlemen.\n\n 9^2. Stood at.\n\n 9^3. There was na ane that lifted.\n\n 9^4. Drum was come.\n\n 10^3. lady o.\n\n 10^4. is a\u2019 your ain.\n\n 11\u201313. _Wanting._\n\n 14^1. Out an spake his brither John.\n\n 14^4. a\u2019 your.\n\n 15^1. Out an.\n\n 15^3. to save my gear.\n\n 16^1. the first time I had a wife.\n\n 16^{3,4}. I durstna, _etc._, ^{5,6} _come before_ ^{3,4}.\n\n 17^2. to bed.\n\n 17^3. an the weel-faured may.\n\n 19^1. afore we.\n\n 19^3. we are: in ae.\n\n 19^4. An I\u2019m: as thee.\n\n 20^2. in ae grave lain.\n\n 20^3. were come an gane.\n\n 20^4. Wha could ken your mools.\n\n#E.#\n\n O _is appended, as in_ #D a#, #b#, _except in_ 1, 4, 5.\n\n#F. a.#\n\n \u201cMrs Dickson says her mother used to say she has heard her (her\n mother\u2019s) grandmother sing the following ballad with great glee.\n Air, Boyne Water.\u201d\n\n 9^{3,4}, 10 _are given as one stanza, the last two lines_ \u201cinstead\n of repeat.\u201d\n\n O _is appended throughout_.\n\n#b.#\n\n _Variations given only in part._\n\n O _is appended as in_ #D#, #E#.\n\n _Begins_:\n\n The laird o the Drum a hunting went,\n One morning very early,\n And there he spied a bonny, bonny may,\n A shearing at the barley.\n\n 1.\n \u2018And could ye fancy a gentleman?\n An wad ye married be? O\n Or wad ye be the lady o the Drum?\n I pray ye tell to me.\u2019\n\n \u2018I could, _etc._\n And I wad, _etc._\n But for to be the lady o the Drum,\n It\u2019s by far too high for me.\u2019\n\n 2. _Wanting._\n\n 3^2, 4^2. Feeding sheep.\n\n 3^4. I\u2019m entirely at his will. (_Good prose_: _cf._ 5^3.)\n\n 4^{3,4}. It\u2019s I am in love wi your daughter, And I\u2019ll.\n\n 5^3. But for all other things she\u2019ll do very well.\n\n 6^{1,2}. _Wanting._\n\n 7. _Wanting._\n\n 8^2. Stood all at.\n\n 8^3. And nane o them would put their hand to their hat.\n\n 9.\n \u2018O brother, you\u2019ve married a wife the day,\n And you have done much ill;\n O brother you\u2019ve married a wife today\n A scorn to a\u2019 your kin.\u2019\n\n 10^{1,2}. I\u2019ve got a wife to win my bread, And you\u2019ve got ane to\n spend it.\n\n 10^{3,4}. _Wanting._\n\n _After 10_:\n\n The first wife that I married,\n She was far above my degree;\n I durst na enter the room she was in\n But wi hat below my knee.\n\n 11\u201313. _Wanting._\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n APPENDIX\n\n Herd\u2019s MSS, I, 55, II, 187; Herd\u2019s Scottish Songs, 1776, II, 6.\n\n 1\n \u2018O my bonie, bonie may,\n Will ye not rue upon me?\n A sound, sound sleep I\u2019ll never get\n Untill I lie ayon thee.\n\n 2\n \u2018I\u2019ll gie ye four-and-twenty good milk-kye,\n Wer a\u2019 caft in ae year, may,\n And a bonie bull to gang them by,\n That blude red is his hair, may.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018I hae nae houses, I hae nae land,\n I hae nae gowd or fee, sir;\n I am oer low to be your bryde,\n Your loon I\u2019ll never be, sir.\u2019\n\n * * * * * *\n\n Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 37; from the recitation of Thomas Risk, smith,\n learned by him in his youth at St Ninian\u2019s, Stirlingshire.\n\n 1\n Montrose he had a poor shepherd,\n And a poor shepherd was he;\n He had as fair a daughter\n As ever you could see,\n And an earl has fallen in love wi her,\n And his bride now she must be.\n\n 2\n The earl he came to the shepherd\u2019s door,\n And he tirled at the pin;\n Slowly rose the fair maid\n For to let the earl in.\n\n 3\n \u2018Good day, good day, fair maid,\u2019 he says;\n \u2018Good day, good day,\u2019 said she;\n \u2018Good day unto thee, noble sir,\n What is thy will with me?\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018I\u2019m so possessed with love to thee,\n That I cannot gang nor stand\n Till you go unto yonder church,\n To give me thy right hand.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018Oh, no, oh no,\u2019 the fair maid says,\n \u2018Oh that can never be;\n For thou art a lord of good estate,\n And I but of mean degree.\n\n 6\n \u2018Oh no, oh no,\u2019 the fair maid says,\n \u2018Thou\u2019rt rich and I am poor;\n And I am owre mean to be thy wife,\n Too good to be thy whore.\n\n 7\n \u2018I can shape, and I can sew,\n And cows and yowes can milk,\n But I was neer brought up in a lady\u2019s room,\n To sew satin nor silk.\n\n 8\n \u2018And if you had your will of me\n Ye wud me soon forget;\n Ye wad gar turn me doun your stairs\n And bar on me your yett.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018Oh no, oh no,\u2019 the earl says,\n \u2018For so shall never be;\n For this night or I eat or drink\n My honoured bride you shall be.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018My father he\u2019s a poor shepherd,\n He\u2019s herding on yon hill;\n You may go to my old father,\n And ask at him his will.\u2019\n\n 11\n The earl he went to the poor shepherd,\n Who was herding on the lea;\n \u2018Good day, good day, shepherd,\u2019 he says;\n \u2018Good day, good day,\u2019 said he,\n Good day unto your honour, sir;\n What is your will with me?\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018Oh you have a fair daughter;\n Will ye give her to me,\n Silk and satin she shall wear,\n And, shepherd, so shall ye.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018It\u2019s true I have a fair daughter,\n But I\u2019ll not give her to thee;\n For thou art a lord of good estate,\n And she but of mean degree.\n\n 14\n \u2018The reason is, thou art too rich,\n And my daughter is too poor;\n She is ower mean to be thy wife,\n Too good to be thy whoore.\n\n 15\n \u2018She can shape, etc. (as verse 7).\n\n 16\n \u2018And if you had your will of her, etc. (8).\n\n 17\n \u2018Oh no, oh no,\u2019 the earl says, etc. (9).\n\n 18\n The earl he to the fair maid again,\n Who was spinning at her wheel;\n She had but one petticoat on her,\n But oh she set it weel!\n\n 19\n \u2018Cast off, cast off that petticoat\n That you were wont to wear,\n And put on a gown of the satin silk,\n With a garland in your hair.\u2019\n\n 20\n She cast off the petticoat\n That she was wont to wear,\n And she put on a gown of the satin silk,\n With a garland in her hair.\n\n 21\n Many, many was there that night\n To bear them company;\n And she is the earl\u2019s wife,\n She\u2019s thrice fairer than he.\n\n Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 252; from the recitation of Mrs Crum,\n Dumbarton, 7 April, 1825.\n\n 1\n \u2018O fair maid and true maid,\n Will ye not on me rue, maid?\n Here\u2019s my hand, my heart\u2019s command,\n I\u2019ll come and go by you, maid.\n\n 2\n \u2018I\u2019ve four-and-twenty good milk-kye,\n A\u2019 calved in a[e] year, maid,\n And a bonnie bill to eisin them,\n Just as red as your hair, maid.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018Your kye go as far in my heart\n As they go in my heel, sir;\n And, altho I be but a shepherd\u2019s dochter,\n I love my body weel, sir.\n\n 4\n \u2018I love my body weel, sir,\n And my maidenhead far better;\n And I\u2019ll keep it to marry me,\n Because I\u2019m scarse o tocher.\u2019\n\n 5\n This knicht he turned his bridle about,\n While the tear stood in his ee;\n And he\u2019s awa to her father gane,\n As fast as he could dree.\n\n 6\n \u2018Gude een, gude een, you gude auld man,\u2019\n \u2018Gude een, you earl\u2019s knicht, sir;\u2019\n \u2018But you have a fair dochter,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018Will you grant her to me, sir?\n O silks and satins she shall wear,\n Indeed and so shall ye, sir.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018I have a fair dochter,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018She\u2019s fair of blood and bane, sir;\n But an ye had your will o her\n Ye wud leave her alane, sir.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018Ye would steek her not your chamber-doors,\n And bar her at your yett, sir;\n And an ye had your will o her\n Ye wud her soon forget, sir.\u2019\n\n 9\n This knicht he turned his bridle about,\n While the tear stood in his ee,\n And he\u2019s awa to this fair maid gane,\n As fast as he could drie.\n\n 10\n \u2018O fair maid and true maid,\n Will ye not on me rue, maid?\n Here\u2019s my hand, my heart\u2019s command,\n I\u2019ll come and go by you, maid.\n\n 11\n \u2018Cast aff, cast aff your gay black gowns,\n Put on your gowns of silk, maid;\n Cast aff, cast aff your gay black snoods,\n Put the garlands on your hair, maid.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018It\u2019s I can bake, and I can brew,\n And good kye can I milk, sir;\n But I was neer born in the time o the year\n To wear the gowns o silk, sir.\n\n 13\n \u2018Yestreen I was a shepherd\u2019s dochter,\n Whistling my hogs to the hill;\n But the nicht I am an earl\u2019s lady,\n I may wear what I will.\u2019\n\n Johnson\u2019s Museum, No 397, p. 410.\n\n As I went out ae May morning,\n A May morning it chanc\u2019d to be,\n There I was aware of a weelfar\u2019d maid,\n Cam linkin oer the lea to me.\n\n O but she was a weelfar\u2019d maid,\n The bonniest lass that\u2019s under the sun;\n I spier\u2019d gin she could fancy me,\n But her answer was, I am too young.\n\n \u2018To be your bride I am too young,\n To be your loun wad shame my kin;\n So therefore, pray, young man, begone,\n For you never, never shall my favour win.\u2019\n\n\n\n\n 237\n\n THE DUKE OF GORDON\u2019S DAUGHTER\n\n #a.# \u2018The Duke of Gordon\u2019s Daughter,\u2019 The Duke of Gordon\u2019s Garland,\n Percy Papers, and another edition in a volume of garlands formerly\n in Heber\u2019s library. #b.# \u2018The Duke of Gordon\u2019s Daughters,\u2019 a\n stall-copy, printed for John Sinclair, Dumfries. #c.# \u2018The Duke of\n Gordon\u2019s Daughters,\u2019 Stirling, printed by M. Randall. #d.# \u2018The Duke\n of Gordon\u2019s Three Daughters,\u2019 Peterhead, printed by P. Buchan. #e.#\n \u2018The Duke of Gordon\u2019s Three Daughters,\u2019 Kinloch MSS, I, 125. #f.#\n \u2018The Duke o Gordon\u2019s Daughters,\u2019 Murison MS., p. 90, Aberdeenshire.\n #g.# \u2018The Duke o Gordon\u2019s Daughter,\u2019 Gibb MS., p. 13, No 3, from the\n recitation of Mrs Gibb, senior. #h.# \u2018The Duke of Gordon\u2019s Three\n Daughters,\u2019 Macmath MS., p. 31, a fragment recited by Mrs Macmath,\n senior, in 1874, and learned by her fifty years before.\n\n\nA copy of #a# was reprinted by Ritson, Scotish Songs, 1794, II, 169.\n(There are three slight variations in Ritson, two of which are\nmisprints.) Fifteen stanzas are given from Ritson in Johnson\u2019s Musical\nMuseum, \u2018The Duke of Gordon has three daughters,\u2019 No 419, p. 431, 1797\n(with a single variation and the correction of a misprint). Smith\u2019s\nScotish Minstrel, IV, 98, repeats the stanzas in the Museum, inserting a\nfew words to fill out lines for singing. Christie, Traditional Ballad\nAirs, I, 2, has made up a ballad from three \u201ctraditional\u201d copies. A\nfragment of four stanzas in Notes and Queries, Second Series, VII, 418,\nrequires no notice.\n\nBurns gave the first stanza as follows (Cromek\u2019s Reliques, p. 229, ed,\n1817; Cromek\u2019s Select Scotish Songs, I, 86, 1810):\n\n The lord o Gordon had three dochters,\n Mary, Marget, and Jean;\n They wad na stay at bonie Castle Gordon,\n But awa to Aberdeen.\n\nThe first sister\u2019s name is given as Mary in #e# also.\n\nIt is very likely that the recited copies were originally learned from\nprint. #e# and #g# have two stanzas which do not appear in #a-d#, but\nthese may occur in some other stall-copy, or have been borrowed from\nsome other ballad.\n\nRitson pointed out that George Gordon, the fourth Earl of Huntly, killed\nat Corrichie in 1562, had three daughters, named Elizabeth, Margaret,\nand Jean, and that Jean, the youngest, married Alexander Ogilvie, Laird\nof Boyne. These facts, however, can have no relevancy to this ballad.\nOgilvie was Lady Jean Gordon\u2019s third husband, and at the death of the\nsecond, in 1594, she was in her fiftieth year, or near to that. Her\nmarriage with the Laird of Boyne was \u201cfor the utility and profit of her\nchildren,\u201d of which she had a full quiver.[139]\n\nJean, one of the three daughters of the Duke of Gordon (there was no\nDuke of Gordon before 1684, but that is early enough for our ballad),\nfalls in love with Captain Ogilvie at Aberdeen. Her father threatens to\nhave the captain hanged, and writes to the king to ask that favor. The\nking refuses to hang Ogilvie, but reduces him to the ranks, makes him a\n\u2018single\u2019 man. The pair lead a wandering life for three years, and are\nblessed with as many children. At the end of that time they journey\nafoot to the Highland hills, and present themselves at Castle Gordon in\ngreat destitution. Lady Jean is welcomed; the duke will have nothing to\ndo with Ogilvie. Ogilvie goes over seas as a private soldier, but is\nsoon after sent for as heir to the earldom of Northumberland. The duke\nis now eager to open Castle Gordon to the Captain. Ogilvie wants nothing\nthere but Jean Gordon, whom, with her three children, he takes to\nNorthumberland to enjoy his inheritance.\n\nNothing in the story of the ballad is known to have even a shadow of\nfoundation in fact.\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1\n The Duke of Gordon has three daughters,\n Elizabeth, Margaret, and Jean;\n They would not stay in bonny Castle Gordon,\n But they would go to bonny Aberdeen.\n\n 2\n They had not been in Aberdeen\n A twelvemonth and a day\n Till Lady Jean fell in love with Captain Ogilvie,\n And away with him she would gae.\n\n 3\n Word came to the Duke of Gordon,\n In the chamber where he lay,\n Lady Jean has fell in love with Captain Ogilvie,\n And away with him she would gae.\n\n 4\n \u2018Go saddle me the black horse,\n And you\u2019ll ride on the grey,\n And I will ride to bonny Aberdeen,\n Where I have been many a day.\u2019\n\n 5\n They were not a mile from Aberdeen,\n A mile but only three,\n Till he met with his two daughters walking,\n But away was Lady Jean.\n\n 6\n \u2018Where is your sister, maidens?\n Where is your sister now?\n Where is your sister, maidens,\n That she is not walking with you?\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018O pardon us, honoured father,\n O pardon us,\u2019 they did say;\n \u2018Lady Jean is with Captain Ogilvie,\n And away with him she will gae.\u2019\n\n 8\n When he came to Aberdeen,\n And down upon the green,\n There did he see Captain Ogilvie,\n Training up his men.\n\n 9\n \u2018O wo to you, Captain Ogilvie,\n And an ill death thou shalt die;\n For taking to thee my daughter,\n Hang\u00ebd thou shalt be.\u2019\n\n 10\n Duke Gordon has wrote a broad letter,\n And sent it to the king,\n To cause hang Captain Ogilvie\n If ever he hanged a man.\n\n 11\n \u2018I will not hang Captain Ogilvie,\n For no lord that I see;\n But I\u2019ll cause him to put off the lace and scarlet,\n And put on the single livery.\u2019\n\n 12\n Word came to Captain Ogilvie,\n In the chamber where he lay,\n To cast off the gold lace and scarlet,\n And put on the single livery.\n\n 13\n \u2018If this be for bonny Jeany Gordon,\n This pennance I\u2019ll take wi;\n If this be for bonny Jeany Gordon,\n All this I will dree.\u2019\n\n 14\n Lady Jean had not been married,\n Not a year but three,\n Till she had a babe in every arm,\n Another upon her knee.\n\n 15\n \u2018O but I\u2019m weary of wandering!\n O but my fortune is bad!\n It sets not the Duke of Gordon\u2019s daughter\n To follow a soldier-lad.\n\n 16\n \u2018O but I\u2019m weary of wandering!\n O but I think lang!\n It sets not the Duke of Gordon\u2019s daughter\n To follow a single man.\u2019\n\n 17\n When they came to the Highland hills,\n Cold was the frost and snow;\n Lady Jean\u2019s shoes they were all torn,\n No farther could she go.\n\n 18\n \u2018O wo to the hills and the mountains!\n Wo to the wind and the rain!\n My feet is sore with going barefoot,\n No further am I able to gang.\n\n 19\n \u2018Wo to the hills and the mountains!\n Wo to the frost and the snow!\n My feet is sore with going barefoot,\n No farther am I able for to go.\n\n 20\n \u2018O if I were at the glens of Foudlen,\n Where hunting I have been,\n I would find the way to bonny Castle Gordon,\n Without either stockings or shoon.\u2019\n\n 21\n When she came to Castle Gordon,\n And down upon the green,\n The porter gave out a loud shout,\n \u2018O yonder comes Lady Jean!\u2019\n\n 22\n \u2018O you are welcome, bonny Jeany Gordon,\n You are dear welcome to me;\n You are welcome, dear Jeany Gordon,\n But away with your Captain Ogilvie.\u2019\n\n 23\n Now over seas went the captain,\n As a soldier under command;\n A message soon followed after\n To come and heir his brother\u2019s land.\n\n 24\n \u2018Come home, you pretty Captain Ogilvie,\n And heir your brother\u2019s land;\n Come home, ye pretty Captain Ogilvie,\n Be Earl of Northumberland.\u2019\n\n 25\n \u2018O what does this mean?\u2019 says the captain;\n \u2018Where\u2019s my brother\u2019s children three?\u2019\n \u2018They are dead and buried,\n And the lands they are ready for thee.\u2019\n\n 26\n \u2018Then hoist up your sails, brave captain,\n Let\u2019s be jovial and free;\n I\u2019ll to Northumberland and heir my estate,\n Then my dear Jeany I\u2019ll see.\u2019\n\n 27\n He soon came to Castle Gordon,\n And down upon the green;\n The porter gave out with a loud shout,\n \u2018Here comes Captain Ogilvie!\u2019\n\n 28\n \u2018You\u2019re welcome, pretty Captain Ogilvie,\n Your fortune\u2019s advanced I hear;\n No stranger can come unto my gates\n That I do love so dear.\u2019\n\n 29\n \u2018Sir, the last time I was at your gates,\n You would not let me in;\n I\u2019m come for my wife and children,\n No friendship else I claim.\u2019\n\n 30\n \u2018Come in, pretty Captain Ogilvie,\n And drink of the beer and the wine;\n And thou shalt have gold and silver\n To count till the clock strike nine.\u2019\n\n 31\n \u2018I\u2019ll have none of your gold or silver,\n Nor none of your white-money;\n But I\u2019ll have bonny Jeany Gordon,\n And she shall go now with me.\u2019\n\n 32\n Then she came tripping down the stair,\n With the tear into her eye;\n One babe was at her foot,\n Another upon her knee.\n\n 33\n \u2018You\u2019re welcome, bonny Jeany Gordon,\n With my young family;\n Mount and go to Northumberland,\n There a countess thou shall be.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n#a.#\n\n The Duke of Gordon\u2019s Garland, composed of several excellent New\n Songs. I. The Duke of Gordon\u2019s Daughter. II. A new song calld\n Newcastle Ale. Licensed and enterd according to order.\n\n _Heber\u2019s copy differs in a few places from Percy\u2019s, and generally\n for the worse._\n\n 4^2. on _wanting_.\n\n 7^4. she woud.\n\n 10^3. cause _wanting_.\n\n 13^4. will not.\n\n 16^2. think it.\n\n 18^2. and rain.\n\n 24^3. you.\n\n 24^4. And be.\n\n 32^2. tears in her eyes.\n\n _Ritson\u2019s._ 9^3. wants thee. 13^3. wants for. 31^1. gold and.\n\n#b.#\n\n _Two copies, one in the British Museum_, 1078. i. 20 (7), Printed\n at the St. Michael Press, by C. M\u2019Lachlan, Dumfries, _dated in\n the catalogue_ 1785?\n\n#c.#\n\n _British Museum_, 11621. b. 12 (28), _dated_ 1810?\n\n A beautiful old song, entitled the Duke of Gordon\u2019s three\n Daughters. To which is added The Challenge. Stirling: Printed by\n M. Randall.\n\n#d.#\n\n _British Museum_, 1078. k. 4 (5), _dated_ 1820? The Duke of\n Gordon\u2019s Three Daughters. To which is added Mrs Burns Lament for\n Burns. Peterhead: Printed by P. Buchan.\n\n#b, c, d.#\n\n 1^1. had.\n\n 1^3. stay at.\n\n 1^4. they went to.\n\n 2^1. in bonny.\n\n 2^3. Till Jean.\n\n 2^4. #b.# him went she. #c, d.# And from him she would not stay.\n\n 3^1. come.\n\n 3^{3,4}. How Lady Jean fell in love with a captain, And from him\n she would not stay.\n\n 4^1. to me: horse, he cry\u2019d.\n\n 4^2. My servant shall ride on.\n\n 4^3. will go.\n\n 4^4. Forthwith to bring her away.\n\n 5^2. only one.\n\n 5^3. walking _wanting_.\n\n 6^{2,3}. O where.\n\n 6^4. #c, d.# not along with.\n\n 7^1. #b.# us, they did say.\n\n 7^4. And from him she would (#c, d#, will) not stay.\n\n 8^1. to bonny.\n\n 8^4. #b.# A training of. #c, d.# A training his gallant.\n\n 9^1. woe be to thee.\n\n 9^4. High hanged. #b.# shalt thou.\n\n 10^1. #b.# The Duke he wrote. #c, d.# The D. of G. wrote a letter.\n\n 10^2. #b.# he sent.\n\n 10^3. Desiring him to hang.\n\n 10^4. #b.# eer he causd hang any. #c, d.# For marrying his\n daughter Jean.\n\n 11^1. #b.# O no I. #c, d.# Said the king, I\u2019ll not.\n\n 11^2. #b.# For any (#c, d#, all the) offence that.\n\n 11^3. him put off the scarlet.\n\n 12^1. Now word.\n\n 12^3. To strip off.\n\n 13^{1,3}. #b.# Jean.\n\n 13^3. #c, d.# for my true-love.\n\n 13^4. this and more I\u2019ll.\n\n 14^2. #c, d.# Not _wanting_. #b, c, d.# but only.\n\n 14^4. And another.\n\n 15^1. #b.# weary, weary wandering. #c, d.# weary wandering.\n\n 16.\n O hold thy tongue, bonny Jean Gordon,\n O hold your tongue, my lamb! (#c, d.# thy)\n For once I was a noble captain,\n Now for thy sake a single man.\n\n 17^1. #b.# O high is the hills and the mountains. #c, d#, high\n were: and mountains.\n\n 17^2. #b.# and the.\n\n 18,19. _Wanting._\n\n 20^1. #b#. was in. #c, d.# were in.\n\n 20^3. I could go. #b.# Jean _for_ Castle, _wrongly_.\n\n _19\u201321 of #b#are displaced, and come after #b# 26: or, 23\u201327 of\n #a# follow #a# 20, and then come this stanza (not in #a#) and\n #a# 21, 22._\n\n _After 20._ #b#:\n\n O hold thy tongue, bonny Jean (#c, d.# your) Gordon,\n O hold your tongue, my dow!\n I\u2019ve but one half-crown in the world,\n I\u2019ll buy hose and shoon (#c, d.# And I\u2019ll) to you.\n\n 21^1. #b.# Then, _wrongly_. #b, c, d.# to bonny.\n\n 21^2. And coming over the green.\n\n 21^3. #b.# porter cried out with a cry. #c, d.# called out very\n loudly.\n\n 21^4. #b.# O _wanting_. #b, c, d.# comes our.\n\n 22^1. #b.# O _wanting_. #b, c, d.# Jean.\n\n 22^2. #b.# dearly. #c, d.# Her father he did say.\n\n 22^3. Thou art: Jean.\n\n 22^4. Captain _wanting_.\n\n 23^1. over the.\n\n 23^3. But a messenger.\n\n 23^4. Which caused a countermand.\n\n 24^1. #b.# home now pretty. #c, d.# home now brave.\n\n 24^2. To enjoy your.\n\n 24^3. #b#. home now pretty. #c, d.# O come home gallant.\n\n 24^4. You\u2019r the heir of.\n\n 25^1. #c, d.# O _wanting_.\n\n 25^3. O they. #b.# are all.\n\n 25^4. The lands. #b.# all ready.\n\n 26^2. And let\u2019s.\n\n 26^3. I\u2019ll go home and have my.\n\n 26^4. And then.\n\n 27^1. bonny Castle.\n\n 27^2. #b.# And then at the gate stood he. #c, d.# he stood,\n _wrongly_.\n\n 27^3. #b.# porter cry\u2019d out. #c, d.# cry\u2019d with a loud voice.\n\n 27^4. #c, d.# O here. #b.# comes the.\n\n 28^1. #c, d.# O you\u2019re welcome now, Captain.\n\n 28^3. #b.# come to. #c, d.# come within.\n\n 29^1. #b.# at _wrongly omitted_. #b, c, d.# gate.\n\n 29^3. #c, d.# Now I\u2019m.\n\n 30, 31. _Wanting._\n\n 32^1. #c, d.# Then Jean came.\n\n 32^2. #c, d.# The salt tear in.\n\n 32^3. babe she had at every foot.\n\n 32^4. #c, d.# And one in her arms did ly.\n\n 33. #b.#\n You\u2019re welcome, bonny Jean Gordon,\n You are dearly welcome to me;\n You\u2019re welcome, bonny Jeany Gordon,\n Countess of Cumberland to be.\n\n #c, d.#\n The Captain took her straight in his arms,\n O a happy man was he!\n Saying, Welcome, _etc._, _as in_ #b#.\n\n 33^4. #c, d.# Northumberland.\n\n _After 33._ #b.#\n So the captain came off with his lady, (#c, d.# The captain)\n And also his sweet babes three; (#c, d.# And his lovely babies\n three)\n Saying, I\u2019m as good blood by descent,\n Tho the great Duke o Gordon you be.\n\n#e-h# _are but partially collated_.\n\n#e.#\n\n 1^1. had.\n\n 1^2. Lady Mary, Margret, and Jean.\n\n 1^4. they wadna bide.\n\n 7^4. From him she will not stay.\n\n 8. _Wanting._\n\n 9^4. Hie hangit shalt thou be.\n\n 10^3. Desiring to hang.\n\n 10^4. For marrying his dochter Jean.\n\n 11^2. For a\u2019 the offence I see.\n\n 11^3. gar him throw aff his broad scarlet.\n\n 13^4. A\u2019 this and mair I\u2019ll dree.\n\n 14^2. A year but only three.\n\n 15^1. weary wandering.\n\n 16. _As in_ #b#, #c#, #d#.\n\n 17^1. High war the hills and the mountains.\n\n 18, 19. _Wanting._\n\n 20^3. I could ga.\n\n _After 20_:\n\n \u2018O an I war at bonnie Castle Gordon,\n . . . . . . .\n O an I war at bonnie Castle Gordon,\n There I\u2019d get hose and sheen.\u2019\n\n \u2018Though ye war at bonnie Castle Gordon,\n And standing on the green,\n Your father is sae hard-hearted a man\n He wad na lat you in.\u2019\n\n \u2018If I war at bonnie Castle Gordon,\n And standing on the green,\n My mither\u2019s a tender-hearted woman,\n She wad rise and lat me in.\u2019\n\n _Then_: O haud your tongue\u2014I\u2019ll buy hose and sheen to you, _as in_\n #b#, #c#, #d#.\n\n 22^4. awa wi your Ogilvie.\n\n 23^3. But a messenger.\n\n 23^4. Which causd a countermand.\n\n 24^4. Ye\u2019re the heir of.\n\n 26^3. I\u2019ll gae hame and heir my estate.\n\n _After 26_:\n\n \u2018Then hoist up your sail,\u2019 said the Captain,\n \u2018And we\u2019ll gae oure the sea,\n And I\u2019ll gae to bonnie Castle Gordon,\n There my dear Jeanie to see.\u2019\n\n 27^2. And whan in sicht cam he.\n\n _Between 28, 29_:\n\n \u2018The last time I cam to your yetts\n Ye wadna let me in,\n But now I\u2019m again at your yetts,\n And in I will not gang.\u2019\n\n 30, 31. _Wanting._\n\n 32^2. Wi the saut tear in her ee.\n\n 32^3. A babe she held in every arm.\n\n 32^4. Anither gaun at her knee.\n\n 33. _As in #c#, #d#, and a concluding stanza as in #b#, #c#, #d#._\n\n#f.#\n\n 1^1. had.\n\n 2^2. Months but barely three.\n\n 2^4, 3^4, 7^4. fae him she winna stay.\n\n 3^1. Word\u2019s come.\n\n 6^2. sister Jean.\n\n 6^4. ye are walkin alane.\n\n 9^4. High hang\u00ebd.\n\n 10^4. If ever he hang\u00ebd ane.\n\n 13^{2,4}. A\u2019 this I\u2019ll dee an mair.\n\n 14. _Wanting._\n\n 15^1. weary wanrin.\n\n 15^4. a single sodger lad.\n\n 16. _As in_ #b#, #c#, #d#.\n\n 18, 19. _Wanting._\n\n 20^2. Fa monie merry day I hae been.\n\n _After 20 a stanza as in #b#, #c#, #d#, and then this silly one_:\n\n \u2018O they would be bad stockins,\n O they would be worse sheen,\n O they would be bad stockins\n Ye\u2019d get for half a crown.\u2019\n\n 21^1. they cam to bonnie Aberdeen.\n\n 22^4. awa wi your Ogilvie.\n\n 23^3. But a messenger.\n\n 23^4. Which proved a counterman.\n\n 24^4. You\u2019re the heir o.\n\n 26, 30, 31. _Wanting._\n\n 32^2. Wi the saut tear in her ee.\n\n 32^3. She had a babe in ilka airm.\n\n 32^4. An a third whar nane could see.\n\n 33^2. Ye\u2019re welcome, thrice welcome to me.\n\n 33^{3,4}.\n Ye\u2019re welcome, bonnie Jeannie Gordon,\n Countess o Northumberlan to be.\n\n#g.#\n\n 1^1. had.\n\n 2^2. A month but only one.\n\n 3^4. from him she wald not stay.\n\n 4^2. My servant shall ride on.\n\n 4^4. An forthwith bring her away.\n\n 5^2. only one.\n\n 6^4. she\u2019s not along with you.\n\n 7^4. from him she will not stay.\n\n 8^4. Training his gallant men.\n\n 9^4. It\u2019s high hangit ye sall.\n\n 10^3. It was to hang.\n\n 10^4. For marrying his daughter Jean.\n\n 11^2. For all the offence I can see.\n\n 11^4. 12^4. Put on but the.\n\n 13.\n \u2018A\u2019 this I will do for your sake, Jeanie Gordon,\n A\u2019 this I will do for thee;\n I will cast aff the gold lace an scarlet,\n Put on but the single livery.\u2019\n\n 14^2. Ae year but only three.\n\n 15^4. a single soldier-lad.\n\n 16.\n \u2018O haud your tongue, Jeannie Gordon,\n An dinna ye lichtlie me;\n I was tane frae a captain\u2019s commission\n An made low for lyin wi thee.\u2019\n\n (_17 as 15._) 17^1. High were the hills an the mountains.\n\n 18, 19. _Wanting._\n\n _Before 20_:\n\n \u2018Haud your tongue, Jeannie Gordon,\n Ye needna gloom on me;\n I hae but ae half-crown in the warld,\n I\u2019ll buy stockings an shoon to thee.\u2019\n\n 20^1. If I were in the bonny glens o Ourdlie.\n\n 20^2. Where mony bonny days I hae been.\n\n _After 20_:\n\n \u2018If ye were at bonny Castle Gordon,\n An lichtit on the green,\n Your faither is a hard-hearted man,\n He wald na let you in.\u2019\n\n \u2018If I were at bonny Castle Gordon,\n An lichtit on the green,\n My mother\u2019s a good-hearted woman,\n She wald open an lat me in.\u2019\n\n 22.\n The Duke o Gordon cam trippin doun stairs\n Wi the saut tear in his ee: (_cf._ 32^2)\n \u2018Ye\u2019re welcome here, Jeannie Gordon,\n Wi a\u2019 your young family, (_cf._ 33^2)\n Ye\u2019re welcome here, Jeannie Gordon,\n But awa wi your Ogilvie.\u2019\n\n 23^{1,2}.\n The Captain took ship an sailed,\n He sailed from the land.\n\n 23^3. But a messenger.\n\n 23^4. Which caused a countermand.\n\n 24^{1,3}. Come back, come back, C. O.\n\n 24^4. You are earl.\n\n 25. _Wanting._\n\n 26^3. I will gae hame an.\n\n 27^2. An lichtit on the green.\n\n 27^4. Says, Here\u2019s Captain Ogilvie again.\n\n _After 27_:\n\n The Duke o Gordon cam trippin doun stairs,\n Wi his hat into his hand:\n \u2018Ye\u2019re welcome hame, Captain Ogilvie,\n The heir o Northumberland.\u2019\n\n _After 28_:\n\n \u2018Put up your hat, Duke o Gordon,\n An do not let it fa;\n It never set the noble Duke o Gordon\n To bow to a single soldier-lad.\u2019\n\n 29^4. No ither favour I claim.\n\n 30, 31. _Wanting._\n\n 32^2. the saut tear in her ee.\n\n 32^{3,4}.\n You\u2019re welcome hame, Captain Ogilvie,\n You\u2019re dearly welcome to me.\n\n 33. _Wanting._\n\n _After 33_: The Captain went aff with his lady, _nearly as in_\n #b-e#.\n\n _The order of stanzas is deranged. Some of the variations are\n clearly misremembrances._\n\n#h.#\n\n _Nine stanzas only._\n\n 1^1. had.\n\n 1^4. wud awa.\n\n 2^2. A month but barely twa.\n\n 2^4. from him she wudna stay.\n\n 3^4. from him she will not stay.\n\n 11^2. For any offence that.\n\n 15^1. weary, weary wanderin.\n\n _After 15_: Had yer tongue\u2014I\u2019ll buy hose and shoon for you, Had\n yer tongue\u2014For your sake I\u2019m a single man.\n\n 22^4. awa wi your Ogilvie.\n\n _Christie\u2019s ballad has many of the readings of #a#, and a few of\n the editor\u2019s. Of_ \u201ctwo verses, as sung in the counties of Banff\n and Moray, hitherto unpublished,\u201d _one is in all copies except\n #a#; the other is the inept stanza_ (_see_ #f#):\n\n \u2018Oh, coarse, coarse would be the stockings,\n And coarser would be the shoon,\n Oh, coarse, coarse would they baith be,\n You would buy for ae siller crown.\u2019\n\n\n\n\n 238\n\n GLENLOGIE, OR, JEAN O BETHELNIE\n\n #A.# Skene MS., p. 13.\n\n #B.# \u2018Glenlogie,\u2019 Sharpe\u2019s Ballad Book, 1823, p. 37.\n\n #C.# \u2018Glenlogie,\u2019 Gibb MS., No 6, p. 33.\n\n #D.# \u2018There waur aucht an forty nobles,\u2019 Harris MS., fol. 17.\n\n #E. a.# \u2018Jean o Bethelnie\u2019s Love for Sir G. Gordon,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s Ballads\n of the North of Scotland, I, 188. #b.# \u2018Bonnie Jean o Bethelnie,\u2019\n Christie\u2019s Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 54.\n\n #F.# \u2018Jean o Bethelnie,\u2019 Percy Papers, communicated by R. Lambe, 1768.\n\n #G.# \u2018Glenlogie,\u2019 Alexander Laing\u2019s MS., p. 8.\n\n #H.# \u2018Glenlogie,\u2019 Kinloch MSS, V, 431.\n\n #I. a.# \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 77,\n Abbotsford. #b#. \u2018Glenogie,\u2019 Smith\u2019s Scotish Minstrel, IV, 78, 1822.\n\n\n\u2018Glenlogie,\u2019 in Chambers\u2019 Popular Rhymes of Scotland, 1826, p. 200, is a\nrepetition of #B#. #F#, the copy earliest taken down, is not pure and\nunvarnished tradition. The reconstructed copy in the Ballad Minstrelsy\nof Scotland, Glasgow, 1871, p. 506, was \u201cbased on a MS. version\ncommunicated to Mr Buchan in a letter from Mr Alexander Laing, dated\nBrechin, April 9th, 1829, and there given by him as taken down from the\nrecitation of the amiable daughter of a clergyman in the North.\u201d #G#,\nfrom Laing\u2019s MS., may be supposed to be the ballad sent to Buchan by\nLaing. #I b# has been touched up by one of \u201cthat parliament of gentle\nladies,\u201d in Motherwell\u2019s phrase, who had charge of the literary part of\nSmith\u2019s Scotish Minstrel.\n\nJean of Bethelnie, #A#, #C#, #E#, #F#, Jean Melville, #B#, #D#, #G#, of\nthe age of fifteen or sixteen, scarce seventeen, #G#, falls in love at\nsight with Glenlogie (Earl Ogie, #F#, Glenogie, #I b#), and opens her\nmind to him. Glenlogie, though much flattered, is obliged to say that he\nis already promised.[140] Jean takes to her bed, determined to die. Her\nfather (mother, #A#[141]), as all too frequently happens at such\nconjunctures, proposes the miserable comfort of another and a better\nmatch, and, as usual, is told to hold his tongue. The chaplain of the\nfamily (the father himself is a king\u2019s chaplain in #F#) takes the\nbusiness in hand, and writes a broad, long, and well-penned letter to\nGlenlogie, setting forth the desperate condition of the girl. Glenlogie\nis so much affected that he rides to Bethelnie with all haste and\npresents himself to Jean as her bridegroom, although promised awa.\n\nThe young lady is Jean Gordon in #C#. #H# has changed Bethelnie to\nBelhelvie, another Aberdeenshire town. I has Glenfeldy for Bethelnie.\n\n\nGerhard, p. 103, has translated #E a#; Knortz, Schottische Balladen, p.\n15, Aytoun\u2019s copy, that is, #B#.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n Skene MS., p. 13; taken down from recitation in the north of\n Scotland, 1802\u20133.\n\n 1\n Four an twenty noblemen they rode thro Banchory fair,\n But bonnie Glenlogie was flower [of a\u2019] that was there.\n\n 2\n Four and twenty noblemen rode from Banchory ha,\n But bonnie Glenlogie he was flower of them a\u2019.\n\n 3\n \u2018O bonnie Glenlogie, be constant and kind,\n An, bonnie Glenlogie, I\u2019ll tell you my mind.\n\n 4\n . . . . so frank and so free,\n . . . and I get na Glenlogie, I\u2019ll die.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018O bonnie Jeanie, your portion\u2019s but sma\n To lay your love on me, that\u2019s promist awa.\u2019\n\n 6\n Her cherry cheeks grew pale an wan; with the tear in her ee,\n \u2018Gin I get na Glenlogie, I surely will die.\u2019\n\n 7\n Ben came her father, steps to her bowr:\n \u2018Dear Jeanie, you\u2019r acting the part of a [whore].\n\n 8\n \u2018You\u2019re seeking ane that cares na for thee;\n Ye\u2019s get Lord William, let Glenlogie be.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018O had you still, father, let your folly be;\n Gin I get na Glenlogie, I surely will die.\u2019\n\n 10\n Ben came her mother, steps on the floor:\n \u2018Dear daughter Jeanie, you\u2019re acting the [whore],\n\n 11\n \u2018Seeking of ane that cares na for thee;\n For ye\u2019ll get Lord William, let Glenlogie be.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018O had your tongue, mother, and let me be;\n An I get na Glenlogie, I surely will die.\u2019\n\n 13\n O ben came her father\u2019s chaplain, a man of great skill,\n And he has written a broad letter, and he has pennd it well.\n\n 14\n H\u2019as pennd it well, an sent it awa\n To bonnie Glenlogie, the flower of them a\u2019.\n\n 15\n When he got the letter, his tears did down fa\n \u2018She\u2019s laid her love on me, that was promist awa.\u2019\n\n 16\n He calld on his servant wi speed, and bade him saddle his horses, and\n bridle them a\u2019:\n \u2018For she has laid her love on me, altho I was promist awa.\u2019\n\n 17\n The horses were saddled wi speed, but ere they came he was four mile\n awa,\n To Jean of Bethelny, the flowr of them a\u2019.\n\n 18\n But when he came to her bowr she was pale and wan,\n But she grew red and ruddy when Glenlogie came in.\n\n 19\n \u2018Cheer up, bonnie Jeannie, ye are flowr o them a\u2019;\n I have laid my love on you, altho I was promist awa.\u2019\n\n 20\n Her beauty was charming, her tocher down tauld;\n Bonnie Jean of Bethelny was scarce fifteen year auld.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n Sharpe\u2019s Ballad Book, p. 37, 1823.\n\n 1\n Four and twenty nobles sits in the king\u2019s ha,\n Bonnie Glenlogie is the flower among them a\u2019.\n\n 2\n In came Lady Jean, skipping on the floor,\n And she has chosen Glenlogie \u2018mong a\u2019 that was there.\n\n 3\n She turned to his footman, and thus she did say:\n Oh, what is his name? and where does he stay?\n\n 4\n \u2018His name is Glenlogie, when he is from home;\n He is of the gay Gordons, his name it is John.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018Glenlogie, Glenlogie, an you will prove kind,\n My love is laid on you; I am telling my mind.\u2019\n\n 6\n He turned about lightly, as the Gordons does a\u2019:\n \u2018I thank you, Lady Jean, my loves is promised awa.\u2019\n\n 7\n She called on her maidens her bed for to make,\n Her rings and her jewels all from her to take.\n\n 8\n In came Jeanie\u2019s father, a wae man was he;\n Says, I\u2019ll wed you to Drumfendrich, he has mair gold than he.\n\n 9\n Her father\u2019s own chaplain, being a man of great skill,\n He wrote him a letter, and indited it well.\n\n 10\n The first lines he looked at, a light laugh laughed he;\n But ere he read through it the tears blinded his ee.\n\n 11\n Oh, pale and wan looked she when Glenlogie cam in,\n But even rosy grew she when Glenlogie sat down.\n\n 12\n \u2018Turn round, Jeanie Melville, turn round to this side,\n And I\u2019ll be the bridegroom, and you\u2019ll be the bride.\u2019\n\n 13\n Oh, \u2018t was a merry wedding, and the portion down told,\n Of bonnie Jeanie Melville, who was scarce sixteen years old.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n C\n\n Gibb MS., No 6, p. 33, from the recitation of Mrs Gibb, senior;\n traced to Mrs E. Lindsay, about 1800.\n\n 1\n There was three score o nobles sat at the king\u2019s dine,\n An bonny Glenlogie was flower o thrice nine.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 2\n . . . . cam trippin downstair,\n An she fancied Glenlogie ower a\u2019 that was there.\n\n 3\n She called on the footman that ran by his side,\n Says, What is that man\u2019s name, an where does he bide?\n\n 4\n \u2018His name is Glenlogie when he goes from home.\n But he\u2019s of the great Gordons, an his name is Lord John.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018Glenlogie! Glenlogie! Glenlogie!\u2019 said she,\n \u2018An for bonnie Glenlogie I surely will die.\u2019\n\n 6\n She called on her maidens to make her her bed,\n . . . . . . . . .\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 7\n When Glenlogie got the letter, amang noble-men,\n \u2018Dear me,\u2019 said Glenlogie, \u2018what does young women mean!\u2019\n\n 8\n Then up spake his father, Let it never be said\n That such a fine lady should die for your sake.\n\n 9\n \u2018Go saddle my black horse, go saddle him soon,\n Till I go to Bethelnie, to see Lady Jean.\u2019\n\n 10\n When he got to Bethelnie, there was naebody there\n But was weeping an wailing an tearing their hair.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 11\n \u2018Turn round, Jeanie Gordon, turn round to this side;\n I\u2019ll be the bridegroom, an ye\u2019s be the bride.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n D\n\n Harris MS., fol. 17; learned from Mrs Harris before 1832.\n\n 1\n There waur aucht an forty nobles rade to the king\u2019s ha,\n But bonnie Glenlogie was the flour o them a\u2019.\n\n 2\n There waur aucht an forty nobles rade to the king\u2019s dine,\n But bonnie Glenlogie was the flour o thrice nine.\n\n 3\n Bonnie Jeanie Melville cam trippin doun the stair,\n An whan she saw Glenlogie her hairt it grew sair.\n\n 4\n . . . . . . . . .\n \u2018He\u2019s of the gay Gordons, his name it is John.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018Oh, Logie! Oh, Logie! Oh, Logie!\u2019 said she,\n \u2018If I get na Glenlogie, I surely will dee.\u2019\n\n 6\n He turned him aboot, as the Gordons do a\u2019,\n Says, I thank you, Lady Jeanie, but I\u2019m promised awa.\n\n 7\n She called on her maidens her hands for to take,\n An the rings from her fingers she did them a\u2019 break.\n\n 8\n \u2018Oh, what is my lineage, or what is my make.\n That such a fine lady suld dee for my sake?\u2019\n\n 9\n Such a pretty wedding, as I have been told,\n An bonnie Jeanie Melville was scarce sixteen years old.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n E\n\n #a.# Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 188. #b.#\n Christie\u2019s Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 54.\n\n 1\n There were four-and-twenty ladies dined i the Queen\u2019s ha,\n And Jean o Bethelnie was the flower o them a\u2019.\n\n 2\n Four-and-twenty gentlemen rode thro Banchory fair,\n But bonny Glenlogie was the flower that was there.\n\n 3\n Young Jean at a window she chanced to sit nigh,\n And upon Glenlogie she fixed an eye.\n\n 4\n She calld on his best man, unto him did say,\n O what is that knight\u2019s name? or where does he stay?\n\n 5\n \u2018He\u2019s of the noble Gordons, of great birth and fame;\n He stays at Glenlogie, Sir George is his name.\u2019\n\n 6\n Then she wrote a broad letter, and wrote it in haste;\n To send to Glenlogie, she thought it was best.\n\n 7\n Says, O brave Glenlogie, unto me be kind;\n I\u2019ve laid my love on you, and told you my mind.\n\n 8\n Then reading the letter, as he stood on the green,\n Says, I leave you to judge, sirs; what does women mean?\n\n 9\n Then turnd about sprightly, as the Gordons do a\u2019:\n \u2018Lay not your love on me, I\u2019m promisd awa.\u2019\n\n 10\n When she heard this answer, her heart was like to break,\n That she laid her love on him, and him so ungrate.\n\n 11\n Then she calld on her maidens to lay her to bed,\n And take her fine jewels and lay them aside.\n\n 12\n \u2018My seals and my signets, no more shall I crave;\n But linen and trappin, a chest and a grave.\u2019\n\n 13\n Her father stood by her, possess\u00ebd with fear\n To see his dear daughter possess\u00ebd with care.\n\n 14\n Says, Hold your tongue, Jeannie, let all your folly be;\n I\u2019ll wed you to Dumfedline, he is better than he.\n\n 15\n \u2018O hold your tongue, father, and let me alane;\n If I getna Glenlogie, I \u2018ll never have ane.\n\n 16\n \u2018His bonny jimp middle, his black rolling eye,\n If I getna Glenlogie, I\u2019m sure I shall die.\u2019\n\n 17\n But her father\u2019s old chaplain, a man of great skill,\n He wrote a broad letter, and penn\u00ebd it well.\n\n 18\n Saying, O brave Glenlogie, why must it be so?\n A maid\u2019s love laid on you, shall she die in her woe?\n\n 19\n Then reading the letter, his heart was like to break\n That such a leal virgin should die for his sake.\n\n 20\n Then he calld on his footman, and likewise his groom,\n Says, Get my horse saddled and bridl\u00ebd soon.\n\n 21\n Before the horse was saddled and brought to the yate,\n Bonnie Glenlogie was five miles on foot.\n\n 22\n When he came to Bethelnie, he saw nothing there\n But weeping and wailing, vexation and care.\n\n 23\n Then out spake her father, with the tear in his ee,\n You\u2019re welcome, Glenlogie, you\u2019re welcome to me.\n\n 24\n \u2018If ye make me welcome, as welcome\u2019s ye say,\n Ye\u2019ll show me the chamber where Jeannie does lay.\u2019\n\n 25\n Then one o her maidens took him by the hand,\n To show him the chamber where Jeannie lay in.\n\n 26\n Before that she saw him, she was pale and wan;\n But when she did see him, she grew ruddy again.\n\n 27\n \u2018O turn, bonny Jeannie, turn you to your side;\n For I\u2019ll be the bridegroom, and ye\u2019ll be the bride.\u2019\n\n 28\n When Jeannie was married, her tocher down tauld,\n Bonny Jean o Bethelnie was fifteen years auld.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n F\n\n Communicated to Percy by Robert Lambe, of Norham, August 17, 1768;\n dated April, 1768.\n\n 1\n Fourscore nobles ride in the king\u2019s court,\n And bonny Earl Ogie\u2019s the flower of the rout;\n Fourscore lean oer the castle-wa,\n But Jean of Bethelnie\u2019s the flower of em a\u2019.\n\n 2\n She writ a broad letter, and pennd it fou lang,\n And sent it Earl Ogie as fast as \u2018t can gang:\n \u2018Bonny Earl Ogie, be courteous and kind;\n I\u2019ve laid my love on thee; maun I die in my prime?\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018O pox on thee, Jenny, for being sae slaw!\n Bonny Earl Ogie is promisd awa:\u2019\n This letter was like to mak her heart break,\n For revealing her mind to a man so ingrate.\n\n 4\n \u2018Come here, all my handmaids, O do this with speed,\n Take my gowns and my passments, and lay me to bed;\n Lay me to my bed, it is all that I crave;\n Wi my sark in my coffin, lay me in my grave.\u2019\n\n 5\n Her father beheld her with heart full of grief,\n And spoke these words to her, to gi her relief:\n Hawd your tongue, Jenny, your mourning let be,\n You shall have Drumfinely, who\u2019s as good as he.\n\n 6\n \u2018Haud your tongue, father, your words make me sad;\n If I get not Earl Ogie, I still shall be bad;\n With his bonny streight body, and black rolling eee,\n If I get not Earl Ogie, for him I mun dee.\u2019\n\n 7\n Her father, king\u2019s chaplain, and one of great skill,\n Did write a broad letter, and pennd it fou weel;\n He as writ a broad letter, and pennd it fou lang,\n And sent it Earl Ogie as fast as \u2018t can gang.\n\n 8\n \u2018Bonny Earl Ogie, be courteous and kind;\n My daughter loves you; must she die in her prime?\u2019\n When he read the first lines, a loud laugh gave he;\n But or he redd the middle, the tear filld his ee.\n\n 9\n \u2018Come here, all my footmen, and also my groom,\n Go saddle my horses, and saddle them soon:\u2019\n They were not weel saddled and set on the green\n Or bonny Earl Ogie was twa mile his lain.\n\n 10\n When he came to Bethelnie, he nothing saw there\n But mourning and weeping, lamentation and care:\n \u2018O you that\u2019s her handmaid, take me by the hand,\n Lead me to the chamber that Jenny lies in.\u2019\n\n 11\n When thither he came, she was pale and half dead;\n As soon as she saw him, her cheeks they grew red:\n \u2018Come, turn thee, my Jenny, come, turn on thy side,\n I\u2019ll be the bridegroom, you shall be the bride.\u2019\n\n 12\n Her spirit revived to hear him say sae,\n And thus ended luckily all her great wae;\n Then streight were they married, with joy most profound,\n And Jean of Bethelnie was sav\u2019d from the ground.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n G\n\n Alexander Laing\u2019s MS., \u201cAncient Ballads and Songs, etc., etc., from\n the Recitation of Old People,\u201d p. 8, 1829.\n\n 1\n There was mony a braw noble cum to our king\u2019s ha,\n But the bonnie Glenlogie was the flower o them a\u2019;\n An the young ladye Jeanye, sae gude an sae fair,\n She fancyd Glenlogie aboon a\u2019 that were there.\n\n 2\n She speered at his footman that rode by his side\n His name an his surname an whare he did bide:\n \u2018He bides a[t] Glenlogie whan he is at hame,\n He is of the gay Gordons, an John is his name.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018Oh, Logie, Glenlogie, I\u2019ll tell you my mind;\n My luve is laid on you, O wad ye prove kind!\u2019\n He turned him about, as the Gordons do a\u2019,\n \u2018I thank [you], fair ladye, but I\u2019m promised awa.\u2019\n\n 4\n She called on her maidens her hands for to take,\n An the rings on her fingers she did them a\u2019 break:\n \u2018Oh, Logie, Glenlogie! Oh, Logie!\u2019 said she,\n \u2018Gin I get na Glenlogie, I\u2019m sure I will die.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018O hold your tongue, daughter, an weep na sae sair,\n For ye\u2019ll get Drumfindlay, his father\u2019s young heir.\u2019\n \u2018O hold your tongue, father, an let me alane,\n Gin I get na Glenlogie, I winna hae ane.\u2019\n\n 6\n Her father wrote a broad letter wi speed,\n And ordered his footman to run and ride;\n He wrote a broad letter, he wrote it wi skill,\n An sent it to Glenlogie, who had dune her the ill.\n\n 7\n The first line that he read, a light laugh gae he;\n The next line that he read, the tear filld his ee:\n \u2018O what a man am I, an hae I a maik,\n That such a fine ladye shoud die for my sake?\n\n 8\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll saddle my horse, an ye\u2019ll saddle him sune,\n An, when he is saddled, bring him to the green:\u2019\n His horse was na saddled an brocht to the green,\n When Glenlogie was on the road three miles his lane.\n\n 9\n When he came to her father\u2019s, he saw naething there\n But weeping an wailing an sobbing fu sair:\n O pale an wan was she when Logie gaed in,\n But red an ruddie grew she when Logie gaed ben.\n\n 10\n \u2018O turn, Ladye Jeany, turn ye to your side,\n For I\u2019ll be the bridegroom, an ye\u2019ll be the bride:\u2019\n It was a blythe wedding as ever I\u2019ve seen,\n An bonny Jeany Melville was scarce seventeen.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n H\n\n Kinloch MSS, V, 431; in Kinloch\u2019s hand.\n\n 1\n Six and six nobles gaed to Belhelvie fair,\n But bonnie Glenlogie was flowr o a\u2019 there;\n Bonnie Jean o Behelvie gaed tripping doun the stair,\n And fancied Glenlogie afore a\u2019 that was there.\n\n 2\n She said to his serving-man, as he stood aside,\n O what is that man\u2019s name, and whare does he bide ?\n \u2018They call him Glenlogie whan he goes frae home,\n But he\u2019s come o the grand Gordons, and [h]is name is Lord John.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018Glenlogie, Glenlogie, be constant and kind;\n I\u2019ve laid my love on you, I\u2019ll tell you my mind:\u2019\n \u2018O wae\u2019s me heart, Jeanie, your tocher\u2019s oure sma;\n Lay na your love on me, for I\u2019m promised awa.\u2019\n\n 4\n She called for the servant to show her a room,\n Likewise for a handmaid to mak her bed doun;\n Wi that Jeanie\u2019s father cam stepping on the floor,\n Says, What is the matter my dochter lies here?\n\n 5\n \u2018Forgie, honourd father, my folly,\u2019 said she,\n \u2018But for the sake o Glenlogie your dochter will dee:\u2019\n \u2018O cheer up, my dochter, for I\u2019ll gie ye my hand\n That ye\u2019se get young Glenforbar, w\u2019 an earldom of land.\n\n 6\n \u2018O cheer up, my dochter, turn ance frae the wa,\n And ye\u2019ll get Glenforbar, the flowr o them a\u2019:\u2019\n \u2018I wad rather tak Glenlogie wi his staff in his hand\n Afore I wad tak Glenforbar wi an earldom of land.\u2019\n\n 7\n Jeanie\u2019s father was a scholar, and a man o grit wit,\n And he wrote him a letter, he thought it was fit.\n\n 8\n When Glenlogie gat the letter, he was amang nobles a\u2019,\n . . . . . he lute his hat fa:\n \u2018I wonder i the warld what women see at me,\n For bonnie Jean o Belhelvie is a dying for me:\u2019\n\n 9\n He calld for his servant to saddle his steed,\n . . . . . wi speed;\n The horse was na saddled, but out on the green,\n Till bonnie Glenlogie was some miles him leen.\n\n 10\n Whan he cam to Belhelvie, he rade round about,\n And he saw Jeanie\u2019s father at a window look out.\n\n 11\n Bonnie Jean o Belhevie lay pale and wan,\n But red and ruddy grew she when Glenlogie cam in:\n \u2018Lie yont, bonnie Jeanie, and let me lie down,\n For ye\u2019se be bride, and I\u2019se be bridegroom.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n I\n\n #a.# \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border-Minstrelsy,\u201d No. 77.\n Written down from the recitation of Mrs Graham, of Inchbrakie, by\n Mrs Steuart, of Dalguise, and given, September, 1802, to Mr Robert\n Carlyle, by whom it was communicated to Sir Walter Scott. #b.#\n Smith\u2019s Scotish Minstrel, IV, 78 (of the second edition).\n\n 1\n \u2018There\u2019s fifty young nobles rides up the king\u2019s hall\n And bonny Glenlogie\u2019s the flower of them all;\n Wi his milk-white steed, and his black rolling ee,\n If I get na Glenlogie, it\u2019s certain I\u2019ll die.\n\n 2\n \u2018Where will I get a bonny boy, to win hose and shoon,\n To go to Glenlogie and bid Logie come?\u2019\n \u2018Here am I a pretty boy, to win baith hose and shoon,\n To go to Glenlogie and bid Logie come.\u2019\n\n 3\n When he came to Glenlogie, it was \u2018wash and go dine:\u2019\n \u2018Come in, my pretty boy, wash and go dine:\u2019\n \u2018It was no my father\u2019s fashion, and I hope it\u2019ll no be mine,\n To run a lady\u2019s hasty errand, then to go dine.\n\n 4\n \u2018Here take this letter, Glenlogie,\u2019 said he.\n The first ane line that he read, a low smile gave he;\n The next ane line that he read, the tear blinded his ee;\n But the next line that he read he garrd the table flee.\n\n 5\n \u2018O saddle to me the black horse, saddle to me the brown,\n Saddle to me the swiftest horse that eer rode frae the town:\u2019\n But lang or the horses could be brought to the green\n Bonie Glenlogie was twa mile his lean.\n\n 6\n When he came to Glenfeldy\u2019s gates, little mirth was there,\n Bonie Jean\u2019s mother was tearing her hair:\n \u2018You\u2019re welcome, Glenlogie, you\u2019re welcome to me,\n You\u2019re welcome, Glenlogie, your Jeanie to see.\u2019\n\n 7\n O pale and wan was she when Logie came in,\n But red and rosy grew she wheneer he sat down:\n \u2018O turn you, bonie Jeanie, O turn you to me,\n For, if you\u2019ll be the bride, the bridegroom I will be.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A.# _Not divided into stanzas._\n\n 5^1. your portion\u2019s. _Qy_, your fortune\u2019s? (_your luck is small_).\n\n 5^2. I am promist awa, I\u2019m promist awa, to lay your love on me\n that\u2019s promist awa.\n\n 6^2. Gin I get na Glenlogie, I surely will die, I surely will die.\n\n 7^1. fathers.\n\n 9^1. your still, _which may possibly be meant_.\n\n 10^1. mothers steps.\n\n 19.\n Cheer up bonnie Jeannie\n I have laid my love on you\n Ye are flowr o them a\u2019\n I have laid my love on you\n Altho I was promist awa.\n\n#C.# _Written in stanzas of four short lines._\n\n#D.#\n\n _Written, as far as the imperfect text would allow, in stanzas of\n eight short lines._\n\n#E.# _In stanzas of four short lines._\n\n#b.#\n\n \u201cEpitomized from Buchan\u2019s Ballads, with a few alterations from the\n way the Editor has heard it sung.\u201d\n\n 1^2. Bonnie Jean: was flower.\n\n 2^1. There were four-and-twenty nobles.\n\n 2^2. And bonnie: was flower o them there.\n\n 3^1. Bonnie Jean.\n\n 3^2. And on young G.: her eye.\n\n 4^1. and to him.\n\n 6^2. for she.\n\n 7^1. And says.\n\n 9^1. Then he.\n\n 10^1. heard his.\n\n 10^2. she\u2019d.\n\n 28^1. and her tocher was tauld.\n\n#H.#\n\n _7\u201311 are in couplets in the MS._\n\n#I.#\n\n#b.# Glenogie _for_ Glenlogie.\n\n 1^1. Threescore o nobles rade.\n\n 1^2. But.\n\n 1^3. his bonny black.\n\n 1^4. Glenogie, dear mither, Glenogie for me!\n\n _After 1_:\n\n \u2018O had your tongue, dochter, ye\u2019ll get better than he.\u2019\n \u2018O say nae sae, mither, for that canna be;\n Tho Drumlie is richer, and greater than he,\n Yet, if I maun tak him, I\u2019ll certainly dee.\u2019\n\n 2^{2,4}. Will gae: and cum shune again.\n\n 2^3. O here: a bonny: win hose.\n\n 3^1. he gaed.\n\n 3^2. \u2018T was wash ye, my.\n\n 3^3. O \u2018t was neer: and it neer shall.\n\n 3^4. To gar: wait till I dine.\n\n 4^1. But there is, Glenogie, a letter to thee.\n\n 4^2. first line.\n\n 4^3. next line.\n\n 4^4. the last.\n\n 5^1. Gar saddle the: gae saddle the.\n\n 5^2. Gar saddle the swiftest steed eer rade frae a.\n\n 5^3. ere the horse was drawn and brought.\n\n 5^4. O bonny.\n\n 6^1. door _for_ gates.\n\n 6^3. (_end_) welcome, said she.\n\n 7^1. O _wanting_: Glenogie gaed ben.\n\n 7^{3,4}. _An editorial improvement_:\n\n She turned awa her head, but the smile was in her ee:\n \u2018O binna feared, mither, I\u2019ll may be no dee.\u2019\n\n\n\n\n 239\n\n LORD SALTOUN AND AUCHANACHIE\n\n #A.# \u2018Lord Salton and Auchanachie.\u2019 #a.# Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North\n of Scotland, II, 133. #b.# Maidment\u2019s North Countrie Garland, p. 10;\n Buchan\u2019s Gleanings, p. 161.\n\n #B. a.# \u2018Young Annochie,\u2019 Murison MS., p. 76. #b.# \u2018Lord Saltoun and\n Annachie,\u2019 Christie\u2019s Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 10.\n\n\n#A.# Jeanie Gordon loves Auchanachie, who is bonny and braw, but she is\nforced by her father to wed Saltoun, who is bowed in the back and\nthrawin in the knee; and all for Saltoun\u2019s lands. Jeanie refuses to be\nbedded; her maidens, at her father\u2019s order, loose off her gown (they cut\nher gown and stays); she falls in a swoon and dies. Auchanachie comes\nhome from the sea the same day, learns what has happened, asks to be\ntaken to the chamber where Jeanie lies, kisses her cold lips, and dies.\n\nIn #B# we have Gordon of Annachie in Buchan, instead of Gordon of\nAuchanachie in Strathbogie as in #A#. Christie, on very slight grounds,\nsuggests that one Garden of Annachie was the proper hero: I, 287, 294.\n\nThere can hardly be a doubt that this ballad is Mrs Brown of Falkland\u2019s\n\u2018Lass o Philorth\u2019 (see note, p. 309). Philorth is the seat of the\nFrasers of Saltoun, near Fraserburgh, in the extreme northeast corner of\nAberdeenshire.\n\nAs to #A a# 2^{1,2}, #b# 1, #B# 2^{1,2}, see note [B] to the preceding\nballad, p. 339.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n #a.# Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 133, 1828. #b.#\n Maidment\u2019s North Countrie Garland, p. 10, 1824; Buchan\u2019s Gleanings,\n p. 161, 1825.\n\n 1\n \u2018Auchanachie Gordon is bonny and braw,\n He would tempt any woman that ever he saw;\n He would tempt any woman, so has he tempted me,\n And I\u2019ll die if I getna my love Auchanachie.\u2019\n\n 2\n In came her father, tripping on the floor,\n Says, Jeanie, ye\u2019re trying the tricks o a whore;\n Ye\u2019re caring for them that cares little for thee;\n Ye must marry Salton, leave Auchanachie.\n\n 3\n \u2018Auchanachie Gordon, he is but a man;\n Altho he be pretty, where lies his free land?\n Salton\u2019s lands they lie broad, his towers they stand hie,\n Ye must marry Salton, leave Auchanachie.\n\n 4\n . . . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . . . .\n \u2018Salton will gar you wear silk gowns fring\u2019d to thy knee,\n But ye\u2019ll never wear that wi your love Auchanachie.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018Wi Auchanachie Gordon I would beg my bread\n Before that wi Salton I\u2019d wear gowd on my head,\n Wear gowd on my head, or gowns fring\u2019d to the knee;\n And I\u2019ll die if I getna my love Auchanachie.\n\n 6\n \u2018O Salton\u2019s [a] valley lies low by the sea,\n He\u2019s bowed on the back, and thrawin on the knee;\u2019\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n 7\n \u2018O Salton\u2019s a valley lies low by the sea;\n Though he\u2019s bowed on the back and thrawin on the knee,\n Though he\u2019s bowed on the back and thrawin on the knee,\n The bonny rigs of Salton they\u2019re nae thrawin tee.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018O you that are my parents to church may me bring,\n But unto young Salton I\u2019ll never bear a son;\n For son or for daughter, I\u2019ll ne\u2019er bow my knee,\n And I\u2019ll die if I getna my love Auchanachie.\u2019\n\n 9\n When Jeanie was married, from church was brought hame,\n When she wi her maidens sae merry shoud hae been,\n When she wi her maidens sae merry shoud hae been,\n She\u2019s called for a chamber, to weep there her lane.\n\n 10\n \u2018Come to your bed, Jeanie, my honey and my sweet,\n For to stile you mistress I do not think it meet:\u2019\n \u2018Mistress or Jeanie, it is a\u2019 ane to me,\n It\u2019s in your bed, Salton, I never will be.\u2019\n\n 11\n Then out spake her father, he spake wi renown;\n Some of you that are maidens, ye\u2019ll loose aff her gown;\n Some of you that are maidens, ye\u2019ll loose aff her gown,\n And I\u2019ll mend the marriage wi ten thousand crowns.\n\n 12\n Then ane of her maidens they loosed aff her gown,\n But bonny Jeanie Gordon she fell in a swoon;\n She fell in a swoon low down by their knee;\n Says, Look on, I die for my love Auchanachie!\n\n 13\n That very same day Miss Jeanie did die,\n And hame came Auchanachie, hame frae the sea;\n Her father and mither welcomd him at the gate;\n He said, Where\u2019s Miss Jeanie, that she\u2019s nae here yet?\n\n 14\n Then forth came her maidens, all wringing their hands,\n Saying, Alas for your staying sae lang frae the land!\n Sae lang frae the land, and sae lang on the fleed!\n They\u2019ve wedded your Jeanie, and now she is dead.\n\n 15\n \u2018Some of you, her maidens, take me by the hand,\n And show me the chamber Miss Jeanie died in;\u2019\n He kissd her cold lips, which were colder than stane,\n And he died in the chamber that Jeanie died in.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n #a.# Murison MS., p. 76. b. Christie\u2019s Traditional Ballad Airs, I,\n 10.\n\n 1\n \u2018Buchan, it\u2019s bonnie, an there lies my love,\n My heart is fixt on him, it winna remove;\n It winna remove for a\u2019 at I can dee,\n An I never will forsake him Young Annochie.\u2019\n\n 2\n Her father cam trippin, cam trippin ben the floor,\n Says, Jeannie, ye hae but the tricks o a whore;\n Ye care little for the man that cares muckle for thee,\n But I\u2019ll cause you marry Saltoun, let Annochie be.\n\n 3\n \u2018Ye may marry me to Saltoun before that I go home,\n But it is to Lord Saltoun I\u2019ll never bear a son;\n A son nor a daughter I\u2019ll never bear to he,\n An I never will forsake him Young Annochie.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018All you that is her maidens, ye\u2019ll tak her by the han,\n An I will inheft her o five thousan poun;\n She\u2019ll wear silk to her heel and gowd to her knee,\n An I\u2019ll cause her to forsake him Young Annochie.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018All you that is my maidens winna tak me by the han,\n I winna be inhefted o five thousan poun;\n I\u2019ll nae wear silk to my heal nor wear gowd to my knee,\n An I never will forsake him Young Annochie.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018All you that is her maidens, ye\u2019ll show her to her bed;\n The blankets they are ready, the sheets are comely spread;\n She shall lie in my airms till twelve o the day,\n An I\u2019ll cause her to forsake him Young Annochie.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018All you that is my maidens winna show me to my bed,\n Tho the blankets they be ready, the sheets be comely spread;\n I\u2019ll nae lie in your airms till twelve o the day,\n An I never will forsake him Young Annochie.\u2019\n\n 8\n It\u2019s that day they wedded her, an that day she died,\n An that day Young Annochie cam in on the tide;\n . . . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . . . .\n\n 9\n Her maidens did meet him, a\u2019 wringin their hans,\n Sayin, It\u2019s a\u2019 for your stayin so long on the sans!\n They\u2019ve wedded your Jeannie, an now she is dead,\n An it\u2019s a\u2019 for your stayin sae long on the fleed.\n\n 10\n \u2018All you that is her maidens ye\u2019ll tak me by the han,\n Ye\u2019ll show me the bower that Jeannie lies in:\u2019\n He kissed her cold lips, they were both white an red,\n And for bonnie Jeannie Gordon Young Annochie died.\n\n * * * * *\n\n #A. a.# _4\u20136 are disarranged, and an attempt has been made at a\n better grouping. 4^{3,4}, 5^{1,2}, are 4; 5^{3,4} are 5^{1,2};\n 6^{1,2} are 5^{3,4}._\n\n 14^2. _The reading of_ #b# _is better_: on the sands.\n\n 14^3. frae the fleed: #b# _reads, rightly_, on the flood (fleed).\n\n#b.#\n\n _Printed by Maidment in stanzas of four short lines; by Buchan, in\n long lines, not properly grouped._\n\n 1\n Ben came her father, skipping on the floor,\n Said, Jeanie, you\u2019re trying the tricks of a whore.\n\n 2\n \u2018You\u2019re caring for him that cares not for thee;\n And I pray you take Salton, let Auchanachie be.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018I will not have Salton, it lies low by the sea;\n He is bowed in the back, he\u2019s thrawen in the knee;\n And I\u2019ll die if I get not my brave Auchanachie.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018I am bowed in the back, lassie, as ye see,\n But the bonny lands of Salton are no crooked tee.\u2019\n\n 5\n And when she was married she would not lie down,\n But they took out a knife, and cuttit her gown.\n\n 6\n Likewise of her stays the lacing in three;\n And now she lies dead for her Auchanachie.\n\n 7\n Out comes her bower-woman, wringing her hands,\n Says, Alas for the staying so long on the sands!\n\n 8\n \u2018Alas for the staying so long on the flood!\n For Jeanie was married, and now she is dead.\u2019\n\n#B. a.#\n\n _8, 9 are written together._\n\n 9^4. on the sans: _cf._ #A a# 14^1, #b# 8^1, #B b#.\n\n#b.#\n\n _Some trivial variations are not noticed. Printed in six stanzas\n of eight long lines._\n\n 1^1. lives.\n\n 1^4. Oh, never will I forget my love Annachie.\n\n _After 1_:\n\n \u2018For Annachie Gordon is bonnie and braw,\n He\u2019d entice any woman that ever him saw;\n He\u2019d entice any woman, and sae he has done me,\n And I\u2019ll die if I getna my love Annachie.\u2019\n\n 2^{1,2}. _As in_ #A a#.\n\n 2^3. care meikle: cares little.\n\n 2^4. Saltoun and leave Annachie.\n\n _After 2_:\n\n \u2018For Annachie Gordon is nothing but a man;\n Although he be brave, he has little free lan;\n His towns a\u2019 lie waste, and his lands a\u2019 lie lea,\n And I\u2019ll cause you marry Saltoun, let Annachie be.\u2019\n\n 3^1. wed me: before he goes home.\n\n 3^2. neer hae.\n\n 3^{3,4}.\n \u2018A son or a daughter, it\u2019s a\u2019 ane to me,\n For I\u2019ll cause you marry Saltoun and leave Annachie.\u2019\n\n _After 3_:\n\n He wed her to Saltoun before he gaed home,\n But unto Lord Saltoun she neer had a son;\n For, instead of being merry her maidens among,\n She gaed to her bower and wept there alone.\n\n 4^1. Some of you her.\n\n 4^2. infeft her in houses and land.\n\n 4^3. shall wear silk and satin, wi red goud.\n\n 4^4. to forget him the.\n\n 5^{1,2}.\n Oh you, my maidens, you shall not take my hand,\n Nor will I be infefted in houses and land.\n\n 5^3. Nor will I wear silk nor red goud.\n\n 5^4. For never will I forget my love #A#.\n\n _After 5_:\n\n \u2018Wi Annachie Gordon I would beg my bread\n Before wi Lord Saltoun I would wear goud red;\n For he\u2019s bowd on the back and he\u2019s thrawn in the knee:\u2019\n \u2018But the bonnie rigs o Saltoun are nae thrawn tee.\u2019\n\n 6, 7. _Wanting._\n\n 8.\n The day she was married, that same day she died,\n While Annachie Gordon was waiting for the tide;\n He waited for the tide to tak him oer the fleed,\n But he little thought his Jeanie Gordon was deed.\n\n 9^1. Then out cam her maidens.\n\n 9^2. Wae for: frae the.\n\n 9^3. hae married.\n\n 9^4. Oh, wae for: on the fleed.\n\n 10^1. Some of you her maidens: me ben.\n\n 10^2. the chamber where.\n\n 10^3. were colder than clay.\n\n 10^4. And he died in the chamber where his Jeanie lay.\n\n\n\n\n 240\n\n THE RANTIN LADDIE\n\n\n #A. a.# \u2018The Rantin Laddie,\u2019 Johnson\u2019s Museum, No 462, p. 474. #b.#\n \u2018Lord Aboyne,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 66.\n\n #B.# \u2018The Rantin Laddie,\u2019 Skene MS., p. 55.\n\n #C.# \u2018The Rantin Laddie,\u2019 Laing\u2019s Thistle of Scotland, p. 7.\n\n #D.# \u2018Bonnie Rantin Laddie,\u2019 Murison MS., p. 74.\n\n\n\u2018Lord Aboyne,\u2019 in Smith\u2019s Scotish Minstrel, IV, 6, is mostly #A a#; a\nfew verses are from #A b.#\n\nA young woman (Maggie in #B#) has played cards and dice with a rantin\nladdie till she has won a bastard baby. Slighted now by all her friends,\nshe sends a letter to the rantin laddie, who is the Earl of Aboyne, to\ninform him of her uncomfortable circumstances. The Earl of Aboyne,\nstruck with pity and indignation, sets out at once with five hundred\nmen, #A#, #C#, or a select company of gentlemen and ladies, #B#, #D#,\nand brings her home as his wife.\n\n#C# 24 is perhaps derived from \u2018Geordie,\u2019 but may be regarded as a\ncommonplace.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n #a.# Johnson\u2019s Musical Museum, No 462, p. 474, communicated by\n Robert Burns; 1797. #b.# Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland,\n II, 66, 1828.\n\n 1\n \u2018Aften hae I playd at the cards and the dice,\n For the love of a bonie rantin laddie,\n But now I maun sit in my father\u2019s kitchen-neuk\n And balow a bastard babie.\n\n 2\n \u2018For my father he will not me own,\n And my mother she neglects me,\n And a\u2019 my friends hae lightlyed me,\n And their servants they do slight me.\n\n 3\n \u2018But had I a servant at my command,\n As aft times I\u2019ve had many,\n That wad rin wi a letter to bonie Glenswood,\n Wi a letter to my rantin laddie!\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018O is he either a laird or a lord,\n Or is he but a cadie,\n That ye do him ca sae aften by name\n Your bonie, bonie rantin laddie?\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018Indeed he is baith a laird and a lord,\n And he never was a cadie,\n But he is the Earl o bonie Aboyne,\n And he is my rantin laddie.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018O ye\u2019se get a servant at your command,\n As aft times ye\u2019ve had many,\n That sall rin wi a letter to bonie Glenswood,\n A letter to your rantin laddie.\u2019\n\n 7\n When Lord Aboyne did the letter get,\n O but he blinket bonie!\n But or he had read three lines of it\n I think his heart was sorry.\n\n 8\n \u2018O wha is [this] daur be sae bauld\n Sae cruelly to use my lassie ?\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n 9\n \u2018For her father he will not her know,\n And her mother she does slight her,\n And a\u2019 her friends hae lightlied her,\n And their servants they neglect her.\n\n 10\n \u2018Go raise to me my five hundred men,\n Make haste and make them ready,\n With a milk-white steed under every ane,\n For to bring hame my lady.\u2019\n\n 11\n As they cam in thro Buchanshire,\n They were a company bonie,\n With a gude claymor in every hand,\n And O but they shin\u2019d bonie!\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n Skene MS., p. 55; taken down in the North of Scotland, 1802\u20133.\n\n 1\n \u2018Oft have I playd at the cards an the dyce,\n The war so very enticin;\n But this is a sad an a sorrowfu seat,\n To see my apron risin.\n\n 2\n \u2018Oft hae I playd at the cards an the dice\n For love of my [rantin] laddie;\n But now I man sit in my father\u2019s kitchie-nouk,\n A rokkin o my baby.\n\n 3\n \u2018But gin I had ane o my father\u2019s servans,\n For he has so mony,\n That wad gae to the wood o Glentanner,\n Wi a letter to the rantin laddie!\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018Here am I, ane o your father\u2019s servans,\n For he has sae mony,\n That will gae to the wood o Glentanner,\n Wi a letter to the rantin laddie.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018Fan ye gae to Aboyne,\n To the woods o Glentanner sae bonny,\n Wi your hat in your hand gie a bow to the ground,\n In the presence o the rantin laddie.\u2019\n\n 6\n Fan he gaed to Aboyne,\n To the woods o Glentanner sae bonny,\n Wi his hat in his hand he gied a bow to the ground,\n In the presence of the rantin laddie.\n\n 7\n Fan he looked the letter on\n Sae loud as he was laughin!\n But or he read it to an end\n The tears they cam down rappin.\n\n 8\n \u2018O fa is this or fa is that\n Has been so ill to my Maggie ?\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n 9\n \u2018But ye gett four-and-twenty milk white steeds,\n Wi an car . . . . .\n An as mony gay ladies to ride them on,\n To gae an bring hame my Maggie.\n\n 10\n \u2018Ye get four-an-twenty bonny brown steeds,\n Wi an car o an ome,\n An as mony knights to ride them on,\n To gae an bring hame my Maggie.\u2019\n\n 11\n Ye lasses a\u2019, far ever ye be,\n An ye match wi ony o our Deeside laddies,\n Ye\u2019ll happy be, ye\u2019l happy be,\n For they are frank an kind.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n C\n\n Laing\u2019s Thistle of Scotland, p. 7, 1823.\n\n 1\n \u2018Aft hae I playd at cards and dice\n For the love o a bonny rantin laddie,\n But now I maun sit i my father\u2019s kitchen-nook,\n And sing, Hush, balow, my baby.\n\n 2\n \u2018If I had been wise, and had taen advice,\n And dane as my bonny love bade me,\n I would hae been married at Martinmass,\n And been wi my rantin laddie.\n\n 3\n \u2018But I was na wise, I took nae advice,\n Did not as my bonny love bade me,\n And now I maun sit by mysel i the nook,\n And rock my bastard baby.\n\n 4\n \u2018If I had horse at my command,\n As often I had many,\n I would ride on to the Castle o Aboyne,\n Wi a letter to my rantin laddie.\u2019\n\n 5\n Down the stair her father came,\n And look\u00ebd proud and saucy:\n \u2018Who is the man, and what is his name,\n That ye ca your rantin laddie?\n\n 6\n \u2018Is he a lord, or is he a laird?\n Or is he but a caddie?\n Or is it the young Earl o Aboyne\n That ye ca your rantin laddie?\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018He is a young and noble lord,\n He never was a caddie;\n It is the noble Earl o Aboyne\n That I ca my rantin laddie.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018Ye shall hae a horse at your command,\n As ye had often many,\n To go to the Castle o Aboyne,\n Wi a letter to your rantin laddie.\n\n 9\n \u2018Where will I get a little page,\n Where will I get a caddie,\n That will run quick to bonny Aboyne,\n Wi this letter to my rantin laddie?\u2019\n\n 10\n Then out spoke the young scullion-boy,\n Said, Here am I, a caddie;\n I will run on to bonny Aboyne,\n Wi the letter to your rantin laddie.\n\n 11\n \u2018Now when ye come to bonny Deeside,\n Where woods are green and bonny,\n There will ye see the Earl o Aboyne,\n Among the bushes mony.\n\n 12\n \u2018And when ye come to the lands o Aboyne,\n Where all around is bonny,\n Ye\u2019ll take your hat into your hand,\n Gie this letter to my rantin laddie.\u2019\n\n 13\n When he came near the banks of Dee,\n The birks were blooming bonny,\n And there he saw the Earl o Aboyne,\n Among the bushes mony.\n\n 14\n \u2018Where are ye going, my bonny boy?\n Where are ye going, my caddie?\u2019\n \u2018I am going to the Castle o Aboyne,\n Wi a letter to the rantin laddie.\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018See yonder is the castle then,\n My young and handsome caddie,\n And I myself am the Earl o Aboyne,\n Tho they ca me the rantin laddie.\u2019\n\n 16\n \u2018O pardon, my lord, if I\u2019ve done wrong;\n Forgive a simple caddie;\n O pardon, pardon, Earl o Aboyne,\n I said but what she bade me.\u2019\n\n 17\n \u2018Ye have done no wrong, my bonny boy,\n Ye\u2019ve done no wrong, my caddie;\u2019\n Wi hat in hand he bowed low,\n Gave the letter to the rantin laddie.\n\n 18\n When young Aboyne looked the letter on,\n O but he blinkit bonny!\n But ere he read four lines on end\n The tears came trickling mony.\n\n 19\n \u2018My father will no pity shew,\n My mother still does slight me,\n And a\u2019 my friends have turnd from me,\n And servants disrespect me.\u2019\n\n 20\n \u2018Who are they dare be so bold\n To cruelly use my lassie?\n But I\u2019ll take her to bonny Aboyne,\n Where oft she did caress me.\n\n 21\n \u2018Go raise to me five hundred men,\n Be quick and make them ready;\n Each on a steed, to haste their speed,\n To carry home my lady.\u2019\n\n 22\n As they rode on thro Buchanshire,\n The company were many,\n Wi a good claymore in every hand,\n That glanc\u00ebd wondrous bonny.\n\n 23\n When he came to her father\u2019s gate,\n He called for his lady:\n \u2018Come down, come down, my bonny maid,\n And speak wi your rantin laddie.\u2019\n\n 24\n When she was set on high horseback,\n Rowd in the Highland plaidie,\n The bird i the bush sang not so sweet\n As sung this bonny lady.\n\n 25\n As they rode on thro Buchanshire,\n He cried, Each Lowland lassie,\n Lay your love on some lowland lown,\n And soon will he prove fause t\u2019 ye.\n\n 26\n \u2018But take my advice, and make your choice\n Of some young Highland laddie,\n Wi bonnet and plaid, whose heart is staid,\n And he will not beguile ye.\u2019\n\n 27\n As they rode on thro Garioch land,\n He rode up in a fury,\n And cried, Fall back, each saucy dame,\n Let the Countess of Aboyne before ye.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n D\n\n Murison MS., p. 74; Aberdeenshire.\n\n 1\n \u2018Aft hae I played at the cards and the dice,\n It was a\u2019 for the sake o my laddie,\n But noo I sit i my father\u2019s kitchie-neuk,\n Singing ba to a bonnie bastard babbie.\n\n 2\n \u2018Whar will I get a bonnie boy sae kin\n As will carry a letter cannie,\n That will rin on to the gates o the Boyne,\n Gie the letter to my rantin laddie?\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018Here am I, a bonnie boy sae kin,\n As will carry a letter cannie,\n That will rin on to the gates o the Boyne,\n Gie the letter to your rantin laddie.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018When ye come to the gates o the Boyne,\n An low doon on yon cassie,\n Ye\u2019ll tak aff your hat an ye\u2019ll mak a low bow,\n Gie the letter to my rantin laddie.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018When ye come to the gates o the Boyne,\n Ye\u2019ll see lords an nobles monie;\n But ye\u2019ll ken him among them a\u2019,\n He\u2019s my bonnie, bonnie rantin laddie.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018Is your bonnie love a laird or a lord,\n Or is he a cadie,\n That ye call him so very often by name\n Your bonnie rantin laddie?\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018My love\u2019s neither a laird nor a lord,\n Nor is he a cadie,\n But he is yerl o a\u2019 the Boyne,\n An he is my bonnie rantin laddie.\u2019\n\n 8\n When he read a line or two,\n He smil\u00ebd eer sae bonnie;\n But lang ere he cam to the end\n The tears cam trinklin monie.\n\n 9\n \u2018Whar will I find fifty noble lords,\n An as monie gay ladies,\n\n * * * * * *\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A. a.#\n\n 1^4. below.\n\n 4^1. Oh.\n\n 8^{3,4}. _The gap should be filled, says Stenhouse, Musical\n Museum, IV, 405, with these lines_:\n\n As to gar her sit in [her] father\u2019s kitchen-neuk\n And balow a bastard babie.\n\n#b.#\n\n 1, 2.\n \u2018Aft hae I played at the ring and the ba,\n And lang was a rantin lassie,\n But now my father does me forsake,\n And my friends they all do neglect me.\u2019\n\n 3^1. But gin I had servants.\n\n 3^2. As I hae had right mony.\n\n 3^3. For to send awa to Glentanner\u2019s yetts.\n\n 4^1. O is your true-love a laird or lord.\n\n 4^2. he a Highland caddie.\n\n 4^3. That ye sae aften call him by name.\n\n 5^1. My true-love he\u2019s baith laird and lord.\n\n 5^2. Do ye think I hae married a caddie?\n\n 5^3. O he is the noble earl o Aboyne.\n\n 5^4. he\u2019s my bonnie rantin.\n\n 6^1. ye\u2019se hae servants.\n\n 6^2. As ye hae had right mony.\n\n 6^3. For to send awa to Glentanner\u2019s yetts.\n\n 6^4. Wi a.\n\n 7^1. Aboyne the letter got.\n\n 7^2. Wow but.\n\n 7^3. But ere three lines o it he read.\n\n 7^4. O but his.\n\n 8^{1,2}. His face it reddened like a flame, He grasped his sword sae\n massy.\n\n 8^3==8^1. O wha is this, _etc_.\n\n 8^4==8^2. Sae cruel to, _etc_.\n\n 9. _Wanting._\n\n 10^1. Gae saddle to me five.\n\n 10^2. Gae saddle and.\n\n 10^4. For I\u2019m gaing to.\n\n 11.\n And when they came to auld Fedderate\n He found her waiting ready,\n And he brought her to Castle Aboyne,\n And now she\u2019s his ain dear lady.\n\n#B.#\n\n 9^1. he gett.\n\n 10^1. He gat.\n\n#D.#\n\n _There is an initial stanza which, it seems to me, cannot have\n belonged originally to this ballad_:\n\n \u2018My father he feet me far, far away,\n He feet me in Kirkcaldy;\n He feet me till an auld widow-wife,\n But she had a bonnie rantin laddie.\u2019\n\n\n\n\n 241\n\n THE BARON O LEYS\n\n #A.# Skene MS., p. 20.\n\n #B.# \u2018Laird o Leys,\u2019 Kinloch\u2019s Ballad Book, p. 74.\n\n #C.# \u2018The Baron o Leys,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland,\n II, 144.\n\n\n\u2018The Baron o Leys,\u2019 in The New Deeside Guide by James Brown [==Joseph\nRobertson], Aberdeen [1832], p. 15, and The Deeside Guide, Aberdeen,\n1889, p. 23, is #C#. #C# 4\u201311 seems to be an interpolation by a later\nhand.\n\n\u201cPart of this ballad,\u201d says Buchan, II, 322, \u201cby ballad-mongers has been\nconfused with the ballad of \u2018The Earl of Aboyne\u2019 [No 240, #A b#], called\nin some instances \u2018The Ranting Laddie.\u2019\u201d Laing, Thistle of Scotland, p.\n11, appears to have confounded it with \u2018The Earl of Aboyne\u2019 proper. He\ngives this stanza:\n\n \u2018Some ca me that and some ca me this,\n And The Baron o Leys they ca me,\n But when I am on bonny Deeside\n They ca me The Rantin Laddie.\u2019\n\nHerd\u2019s MSS, I, 233, II, fol. 71, give the two following stanzas under\nthe title \u2018The Linkin Ladie:\u2019\n\n \u2018Wae\u2019s me that eer I made your bed!\n Wae\u2019s me that eer I saw ye!\n For now I\u2019ve lost my maidenhead,\n And I ken na how they ca ye.\u2019\n\n \u2018My name is well kent in my ain country,\n They ca me The Linking Ladie;\n If ye had not been as willing as I,\n Shame fa them wad eer hae bade ye!\u2019\n\n\u2018The Linkin Ladie,\u2019 judging from this fragment (as it may be supposed to\nbe), was much of a fashion with the ballad which we are engaged with,\nand may have been an earlier form of it. Sir Walter Scott, who cites\nthese verses from memory (Sharpe\u2019s Ballad Book, ed. 1880, p. 162), says\nthat the hero of them was a brother of the celebrated [Thomas] Boston,\nauthor of \u2018The Fourfold State.\u2019\n\n\u2018The Baron o Leys\u2019 relates, or purports to relate, to an escapade of one\nof the Burnetts of Leys, Kincardineshire, Alexander, #A#, #B#, George,\n#C#. A woman who is with child by him gives him his choice of marriage,\ndeath, or the payment of ten thousand crowns. He is a married man; his\nwife is ready to sell everything, to her silk gowns, to release her\nhusband from his awkward position.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n Skene MS., p. 20; taken down in the north of Scotland, 1802\u20133.\n\n 1\n The Laird of Leys is on to Edinbrugh,\n To shaw a fit o his follie;\n He drest himsel in the crimson-brown,\n An he provd a rantin laddie.\n\n 2\n Ben came a weel-faird lass,\n Says, Laddie, how do they ca ye?\n \u2018They ca me this, an they ca me that,\n Ye wudna ken fat they ca me;\n But whan I\u2019m at home on bonnie Deeside\n They ca me The Rantin Laddie.\u2019\n\n 3\n They sought her up, they sought her down,\n They sought her in the parlour;\n She coudna be got but whar she was,\n In the bed wi The Rantin Laddie.\n\n 4\n \u2018Tell me, tell me, Baron of Leys,\n Ye tell me how they ca ye!\n Your gentle blood moves in my side,\n An I dinna ken how they ca ye.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018They ca me this, an they ca me that,\n Ye couldna ken how they ca me;\n But whan I\u2019m at home on bonnie Deeside\n They ca me The Rantin Laddie.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018Tell me, tell me, Baron of Leys,\n Ye tell me how they ca ye!\n Your gentle blood moves in my side,\n An I dinna ken how to ca ye.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018Baron of Leys, it is my stile,\n Alexander Burnett they ca me;\n Whan I\u2019m at hame on bonnie Deeside\n My name is The Rantin Laddie.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018Gin your name be Alexander Burnett,\n Alas that ever I saw ye!\n For ye hae a wife and bairns at hame,\n An alas for lyin sae near ye!\n\n 9\n \u2018But I\u2019se gar ye be headit or hangt,\n Or marry me the morn,\n Or else pay down ten thousand crowns\n For giein o me the scorn.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018For my head, I canna want;\n I love my lady dearly;\n But some o my lands I maun lose in the case,\n Alas for lyin sae near ye!\u2019\n\n 11\n Word has gane to the Lady of Leys\n That the laird he had a bairn;\n The warst word she said to that was,\n \u2018I wish I had it in my arms.\n\n 12\n \u2018For I will sell my jointure-lands\u2014\n I am broken an I\u2019m sorry\u2014\n An I\u2019ll sell a\u2019, to my silk gowns,\n An get hame my rantin laddie.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n Kinloch\u2019s Ballad Book, p. 74, 1827.\n\n 1\n The Laird o Leys is to London gane;\n He was baith full and gawdie;\n For he shod his steed wi siller guid,\n And he\u2019s playd the ranting laddie.\n\n 2\n He hadna been in fair London\n A twalmonth and a quarter,\n Till he met wi a weel-faurd may,\n Wha wishd to know how they ca\u2019d him.\n\n 3\n \u2018They ca me this, and they ca me that,\n And they\u2019re easy how they\u2019ve ca\u2019d me;\n But whan I\u2019m at hame on bonnie Deeside\n They ca me The Ranting Laddie.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018Awa wi your jesting, sir,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018I trow you\u2019re a ranting laddie;\n But something swells atween my sides,\n And I maun ken how they ca thee.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018They ca me this, and they ca me that,\n And they\u2019re easy how they ca me;\n The Baron o Leys my title is,\n And Sandy Burnet they ca me.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018Tell down, tell down ten thousand crowns,\n Or ye maun marry me the morn;\n Or headit or hangit ye sall be,\n For ye sanna gie me the scorn.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018My head\u2019s the thing I canna weel want;\n My lady she loves me dearlie;\n Nor yet hae I means ye to maintain;\n Alas for the lying sae near thee!\u2019\n\n 8\n But word\u2019s gane doun to the Lady o Leys\n That the Baron had got a babie:\n \u2018The waurst o news!\u2019 my lady she said,\n \u2018I wish I had hame my laddie.\n\n 9\n \u2018But I\u2019ll sell aff my jointure-house,\n Tho na mair I sud be a ladie;\n I\u2019ll sell a\u2019 to my silken goun,\n And bring hame my rantin laddie.\u2019\n\n 10\n So she is on to London gane,\n And she paid the money on the morn;\n She paid it doun and brought him hame,\n And gien them a\u2019 the scorn.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n C\n\n Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 144.\n\n 1\n The Baron o Leys to France is gane,\n The fashion and tongue to learn,\n But hadna been there a month or twa\n Till he gat a lady wi bairn.\n\n 2\n But it fell ance upon a day\n The lady mournd fu sairlie;\n Says, Who\u2019s the man has me betrayed?\n It gars me wonder and fairlie.\n\n 3\n Then to the fields to him she went,\n Saying, Tell me what they ca thee;\n Or else I\u2019ll mourn and rue the day,\n Crying, alas that ever I saw thee!\n\n 4\n \u2018Some ca\u2019s me this, some ca\u2019s me that,\n I carena fat befa me;\n For when I\u2019m at the schools o France\n An awkward fellow they ca me.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018Wae\u2019s me now, ye awkward fellow,\n And alas that ever I saw thee!\n Wi you I\u2019m in love, sick, sick in love,\n And I kenna well fat they ca thee.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018Some ca\u2019s me this, some ca\u2019s me that,\n What name does best befa me;\n For when I walk in Edinburgh streets\n The Curling Buckle they ca me.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018O wae\u2019s me now, O Curling Buckle,\n And alas that ever I saw thee!\n For I\u2019m in love, sick, sick in love,\n And I kenna well fat they ca thee.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018Some ca\u2019s me this, some ca\u2019s me that,\n Whatever name best befa\u2019s me;\n But when I\u2019m in Scotland\u2019s king\u2019s high court\n Clatter the Speens they ca me.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018O wae\u2019s me now, O Clatter the Speens,\n And alas that ever I saw thee!\n For I\u2019m in love, sick, sick in love,\n And I kenna well fat to ca thee.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018Some ca\u2019s me this, some ca\u2019s me that,\n I carena what they ca me;\n But when wi the Earl o Murray I ride\n It\u2019s Scour the Brass they ca me.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018O wae\u2019s me now, O Scour the Brass,\n And alas that ever I saw thee!\n For I\u2019m in love, sick, sick in love,\n And I kenna well fat to ca thee.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018Some ca\u2019s me this, some ca\u2019s me that,\n Whatever name best befa\u2019s me;\n But when I walk thro Saint Johnstone\u2019s town\n George Burnett they ca me.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018O wae\u2019s me, O wae\u2019s me, George Burnett,\n And alas that ever I saw thee!\n For I\u2019m in love, sick, sick in love,\n And I kenna well fat to ca thee.\u2019\n\n 14\n \u2018Some ca\u2019s me this, some ca\u2019s me that,\n Whatever name best befa\u2019s me;\n But when I am on bonny Dee side\n The Baron o Leys they ca me.\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018O weal is me now, O Baron o Leys,\n This day that ever I saw thee!\n There\u2019s gentle blood within my sides,\n And now [I] ken fat they ca thee.\n\n 16\n \u2018But ye\u2019ll pay down ten thousand crowns,\n Or marry me the morn;\n Else I\u2019ll cause you be headed or hangd\n For gieing me the scorn.\u2019\n\n 17\n \u2018My head is a thing I cannot well want;\n My lady loves me sae dearly;\n But I\u2019ll deal the gold right liberally\n For lying ae night sae near thee.\u2019\n\n 18\n When word had gane to the Lady o Leys\n The baron had gotten a bairn,\n She clapped her hands, and this did say,\n \u2018I wish he were in my arms!\n\n 19\n \u2018O weal is me now, O Baron o Leys,\n For ye hae pleased me sairly;\n Frae our house is banishd the vile reproach\n That disturbed us late and early.\u2019\n\n 20\n When she looked ower her castle-wa,\n To view the woods sae rarely,\n There she spied the Baron o Leys\n Ride on his steed sae rarely.\n\n 21\n Then forth she went her baron to meet,\n Says, Ye\u2019re welcome to me, fairly!\n Ye\u2019se hae spice-cakes, and seed-cakes sweet,\n And claret to drink sae rarely.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#C.#\n\n 19^{3,4}. Frae her house she banishd the vile reproach That\n disturbs us. _The Deeside Guide has nearly the reading here\n substituted, and some correction is necessary. The reference\n seems to be to childlessness. In #A# 8 the baron is said to have\n bairns._\n\n\n\n\n 242\n\n THE COBLE O CARGILL\n\n \u2018The Coble o Cargill,\u2019 Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 80; \u2018The Weary Coble o\n Cargill,\u2019 Motherwell\u2019s Minstrelsy, p. 230. Communicated to\n Motherwell by William George, tenant in Cambus Michael, Perthshire,\n who took it from the recitation of an old woman.\n\n\nStobhall is on the left bank of the Tay, eight miles above Perth, in\nCargill parish, and Cargill is a little further up. Balathy is opposite\nCargill, and Kercock is higher up the river on the right bank. The local\ntradition, as given by Motherwell in his manuscript and his book, is\nthat the butler of Stobhall had a leman both at Kercock and at Balathy.\nUpon an occasion when the butler had gone to Kercock, the lass of\nBalathy scuttled the coble, which he had left below, \u201cand waited his\nreturn, deeming that her suspicions of his infidelity would be well\nfounded if he took the boat without visiting her in passing.\u201d The butler\ntook the boat without stopping at Balathy, and in her sight the weary\ncoble sank. Local tradition in such cases seldom means more than a\ntheory which people have formed to explain a pre\u00ebxisting ballad. The\njealousy of the lass of Balathy has, in the ballad, passed the point at\nwhich confirmation would be waited for. She has many a time watched late\nfor her chance to bore the coble, and she bores it \u2018wi gude will.\u2019\n\nSt. 14 is a commonplace which has been already several times noted.\n\nThe Rev. William Marshall\u2019s Historic Scenes in Perthshire, Edinburgh,\n1879, p. 246, gives us a \u201cmodern\u201d version of this ballad; that is, one\nwritten over in magazine style. This is repeated in Robert Ford\u2019s Auld\nScots Ballants, 1889, p. 152. The Perthshire Antiquarian Miscellany, by\nRobert S. Fittis, Perth, 1875, p. 466, cites some stanzas from another\nballad, composed by one James Beattie, journeyman-mason, but represented\nas having been taken down verbatim from the mouth of an old man. In\nthese pieces the lass of Balathy has the name Jean, Jeanie Low (Low or\nGow, according to Ford, p. 149).[142]\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1\n David Drummond\u2019s destinie,\n Gude man o appearance o Cargill;\n I wat his blude rins in the flude,\n Sae sair against his parents\u2019 will.\n\n 2\n She was the lass o Balathy toun,\n And he the butler o Stobhall,\n And mony a time she wauked late\n To bore the coble o Cargill.\n\n 3\n His bed was made in Kercock ha,\n Of gude clean sheets and of [the] hay;\n He wudna rest ae nicht therein,\n But on the prude waters he wud gae.\n\n 4\n His bed was made in Balathy toun,\n Of the clean sheets and of the strae;\n But I wat it was far better made\n Into the bottom o bonnie Tay.\n\n 5\n She bored the coble in seven pairts,\n I wat her heart might hae been fu sair;\n For there she got the bonnie lad lost\n Wi the curly locks and the yellow hair.\n\n 6\n He put his foot into the boat,\n He little thocht o ony ill;\n But before that he was mid-waters,\n The weary coble began to fill.\n\n 7\n \u2018Woe be to the lass o Balathy toun,\n I wat an ill death may she die!\n For she bored the coble in seven pairts,\n And let the waters perish me.\n\n 8\n \u2018Oh, help, oh help, I can get nane,\n Nae help o man can to me come!\u2019\n This was about his dying words,\n When he was choaked up to the chin.\n\n 9\n \u2018Gae tell my father and my mother\n It was naebody did me this ill;\n I was a-going my ain errands,\n Lost at the coble o bonnie Cargill.\u2019\n\n 10\n She bored the boat in seven pairts,\n I wat she bored it wi gude will;\n And there they got the bonnie lad\u2019s corpse,\n In the kirk-shot o bonnie Cargill.\n\n 11\n Oh a\u2019 the keys o bonnie Stobha\n I wat they at his belt did hing;\n But a\u2019 the keys of bonnie Stobha\n They now ly low into the stream.\n\n 12\n A braver page into his age\n Neer set a foot upon the plain;\n His father to his mother said,\n \u2018Oh, sae soon as we\u2019ve wanted him!\n\n 13\n \u2018I wat they had mair luve than this\n When they were young and at the scule;\n But for his sake she wauked late,\n And bored the coble o bonnie Cargill.\u2019\n\n 14\n \u2018There\u2019s neer a clean sark gae on my back,\n Nor yet a kame gae in my hair;\n There\u2019s neither coal nor candle-licht\n Shall shine in my bouir for evir mair.\n\n 15\n \u2018At kirk nor market I\u2019se neer be at,\n Nor yet a blythe blink in my ee;\n There\u2019s neer a ane shall say to anither,\n That\u2019s the lassie gard the young man die.\n\n 16\n \u2018Between the yates o bonnie Stobha\n And the kirk-style o bonnie Cargill,\n There is mony a man and mother\u2019s son\n That was at my love\u2019s burial.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n 14^2. Not yet.\n\n\n\n\n 243\n\n JAMES HARRIS (THE D\u00c6MON LOVER)\n\n #A.# A Warning for Married Women, being an example of Mrs Jane\n Reynolds (a West-country woman), born near Plymouth, who, having\n plighted her troth to a Seaman, was afterwards married to a\n Carpenter, and at last carried away by a Spirit, the manner how\n shall presently be recited. To a West-country tune called \u2018The Fair\n Maid of Bristol,\u2019 \u2018Bateman,\u2019 or \u2018John True.\u2019 Pepys Ballads, IV, 101.\n\n #B.# \u2018The Distressed Ship-Carpenter,\u2019 The Rambler\u2019s Garland, 1785 (?),\n British Museum, 11621, c. 4 (57).\n\n #C.# \u2018James Herries,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I,\n 214.\n\n #D.# \u2018The Carpenter\u2019s Wife,\u2019 Kinloch MSS, I, 297.\n\n #E.# \u2018The D\u00e6mon Lover,\u2019 Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 97.\n\n #F.# \u2018The D\u00e6mon Lover,\u2019 Scott\u2019s Minstrelsy, II, 427, 1812.\n\n #G.# \u2018The D\u00e6mon Lover,\u2019 Motherwell\u2019s Minstrelsy, p. 93.\n\n #H.# \u2018The Banks of Italy,\u2019 Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 138,\n two stanzas.\n\n\nThe Pepys copy was printed for Thackeray and Passenger. Others are:\nCrawford, No 1114, Printed for A. M[ilbourne], W. O[nley], and T.\nThackeray; Ewing, 377, for Coles, Vere, and Gilbertson; the same, 378,\nby and for W. O[nley]. No 71 in Thackeray\u2019s List, printed 1685. A later\ncopy in the Douce ballads, II, fol. 249 b, Bodleian Library, printed by\nThomas Norris at the Looking-Glass on London Bridge. Another, without\npublisher\u2019s name, in the Roxburghe collection, I, 502; Ballad Society,\nIII, 200.\n\n\u2018The D\u00e6mon Lover\u2019 was first published in Scott\u2019s Minstrelsy, 5th\nedition, 1812 (#F#). William Laidlaw, who furnished the copy, inserted\nfour stanzas of his own (6, 12, 17, 18, here omitted).[143] Motherwell,\nin 1827, had not been able to get more than nine stanzas (#G#), but\nafterwards secured a version of twice as many (#E#). Kinloch says of\n#D#, \u201cMy reciter, and others to whom I applied, assured me that they had\nnever heard any more of it than what is given here.\u201d Buchan, I, 313,\nreferring to Motherwell\u2019s fragment (#G#), is \u201chappy to say ... there is\nstill a perfect copy of this curious and scarce legend in existence,\nwhich is now for the first time given to the public\u201d (#C#).@\n\nAn Americanized version of this ballad was printed not very long ago at\nPhiladelphia, under the title of \u2018The House-Carpenter.\u2019 I have been able\nto secure only two stanzas, which were cited in Graham\u2019s Illustrated\nMagazine, September, 1858:\n\n \u2018I might have married the king\u2019s daughter dear;\u2019\n \u2018You might have married her,\u2019 cried she,\n \u2018For I am married to a house-carpenter,\n And a fine young man is he.\u2019\n\n \u2018Oh dry up your tears, my own true love,\n And cease your weeping,\u2019 cried he,\n \u2018For soon you\u2019ll see your own happy home,\n On the banks of old Tennessee.\u2019\n\n#B-H# have for their basis the broadside #A#; the substance of the story\nis repeated, with traditional modifications. Two or three stanzas of #A#\nare of the popular description, but it does not seem necessary to posit\na tradition behind #A#. The correspondences of the several versions are\nas follows:\n\n #A# 18^{1,2}, #C# 2.\n #A# 18^{3,4}, 19, #B# 1, #D# 1, #E# 1, 2^{1,2}, #F# 1.\n #A# 20, #C# 3, #D# 2, #E# 2^{3,4}, #F# 2.\n #A# 21, #B# 4^{1,2}, 3^{3,4}, #C# 6^1, 12^{3,4}, #D# 3.\n #A# 22, #B# 2, #C# 4^{3,4}, 5^{1,2}, #E# 3, #F# 4.\n #A# 23, #C# 7.\n #A# 24, #B# 5, #C# 8, #E# 5^{1,2}, #F# 6.\n #A# 25, #B# 6, #C# 9, #F# 7, #G# 1.\n #A# 26, #B# 8, #C# 10, #F# 9^{3,4}.\n #A# 28, #B# 11.\n #A# 30, #B# 12.\n\n #B# 3^{1,2}, #E# 4^{1,2}, #F# 5^{1,2}.\n #B# 7, C 13, #E# 6^4, #G# 2, #H# 1.\n #B# 9,10, #C# 14,17, #D# 5, #E# 12, 13, #G# 5.\n #B# 12, #C# 23.\n #B# 13, #C# 24.\n\n #C# 3, #D# 2, #E# 2, #F# 2.\n #C# 11, #E# 7, #F# 8, #H# 2.\n #C# 16, #D# 6, #E# 16, #F# 12, #G# 6.\n #C# 21, #D# 8.\n\n #D# 1, #E# 1, #F# 1.\n #D# 7, #E# 10, #F# 10, #G# 8.\n\n #E# 11, #F# 11, #G# 7.\n #E# 14, #F# 13.\n #E# 15, #F# 14.\n #E# 18, #F# 15.\n\n #F# 9^2, #G# 4^{3,4}.\n\nIt will be observed that each of the versions #B-F# adds something which\nis taken up by a successor or successors. The arrangement of #E# and\n#F#, of #E# especially, is objectionable.\n\n#A.# Jane Reynolds and James Harris, a seaman, had exchanged vows of\nmarriage. The young man was pressed as a sailor, and after three years\nwas reported as dead; the young woman married a ship-carpenter, and they\nlived together happily for four years, and had children. One night when\nthe carpenter was absent from home, a spirit rapped at the window and\nannounced himself as James Harris, come after an absence of seven\nyears[144] to claim the woman for his wife. She explained the state of\nthings, but upon obtaining assurance that her long-lost lover had the\nmeans to support her\u2014seven ships upon the sea\u2014consented to go with him,\nfor he was really much like unto a man. \u2018The woman-kind\u2019 was seen no\nmore after that; the carpenter hanged himself.\n\nThe carpenter is preserved in #B-E#, and even his name in #C#. He swoons\nin #B#, and runs distracted in #C#, when he learns what has become of\nhis wife; the other versions take no notice of him after the elopement.\n#B-F# all begin with the return of the long-absent lover. The ship (as\nit _is_ to have in #A# 26) has silken sails and gold masts, or the like,\n#C# 10, #F# 9^{3,4} (_cf._ #B# 8, #G# 1); but there are no visible\nmariners, #F# 9^{1,2}, #G# 4^{3,4}. The pair have been only a short time\nafloat when the woman begins to weep for son, husband, or both, #B# 9,\n10, #C# 14, #D# 5, #E# 12, 13, #G# 5. The seaman (as it will be\nconvenient to call him) tells her to hold her tongue, he will show her\nhow the lilies grow on the banks of Italy, #C# 16, #D# 6 (_cf._ #E# 16,\n17), #F# 12, and, in a different connection, #G# 6. The seaman\u2019s\ncountenance grows grim, and the sea gurly, #D# 7, #E# 10, #F# 10, #G# 8.\nHe will let her see the fishes swim, where the lilies grow, in the\nbottom of the sea, #C# 21, #D# 8 (_cf._ #E# 16, 17). She discerns that\nthe seaman has a cloven foot, #E# 11, #F# 11, #G# 7. She asks, What is\nyon bright hill? It is the hill of heaven, where she will never be. What\nis yon dark hill? It is the hill of hell, where they two shall be: #E#\n14, 15, #F# 13, 14. The seaman reaches his hand to the topmast, strikes\nthe sails, and the ship drowns, C 22; takes the woman up to the topmast\nand sinks the ship in a flash of fire, #E# 18; strikes the topmast with\nhis hand, the fore-mast with his knee, and sinks the ship, #F# 15. In\n#E# 9 he throws the woman into the main, and five-and-twenty hundred\nships are wrecked; in #G# 9 the little ship runs round about and never\nis seen more.\n\nIn A the _revenant_ is characterized as a spirit; in #B#, which is even\ntamer than #A#, he is called the mariner, and is drowned with the woman;\nin #C# he expressly says to the woman, I brought you away to punish you\nfor breaking your vows to me. This explicitness may be prosaic, but it\nseems to me regrettable that the conception was not maintained. To\nexplain the eery personality and proceedings of the ship-master, #E-G#,\nwith a sort of vulgar rationalism, turn him into the devil, and as he is\nstill represented in #E#, #F# (#G# being defective at the beginning) as\nreturning to seek the fulfilment of old vows, he there figures as a\n\u201cd\u00e6mon lover.\u201d #D# (probably by the fortunate accident of being a\nfragment) leaves us to put our own construction upon the weird seaman;\nand, though it retains the homely ship-carpenter, is on the whole the\nmost satisfactory of all the versions.[145]\n\nScott\u2019s ballad is translated by Talvj, Versuch, etc., p. 558; by\nGerhard, p. 84; and by Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder, No 14, p.\n61 (after Aytoun, who repeats Scott, omitting one of Laidlaw\u2019s stanzas).\nKnortz, Lieder und Romanzen Alt-Englands, p. 192, translates Allingham\u2019s\nballad.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n Pepys Ballads, IV, 101; from a copy in Percy\u2019s papers.\n\n 1\n There dwelt a fair maid in the West,\n Of worthy birth and fame,\n Neer unto Plimouth, stately town,\n Jane Reynolds was her name.\n\n 2\n This damsel dearly was belovd\n By many a proper youth,\n And what of her is to be said\n Is known for very truth.\n\n 3\n Among the rest a seaman brave\n Unto her a wooing came;\n A comely proper youth he was,\n James Harris calld by name.\n\n 4\n The maid and young man was agreed,\n As time did them allow,\n And to each other secretly\n They made a solemn vow,\n\n 5\n That they would ever faithfull be\n Whilst Heaven afforded life;\n He was to be her husband kind,\n And she his faithfull wife.\n\n 6\n A day appointed was also\n When they was to be married;\n But before these things were brought to pass\n Matters were strangely carried.\n\n 7\n All you that faithfull lovers be\n Give ear and hearken well,\n And what of them became at last\n I will directly tell.\n\n 8\n The young man he was prest to sea,\n And forc\u00ebd was to go;\n His sweet-heart she must stay behind,\n Whether she would or no.\n\n 9\n And after he was from her gone\n She three years for him staid,\n Expecting of his comeing home,\n And kept herself a maid.\n\n 10\n At last news came that he was dead\n Within a forraign land,\n And how that he was buried\n She well did understand,\n\n 11\n For whose sweet sake the maiden she\n Lamented many a day,\n And never was she known at all\n The wanton for to play.\n\n 12\n A carpenter that livd hard by,\n When he heard of the same,\n Like as the other had done before,\n To her a wooing came.\n\n 13\n But when that he had gained her love\n They married were with speed,\n And four years space, being man and wife,\n They loveingly agreed.\n\n 14\n Three pritty children in this time\n This loving couple had,\n Which made their father\u2019s heart rejoyce,\n And mother wondrous glad.\n\n 15\n But as occasion servd, one time\n The good man took his way\n Some three days journey from his home,\n Intending not to stay.\n\n 16\n But, whilst that he was gone away,\n A spirit in the night\n Came to the window of his wife,\n And did her sorely fright.\n\n 17\n Which spirit spake like to a man,\n And unto her did say,\n \u2018My dear and onely love,\u2019 quoth he,\n \u2018Prepare and come away.\n\n 18\n \u2018James Harris is my name,\u2019 quoth he,\n \u2018Whom thou didst love so dear,\n And I have traveld for thy sake\n At least this seven year.\n\n 19\n \u2018And now I am returnd again,\n To take thee to my wife,\n And thou with me shalt go to sea,\n To end all further strife.\u2019\n\n 20\n \u2018O tempt me not, sweet James,\u2019 quoth she,\n \u2018With thee away to go;\n If I should leave my children small,\n Alas! what would they do?\n\n 21\n \u2018My husband is a carpenter,\n A carpenter of great fame;\n I would not for five hundred pounds\n That he should know the same.\u2019\n\n 22\n \u2018I might have had a king\u2019s daughter,\n And she would have married me;\n But I forsook her golden crown,\n And for the love of thee.\n\n 23\n \u2018Therefore, if thou\u2019lt thy husband forsake,\n And thy children three also,\n I will forgive the[e] what is past,\n If thou wilt with me go.\u2019\n\n 24\n \u2018If I forsake my husband and\n My little children three,\n What means hast thou to bring me to,\n If I should go with thee?\u2019\n\n 25\n \u2018I have seven ships upon the sea;\n When they are come to land,\n Both marriners and marchandize\n Shall be at thy command.\n\n 26\n \u2018The ship wherein my love shall sail\n Is glorious to behold;\n The sails shall be of finest silk,\n And the mast of shining gold.\u2019\n\n 27\n When he had told her these fair tales,\n To love him she began,\n Because he was in human shape,\n Much like unto a man.\n\n 28\n And so together away they went\n From off the English shore,\n And since that time the woman-kind\n Was never seen no more.\n\n 29\n But when her husband he come home\n And found his wife was gone,\n And left her three sweet pretty babes\n Within the house alone,\n\n 30\n He beat his breast, he tore his hair,\n The tears fell from his eyes,\n And in the open streets he run\n With heavy doleful cries.\n\n 31\n And in this sad distracted case\n He hangd himself for woe\n Upon a tree near to the place;\n The truth of all is so.\n\n 32\n The children now are fatherless,\n And left without a guide,\n But yet no doubt the heavenly powers\n Will for them well provide.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n The Rambler\u2019s Garland, British Museum, 11621, c. 4 (57). 1785 (?)\n\n 1\n \u2018Well met, well met, my own true love,\n Long time I have been seeking thee;\n I am lately come from the salt sea,\n And all for the sake, love, of thee.\n\n 2\n \u2018I might have had a king\u2019s daughter,\n And fain she would have married me;\n But I\u2019ve forsaken all her crowns of gold,\n And all for the sake, love, of thee.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018If you might have had a king\u2019s daughter,\n I think you much to blame;\n I would not for five hundred pounds\n That my husband should hear the same.\n\n 4\n \u2018For my husband is a carpenter,\n And a young ship-carpenter is he,\n And by him I have a little son,\n Or else, love, I\u2019d go along with thee.\n\n 5\n \u2018But if I should leave my husband dear,\n Likewise my little son also,\n What have you to maintain me withal,\n If I along with you should go?\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018I have seven ships upon the seas,\n And one of them brought me to land,\n And seventeen mariners to wait on thee,\n For to be, love, at your command.\n\n 7\n \u2018A pair of slippers thou shalt have,\n They shall be made of beaten gold,\n Nay and be lin\u2019d with velvet soft,\n For to keep thy feet from cold.\n\n 8\n \u2018A gilded boat thou then shall have,\n The oars shall gilded be also,\n And mariners to row the[e] along,\n For to keep thee from thy overthrow.\u2019\n\n 9\n They had not been long upon the sea\n Before that she began to weep:\n \u2018What, weep you for my gold?\u2019 he said,\n \u2018Or do you weep for my fee?\n\n 10\n \u2018Or do you weep for some other young man\n That you love much better than me?\u2019\n \u2018No, I do weep for my little son,\n That should have come along with me.\u2019\n\n 11\n She had not been upon the seas\n Passing days three or four\n But the mariner and she were drowned,\n And never were heard of more.\n\n 12\n When tidings to old England came\n The ship-carpenter\u2019s wife was drownd,\n He wrung his hands and tore his hair,\n And grievously fell in a swoon.\n\n 13\n \u2018Oh cursed be those mariners!\n For they do lead a wicked life;\n They ruind me, a ship-carpenter,\n By deluding away my wife.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n C\n\n Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 214.\n\n 1\n \u2018O are ye my father? Or are ye my mother?\n Or are ye my brother John?\n Or are ye James Herries, my first true-love,\n Come back to Scotland again?\u2019\n\n 2\n \u2018I am not your father, I am not your mother,\n Nor am I your brother John;\n But I\u2019m James Herries, your first true-love,\n Come back to Scotland again.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018Awa, awa, ye former lovers,\n Had far awa frae me!\n For now I am another man\u2019s wife\n Ye\u2019ll neer see joy o me.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018Had I kent that ere I came here,\n I neer had come to thee;\n For I might hae married the king\u2019s daughter,\n Sae fain she woud had me.\n\n 5\n \u2018I despised the crown o gold,\n The yellow silk also,\n And I am come to my true-love,\n But with me she\u2019ll not go.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018My husband he is a carpenter,\n Makes his bread on dry land,\n And I hae born him a young son;\n Wi you I will not gang.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018You must forsake your dear husband,\n Your little young son also,\n Wi me to sail the raging seas,\n Where the stormy winds do blow.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018O what hae you to keep me wi,\n If I should with you go,\n If I\u2019d forsake my dear husband,\n My little young son also?\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018See ye not yon seven pretty ships?\n The eighth brought me to land,\n With merchandize and mariners,\n And wealth in every hand.\u2019\n\n 10\n She turnd her round upon the shore\n Her love\u2019s ships to behold;\n Their topmasts and their mainyards\n Were coverd oer wi gold.\n\n 11\n Then she\u2019s gane to her little young son,\n And kissd him cheek and chin;\n Sae has she to her sleeping husband,\n And dune the same to him.\n\n 12\n \u2018O sleep ye, wake ye, my husband?\n I wish ye wake in time!\n I woudna for ten thousand pounds\n This night ye knew my mind.\u2019\n\n 13\n She\u2019s drawn the slippers on her feet,\n Were coverd oer wi gold,\n Well lined within wi velvet fine,\n To had her frae the cold.\n\n 14\n She hadna sailed upon the sea\n A league but barely three\n Till she minded on her dear husband,\n Her little young son tee.\n\n 15\n \u2018O gin I were at land again,\n At land where I woud be,\n The woman neer shoud bear the son\n Shoud gar me sail the sea.\u2019\n\n 16\n \u2018O hold your tongue, my sprightly flower,\n Let a\u2019 your mourning be;\n I\u2019ll show you how the lilies grow\n On the banks o Italy.\u2019\n\n 17\n She hadna sailed on the sea\n A day but barely ane\n Till the thoughts o grief came in her mind,\n And she langd for to be hame.\n\n 18\n \u2018O gentle death, come cut my breath,\n I may be dead ere morn!\n I may be buried in Scottish ground,\n Where I was bred and born!\u2019\n\n 19\n \u2018O hold your tongue, my lily leesome thing,\n Let a\u2019 your mourning be;\n But for a while we\u2019ll stay at Rose Isle,\n Then see a far countrie.\n\n 20\n \u2018Ye\u2019se neer be buried in Scottish ground,\n Nor land ye\u2019s nae mair see;\n I brought you away to punish you\n For the breaking your vows to me.\n\n 21\n \u2018I said ye shoud see the lilies grow\n On the banks o Italy;\n But I\u2019ll let you see the fishes swim,\n In the bottom o the sea.\u2019\n\n 22\n He reached his hand to the topmast,\n Made a\u2019 the sails gae down,\n And in the twinkling o an ee\n Baith ship and crew did drown.\n\n 23\n The fatal flight o this wretched maid\n Did reach her ain countrie;\n Her husband then distracted ran,\n And this lament made he:\n\n 24\n \u2018O wae be to the ship, the ship,\n And wae be to the sea,\n And wae be to the mariners\n Took Jeanie Douglas frae me!\n\n 25\n \u2018O bonny, bonny was my love,\n A pleasure to behold;\n The very hair o my love\u2019s head\n Was like the threads o gold.\n\n 26\n \u2018O bonny was her cheek, her cheek,\n And bonny was her chin,\n And bonny was the bride she was,\n The day she was made mine!\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n D\n\n Kinloch MSS, I, 297; from the recitation of T. Kinnear, Stonehaven.\n\n 1\n \u2018O whare hae ye been, my dearest dear,\n These seven lang years and more?\u2019\n \u2018O I am come to seek my former vows,\n That ye promisd me before.\u2019\n\n 2\n \u2018Awa wi your former vows,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018Or else ye will breed strife;\n Awa wi your former vows,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018For I\u2019m become a wife.\n\n 3\n \u2018I am married to a ship-carpenter,\n A ship-carpenter he\u2019s bound;\n I wadna he kend my mind this nicht\n For twice five hundred pound.\u2019\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 4\n She has put her foot on gude ship-board,\n And on ship-board she\u2019s gane,\n And the veil that hung oure her face\n Was a\u2019 wi gowd begane.\n\n 5\n She had na sailed a league, a league,\n A league but barely twa,\n Till she did mind on the husband she left,\n And her wee young son alsua.\n\n 6\n \u2018O haud your tongue, my dearest dear,\n Let all your follies abee;\n I\u2019ll show whare the white lillies grow,\n On the banks of Italie.\u2019\n\n 7\n She had na sailed a league, a league,\n A league but barely three,\n Till grim, grim grew his countenance,\n And gurly grew the sea.\n\n 8\n \u2018O haud your tongue, my dearest dear,\n Let all your follies abee;\n I\u2019ll show whare the white lillies grow,\n In the bottom of the sea.\u2019\n\n 9\n He\u2019s tane her by the milk-white hand,\n And he\u2019s thrown her in the main;\n And full five-and-twenty hundred ships\n Perishd all on the coast of Spain.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n E\n\n Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 97.\n\n 1\n \u2018Where have you been, my long lost lover,\n This seven long years and more?\u2019\n \u2018I\u2019ve been seeking gold for thee, my love,\n And riches of great store.\n\n 2\n \u2018Now I\u2019m come for the vows you promised me,\n You promised me long ago;\u2019\n \u2018My former vows you must forgive,\n For I\u2019m a wedded wife.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018I might have been married to a king\u2019s daughter,\n Far, far ayont the sea;\n But I refused the crown of gold,\n And it\u2019s all for the love of thee.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018If you might have married a king\u2019s daughter,\n Yourself you have to blame;\n For I\u2019m married to a ship\u2019s-carpenter,\n And to him I have a son.\n\n 5\n \u2018Have you any place to put me in,\n If I with you should gang?\u2019\n \u2018I\u2019ve seven brave ships upon the sea,\n All laden to the brim.\n\n 6\n \u2018I\u2019ll build my love a bridge of steel,\n All for to help her oer;\n Likewise webs of silk down by her side,\n To keep my love from the cold.\u2019\n\n 7\n She took her eldest son into her arms,\n And sweetly did him kiss:\n \u2018My blessing go with you, and your father too,\n For little does he know of this.\u2019\n\n 8\n As they were walking up the street,\n Most beautiful for to behold,\n He cast a glamour oer her face,\n And it shone like the brightest gold.\n\n 9\n As they were walking along the sea-side,\n Where his gallant ship lay in,\n So ready was the chair of gold\n To welcome this lady in.\n\n 10\n They had not sailed a league, a league,\n A league but scarsely three,\n Till altered grew his countenance,\n And raging grew the sea.\n\n 11\n When they came to yon sea-side,\n She set her down to rest;\n It\u2019s then she spied his cloven foot,\n Most bitterly she wept.\n\n 12\n \u2018O is it for gold that you do weep?\n Or is it for fear?\n Or is it for the man you left behind\n When that you did come here?\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018It is not for gold that I do weep,\n O no, nor yet for fear;\n But it is for the man I left behind\n When that I did come here.\n\n 14\n \u2018O what a bright, bright hill is yon,\n That shines so clear to see?\u2019\n \u2018O it is the hill of heaven,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018Where you shall never be.\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018O what a black, dark hill is yon,\n That looks so dark to me?\u2019\n \u2018O it is the hill of hell,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018Where you and I shall be.\n\n 16\n \u2018Would you wish to see the fishes swim\n In the bottom of the sea,\n Or wish to see the leaves grow green\n On the banks of Italy?\u2019\n\n 17\n \u2018I hope I\u2019ll never see the fishes swim\n On the bottom of the sea,\n But I hope to see the leaves grow green\n On the banks of Italy.\u2019\n\n 18\n He took her up to the topmast high,\n To see what she could see;\n He sunk the ship in a flash of fire,\n To the bottom of the sea.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n F\n\n Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, fifth edition, 1812, II, 427;\n taken down from the recitation of Walter Grieve by William Laidlaw.\n\n 1\n \u2018O where have you been, my long, long love,\n This long seven years and mair?\u2019\n \u2018O I\u2019m come to seek my former vows\n Ye granted me before.\u2019\n\n 2\n \u2018O hold your tongue of your former vows,\n For they will breed sad strife;\n O hold your tongue of your former vows,\n For I am become a wife.\u2019\n\n 3\n He turned him right and round about,\n And the tear blinded his ee:\n \u2018I wad never hae trodden on Irish ground,\n If it had not been for thee.\n\n 4\n \u2018I might hae had a king\u2019s daughter,\n Far, far beyond the sea;\n I might have had a king\u2019s daughter,\n Had it not been for love o thee.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018If ye might have had a king\u2019s daughter,\n Yer sel ye had to blame;\n Ye might have taken the king\u2019s daughter,\n For ye kend that I was nane.\n\n 6\n \u2018If I was to leave my husband dear,\n And my two babes also,\n O what have you to take me to,\n If with you I should go?\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018I hae seven ships upon the sea\u2014\n The eighth brought me to land\u2014\n With four-and-twenty bold mariners,\n And music on every hand.\u2019\n\n 8\n She has taken up her two little babes,\n Kissd them baith cheek and chin:\n \u2018O fair ye weel, my ain two babes,\n For I\u2019ll never see you again.\u2019\n\n 9\n She set her foot upon the ship,\n No mariners could she behold;\n But the sails were o the taffetie,\n And the masts o the beaten gold.\n\n 10\n She had not sailed a league, a league,\n A league but barely three,\n When dismal grew his countenance,\n And drumlie grew his ee.\n\n 11\n They had not sailed a league, a league,\n A league but barely three,\n Until she espied his cloven foot,\n And she wept right bitterlie.\n\n 12\n \u2018O hold your tongue of your weeping,\u2019 says he,\n \u2018Of your weeping now let me be;\n I will shew you how the lilies grow\n On the banks of Italy.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018O what hills are yon, yon pleasant hills,\n That the sun shines sweetly on?\u2019\n \u2018O yon are the hills of heaven,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018Where you will never win.\u2019\n\n 14\n \u2018O whaten a mountain is yon,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018All so dreary wi frost and snow?\u2019\n \u2018O yon is the mountain of hell,\u2019 he cried,\n \u2018Where you and I will go.\u2019\n\n 15\n He strack the tap-mast wi his hand,\n The fore-mast wi his knee,\n And he brake that gallant ship in twain,\n And sank her in the sea.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n G\n\n Motherwell\u2019s Minstrelsy, p. 93.\n\n 1\n \u2018I have seven ships upon the sea,\n Laden with the finest gold,\n And mariners to wait us upon;\n All these you may behold.\n\n 2\n \u2018And I have shoes for my love\u2019s feet,\n Beaten of the purest gold,\n And lined wi the velvet soft,\n To keep my love\u2019s feet from the cold.\n\n 3\n \u2018O how do you love the ship?\u2019 he said,\n \u2018Or how do you love the sea?\n And how do you love the bold mariners\n That wait upon thee and me?\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018O I do love the ship,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018And I do love the sea;\n But woe be to the dim mariners,\n That nowhere I can see!\u2019\n\n 5\n They had not sailed a mile awa,\n Never a mile but one,\n When she began to weep and mourn,\n And to think on her little wee son.\n\n 6\n \u2018O hold your tongue, my dear,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018And let all your weeping abee,\n For I\u2019ll soon show to you how the lilies grow\n On the banks of Italy.\u2019\n\n 7\n They had not sailed a mile awa,\n Never a mile but two,\n Until she espied his cloven foot,\n From his gay robes sticking thro.\n\n 8\n They had not sailed a mile awa,\n Never a mile but three,\n When dark, dark, grew his eerie looks,\n And raging grew the sea.\n\n 9\n They had not sailed a mile awa,\n Never a mile but four,\n When the little wee ship ran round about,\n And never was seen more.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n H\n\n Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 138; taken down by the\n editor\u2019s father from the singing of an aged relative.\n\n 1\n He\u2019s given her a pair of shoes,\n To hold her frae the cold;\n The one side of them was velvaret,\n And the other beaten gold.\n\n 2\n Up she has taen her little wee son,\n And given him kisses three;\n Says, Fare ye weel, my little wee son,\n I\u2019m gaun to sail the sea.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#B.#\n\n The Rambler\u2019s Garland, composed of some Delightful New Songs.\n _There are four_: _the third_ is The distressed Ship Carpenter.\n \u201c1785?\u201d\n\n 1^1. my my own.\n\n#E.#\n\n 3^2. _Originally_, Had it not been for love of thee.\n\n 10^3. _In the margin_, Till grim, grim grew.\n\n 11^4. Och hone _under the line_.\n\n 14^1. _Altered to_, O whatena.\n\n 15^1. _Altered to_, O whatena dark. (_The original readings are\n likely to have been the traditional ones._)\n\n 17^3. sea.\n\n#F.#\n\n _In a letter to Scott, January 3, 1803, Laidlaw gives some account\n of the ballad sung by Walter Grieve, and cites some verses from\n recollection, which, not unnaturally, differ from what he\n afterwards took down in writing._\n\n \u201cHe likewise sung part of a very beautiful ballad which I think\n you will not have seen. As a punishment for her inconstancy, the\n Devil is supposed to come and entice a young woman from her\n husband, in the form of her former lover. The tune is very\n solemn and melancholy, and the effect is mixed with a\n considerable proportion of horror. I remember but very few\n verses. He prevails upon her to go abroad [aboard?] to hear his\n musicians, after upbraiding her\n\n \u2018I might hae marrit a king\u2019s daughter, but\n I mindit my love for thee.\u2019\n\n \u201cThe description of her setting her child on the nurse\u2019s knee and\n bidding him farewell is waesome, but I have forgot it.\u201d\n\n She set her foot into the ship, to hear the music play;\n The masts war o the beaten goud, and the sails o the silk sae gay.\n\n They hadna saild a league thrae land, a league but barely three,\n Till drearie grew his countenance, and drumlie grew his ee.\n\n They hadna saild another league, another league but three,\n Till she beheld his cloven fit, and she wept most bitterlie.\n\n \u2018O had yer tongue, my love,\u2019 he said, \u2018why weep ye sae mournfulie?\n We\u2019re gaun to see how the lillies do grow on the banks o fair\n Italie.\u2019\n\n \u2018What hills are yon, yon pleasant hills, where the sun shines [_a\n wafer here_]\n \u2018O yon\u2019s the hills of heaven,\u2019 he said, \u2018where you will never\n win!\u2018\u201d\n\n _Letters addressed to Sir Walter Scott, Vol. I, No 78,\n Abbotsford._\n\n\n\n\n 244\n\n JAMES HATLEY\n\n #A. a.# \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 35, MS.\n of Thomas Wilkie, p. 6, Abbotsford. #b.# \u2018James Hatley,\u2019 Campbell\n MSS, II, 289. #c.# \u2018James Hatelie,\u2019 R. Chambers, The Romantic\n Scottish Ballads, their Epoch and Authorship, p. 37.\n\n #B.# \u2018James Hately,\u2019 \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border\n Minstrelsy,\u201d No 39, MS. of Thomas Wilkie, p. 18. The same,\n transcribed by Thomas Wilkie, \u201cScotch Ballads,\u201d etc., No 79,\n Abbotsford.\n\n #C.# \u2018Jamie O\u2019Lee,\u2019 Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 654.\n\n\n#A.# \u2018Sir Fenwick\u2019 steals the king\u2019s jewels and lays the blame on James\nHatley, who is condemned to death. The king\u2019s daughter steals the\nprison-keys from under her father\u2019s head and pays a visit to Hatley, who\nassures her of his innocence, and tells her that Fenwick is the man.\n[#b#, the king is angry, and says that for stealing his jewels Hatley\nshall die \u2018over the barriers:\u2019 so #B#.] The princess goes to her father\nand begs the life of Hatley, and her boon is granted without demur. She\nasks one thing more, that Fenwick and Hatley may try their verity at the\nsword, and this is unhesitatingly conceded. Hatley is but fifteen years\nold (he is seventeen #b#, eighteen #c#, fifteen again #C#), and Fenwick\nis thirty-three; nevertheless, Fenwick gets three wounds. An English\nlord intermits: he would have given all his estates rather than Hatley\nshould escape; a Scots lord replies that he would have fought to the\nknees in blood before Hatley should have been hanged. (The Scots lord is\nwanting in b; the passage is likely to be borrowed from \u2018Geordie,\u2019 No\n209.) The king\u2019s eldest son asks Hatley to dine, and makes him his\ncaptain by land and sea;[146] the king\u2019s daughter invites him to dine,\nand announces that she has made a vow to marry no other man.\n\n#B.# Hatley, accused of stealing the king\u2019s jewels, goes to the little\nprince and asks what he will do for his page; the prince goes to his\nfather and asks what _he_ will do for the page. The king says that\nHatley has stolen his jewels, so a Norland lord has informed him, and\nHatley must die \u2018over the barriers.\u2019 The prince offers to fight any man\nwho lays the blame on Hatley. Fenwick maintains that Hatley is the\nthief. The prince gives Fenwick two or three mortal wounds; Fenwick\nhands him the key of his coffer, and in the coffer the jewels will be\nfound. The king invests Hatley with Fenwick\u2019s lands.\n\n#C.# A false knight, Phenix, steals the queen\u2019s jewels, and leaves the\nblame on Jamie O\u2019Lee. The king sends for his son and tells him that\nJamie has been accused of the theft by an English lord, and shall be\nbanished from Scotland. The prince demands a man to fight with Jamie on\nthis charge, and false Phenix offers himself. The prince at first\nobjects, for Jamie is but fifteen years old, whereas Phenix is of course\nthirty-three; however, he tells Jamie that he must fight or be banished\nfrom _England_ (8, compare 14). Jamie protests his innocence. He fights\nwith Phenix and receives the first wound, then runs Phenix through the\nbody; Phenix owns his guilt. The king tells Jamie to come home with him;\nevery knight in the court shall be at his command. The queen bids Jamie\ncome home with her; he shall have a new livery every month. The prince\ninvites Jamie to come home with him; all his lands in Scotland shall be\nat Jamie\u2019s command. Jamie thanks king, queen, and nobility; he has been\na prince\u2019s page all his life, and a prince\u2019s page he still will be.\n\nLines representing #B# 12^{3,4}, #C# 17^{3,4}, have been interpolated\ninto the fragment of \u2018The Slaughter of the Laird of Mellerstain,\u2019 No\n230:\n\n They wad take the lands frae fause Fenwick,\n And give them to James Hately.\n\n There is no a month in a\u2019 the year\n But chang\u00ebd should his claithing be.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n #a.# \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 35, MS.\n of Thomas Wilkie, p. 6, Abbotsford; \u201cfrom Betty Hoyl, who learned it\n from her mother,\u201d Gattonside. #b.# Campbell MSS, II, 289. #c.# R.\n Chambers, The Romantic Scottish Ballads, etc., 1859, p. 37; \u201ctaken\n down many years ago from the singing of an old man in the south of\n Scotland.\u201d\n\n 1\n It happened once upon a time,\n When the king he was from home,\n Sir Fenwick he has stolen his jewels,\n And laid the blame on James Hatley.\n\n 2\n James Hatley was in prison strong,\n A wait he was condemned to die;\n There was not one in all the court\n To speak one word for James Hatley.\n\n 3\n No one but the king\u2019s daughter,\n A wait she loved him tenderlie;\n She\u2019s stolen the keys from her father\u2019s head,\n And gaed and conversed wi James Hatley.\n\n 4\n \u2018Come, tell to me now, James,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018Come, tell to me if thou hast them stolen,\n And I\u2019ll make a vow, and I\u2019ll keep it true,\n Ye shall never be the worse of me.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018I have not stolen them, lady,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018Nor as little it was intended by me;\n Sir Fenwick he has stolen them himself;\n A wait he has laid the blame on me.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018One asking, one asking, father dear,\n One asking, one asking grant to me,\n For I never asked one in my life;\n I am sure you cannot but grant it to me.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018Weel ask it, weel ask it, daughter dear,\n Ask it, and it granted shall be;\n If it should be my hole estate,\n Naesaid, naesaid, it shall not be.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018I want none of your gold, father,\n And I want none of your fee;\n All that I ask, father dear,\n It is the life of James Hatley.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018Weel ask it, weel ask it, daughter dear,\n Weel ask it, and it answer\u00ebd shall be;\n For I\u2019ll make a vow, and I\u2019ll keep it true,\n James Hatley shall never hang\u00ebd be.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018Another asking, father dear,\n Another asking grant to me;\n Let Fenwick and Hatley go [to] the sword,\n And let them try their verity.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018\u2019Tis weel ask\u00ebd, daughter dear,\n \u2019Tis weel asked, and it granted shall be;\n For eer the morn or twelve o\u2019clock\n They both at the point of the sword shall be.\u2019\n\n 12\n James Hatley was fifteen years old,\n Sir Fenwick he was thirty three;\n But James lap about, and he struck about,\n Till he\u2019s gaen Sir Fenwick wounds three.\n\n 13\n \u2018Hold up, hold up, James Hatley,\u2019 he cry\u2019d,\n \u2018And let my breath go out and in;\n For I have stolen them myself,\n More shame and disgrace it is to me.\u2019\n\n 14\n Up and spake an English lord,\n And O but he spake haughtily!\n \u2018I would reather given my whole estates\n Before ye had not hanged James Hatley.\u2019\n\n 15\n But up and spake a Scottish lord,\n And O but he spake boldly!\n \u2018I would reather hae foughten among blood to the knees\n Before ye had hanged James Hatley.\u2019\n\n 16\n Up and spake the king\u2019s eldest son,\n \u2018Come hame, James Hatley, and dine wi me;\n For I\u2019ve made a vow, I\u2019ll keep it true,\n Ye\u2019s be my captain by land and by sea.\u2019\n\n 17\n Up and spake the king\u2019s daughter,\n \u2018Come home, James Hatley, and dine wi me;\n For I\u2019ve made a vow, I\u2019ll keep it true,\n I\u2019ll never marry a man but thee.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 39, MS. of\n Thomas Wilkie, p. 18, \u201cas sung by Chirsty Robertson, Dunse.\u201d The\n same, transcribed by Thomas Wilkie, \u201cScotch Ballads,\u201d etc., No 79.\n Abbotsford.\n\n 1\n It happened once upon a time,\n When the king he was from home,\n False Fennick he has stolen his jewels,\n And laid the blame on James Hately.\n\n 2\n The day was sett . . . .\n And the wind blew shill oer the lea;\n There was not one in all the court\n To speak a word for James Hately.\n\n 3\n James is to the prince\u2019s chamber gone,\n And he\u2019s bowd low down on his knee:\n \u2018What will ye do for me, my little pretty prince?\n O what will ye do for your page, James Hately?\u2019\n\n 4\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n \u2018And I will away to my father, the king,\n And see if your life can sav\u00ebd be.\u2019\n\n 5\n The prince he\u2019s to his father gone,\n And he\u2019s bowed low down on his knee:\n \u2018What will ye do for me, my father?\n O what will ye do for my page, James Hately?\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018James Hately has my jewels stolen,\n A Norland lord hath told it to me;\n James Hately has my jewels stolen,\n And oer the barras he maun die.\u2019\n\n 7\n The prince he drew his little brown sword\u2014\n It was made of the metal so free\u2014\n And he swore he would fight them man by man\n That would lay the blame on James Hately.\n\n 8\n Up then spoke the false Fennick,\n And an ill-spoken man was he;\n \u2018James Hately has the king\u2019s jewels stolen,\n . . . . . . . .\u2019\n\n 9\n The prince he drew his little brown sword\u2014\n It was made of the metal so free\u2014\n And he\u2019s thrust it in false Fennick\u2019s side,\n And given him death-wounds two or three.\n\n 10\n \u2018O hold your hand, my little pretty prince,\n And let my breath go out and in,\n For spilling of my noble blood\n And shaming of my noble kin.\n\n 11\n \u2018O hold your hand, my little pretty prince,\n And let my breath go out and in,\n And there\u2019s the key of my coffer,\n And you\u2019ll find the king\u2019s jewels lying therein.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018If this be true,\u2019 the king he said,\n \u2018If this be true ye tell to me,\n I will take your lands, false Fennick,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018And give them all to James Hately.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n C\n\n Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 654; \u201cfrom the recitation of the wife of\n Charles Drain, sow-gelder, etc., Kilmarnock.\u201d\n\n 1\n There was a fause knicht in the court,\n And he was fu o treacherie,\n And he staw the queen\u2019s jewels in the nicht,\n And left the wyte on Jamie O\u2019Lee.\n\n 2\n The king he wrate a braid letter,\n And sealed it richt tenderlie,\n And he sent it to his only son,\n To come and speak to him speedilie.\n\n 3\n When he cam afore the king,\n He kneeled low down on his knee:\n \u2018What is your will, my sovereign leige?\n What is your will? cum tell to me.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018Jamie O\u2019Lee has my jewels stown,\n As the English lord tells unto me,\n And out o Scotland he shall be sent,\n And sent awa to Germanie.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018O no, O no,\u2019 then said the prince,\n \u2018Sic things as that can never be;\n But get me a man that will take on hand\n The morn to fecht young Jamie O\u2019Lee.\u2019\n\n 6\n Syne out and spak the fause Phenix,\n And oh, he spak richt spitefullie;\n \u2018I am the man will tak on han\n To fecht and conquer Jamie O\u2019Lee.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018Oh no, oh no,\u2019 syne said the prince,\n \u2018Sic things as that can never bee,\n For Jamie O\u2019Lee\u2019s no fifteen years auld,\n And ye, fause Phenix, are thretty three.\u2019\n\n 8\n The prince he mounted then wi speed,\n He\u2019s aff wi tidings to Jamie O\u2019Lee,\n Saying, The morn\u2019s morning ye maun fecht,\n Or out o England banisht bee.\n\n 9\n When Jamie O\u2019Lee the tidings heard,\n Fast the saut tear blindit his ee;\n \u2018I\u2019m saikless o thae jewels,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018As the bairn that sits on the nourice knee.\u2019\n\n 10\n Then Phenix munted a scaffold hie,\n A\u2019 for to shaw his veritie;\n Whilk gart the nobles a\u2019 to cry\n \u2018A dead man are ye, Jamie O\u2019Lee!\u2019\n\n 11\n The first straik the fause Phenix gied,\n He gart the blude rin speedilie;\n It gart the prince\u2019s heart to ache,\n And cry, Oh, alace for my Jamie O\u2019Lee!\n\n 12\n Jamie O\u2019Lee he stepped back,\n Waiting for opportunitie,\n And wi his sword baith lang and sharp\n He ran it thro Phenix fause bodie.\n\n 13\n \u2018O haud your hand, Jamie O\u2019Lee,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018And let the breath remain in me,\n And skail nae mair o my noble blude,\n \u2019Tis a great disgrace to my loyaltie.\u2019\n\n 14\n \u2018Confess, confess, ye fause Phenix,\n Confess your faults this day to me;\n Were there nae mair men in a\u2019 England,\n My ain twa hands your death suld be.\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018Ye were sae great wi king and queen,\n I thocht I wuld hae banisht thee,\n And I staw the queen\u2019s jewels in the nicht,\n And left the wyte on Jamie O\u2019Lee.\u2019\n\n 16\n Syne out and spak the king himsell,\n Saying, Jamie O\u2019Lee, come hame wi me,\n And there\u2019s no a knicht in a\u2019 my court\n But what at your command sall be.\n\n 17\n Syne out and spak the queen hersell,\n Saying, Jamie O\u2019Lee, come hame wi me,\n And there\u2019s no a month in a\u2019 the year\n But changed and brothered ye sall be.\n\n 18\n Syne out and spak the prince himsell,\n Saying, Jamie O\u2019Lee, come hame wi me;\n I hae free lands in a\u2019 Scotland,\n And at your command they a\u2019 sall be.\n\n 19\n \u2018I thank ye, king, and I thank ye, queen,\n I thank ye a\u2019, nobilitie,\n But a prince\u2019s page I was a\u2019 my life,\n And a prince\u2019s page I yet will be.\u2019\n\n 20\n The king gied him a silk waistcoat,\n And it was lined wi the taffetie,\n Wi a band o gowd around his neck,\n And a prince\u2019s page he seems to be.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A. a.#\n\n 1^1. day _written over_ time.\n\n 1^2. from home was he?\n\n 2^2, 3^2, 5^4. Await.\n\n 4^2. _The_ -ee _rhyme may be restored by transposing_ Come tell to\n me, as in #c# (_or adding_ said she).\n\n 7^4. Nae said, nae said.\n\n 13^2\u201313^3. _Two half-stanzas are wanting here_: _see_ #b#, #c#.\n\n _16 follows 17, but see_ #b#, #c#.\n\n#b.#\n\n 1^2. king was from home but lately.\n\n 1^3. That Sir.\n\n 2^1. was laid.\n\n 2^2, 3^2, 5^4. I wat.\n\n 2^3. And there\u2019s not a man in.\n\n 2^4. Wad speak.\n\n 3^1. king\u2019s fair.\n\n 3^4. And went in and.\n\n 4^2. if you have.\n\n 4^3. vow, I\u2019ll.\n\n 5^2. was it.\n\n 5^4. And I wat he\u2019s.\n\n _After 5_:\n\n * * * * *\n\n Up then spak the king himsel,\n And an angry man I wot was he:\n \u2018For stealin o my jewels rare,\n Hatlie shall oer the barriers die.\u2019\n\n 6^{1,2}. A boon, a boon, O.\n\n 6^3. askit a boon before.\n\n 6^4. And I\u2019m sure that you will grant it me.\n\n 7^1. O ask it, ask it.\n\n 7^3. And gin it be the half o my estate.\n\n 7^4. Granted sal it be to thee.\n\n 8.\n \u2018O grant me this favour, father dear,\n O grant this favour unto me,\n For I never ask\u00ebd favour before;\n O spare the life of James Hatlie!\u2019\n\n 9. _Wanting._\n\n 10^3. Let Hatley and Fenwick go to.\n\n 11^1. Well ask\u00ebd, well ask\u00ebd.\n\n 11^2. Well asked.\n\n 11^3. Before the morn at.\n\n 12^1. he was seventeen.\n\n 12^3. But _wanting_: strak.\n\n 12^4. gien.\n\n 13^1. he said. _Between_ 13^2 _and_ 13^3:\n\n \u2018For this is spillin of noble blude,\n And shamein of my noble kin.\n\n \u2018Hold up, hold up,\u2019 Sir Fenwick he said,\n \u2018Hold up, and ye sal justified be;\u2019\n\n 13^3. stolen the jewels myself.\n\n 14^1. Up then spake a southern.\n\n 14^3. rather have given the half o my land.\n\n 14^4. Before James Hatlie should not hanged be.\n\n 15. _Wanting._\n\n 16, 17. _The son speaks before the daughter._\n\n 16^1, 17^1. Up then.\n\n 16^3. For from this hour receive this dower.\n\n 16^4. Ye sal be.\n\n 17^{3,4}. For ere the sun gae down this night, O there\u2019s my hand,\n I\u2019ll marry thee.\n\n#c.#\n\n 1^1. It fell upon a certain day.\n\n 1^2. from home he chanced to be.\n\n 1^3. The king\u2019s jewels they were stolen all.\n\n 1^4. And they.\n\n 2^1. And he is into prison cast.\n\n 2^2. And I wat he is.\n\n 2^3. For there was not a man.\n\n 2^4. speak a.\n\n 3.\n But the king\u2019s eldest daughter she loved him well,\n But known her love it might not be;\n And she has stolen the prison-keys,\n And gane in and discoursed wi James Hatelie.\n\n 4^1. Oh, did you steal them, James.\n\n 4^2. Oh, did not you steal them? come tell to me.\n\n 4^3. For I\u2019ll.\n\n 4^4. You\u2019s.\n\n 5^1. I did not steal them, James.\n\n 5^2. And neither was it.\n\n 5^3. For the English they stole them themselves.\n\n 5^4. And I wat they\u2019ve.\n\n 6^{1,2}.\n Now she has hame to her father gane,\n And bowed her low down on her knee;\n \u2018I ask, I ask, I ask, father,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018I ask, I ask a boon of thee.\u2019\n\n 6^3. For _wanting_.\n\n 6^4. And one of them you must grant to me.\n\n 7^{1,2}. Ask on, ask on, daughter, he said, And aye weel answered\n ye shall be.\n\n 7^3. For if it were my whole.\n\n 7^4. you shall.\n\n 8^1. I ask.\n\n 8^2. As little of your white monie.\n\n 8^3. But all the asken that I do ask.\n\n 9^1. Ask on, ask on, daughter, he said.\n\n 9^2. And aye weel answered ye.\n\n 9^3. and keep.\n\n 9^4. shall not.\n\n 10^1. asken I ask, father: dear _wanting_.\n\n 10^2. asken I ask of thee. 10^3. go to.\n\n 11^{1,2}. Ask on, ask on, daughter, he said, And aye weel answered\n you shall be.\n\n 11^3. For before the morn at.\n\n 12^1. eighteen years of age.\n\n 12^2. False F. was thirty years and three.\n\n 12^3. He lap: strack.\n\n 12^4. And he gave false F.\n\n 13^1. Oh, hold your hand, J. H., he said.\n\n _Between 13^2 and 13^3_:\n\n \u2018Were it not for the spilling of my noble blood,\n And the shaming of my noble kin.\n\n \u2018Oh, hold your hand, James Hatelie,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018Oh, hold your hand, and let me be.\u2019\n\n 13^3. For I\u2019m the man that stole the jewels.\n\n 13^4. And a: it was. 14^1. Then up bespoke.\n\n 14^2. I wat but he.\n\n 14^3. rather have lost all my lands.\n\n 14^4. they had.\n\n 15^1. Then up bespoke a good Scotch.\n\n 15^2. I wat a good Scotch lord was he.\n\n 15^3. to the knees in blood.\n\n 15^4. Than they.\n\n 16, 17. _The son speaks before the daughter._\n\n 16^1, 17^1. Then up bespoke.\n\n 16^2, 17^2. Come in.\n\n 16^3, 17^3. I\u2019ll make: and I\u2019ll.\n\n 16^3. You\u2019se: and sea.\n\n 17^1. king\u2019s eldest.\n\n#B.#\n\n _The copy transcribed by Wilkie has been edited a little. 2^{1,2},\n originally written in one line, are rightly divided as here;\n 2^{3,4} are made the concluding half of another stanza._\n\n 2^4. Would speak one.\n\n 3^1. James he.\n\n 3^4. O _omitted_.\n\n 4^3. And _omitted_.\n\n 5^1. prince is: father\u2019s chamber.\n\n 6^2. to _omitted_.\n\n 9^2. That hung low down by his knee.\n\n 9^3. it _wanting_.\n\n 9^4. Then gave him.\n\n 11 _is put before 10, and 10^{1,2} omitted._\n\n 11^4. king\u2019s laying (_careless copying_).\n\n 12^3. false _omitted_.\n\n _Wilkie notes (No 39) that he had_ \u201cheard this sung also by a\n shepherd on Soltra hill,\u201d _but it is not likely that these\n variations were derived from the shepherd._\n\n#C.#\n\n 9^1. When Johnie.\n\n 14^3. War _for_ Were _originally_.\n\n 17^4. brothered _in the MS._\n\n\n\n\n 245\n\n YOUNG ALLAN\n\n #A.# Skene MS., p. 33.\n\n #B.# \u2018Young Allan,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s MSS, II, 182.\n\n #C.# \u2018Young Allan,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 11.\n\n #D.# \u2018Young Allan,\u2019 Murison MS., p. 117.\n\n #E.# \u2018Earl Patrick,\u2019 Kinloch MSS, V, 395.\n\n\nThe copy in Christie\u2019s Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 252, is abridged from\n#C#, with half a dozen arbitrary and insignificant changes.\n\nSkippers (lords) of Lothain, #A#, of Scarsburgh, #C#, of Aberdeen, #D#,\nare bragging over their drink: some, absurdly enough, of their hawks and\nhounds, #A-C#, some of their ladies, young Allan of his ship, which will\noutsail all others but three.[147] A boy in #A#, #C#, says that his\nmaster has a boat (it is a coal-carrier in #C#) which will take the wind\nfrom him. A wager is laid, #A#, #B#, #C#. All the rest go to drinking,\n\u2018to the tows,\u2019 but Allan to his prayers, #C# 8. They sail; there is a\nterrible storm, in the course of which the three competitors are \u2018rent\nin nine,\u2019 #A# 9, or two of them sink, and the topmast of the third \u2018gaes\nin nine,\u2019 #E# 7\u20139.\n\nIn #A# they have sailed only a few leagues, when Allan\u2019s ship is so\nracked by the storm that they see water through her sides. At this\npoint, especially in #A#, Allan\u2019s seamanship appears to very little\nadvantage; he is more of a fair-weather yachtsman than of a skeely\nskipper. If he could get a bonny boy to take the helm and bring the ship\nin safe, the boy should have a liberal share of his gold and land, and a\ndaughter Ann besides, whom one is surprised that Young Allan should have\nto offer. In #A# and #D# the bonny boy evidently takes command of the\nship, although in #A# 18 the sailors ascribe their safety, under God, to\ntheir good master. The ballad indeed suffers almost as grievously as the\ncomely cog.\n\nIn #B-E# Allan calls for a bonny boy to take the helm while he goes to\nthe masthead to look for land. In #D# he makes the same promises as in\n#A#, but the bonny boy cares only for Ann. In #B#, #C# the bonny boy\nsuggests that Allan should waken his drunken men, for whom good thick\nshoes had been bought, though none had been given him. But in all the\nboy takes the helm, and in fact keeps it till the ship is in. Allan, at\nthe masthead, can see neither day nor landmark; many feather-beds are\nfloating on the water, #B#, #C#. The boy calls his master down; the sea\ncan be seen through the ship\u2019s sides, #B-E#.\n\nOrders are given, by the boy or by Allan (by the boy certainly in #D#,\nand by Allan in #E#), to take feather-beds and canvas and lay, busk, or\nwrap the ship round; pitch and tar are also recommended in #B#, #C#.\nThis done, Allan addresses the ship: Spring up, and gold shall be your\nhire, #A#; Haste to dry land, and every nail that is in you shall be a\ngold pin, #B#; For every iron nail in you, of gold there shall be ten,\n#C#; in #D#, indirectly, Where she wants an iron nail drive in a silver\npin, and where she wants an oaken bolt beat in the gold, and the like in\n#E#. When the ship hears this, she springs from the water like sparks\nfrom the fire, #A-C#.\n\nThe first shore they come to is Troup, #B#, Howdoloot, #C#, Linn, #D#,\n#E#. The ship is kept off with cannon, #B#, #C#, with spears and\nbayonets, #D#; is towed in (wrongly), #E#. The next shore they come to\nis Lee, #B#, #E#, Howdilee, #C#, wanting in #D#; \u2018they bare her to the\nsea,\u2019 #C#, \u2018they turned their ship about,\u2019 #D#, the ship is towed in\n(wrongly), #B#, #E#. The third shore they come to is Lin, #B#, Howdilin,\n#C#, Aberdeen, #D#; the ship is towed in (welcomed), with drums beating\nand pipes playing, #B#, #C#, #D#.\n\nAllan calls for the bonny boy that brought the ship safe in, that took\nthe helm in hand, and offers him gold, land, and his daughter; the boy\nrejects gold and land, and takes the daughter, #A#, #D#; Allan makes\nover to the boy his comely cog and gives him his daughter, #B#; gives\nhim his daughter, #C#.\n\nFive-and-forty ships, #A#, three-and-fifty, #C#, one-and-twenty, #E#,\nwent to sea, and only one came back.[148]\n\nThis ballad is mixed with that of \u2018Sir Patrick Spens,\u2019 No 58, II, 21 ff.\n#E# 1\u20136 belong entirely to No 58, and #K# 6\u201310, #M# 1, 3, of No 58\nbelong to \u2018Young Allan.\u2019 The bonny boy is found in 58, #B#, #C#, #E#,\n#G#, #I#, #J#; the floating feather-beds occur in #E-H#, #J#, #O#, #R#;\nthe sea is seen through the ship in 58, #C# 15, #I# 21; cloth is wapped\ninto the ship\u2019s side to keep out water, #H# 19, 20; feather-beds and\ncanvas (and pitch) are used as here in #I# 22, 23.\n\nBy far the most interesting feature in this ballad is Allan\u2019s addressing\nhis ship and the ship\u2019s intelligent behavior, #A# 16, 17, #B# 12\u201315, #C#\n21\u201322. Fri\u00f0\u00fej\u00f3f\u2019s ship Elli\u00f0a understood and obeyed the speech of its\nmaster: Fornaldar Sogur, II, 79, 443 (cited by Bugge). Ranild\u2019s ship\ncame to him when he blew his horn: \u2018Svend Ranild,\u2019 Grundtvig, No 28, I,\n367 (translated by Prior, I, 286). In another Danish ballad, and one of\nthe best, the Ox when sailed by St Olav, responds to his commands as if\nfully endowed with consciousness; he thwacks it in the side and over the\neye, and it goes faster and faster; but it is animate only for the\nnonce: \u2018Hellig-Olavs V\u00e6ddefart,\u2019 Grundtvig, No 50, II, 134, Prior, I,\n356.\n\nThe Ph\u00e6acian ships have neither helmsman nor helm, and know men\u2019s minds\nand the way to all cities: Odyssey, viii, 557 ff. There is a magical\nself-moving ship in Marie de France\u2019s Guigemar, and elsewhere.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n Skene MS., p. 33; taken down in the north of Scotland, 1802\u20133\n\n 1\n A\u2019 the skippers of bonny Lothain,\n As they sat at the wine,\n There fell a reesin them amang,\n An it was in unhappy time.\n\n 2\n Some o them reesd their hawks,\n An some o them their hounds,\n An some o them their ladies gay,\n Trod neatly on the ground;\n Young Allan he reesd his comely cog,\n That lay upon the strand.\n\n 3\n \u2018I hae as good a ship this day\n As ever sailed our seas,\n Except it be the Burges Black,\n But an the Small Cordvine,\n The Comely Cog of Dornisdale;\n We\u2019s lay that three bye in time.\u2019\n\n 4\n Out spak there a little boy,\n Just at Young Allan\u2019s knee:\n \u2018Ye lie, ye lie, Young Allan,\n Sae loud\u2019s I hear ye lie.\n\n 5\n \u2018For my master has a little boat\n Will sail thrice as well as thine;\n For she\u2019ll gang in at your foremast,\n An gae out your fore-lee,\n An nine times in a winter night\n She\u2019ll tak the wind frae thee.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018O what will ye wad, ye Young Allan?\n Or what will ye wad wi me?\u2019\n \u2018I\u2019ll wad my head against your land\n Till I get more monnie.\u2019\n\n 7\n They had na saild a league,\n A league but barely three,\n But through an thro the bonny ship\n They saw the green wall sea.\n\n 8\n They had na saild a league,\n A league but barely five,\n But through an thro their bonny ship\n They saw the green well wave.\n\n 9\n He gaed up to the topmast,\n To see what he coud see,\n And there he saw the Burgess Black,\n But an the Small Cordvine,\n The Comely Cog of Dornisdale;\n The three was rent in nine.\n\n 10\n Young Allan grat an wrang his hands,\n An he kent na what to dee:\n \u2018The win is loud, and the waves are proud,\n An we\u2019ll a\u2019 sink in the sea.\n\n 11\n \u2018But gin I coud get a bonny boy\n Wad tak my helm in han,\n That would steer my bonny ship,\n An bring her safe to land,\n\n 12\n \u2018He shoud get the twa part o my goud,\n The third part o my land,\n An gin we win safe to shore\n He shoud get my dochter Ann.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018O here am I, a bonny boy\n That will tak your helm in han,\n An will steer your bonny ship\n An bring her safe to lan.\n\n 14\n \u2018Ye tak four-an-twenty feather-beds\n An lay the bonny ship round,\n An as much of the good canvas\n As mak her hale an soun.\u2019\n\n 15\n They took four-an-twenty feather-beds\n An laid the bonny ship roun,\n An as much o the good canvas\n As made her hale an soun.\n\n 16\n \u2018Spring up, spring up, my bonny ship,\n An goud sall be your hire!\u2019\n Whan the bonny ship heard o that,\n That goud shoud be her hire,\n She sprang as fast frae the sat water\n As sparks do frae the fire.\n\n 17\n \u2018Spring up, spring up, my bonny ship,\n And goud sall be your fee!\u2019\n Whan the bonny ship heard o that,\n That goud shoud be her fee,\n She sprang as fast frae the sat water\n As the leaf does frae the tree.\n\n 18\n The sailors stan on the shore-side,\n Wi their auld baucheld sheen:\n \u2018Thanks to God an our guid master\n That ever we came safe to land!\u2019\n\n 19\n \u2018Whar is the bonny boy\n That took my helm in han,\n That steerd my bonny ship,\n An brought her safe to lan?\n\n 20\n \u2018He\u2019s get the twa part o my goud,\n The third part o my lan,\n An, since we\u2019re come safe to shore,\n He\u2019s get my dochter Ann.\u2019\n\n 21\n \u2018O here am I, the bonny boy\n That took your helm in han,\n That steered your bonny ship,\n An brought her safe to lan.\n\n 22\n \u2018I winna hae the twa part o your goud,\n Nor the third part o your lan,\n But, since we hae win safe to shore,\n I\u2019ll wed your dochter Ann.\u2019\n\n 23\n Forty ships went to the sea,\n Forty ships and five,\n An there never came ane o a\u2019 back,\n But Young Allan, alive.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n Buchan\u2019s MSS, II, 182\n\n 1\n There were four-an-twenty sailors bold\n Sat drinking at the wine;\n There fell a rousing them among,\n In an unseally time.\n\n 2\n Some there reasd their hawk, their hawk,\n And some there reasd their hound,\n But Young Allan reasd his comely cog,\n As she floats on the feam.\n\n 3\n \u2018There\u2019s not a ship amang you a\u2019\n Will sail alang wi me,\n But the comely cog o Heckland Hawk,\n And Flower o Germanie,\n And the Black Snake o Leve London;\n They are all gane frae me.\u2019\n\n 4\n The wager was a gude wager,\n Of fifty tuns of wine,\n And as much o the gude black silk\n As cleathd their lemans fine.\n\n 5\n At midnight dark the wind up stark,\n The seas began to rout;\n Young Allan and his bonny new ship\n Gaed three times witherlins about.\n\n 6\n \u2018O faer will I get a bonny boy\n Will take my helm in hand\n Ere I gang up to the tapmast-head\n To look for some dry land?\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018O waken, waken your drunken men,\n As they lie drunk wi wine;\n For when ye came thro Edinburgh town\n Ye bought them shoes o ben.\n\n 8\n \u2018There was no shoe made for my feet,\n Nor gluve made for my hand;\n But nevertheless, my dear master,\n I\u2019ll take your helm in hand\n Till ye gae to the topmast head\n And look for some dry land.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018I cannot see no day, no day,\n Nor no meathe can I ken;\n But mony a bonny feather-bed\n Lies floating on the faem.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018Come down, come down, my dear master,\n You see not what I see;\n Through an through your bonny new ship\n Comes in the green haw sea.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018Take fifty ells o the canvas broad\n And wrap it in a\u2019 roun,\n And as much o good pich an tar\n Make her go hale an soun.\n\n 12\n \u2018Sail on, sail on, my bonny ship,\n And haste ye to dry lan,\n And every nail that is in you\n Shall be a gay gold pin.\n\n 13\n \u2018Sail on, sail on, my bonny ship,\n And hae me to some lan,\n And a firlot full o guineas red\n Will be dealt at the lan\u2019s end.\u2019\n\n 14\n The ship she hearkend to their voice\n And listend to their leed,\n And she gaed thro the green haw sea\n Like fire out o a gleed.\n\n 15\n When the ship got word o that,\n Goud was to be her beat,\n She\u2019s flowen thro the stormy seas\n Like sparks out o a weet.\n\n 16\n The first an shore that they came till,\n It was the shore o Troup;\n Wi cannons an great shooting there,\n They held Young Allan out.\n\n 17\n The next an shore that they came till,\n It was the shore o Lee;\n Wi piping an sweet singing there,\n They towed Young Allan tee.\n\n 18\n The next an shore that they came till,\n It was the shore o Lin;\n Wi drums beating and pipers playing,\n They towed Young Allan in,\n And Allan\u2019s lady she was there,\n To welcome Allan hame.\n\n 19\n \u2018O faer is my little boy,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018That I brought oer the sea?\u2019\n \u2018I\u2019m coming, master, running, master,\n At your command shall be.\u2019\n\n 20\n \u2018O take to you my comely cog,\n And wed my daughter free,\n And a\u2019 for this ae night\u2019s wark\n That ye did wake wi me.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n C\n\n Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 11\n\n 1\n All the skippers o Scarsburgh\n Sat drinking at the wine;\n There fell a rousing them amang,\n On an unseally time.\n\n 2\n Some there rousd their hawk, their hawk,\n And some there rousd their hound,\n But Young Allan rousd his comely cog,\n As she stood on dry ground.\n\n 3\n \u2018There\u2019s nae a ship in Scarsburgh\n Will sail the seas wi mine,\n Except it be the Burgess Black,\n Or than the smack calld Twine.\n\n 4\n \u2018There\u2019s nae a ship amang you a\u2019\n Will sail alang wi me,\n But the comely cog o Hecklandhawk,\n And Flower o Yermanie,\n And the Black Snake o Leve London;\n They are a\u2019 gane frae me.\u2019\n\n 5\n Out it speaks a little wee boy\n Stood by Young Allan\u2019s knee;\n \u2018My master has a coal-carrier\n Will take the wind frae thee.\n\n 6\n \u2018She will gae out under the leaf,\n Come in under the lee,\n And nine times in a winter night\n She\u2019ll turn the wind wi thee.\u2019\n\n 7\n When they had wagerd them amang\n Full fifty tuns o wine,\n Besides as mickle gude black silk\n As clathe their lemans fine,\n\n 8\n When all the rest went to the tows,\n All the whole night to stay,\n Young Allan he went to his bower,\n There with his God to pray.\n\n 9\n \u2018There shall nae man gang to my ship\n Till I say mass and dine,\n And take my leave o my lady;\n Gae to my bonny ship syne.\u2019\n\n 10\n Then they saild east on Saturday,\n On Sunday sail\u00ebd west;\n Likewise they sailed on Mononday\n Till twelve, when they did rest.\n\n 11\n At midnight dark the wind up stark,\n And seas began to rout,\n Till Allan and his bonny new ship\n Gaed three times witherlands about.\n\n 12\n \u2018O,\u2019 sighing says the Young Allan,\n \u2018I fear a deadly storm;\n For mony a heaving sinking sea\n Strikes sair on my ship\u2019s stern.\n\n 13\n \u2018Where will I get a little wee boy\n Will take my helm in hand\n Till I gang up to my tapmast\n And see for some dry land?\u2019\n\n 14\n \u2018O waken, waken your drunken men,\n As they lye drunk wi wine;\n For when ye came thro Edinbro town\n Ye bought them sheen o ben.\n\n 15\n \u2018There was nae shoe made for my foot,\n Nor gluve made for my hand;\n But nevertheless, my dear master,\n I\u2019ll take your helm in hand\n Till ye gang to the tall tapmast\n And look for some dry land.\n\n 16\n \u2018And here am I, a little wee boy\n Will take your helm in han\n Till ye gang up to your tapmast,\n But, master, stay not lang.\u2019\n\n 17\n \u2018I cannot see nae day, nae day,\n Nor nae meathe can I ken;\n But mony a bonny feather-bed\n Lyes floating on the faem,\n And the comely cog o Normanshore,\n She never will gang hame.\u2019\n\n 18\n The comely cog o Nicklingame\n Came sailing by his hand;\n Says, Gae down, gae down, ye gude skipper,\n Your ship sails on the sand.\n\n 19\n \u2018Come down, come down, my gude master,\n Ye see not what I see;\n For thro and thro our comely cog\n I see the green haw sea.\u2019\n\n 20\n \u2018Take fifty ells o gude canvas\n And wrap the ship a\u2019 round;\n And pick her weell, and spare her not,\n And make her hale and sound.\n\n 21\n \u2018If ye will sail, my bonny ship,\n Till we come to dry land,\n For ilka iron nail in you,\n Of gowd there shall be ten.\u2019\n\n 22\n The ship she listend all the while,\n And, hearing of her hire,\n She flew as swift threw the saut sea\n As sparks do frae the fire.\n\n 23\n The first an shore that they came till,\n They ca\u2019d it Howdoloot;\n Wi drums beating and cannons shouting,\n They held our gude ship out.\n\n 24\n The next an shore that they came till,\n They ca\u2019d it Howdilee;\n Wi drums beating and fifes playing,\n They bare her to the sea.\n\n 25\n The third an shore that they came till,\n They ca\u2019d it Howdilin;\n Wi drums beating and pipes playing,\n They towd our gude ship in.\n\n 26\n The sailors walkd upon the shore,\n Wi their auld baucheld sheen,\n And thanked God and their Lady,\n That brought them safe again.\n\n 27\n \u2018For we went out o Scarsburgh\n Wi fifty ships and three;\n But nane o them came back again\n But Young Allan, ye see.\u2019\n\n 28\n \u2018Come down, come down, my little wee boy,\n Till I pay you your fee;\n I hae but only ae daughter,\n And wedded to her ye\u2019se be.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n D\n\n Murison MS., p. 117; learned by Mrs Murison from her mother, Old\n Deer, Aberdeenshire.\n\n 1\n There was three lords sat drinkin wine\n In bonnie Aberdeen, [O]\n . . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . . .\n\n 2\n Some o them talked o their merchandise,\n An some o their ladies fine, [O]\n But Young Allan he talked o his bonnie ship,\n That cost him mony a poun.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 3\n \u2018Whar will I get a bonnie wee boy\n That\u2019ll tak my helm in han, O\n Till I gang up to my high topmast\n An look oot for some dry lan?\n\n 4\n \u2018He\u2019ll get half o my gowd, an half o my gear,\n An the third pairt o my lan,\n An gin he row me safe on shore\n He shall hae my daughter Ann.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018O here am I, a bonny wee boy\n That\u2019ll tak your helm in han\n Till ye gang up to your high topmast\n An look oot for some dry lan.\n\n 6\n \u2018I\u2019ll nae seek your gowd, nor I\u2019ll nae seek your gear,\n Nor the third pairt o your lan,\n But gin I row you safe to shore\n I shall hae your daughter Ann.\n\n 7\n \u2018Come doon, come doon, Young Allan,\u2019 he cries,\n \u2018Ye see nae what I see;\n For through an through your bonnie ship-side\n An I see the open sea.\n\n 8\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll tak twenty-four o your feather-beds,\n Ye\u2019ll busk your bonnie ship roon,\n An as much o the guid canvas-claith\n As gar her gang hale an soun.\n\n 9\n \u2018An whar ye want an iron bolt\n Ye\u2019ll ca a siller pin,\n An whar ye want an oaken bolt\n Ye\u2019ll beat the yellow gold in.\u2019\n\n 10\n He\u2019s taen twenty-four o his feather-beds\n An buskit\u2019s bonnie ship roon,\n An as much o the guid canvas-claith\n As gar her gang hale an soun.\n\n 11\n An whar he\u2019s wantit an iron bolt\n He\u2019s ca\u2019d a siller pin,\n An whar he\u2019s wantit an oaken bolt\n He\u2019s beat the yellow gold in.\n\n 12\n The firstan shore that they cam till,\n It was the shore o Linn;\n They held their spears an beenits oot,\n An they wouldna lat Allan in.\n\n 13\n The neistan shore that they cam till\n It was the shore o . . . ;\n . . . . . . .\n An they turned their ship aboot.\n\n 14\n But the neistan shore that they cam till,\n \u2018T was bonnie Aberdeen;\n The fifes an drums they a\u2019 did play,\n To welcome Allan in.\n\n 15\n \u2018O where is he, the bonnie wee boy\n That took my helm in han\n Till I gied up to my high topmast\n An lookd oot for some dry lan?\n\n 16\n \u2018He\u2019s get half o my gowd, an half o my gear,\n An the third pairt o my lan,\n An since he\u2019s rowt me safe to shore\n He sall hae my daughter Ann.\u2019\n\n 17\n \u2018O here am I, the bonnie wee boy\n That took your helm in han\n Till ye gied up to your high topmast\n An lookd oot for some dry lan.\n\n 18\n \u2018I\u2019ll nae seek half o your good, nor half o your gear,\n Nor the third pairt o your lan,\n But since I\u2019ve rowt you safe to shore\n I sall hae your daughter Ann.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n E\n\n Kinloch MSS, V, 395; in the handwriting of John Hill Burton, when a\n youth\n\n 1\n The king he sits in Dumfermline,\n Birlin at the wine,\n And callin for the best skipper\n That ever sailed the faem.\n\n 2\n Then out it spak a bonny boy,\n Sat at the king\u2019s right knee;\n \u2018Earl Patrick is the best skipper\n That ever sailed the sea.\u2019\n\n 3\n The king he wrote a braed letter,\n And sealed it wi his ring,\n And sent it to Earl Patrick,\n . . . . . .\n\n 4\n \u2018Oh wha is this, or wha is that,\n Has tald the king o me?\n For I was niver a gude mariner,\n And niver sailed the sea.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 5\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll eat and drink, my merry young men,\n The red wine you amang,\n For blaw it wind, or blaw it sleet,\n Our ship maun sail the morn.\n\n 6\n \u2018Late yestreen I saw the new meen\n Wi the auld meen in hir arm,\u2019\n And sichand said him Earl Patrick,\n \u2018I fear a deadly storm.\u2019\n\n 7\n They sailed up, sae did they down,\n Thro mony a stormy stream,\n Till they saw the Dam o Micklengaem,\n When she sank amang the faem.\n\n 8\n They sailed up, sae did they down,\n Thro many a stormy stream,\n Till they saw the Duke o Normandy,\n And she sank among the faem.\n\n 9\n They sailed up, sae did they down,\n Thro many a stormy stream,\n Till they saw the Black Shater o Leve London,\n And her topmast gaed in nine.\n\n 10\n \u2018Where will I get a bonny boy\n That will tack my helm in hand\n Till I gang up to my topmast,\n And spy for some dry land?\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018Now here am I, a bonny boy\n Will tack yer helm in hand\n Till ye go up to your topmast\n But I fear ye\u2019ll never see land.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018Cum down, cum down, my gude master,\n Ye see not what I see,\n For through and through yer bonny ship\n I see the raging sea.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll tak four-and-twenty fether-beds\n And lay my bonny ship roun,\n And as muckle o the fine canvas\n As make her haill and soun.\n\n 14\n \u2018And where she wants an iron nail\n O silver she\u2019s hae three,\n And where she wants a timmer-pin\n We\u2019ll rap the red goud in.\u2019\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 15\n The firsten shore that they cam till,\n They cad it shore the Linn;\n Wi heart and hand and good command,\n They towed their bonny ship in.\n\n 16\n The nexten shore that they came till,\n They caad it shore the Lee;\n With heart and hand and good command,\n They towed the bonny ship tee.\n\n 17\n There was twenty ships gaed to the sea,\n Twenty ships and ane,\n And there was na ane came back again\n But Earl Patrick alane.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A.#\n\n 18^2. ill buckled _corruptly for the_ auld baucheld _of_ #C# 26\n (baucheld==down at the heels).\n\n#B.#\n\n 2^2. hind.\n\n 3^5. snakes o Leveland den; _and_ snakes o Levelanden, #C# 4^5. _I\n have not found_ snake, _for_ ship, _in late English, but the A.\n S._ snacc==_Icelandic_ snekkja, a fast ship, _may well have come\n down_. _For_ Leve London _see_ #E# 9^3.\n\n 11^4. _We should perhaps read_ As make; _cf._ #A# 14^4, #D.# 8^4.\n\n#C.#\n\n 4^5. black snakes o Levelanden.\n\n#D.#\n\n _After 2._ \u201cA long, long gap, that I have got nobody to fill up. I\n learned it from my mother, but she has quite forgotten it.\u201d\n\n 9^1. whar he.\n\n 13^3. _Remark_: \u201cNot let land here either.\u201d\n\n 17^3. to yon, _or_ you.\n\n O _is added at the end of every second line._\n\n#E.#\n\n 6^3. sich and.\n\n 9^3. shater. Cf. _#B# 3^5, #C# 4^5, where the texts have_ snakes\n _(corrected here to_ snake). _The writer of #E# had begun the\n word with something different from_ sh, _but with what I cannot\n make out._\n\n 11^4. feear.\n\n 14^1. when _or_ wher.\n\n\n\n\n 246\n\n REDESDALE AND WISE WILLIAM\n\n #A.# \u2018Reedisdale and Wise William,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of\n Scotland, II, 70; Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 452; Motherwell\u2019s Minstrelsy,\n p. 298.\n\n #B.# \u2018Roudesdales,\u2019 Harris MS., fol. 14 b.\n\n #C.# Kinloch MSS, V, 423, two stanzas.\n\n\nRedesdale boasts to William that he can win any woman with a blink of\nhis eye. William has a sister who, he maintains, is not to be had so\neasily. A wager is laid, William\u2019s head against Redesdale\u2019s lands.\nWilliam is shut up to prevent his warning his sister, but sends her a\nletter by a carrier-bird. Redesdale rides to the maiden\u2019s bower, and,\nseeing her at the window, tries to induce her to come down by a series\nof offers of silk-gowns, jewels, etc. His offers proving bootless, he\nthreatens to fire the house, and does so. The maid and her women don wet\nmantles and pass the reek and flame unhurt. She sends word to her\nbrother, who claims Redesdale\u2019s lands.\n\n#A# 1, 2, 5 are substantially a repetition of No 245, #A# 1, 2^{1,4}, 6,\netc. The sharp shower in #B# 16\u201318, which puts out, and does not put\nout, the fire, is an inept interpolation.\n\nThis ballad may be an offshoot from a widely spread story which is\ntediously told further on in \u2018Twa Knights.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 70; written down from\n memory by Mr Nicol, Strichen, as learned in his earlier years from\n old people\n\n 1\n When Reedisdale and Wise William\n Were drinking at the wine,\n There fell a roosing them amang,\n On an unruly time.\n\n 2\n For some o them hae roosd their hawks,\n And other some their hounds,\n And other some their ladies fair,\n And their bowers whare they walkd in.\n\n 3\n When out it spake him Reedisdale,\n And a rash word spake he;\n Says, There is not a lady fair,\n In bower wherever she be,\n But I could aye her favour win\n Wi ae blink o my ee.\n\n 4\n Then out it spake him Wise William,\n And a rash word spake he;\n Says, I have a sister of my own,\n In bower where ever she be,\n And ye will not her favour win\n With three blinks of your ee.\n\n 5\n \u2018What will ye wager, Wise William?\n My lands I\u2019ll wad with thee;\u2019\n \u2018I\u2019ll wad my head against your land,\n Till I get more monie.\u2019\n\n 6\n Then Reedisdale took Wise William,\n Laid him in prison strang,\n That he might neither gang nor ride,\n Nor ae word to her send.\n\n 7\n But he has written a braid letter,\n Between the night and day,\n And sent it to his own sister\n By dun feather and gray.\n\n 8\n When she had read Wise William\u2019s letter,\n She smil\u00ebd and she leugh;\n Said, Very well, my dear brother,\n Of this I have eneuch.\n\n 9\n She looked out at her west window\n To see what she could see,\n And there she spied him Reedisdale\n Come riding ower the lea.\n\n 10\n Says, Come to me, my maidens all,\n Come hitherward to me;\n For here it comes him Reedisdale,\n Who comes a-courting me.\n\n 11\n \u2018Come down, come down, my lady fair,\n A sight of you give me;\u2019\n \u2018Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale,\n For me you will not see.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018Come down, come down, my lady fair,\n A sight of you give me;\n And bonny are the gowns of silk\n That I will give to thee.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018If you have bonny gowns of silk,\n O mine is bonny tee;\n Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale,\n For me you shall not see.\u2019\n\n 14\n \u2018Come down, come down, my lady fair,\n A sight of you I\u2019ll see;\n And bonny jewels, brooches and rings\n I will give unto thee.\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018If you have bonny brooches and rings,\n O mine are bonny tee;\n Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale,\n For me you shall not see.\u2019\n\n 16\n \u2018Come down, come down, my lady fair,\n One sight of you I\u2019ll see;\n And bonny are the ha\u2019s and bowers\n That I will give to thee.\u2019\n\n 17\n \u2018If you have bonny ha\u2019s and bowers,\n O mine are bonny tee;\n Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale,\n For me you shall not see.\u2019\n\n 18\n \u2018Come down, come down, my lady fair,\n A sight of you I\u2019ll see;\n And bonny are my lands so broad\n That I will give to thee.\u2019\n\n 19\n \u2018If you have bonny lands so broad,\n O mine are bonny tee;\n Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale,\n For me ye will not see.\u2019\n\n 20\n \u2018Come down, come down, my lady fair,\n A sight of you I\u2019ll see;\n And bonny are the bags of gold\n That I will give to thee.\u2019\n\n 21\n \u2018If you have bonny bags of gold,\n I have bags of the same;\n Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale,\n For down I will not come.\u2019\n\n 22\n \u2018Come down, come down, my lady fair,\n One sight of you I\u2019ll see;\n Or else I\u2019ll set your house on fire,\n If better cannot be.\u2019\n\n 23\n Then he has set the house on fire,\n And all the rest it tuke;\n He turned his wight horse head about,\n Said, Alas, they\u2019ll ne\u2019er get out!\n\n 24\n \u2018Look out, look out, my maidens fair,\n And see what I do see,\n How Reedisdale has fired our house,\n And now rides oer the lea.\n\n 25\n \u2018Come hitherwards, my maidens fair,\n Come hither unto me;\n For thro this reek, and thro this smeek,\n O thro it we must be!\u2019\n\n 26\n They took wet mantles them about,\n Their coffers by the band,\n And thro the reek, and thro the flame,\n Alive they all have wan.\n\n 27\n When they had got out thro the fire,\n And able all to stand,\n She sent a maid to Wise William,\n To bruik Reedisdale\u2019s land.\n\n 28\n \u2018Your lands is mine now, Reedisdale,\n For I have won them free;\u2019\n \u2018If there is a gude woman in the world,\n Your one sister is she.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n Harris MS., fol. 14 b; from Mrs Harris.\n\n 1\n Roudesdales an Clerk William\n Sat birlin at the wine,\n An a\u2019 the talk was them atween\n Was aboot the ladies fine, fine,\n Was aboot the ladies fine.\n\n 2\n Says Roudesdales to Clerk William,\n I\u2019ll wad my lands wi thee,\n I\u2019ll wad my lands against thy head,\n An that is what I\u2019ll dee,\n\n 3\n \u2018That there\u2019s no a leddy in a\u2019 the land,\n That\u2019s fair, baith ee an bree,\n That I winna wed withoot courtin,\n Wi ae blink o my ee.\u2019\n\n 4\n Says William, I\u2019ve an ae sister,\n She\u2019s fair, baith ee an bree;\n An you\u2019ll no wed her withoot courtin,\n Wi ae blink o your ee.\u2019\n\n 5\n He has wrote a broad letter,\n Between the nicht an the day,\n An sent it to his ae sister\n Wi the white feather an the gray.\n\n 6\n The firsten line she luekit on,\n A licht lauchter gae she;\n But eer she read it to the end\n The tear blindit her ee.\n\n 7\n \u2018Oh wae betide my ae brither,\n Wald wad his head for me,\n . . . . . .\n . . . . . .\u2019\n\n 8\n Roudesdales to her bour has gane,\n An rade it round aboot,\n An there he saw that fair ladie,\n At a window lookin oot.\n\n 9\n \u2018Come doon, come doon, you fair ladie,\n Ae sicht o you to see;\n For the rings are o the goud sae ried\n That I will gie to thee.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018If yours are o the goud sae ried,\n Mine\u2019s o the silver clear;\n So get you gone, you Roudesdales,\n For you sall no be here.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018Come doon, come doon, you lady fair,\n Ae sicht o you to see;\n For the gouns are o the silk sae fine\n That I will gie to thee.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018If yours are o the silk sae fine,\n Mine\u2019s o the bonnie broun;\n Sa get you gone, you Roudesdales,\n For I will no come doon.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018Come doon, come doon, you ladie fair,\n Ae sicht o you to see;\n For the steeds are o the milk sae white\n That I will gie to thee.\u2019\n\n 14\n \u2018If yours are o the milk sae white,\n Mine\u2019s o the bonnie broun;\n Sae get you gone, you Roudesdales,\n For I will no come doon.\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018Come doon, come doon, you ladie fair,\n Ae sicht o you to see;\n Or I will set your bour on fire\n Atween your nurse an thee.\u2019\n\n 16\n \u2018You may set my bowr on fire,\n As I doubt na you will dee,\n But there\u2019ll come a sharp shour frae the wast\n Will slocken\u2019t speedilie.\u2019\n\n 17\n He has set her bour on fire,\n An quickly it did flame;\n But there cam a sharp shour frae the wast\n That put it oot again.\n\n 18\n Oot amang the fire an smoke\n That bonnie lady cam,\n Wi as muckle goud aboon her bree\n As wald bocht an earldom.\n\n 19\n \u2018Oh wae betide you, ill woman,\n An ill, ill died may you dee!\n For ye hae won your brither\u2019s head,\n An I go landless free.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n C\n\n Kinloch MSS, V, 423.\n\n 1\n Redesdale and Clerk William\n Sat drinking at the wine;\n They hae fawn a wagering them atween\n At a wanhappy time.\n\n 2\n \u2018What will ye wad,\u2019 says Redesdale,\n \u2018O what will ye wad wi me\n That there\u2019s na a lady in a\u2019 the land\n But I wad win wi ae blink o my ee?\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A.#\n\n _There are some very trivial variations from Buchan\u2019s text in\n Motherwell\u2019s copies; mostly_ is, _with a plural subject,\n Scottice, for_ are. _Motherwell received the ballad from Buchan,\n and was much in the way of making small betterments._\n\n#B.#\n\n _Air_, \u2018Johnnie Brod.\u2019\n\n 4^4. o her.\n\n 5^2. _Perhaps_ necht.\n\n 6^2. _Perhaps_ leiht.\n\n\n\n\n 247\n\n LADY ELSPAT\n\n \u2018Lady Elspat.\u2019 #a.# Jamieson-Brown MS., p. 19. Printed in Jamieson\u2019s\n Popular Ballads, II, 191. #b.# \u201cScottish Songs,\u201d MS., fol. 30,\n Abbotsford Library, N. 3, in the handwriting of Walter Scott, about\n 1795\n\n\nThis ballad was No 10 of the fifteen of Mrs Brown\u2019s which were obtained\nby William Tytler from Professor Thomas Gordon in 1783: Anderson to\nPercy, December 29, 1800, in Nichols\u2019s Illustrations, VII, 177, where\nthe first stanza (of twelve) is cited. These transcripts were\naccompanied with the airs. In #b#, which is now ascertained to be in the\nhandwriting of Walter Scott,[149] there is a mawkish stanza after 4, and\nanother after 9, which do not occur in #a#, and many verbal variations.\nThese two stanzas are not likely to have been inserted by Scott, for, so\nfar as we know, the ballad has been preserved only by Mrs Brown. As for\nthe other variations, we are not in a condition to say which are Mrs\nBrown\u2019s, which Scott\u2019s.\n\nAn appointment for an elopement made by Lady Elspat with Sweet William\nis revealed to her mother by an eavesdropping page. William is bound\nwith his own bow-string and brought before the Lord Justice. The mother\naccuses him of stealing her jewels; Lady Elspat denies this, and says\nthat his only crime is too small an estate. The judge sees no fault in\nthe young man (whom he discovers to be his sister\u2019s son!), hands him\nover to Lady Elspat, and promises the pair as much land as a valuable\nhorse of his can ride about in a summer\u2019s day.\n\nTruly not impressive in story or style, and very fit to have been\nforgotten by Mrs Brown.\n\n\nTranslated from Jamieson by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser,\np. 196, No 30; by Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder, p. 118, No 26;\nby Lo\u00e8ve-Veimars, p. 337.\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1\n \u2018How brent\u2019s your brow, my Lady Elspat!\n How golden yallow is your hair!\n Of all the maids of fair Scotland,\n There\u2019s nane like Lady Elspat fair.\u2019\n\n 2\n \u2018Perform your vows, Sweet William,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018The vows which ye ha made to me,\n An at the back o my mother\u2019s castle\n This night I\u2019ll surely meet wi thee.\u2019\n\n 3\n But wae be to her brother\u2019s page,\n Who heard the words this twa did say!\n He\u2019s told them to her lady mother,\n Who wrought Sweet William mieckle wae.\n\n 4\n For she has taen him Sweet William,\n An she\u2019s gard bind him wi his bow-string\n Till the red bluide o his fair body\n Frae ilka nail o his hand did spring.\n\n 5\n O it fell once upon a time\n That the Lord Justice came to town;\n Out has she taen him Sweet William,\n Brought him before Lord Justice boun.\n\n 6\n \u2018An what is the crime, now, madame,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018Has been committed by this young man?\u2019\n \u2018O he has broken my bonny castel,\n That was well biggit wi lime an stane.\n\n 7\n \u2018An he has broken my bonny coffers,\n That was well banded wi aiken ban,\n An he has stoln my rich jewels;\n I wot he has them every one.\u2019\n\n 8\n Then out it spake her Lady Elspat,\n As she sat by Lord Justice knee;\n \u2018Now ye hae taul your tale, mother,\n I pray, Lord Justice, you\u2019l now hear me.\n\n 9\n \u2018He has na broken her bonny castel,\n That was well biggit wi lime an stane,\n Nor has he stoln her rich jewels,\n For I wot she has them every one.\n\n 10\n \u2018But tho he was my first true love,\n An tho I had sworn to be his bride,\n Cause he had not a great estate,\n She would this way our loves divide.\u2019\n\n 11\n An out it spake the Lord Justice,\n I wot the tear was in his ee;\n \u2018I see nae fault in this young man,\n Sae loose his bans, an set him free.\n\n 12\n \u2018Take back your love, now, Lady Elspat,\n An my best blessing you baith upon!\n For gin he be your first true love,\n He is my eldest sister\u2019s son.\n\n 13\n \u2018There is a steed in my stable\n Cost me baith gold and white money;\n Ye\u2019s get as mieckle o my free lan\n As he\u2019ll ride about in a summer\u2019s day.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n#a.#\n\n 3^1. to our.\n\n 5^3. has he.\n\n#b.#\n\n 1^3. maids in.\n\n 2^1. said.\n\n 3^{1,2}.\n And this beheard her mother\u2019s foot-page,\n Who listed the words thae twa.\n\n 3^3. He tauld them ower to.\n\n 4^2. Gart bind: his ain.\n\n 4^4. hands.\n\n _After 4_:\n\n They threw him into dungeon-keep;\n Full little he reckd the pain;\n But sair he mournd each springing hope\n That was blasted a\u2019 sae sune.\n\n 5^1. fell out.\n\n 5^2. That _wanting_.\n\n 5^3. And they hae.\n\n 5^4. him to thole a deadly doom.\n\n 6^{3,4}. For gin I judge frae his gentle look I think he is where\n he should na stand.\n\n 7.\n \u2018Yet has he broken my highest towr,\n Was bigged strong wi stane and lime,\n And stolen forth my rich jewels\n Frae my coffer bound wi aiken beam.\u2019\n\n 8^1. out and spak sweet.\n\n 8^2. sat near hir mother\u2019s.\n\n 8^3. hae ye tauld.\n\n 8^4. Justice, hear you.\n\n 9^{1,2}. has not broken her highest towr, Was bigged strong wi\n stane and lime.\n\n 9^4. ane. _After 9_:\n\n \u2018Yet has he stolen a dearer pledge,\n Not frae my mother, but frae me;\n For he has stolen a virgin\u2019s heart\n Should have waited for ane o high degree.\u2019\n\n 10^1. first fair.\n\n 11^1. Then out and spake the good.\n\n 11^3. nae harm.\n\n 11^4. his hands.\n\n 12^1. love, sweet Lady.\n\n 12^3. first fair.\n\n 13. _Wanting, and probably also in W. Tytler\u2019s copy._\n\n\n\n\n 248\n\n THE GREY COCK, OR, SAW YOU MY FATHER?\n\n\n #a.#.\u2019The Grey Cock,\u2019 Herd\u2019s Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p.\n 324; Herd\u2019s MSS, I, 4; Herd\u2019s Ancient and Modern Scottish Songs,\n 1776, II, 208. #b.# \u2018Saw you my father?\u2019 Chappell\u2019s Popular Music,\n p. 731\n\n\nStanzas 1, 4, 6, 7, are printed in Herd, 1769; the three others are\namong the \u201cAdditions to songs in the former volume\u201d [of 1769], at the\nbeginning of the first volume of the MS.; the whole is given in Herd,\n1776.\n\nRepeated from Herd, 1776 (with a change or two) in Pinkerton\u2019s Select\nScotish Ballads II, 155, 1783, and in Johnson\u2019s Museum, p. 77, No 76,\n1787, \u2018O saw ye my father?\u2019 Stenhouse had not found the verses in any\ncollection prior to that of Herd, but asserts that the song had been \u201ca\ngreat favorite in Scotland for a long time past\u201d (1820, Museum, ed.\n1853, IV, 81).\n\n\u201cThis song,\u201d says Chappell, \u201cis printed on broadsides, with the tune,\nand in Vocal Music, or the Songster\u2019s Companion, II, 36, second edition,\n1772. This collection was printed by Robert Horsfield, in Ludgate\nStreet, and probably the words and music will also be found in the first\nedition, which I have not seen.\u201d The words, he adds, are in several\n\u201cSongsters.\u201d\n\nThree stanzas from recitation, wrongly attached to \u2018The Broomfield\nHill,\u2019 No 43, #E#, have been given at p. 399 of the first volume of this\ncollection. Much of the ballad has been adopted into \u2018Willie\u2019s Fatal\nVisit,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 259, the two\nconcluding stanzas with little change. These two stanzas are given by a\ncorrespondent[150] of Notes and Queries, First Series, XII, 227, as\nheard by him in the nursery about 1787. They have been made the kernel\nof a song by Allan Cunningham, impudently put forward as \u201cthe precious\nrelique of the original,\u201d Cromek, Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway\nSong, 1810, p. 72.\n\nThe injunction to the cock is found in \u2018The Swain\u2019s Resolve,\u2019 Lyle\u2019s\nAncient Ballads and Songs, 1827, p. 142:\n\n She cries to the cock, saying, Thou must not crow\n Until that the day be worn,\n And thy wings shall be made of the silvery gray,\n And thy voice of the silver horn.\n\nIt is also cited in Graves\u2019s Irish Songs and Ballads, London, 1882, p.\n249, No 50, as occurring \u201cin a ballad descriptive of the visit of a\nlover\u2019s ghost to his betrothed,\u201d in which the woman, to protract the\ninterview, says:\n\n \u2018O my pretty cock, O my handsome cock,\n I pray you do not crow before day,\n And your comb shall be made of the very beaten gold,\n And your wings of the silver so gray.\u2019\n\nThe cock is remiss or unfaithful, again, in a little ballad picked up by\nBurns in Nithsdale, \u2018A Waukrife Minnie,\u2019 Cromek, Select Scotish Songs,\n1810, II, 116 (of which another version is furnished by Lyle, p. 155,\n\u2018The Wakerife Mammy\u2019):\n\n O weary fa the waukrife cock,\n And the foumart lay his crawin!\n He waukend the auld wife frae her sleep\n A wee blink or the dawin.\n\nThe first stanza of \u2018The Grey Cock\u2019 seems to have been suggested by\n\u2018Sweet William\u2019s Ghost\u2019 (of which the Irish ballad noted by Graves may\nhave been a variety), as again is the case in Buchan\u2019s \u2018James Herries.\u2019\nThe fantastic reward promised the cock in stanza 6 is an imitation, or a\ncorruption, of the bribe to the parrot in No 4, #D# 23, #E# 15, #F# 10,\nor in No 68, #A# 10, #B# 13, #C# 14, etc.\n\nOf the same general description is \u2018Le Chant de l\u2019Alouette,\u2019 Victor\nSmith, Chansons de Velay, etc., Romania, VII, 56 (see further note 6 of\nSmith); \u2018Le Rendez-vous,\u2019 M\u00e9lusine, I, 285 ff., Rolland, Recueil, etc.,\nIV, 43, No 196. Again, \u2018La Rondinella,\u2019 Kopisch, Agrumi, p. 80, 1837;\n\u2018La Visita,\u2019 Wolf, Volkslieder aus Venetien, p. 8; \u2018La Rondine\nimportuna,\u2019 Ferraro, C. p. monferrini, p. 75, No 54; \u2018Il Furto amoroso\u2019\nGianandrea, C. p. marchigiani, p. 274; \u2018La Rondinella,\u2019 Archivio, VII,\n401, No 6. The treacherous or troublesome bird is in French the lark, in\none case the cock; in Italian the swallow.\n\nThis piece is a variety of the _aube_ (concerning which species see\nJeanroy, Les Origines de la Po\u00e9sie lyrique en France, the third\nchapter), but is none the less quite modern.\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1\n \u2018O saw ye my father? or saw ye my mother?\n Or saw ye my true-love John?\u2019\n \u2018I saw not your father, I saw not your mother,\n But I saw your true-love John.\n\n 2\n \u2018It\u2019s now ten at night, and the stars gie nae light,\n And the bells they ring ding, dang;\n He\u2019s met wi some delay that causeth him to stay,\n But he will be here ere lang.\u2019\n\n 3\n The surly auld carl did naething but snarl,\n And Johny\u2019s face it grew red;\n Yet, tho he often sighd, he neer a word replied\n Till all were asleep in bed.\n\n 4\n Up Johny rose, and to the door he goes,\n And gently tirl\u00ebd the pin;\n The lassie taking tent unto the door she went,\n And she opend and let him in.\n\n 5\n \u2018And are ye come at last? and do I hold ye fast?\n And is my Johny true?\u2019\n \u2018I hae nae time to tell, but sae lang\u2019s I like mysell\n Sae lang will I love you.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018Flee, flee up, my bonny grey cock,\n And craw whan it is day;\n Your neck shall be like the bonny beaten gold,\n And your wings of the silver grey.\u2019\n\n 7\n The cock prov\u2019d false, and untrue he was,\n For he crew an hour oer soon;\n The lassie thought it day when she sent her love away,\n And it was but a blink of the moon\n\n * * * * *\n\n#a.#\n\n 4^1. _MS._ Then up.\n\n 5^4. _Ed._ 1776, sall I.\n\n#b.#\n\n 1^1. Saw you my father? Saw you my mother.\n\n 1^2. Saw you.\n\n 1^{3,4}. He told his only dear that he soon would be here, But he\n to another is gone.\n\n 2^{1,2}==1^{3,4}.\n\n 2^3. has met with ... which has caused.\n\n 2^4. here anon.\n\n 3. _Wanting._\n\n 4^1. Then John he up arose.\n\n 4^2. And he twirld, he twirld at.\n\n 4^3. lassie took the hint and to the.\n\n 4^4. she let her true love in.\n\n 5. _Wanting._\n\n 6^1. Fly up, fly up.\n\n 6^3. Your breast shall be of the beaming gold.\n\n 7^1. cock he.\n\n 7^2. crowd an hour too soon.\n\n 7^3. day, so she.\n\n 7^4. it prov\u2019d but the.\n\n _Notes and Queries_, I, xii, 227:\n\n 6^2. But crow not until it be day.\n\n 6^3. And your breast shall be made of the burnishd gold.\n\n\n\n\n 249\n\n AULD MATRONS\n\n \u2018Auld Matrons,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 238;\n Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 585, with the title\n\n \u2018Love Annie.\u2019\n\n\nWillie tirls at Annie\u2019s bower-door and is admitted. After the exchange\nof familiar formulas, Willie expresses apprehension of \u201cMatrons,\u201d an old\nwoman who is sitting by the kitchen-fire. Annie says there is no\noccasion to mind the old woman; she has not walked for seven years. But\nwhile the lovers are occupied with endearments the old woman makes speed\nto the sheriff, and informs him that Willie is with his daughter. The\nsheriff, guided by Matrons, goes to the bower, with men in mail. Annie\nhears the bridles ring, and wakens Willie. There is shooting of arrows\nand fire is set to the bower (_cf._ st. 17 and st. 33 of No 116). Willie\nmaintains himself with spirit, but is so hard pressed that he is fain to\nblow his horn for his brother John, who is lying in Ringlewood. John\nwounds fifty and fifteen with his first shot, and with the next strikes\nout the sheriff\u2019s eyes. The sheriff orders a retreat, and threatens,\nvery illogically, to burn the old woman.\n\nThis piece was made by some one who had acquaintance with the first fit\nof \u2018Adam Bell.\u2019 The anonymous \u2018old wife\u2019 becomes \u2018auld Matrons;\u2019\nInglewood, Ringlewood. The conclusion is in imitation of the rescues in\nRobin Hood ballads. Stanzas 2\u20135 are hacknied commonplaces.\n\nIt is not considerate of Willie to take a foot-groom with him when he\ngoes to pass a night at the bower of an unprovided seamstress, though\nthe seamstress be a gentlewoman and the daughter of a sheriff. William\nof Cloudesly did not so. That the sheriff\u2019s unmarried daughter should be\nliving apart from her father is unusual, but a separate establishment\nwas probably a necessity in Kelso for a gentlewoman who had \u2018her living\nby the seam.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1\n My love she is a gentlewoman,\n Has her living by the seam;\n I kenna how she is provided\n This night for me and my foot-groom.\n\n 2\n He is gane to Annie\u2019s bower-door,\n And gently tirled at the pin:\n \u2018Ye sleep, ye wake, my love Annie,\n Ye\u2019ll rise and lat your true-love in.\u2019\n\n 3\n Wi her white fingers lang and sma\n She gently lifted up the pin;\n Wi her arms lang and bent\n She kindly caught sweet Willie in.\n\n 4\n \u2018O will ye go to cards or dice?\n Or will ye go to play?\n Or will ye go to a well made bed,\n And sleep a while till day?\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018I winna gang to cards nor dice,\n Nor yet will I to play;\n But I will gang to a well made bed,\n And sleep a while till day.\n\n 6\n \u2018My love Annie, my dear Annie,\n I would be at your desire;\n But wae mat fa the auld Matrons,\n As she sits by the kitchen fire!\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018Keep up your heart, Willie,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018Keep up your heart, dinna fear;\n It\u2019s seven years, and some guid mair,\n Sin her foot did file the flear.\u2019\n\n 8\n They hadna kissd nor love clapped,\n As lovers when they meet,\n Till up it raise the auld Matrons,\n Sae well\u2019s she spread her feet.\n\n 9\n O wae mat fa the auld Matrons,\n Sae clever\u2019s she took the gate!\n And she\u2019s gaen ower yon lang, lang hill,\n Knockd at the sheriff\u2019s yate.\n\n 10\n \u2018Ye sleep, ye wake, my lord?\u2019 she said;\n \u2018Are ye not your bower within?\n There\u2019s a knight in bed wi your daughter,\n I fear she\u2019s gotten wrang.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll do ye down thro Kelso town,\n Waken my wall-wight men;\n And gin ye hae your wark well dune\n I\u2019ll be there at command.\u2019\n\n 12\n She\u2019s done her down thro Kelso town,\n Wakend his wall-wight men;\n But gin she had her wark well done\n He was there at command.\n\n 13\n He had his horse wi corn fodderd,\n His men armd in mail;\n He gae the Matrons half a merk\n To show them ower the hill.\n\n 14\n Willie sleepd, but Annie waked\n Till she heard their bridles ring;\n Then tapped on her love\u2019s shoulder,\n And said, Ye\u2019ve sleepit lang.\n\n 15\n \u2018O save me, save me, my blessd lady,\n Till I\u2019ve on my shooting-gear;\n I dinna fear the king himsell,\n Tho he an\u2019s men were here.\u2019\n\n 16\n Then they shot in, and Willie out,\n The arrows graz\u2019d his brow;\n The maid she wept and tore her hair,\n Says, This can never do.\n\n 17\n Then they shot in, and he shot out,\n The bow brunt Willie\u2019s hand;\n But aye he kissd her ruby lips,\n Said, My dear, thinkna lang.\n\n 18\n He set his horn to his mouth,\n And has blawn loud and shrill,\n And he\u2019s calld on his brother John,\n In Ringlewood he lay still.\n\n 19\n The first an shot that Lord John shot,\n He wound fifty and fifteen;\n The next an shot that Lord John shot,\n He ca\u2019d out the sheriff\u2019s een.\n\n 20\n \u2018O some o you lend me an arm,\n Some o you lend me twa;\n And they that came for strife this day,\n Take horse, ride fast awa.\n\n 21\n \u2018But wae mat fa yon, auld Matrons,\n An ill death mat ye die!\n I\u2019ll burn you on yon high hill-head,\n Blaw your ashes in the sea.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n 2^3. Ye sleep ye, wake ye: _cf._ 10^1.\n\n 21^2: All ill.\n\n 21^3: And burn. _Motherwell_, I\u2019ll.\n\n\n\n\n 250\n\n HENRY MARTYN\n\n\n #A.# #a, b.# \u2018Henry Martyn;\u2019 taken down from recitation, by the Rev.\n S. Baring-Gould.\n\n #B.# #a.# A broadside, Catnach, Seven Dials. #b.# \u2018Henry Martin,\u2019\n Kidson, Traditional Tunes, p. 31. #c.# The same, p. 30.\n\n #C.# \u2018Robin Hood,\u2019 Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 660.\n\n #D.# [\u2018Andrew Bodee\u2019], from New Hampshire, U. S. A., communicated by\n Mr George M. Richardson; two stanzas.\n\n\nA copy edited from #A#, #B a#, with the addition of one stanza for a\n\u201csnapper,\u201d is printed in Baring-Gould and Sheppard\u2019s Songs and Ballads\nof the West, No 53. Four traditional versions were obtained by Mr\nBaring-Gould.\n\nThree brothers in Scotland cast lots to determine which of them shall\nrob on the sea to maintain them. The lot falls on the youngest, Henry\nMartyn, #A#, #B#; Robin Hood, #C#; Andrew Bodee, #D#. The pirate meets\nand stops an English ship the very first day (third, #A b#; fifth, #B#,\n#C#). There is a brisk fight, and the English ship is sunk by shot, #A#,\n#B#. She is plundered and then scuttled, #C#. In #A a#, Henry Martyn\ngets a deep wound and falls by the mast.\n\nThe ballad must have sprung from the ashes of \u2018Andrew Barton,\u2019 of which\nname Henry Martyn would be no extraordinary corruption. Only one copy,\n#A a#, preserves the trait of Barton\u2019s death, an incident not quite in\nkeeping with the rest of the story of the new ballad.\n\nRobin Hood, #C#, is always at the service of any ballad-monger who wants\na name for his hero. But it will be remembered that he is credited with\ntaking a French ship in \u2018The Noble Fisherman,\u2019 No 148, and that is\nenough to explain his appearance here. \u2018Andrew Bodee\u2019 may just\nconceivably be a corruption of Andrew Wood, who displaces Patrick Spens\nin two versions of No 58 (#A b#, #D#). Motherwell knew of a copy in\nwhich the hero was called Roberton: MS., p. 660.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n Taken down by the Rev. S. Baring-Gould. #a.# From Matthew Baker, an\n old cripple, Lew Down, Devon. #b.# From Roger Luxton, an old man at\n Halwell, North Devon.\n\n 1\n In merry Scotland, in merry Scotland\n There lived brothers three;\n They all did cast lots which of them should go\n A robbing upon the salt sea,\n\n 2\n The lot it fell on Henry Martyn,\n The youngest of the three;\n That he should go rob on the salt, salt sea,\n To maintain his brothers and he.\n\n 3\n He had not a sailed a long winter\u2019s night,\n Nor yet a short winter\u2019s day,\n Before that he met with a lofty old ship,\n Come sailing along that way.\n\n 4\n O when she came by Henry Martyn,\n \u2018I prithee now, let us go!\u2019\n \u2018O no! God wot, that, that will I not,\n O that will I never do.\n\n 5\n \u2018Stand off! stand off!\u2019 said Henry Martyn,\n \u2018For you shall not pass by me;\n For I am a robber all on the salt seas,\n To maintain us brothers three.\n\n 6\n \u2018How far, how far,\u2019 cries Henry Martyn,\n \u2018How far do you make it?\u2019 said he;\n \u2018For I am a robber all on the salt seas,\n To maintain us brothers three.\u2019\n\n 7\n For three long hours they merrily fought,\n For hours they fought full three;\n At last a deep wound got Henry Martyn,\n And down by the mast fell he.\n\n 8\n \u2019Twas broadside to a broadside then,\n And a rain and hail of blows,\n But the salt sea ran in, ran in, ran in,\n To the bottom then she goes.\n\n 9\n Bad news, bad news for old England,\n Bad news has come to the town,\n For a rich merchant\u2019s vessel is cast away,\n And all her brave seamen drown.\n\n 10\n Bad news, bad news through London street,\n Bad news has come to the king,\n For all the brave lives of the mariners lost,\n That are sunk in the watery main.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n #a.# A broadside, Catnach, Seven Dials. #b.# Kidson, Traditional\n Tunes, p. 31, 1891; from fishermen at Flamborough, Yorkshire. #c.#\n Kidson, etc., p. 30; \u201csung by a very old woman ... about ninety\n years ago.\u201d\n\n 1\n There was three brothers in merry Scotland,\n In merry Scotland there were three,\n And each of these brothers they did cast lots,\n To see which should rob the salt sea.\n\n 2\n Then this lot did fall on young Henry Martyn,\n The youngest of these brothers three,\n So now he\u2019s turnd robber all on the salt seas,\n To maintain his two brothers and he.\n\n 3\n He had not saild one long winter\u2019s night,\n One cold winter\u2019s night before day,\n Before he espied a rich merchant-ship,\n Come bearing straight down that way.\n\n 4\n \u2018Who are you? Who are you?\u2019 said Henry Martyn,\n \u2018Or how durst thou come so nigh?\u2019\n \u2018I\u2019m a rich merchant-ship for old England bound,\n If you please, will you let me pass by.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018O no! O no!\u2019 cried Henry Martyn,\n \u2018O no! that never can be,\n Since I have turnd robber all on the salt seas,\n To maintain my two brothers and me.\n\n 6\n \u2018Now lower your topsails, you alderman bold,\n Come lower them under my lee;\u2019\n Saying, \u2018I am resolved to pirate you here,\n To maintain my two brothers and me.\u2019\n\n 7\n Then broadside to broadside to battle they went\n For two or three hours or more;\n At last Henry Martyn gave her a death-wound,\n And down to the bottom went she.\n\n 8\n Bad news, bad news to England has come,\n Bad news I will tell to you all,\n \u2019Twas a rich merchant-ship to England was bound,\n And most of her merry men drownd.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n C\n\n Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 660; from the recitation of Alexander\n Macdonald, coal-heaver, Barkip, parish of Dalry, Ayr; a song of his\n mother\u2019s, a native of Ireland.\n\n 1\n There were three brothers in bonnie Scotland,\n In bonnie Scotland lived they,\n And they cuist kevels themsells amang,\n Wha sould gae rob upon the salt sea.\n\n 2\n The lot it fell upon bold Robin Hood,\n The youngest brither of the hale three:\n \u2018O, I sall gae rob upon the salt sea,\n And it\u2019s all to mauntain my two brothers and me.\u2019\n\n 3\n They hadna sailed a lang winter night,\n A lang winter night scarselie,\n Till they were aware of a tall, tall ship,\n Coming sailin down under the lee.\n\n 4\n \u2018O where are you bound for, my bonnie ship?\u2019\n Bold Robin Hood he did cry;\n \u2018O I\u2019m a bold merchantman, for London bound,\n And I pray you, good sir, let us by.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018O no! O no!\u2019 said bold Robin Hood,\n \u2018O no such thing may be;\n For I will gae in and plunder your ship,\n And your fair bodies I\u2019ll drown in the sea.\u2019\n\n 6\n O he has gone in and plundered their ship,\n And holes in her bottom bored three;\n The water came in so thick and so fast\n That down, down to the bottom gade she.\n\n 7\n Bad news, bad news to old England is gone,\n Bad news to our king, old Henrie,\n That his merchant-goods were taken on board,\n And thirty-five seamen drownd in the sea.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n D\n\n Communicated by Mr George M. Richardson, as learned by a lady in\n northern New Hampshire more than fifty years ago from an aged aunt.\n\n 1\n Three loving brothers in Scotland dwelt,\n Three loving brothers were they,\n And they cast lots to see which of the three\n Should go robbing all oer the salt sea, salt sea,\n Should go robbing all oer the salt sea.\n\n 2\n The lot it fell to Andrew Bodee,\n The youngest of the three,\n That he should leave the other two,\n And go robbing all oer the salt sea.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A. b.#\n\n 3^1. a sailed three winter\u2019s nights.\n\n 3^2. When a little before the day.\n\n 3^3. He spied the king his gay gallant ship.\n\n 4. _Wanting._\n\n 5.\n \u2018Stand off! Stand off!\u2019 the captain he cried,\n \u2018The life-guards they are aboard;\n My cannons are loaden with powder and shot,\n And every man hath a sword.\u2019\n\n 7.\n They merrily fought for three long hours,\n They fought for hours full three,\n And many a blow dealt many a wound,\n As they fought on the salt, salt sea.\n\n 8.\n \u2019Twas a broadside to a broadside then,\n And at it the which should win;\n A shot in the gallant ship bored a hole,\n And then did the water rush in.\n\n 9. _Wanting._\n\n 10^3. of the life-guards.\n\n 10^4. O the tidings be sad that I bring.\n\n#B. b.#\n\n 1\n In Scotland there lived three brothers of late,\n In Scotland there lived brothers three;\n Now the youngest cast lots with the other two,\n Which should go rob on the salt sea.\n\n 2\n The lot it did fall to bold Henry Martin,\n The youngest of all the three,\n And he had to turn robber all on the salt seas,\n To maintain his two brothers and he.\n\n 3\n He had not been sailing past a long winter\u2019s night,\n Past a long winter\u2019s night before day,\n Before he espied a lofty fine ship\n Come sailing all on the salt sea.\n\n 4\n \u2018O where are you bound for?\u2019 cried Henry Martin,\n \u2018O where are you bound for?\u2019 cried he;\n \u2018I\u2019m a rich-loaded ship bound for fair England,\n I pray you to let me pass free.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018O no! O no!\u2019 cried Henry Martin,\n \u2018O no! that can never be,\n Since I have turned robber all on the salt sea,\n To maintain my two brothers and me.\n\n 6\n \u2018Heave down your main tack, likewise your main tie,\n And lig yourself under my lee;\n For your rich glowing gold I will take it away,\n And your fair bodies drown in the salt sea.\u2019\n\n 7\n Then broadside to broadside they merrily fought,\n For fully two hours or three,\n When by chance Henry Martin gave her a broadside,\n And right down to the bottom went she.\n\n 8\n Bad news, bad news unto old England,\n Bad news I tell unto thee;\n For your rich glowing gold is all wasted away,\n And your mariners are drownd in the salt sea.\n\n #c.#\n\n 1\n There lived three brothers in merry Scotland,\n In merry Scotland lived brothers three,\n And they did cast lots which should rob on the sea,\n To maintain his two brothers and he.\n\n 2\n And the lot it did light on Henry Martin,\n The youngest of all the brothers three,\n And he went a roaming on the salt sea,\n To maintain his two brothers and he.\n\n 3\n And when they had sail\u00ebd five days and more\n On a rich merchant-ship coming down they then bore,\n As he went a roaming on the salt sea,\n To maintain his two brothers and he.\n\n 4\n The rich merchant-ship got wounded by he,\n And right down to the bottom of the salt sea went she,\n As he went a roaming on the salt sea,\n To maintain his two brothers and he.\n\n #B. c.#\n\n 1^2. three brothers.\n\n#C.#\n\n 1^4. sould _may possibly_ be wuld.\n\n 2^3, 4^1, 6^1. Oh.\n\n\n\n\n 251\n\n LANG JOHNNY MORE\n\n \u2018Lang Johnny Moir,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I,\n 248.\n\n\n\u2018Lang Johnny More,\u2019 Christie\u2019s Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 44, is\nepitomized from Buchan, \u201cwith a few alterations from the way the editor\nhas heard it sung.\u201d The variations are absolutely of no account, as in\nother cases in which Christie has used this phrase.\n\nJohnny More, a youth fourteen feet tall and three yards round the waist,\ngoes to London to bear the king\u2019s banner. He falls in love with the\nking\u2019s daughter, and she with him, and the king locks the lady up in her\nchamber and swears that he will hang the Scot. Johnny laughs at the\nhanging; but the English give him laudanum, and when he wakes he finds\nhis jaws and hands in iron bands and his feet in fetters. He sends a boy\nwith a letter asking his uncle to come to his aid, and to bring with him\nJock o Noth. These champions, \u2018twa grizly ghosts to see,\u2019 have three\nfeet between their brows and three yards between their shoulders. Coming\nto London they find the gates locked, because, as they learn from a\nkeeper, a Scot is to be hanged that morn. The keeper declining to open\nthe gates, Jock o Noth drives in three yards of the wall with his foot.\nJohnny More is standing with the rope round his neck, ready to be turned\noff. Though the portentous pair have a giant\u2019s strength, they are quite\ntoo superior to use it like a giant; they tell Johnny that there is no\nhelp for him if he has been guilty of a heinous crime. Learning that his\nonly crime is loving a gay lady, they require that his sword shall be\ngiven back to him, then go before the king and demand the lady; they\nhave come to her wedding. Take her, says the king. I never thought to\nsee such men. Jock of Noth could have brought a man thrice three times\nbigger, if he had supposed that his own size would cause such\nastonishment. Any way, says the craven king, the boy that took the\nmessage shall be hanged. In that case, replies Jock, we shall attend the\nburial and see that you get your reward. The king yields everything.\nJohnny More calls for a priest to join him and his love; the king for a\nclerk to seal the tocher. Johnny is rich, and spurns tocher. Auld Johnny\nMore, Young Johnny More, Jock o Noth and the boy go off with the lady.\n\nThis ballad has been referred to under No 99, II, 378, as perhaps an\nimitation, and in fact almost a parody, of \u2018Johnie Scot.\u2019 In No 99 John\nis the little Scot; here he is the muckle Scot, stanza 6 (Gaelic\nmor==big), and his helpmates, as well as he, are of gigantic size.\nExcepting in this and one other particular, the stories are materially\nthe same. In both Johnie goes to England to bear the king\u2019s banner; a\nlove-affair ensues between him and the king\u2019s daughter; the king puts\nhis daughter into confinement, and threatens to hang Johnie, but in the\nend is constrained to give him his daughter; Johnie calls for a priest\nto marry him and the princess, the king calls for a clerk to arrange the\ntocher; Johnie refuses tocher, and goes off with his love or bride.\n\nIn No 99 Johnie, who has escaped, comes to the rescue of the princess\nwith a redoubtable force; in this ballad Johnie is made prisoner, and\nsends for his uncle and another giant to come to his help. Their\nmonstrous dimensions make them, for ballad-purposes, fairly equivalent\nto the five hundred men who accompany Johnie in No 99.\n\nSome versions of No 99, as already remarked, have borrowed features from\nthis ballad. Auld Johnie and Jock o Noth are presented here, stanza 21,\nas twa grizly ghosts to see, and their brows are three feet apart, their\nshoulders three yards; and so with the champion in #A#, #H#, #L#, of No\n99.\n\nQuite curiously, the hero of the Breton ballad which resembles \u2018Johnie\nScot\u2019 is described as a giant (we must suppose on traditionary\nauthority) in the title of two copies.\n\nAuchindoir and Rhynie (parishes) are in the west of Aberdeenshire, north\nof the Don. Noth is a considerable hill in the latter.\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1\n There lives a man in Rynie\u2019s land,\n Anither in Auchindore,\n The bravest lad amo them a\u2019\n Was lang Johnny Moir.\n\n 2\n Young Johnny was an airy blade,\n Fu sturdy, stout, and strang;\n The sword that hang by Johnny\u2019s side\n Was just full ten feet lang.\n\n 3\n Young Johnny was a clever youth,\n Fu sturdy, stout, and wight,\n Just full three yards around the waist,\n And fourteen feet in hight.\n\n 4\n But if a\u2019 be true they tell me now,\n And a\u2019 be true I hear,\n Young Johnny\u2019s on to Lundan gane,\n The king\u2019s banner to bear.\n\n 5\n He hadna been in fair Lundan\n But twalmonths twa or three\n Till the fairest lady in a\u2019 Lundan\n Fell in love wi young Johnny.\n\n 6\n This news did sound thro Lundan town,\n Till it came to the king\n That the muckle Scot had fa\u2019in in love\n Wi his daughter, Lady Jean.\n\n 7\n Whan the king got word o that,\n A solemn oath sware he,\n This weighty Scot sall strait a rope,\n And hanged he shall be.\n\n 8\n When Johnny heard the sentence past,\n A light laugh then gae he:\n \u2018While I hae strength to wield my blade,\n Ye darena a\u2019 hang me.\u2019\n\n 9\n The English dogs were cunning rogues;\n About him they did creep,\n And gae him draps o lodomy\n That laid him fast asleep.\n\n 10\n Whan Johnny wakend frae his sleep\n A sorry heart had he;\n His jaws and hands in iron bands,\n His feet in fetters three.\n\n 11\n \u2018O whar will I get a little wee boy\n Will work for meat and fee,\n That will rin on to my uncle,\n At the foot of Benachie?\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018Here am I, a little wee boy\n Will work for meat and fee,\n That will rin on to your uncle,\n At the foot of Benachie.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018Whan ye come whar grass grows green,\n Slack your shoes and rin;\n And whan ye come whar water\u2019s strong,\n Ye\u2019ll bend your bow and swim.\n\n 14\n \u2018And whan ye come to Benachie\n Ye\u2019ll neither chap nor ca;\n Sae well\u2019s ye\u2019ll ken auld Johnny there,\n Three feet abeen them a\u2019.\n\n 15\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll gie to him this braid letter,\n Seald wi my faith and troth,\n And ye\u2019ll bid him bring alang wi him\n The body Jock o Noth.\u2019\n\n 16\n Whan he came whar grass grew green,\n He slackt his shoes and ran;\n And whan he came whar water\u2019s strong\n He bent his bow and swam.\n\n 17\n And whan he came to Benachie\n Did neither chap nor ca;\n Sae well\u2019s he kent auld Johnny there,\n Three feet abeen them a\u2019.\n\n 18\n \u2018What news, what news, my little wee boy?\n Ye never were here before;\u2019\n \u2018Nae news, nae news, but a letter from\n Your nephew, Johnny Moir.\n\n 19\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll take here this braid letter,\n Seald wi his faith and troth,\n And ye\u2019re bidden bring alang wi you\n The body Jock o Noth.\u2019\n\n 20\n Benachie lyes very low,\n The tap o Noth lyes high;\n For a\u2019 the distance that\u2019s between,\n He heard auld Johnny cry.\n\n 21\n Whan on the plain these champions met,\n Twa grizly ghosts to see,\n There were three feet between their brows,\n And shoulders were yards three.\n\n 22\n These men they ran ower hills and dales,\n And ower mountains high,\n Till they came on to Lundan town,\n At the dawn o the third day.\n\n 23\n And whan they came to Lundan town\n The yetts were lockit wi bands,\n And wha were there but a trumpeter,\n Wi trumpet in his hands?\n\n 24\n \u2018What is the matter, ye keepers all?\n Or what\u2019s the matter within\n That the drums do beat and bells do ring,\n And make sic dolefu din?\u2019\n\n 25\n \u2018There\u2019s naething the matter,\u2019 the keeper said,\n \u2018There\u2019s naething the matter to thee,\n But a weighty Scot to strait the rope,\n And the morn he maun die.\u2019\n\n 26\n \u2018O open the yetts, ye proud keepers,\n Ye\u2019ll open without delay;\u2019\n The trembling keeper, smiling, said,\n \u2018O I hae not the key.\u2019\n\n 27\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll open the yetts, ye proud keepers,\n Ye\u2019ll open without delay,\n Or here is a body at my back\n Frae Scotland has brought the key.\u2019\n\n 28\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll open the yetts,\u2019 says Jock o Noth,\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll open them at my call;\u2019\n Then wi his foot he has drove in\n Three yards braid o the wall.\n\n 29\n As they gaed in by Drury Lane,\n And down by the town\u2019s hall,\n And there they saw young Johnny Moir\n Stand on their English wall.\n\n 30\n \u2018Ye\u2019re welcome here, my uncle dear,\n Ye\u2019re welcome unto me;\n Ye\u2019ll loose the knot, and slack the rope,\n And set me frae the tree.\u2019\n\n 31\n \u2018Is it for murder, or for theft?\n Or is it for robberie?\n If it is for ony heinous crime,\n There\u2019s nae remeid for thee.\u2019\n\n 32\n \u2018It\u2019s nae for murder, nor for theft,\n Nor yet for robberie;\n A\u2019 is for the loving a gay lady\n They\u2019re gaun to gar me die.\u2019\n\n 33\n \u2018O whar\u2019s thy sword,\u2019 says Jock o Noth,\n \u2018Ye brought frae Scotland wi thee?\n I never saw a Scotsman yet\n But coud wield a sword or tree.\u2019\n\n 34\n \u2018A pox upo their lodomy,\n On me had sic a sway\n Four o their men, the bravest four,\n They bore my blade away.\u2019\n\n 35\n \u2018Bring back his blade,\u2019 says Jock o Noth,\n \u2018And freely to him it gie,\n Or I hae sworn a black Scot\u2019s oath\n I\u2019ll gar five million die.\n\n 36\n \u2018Now whar\u2019s the lady?\u2019 says Jock o Noth,\n \u2018Sae fain I woud her see;\u2019\n \u2018She\u2019s lockd up in her ain chamber,\n The king he keeps the key.\u2019\n\n 37\n So they hae gane before the king,\n With courage bauld and free;\n Their armour bright cast sic a light\n That almost dim\u2019d his ee.\n\n 38\n \u2018O whar\u2019s the lady?\u2019 says Jock o Noth,\n \u2018Sae fain as I woud her see;\n For we are come to her wedding,\n Frae the foot o Benachie.\u2019\n\n 39\n \u2018O take the lady,\u2019 said the king,\n \u2018Ye welcome are for me;\n I never thought to see sic men,\n Frae the foot o Benachie.\u2019\n\n 40\n \u2018If I had kend,\u2019 said Jock o Noth,\n \u2018Ye\u2019d wonderd sae muckle at me,\n I woud hae brought ane larger far\n By sizes three times three.\n\n 41\n \u2018Likewise if I had thought I\u2019d been\n Sic a great fright to thee,\n I\u2019d brought Sir John o Erskine Park;\n He\u2019s thretty feet and three.\u2019\n\n 42\n \u2018Wae to the little boy,\u2019 said the king,\n \u2018Brought tidings unto thee!\n Let all England say what they will,\n High hang\u00ebd shall he be.\u2019\n\n 43\n \u2018O if ye hang the little wee boy\n Brought tidings unto me,\n We shall attend his burial,\n And rewarded ye shall be.\u2019\n\n 44\n \u2018O take the lady,\u2019 said the king,\n \u2018And the boy shall be free;\u2019\n \u2018A priest, a priest,\u2019 then Johnny cried,\n \u2018To join my love and me.\u2019\n\n 45\n \u2018A clerk, a clerk,\u2019 the king replied,\n \u2018To seal her tocher wi thee;\u2019\n Out it speaks auld Johnny then,\n These words pronounced he:\n\n 46\n \u2018I want nae lands and rents at hame,\n I\u2019ll ask nae gowd frae thee;\n I am possessd o riches great,\n Hae fifty ploughs and three;\n Likewise fa\u2019s heir to ane estate\n At the foot o Benachie.\n\n 47\n \u2018Hae ye ony masons in this place,\n Or ony at your call,\n That ye may now send some o them\n To build your broken wall?\u2019\n\n 48\n \u2018Yes, there are masons in this place,\n And plenty at my call;\n But ye may gang frae whence ye came,\n Never mind my broken wall.\u2019\n\n 49\n They\u2019ve taen the lady by the hand\n And set her prison-free;\n Wi drums beating, and fifes playing,\n They spent the night wi glee.\n\n 50\n Now auld Johnny Moir, and young Johnny Moir,\n And Jock o Noth, a\u2019 three,\n The English lady, and little wee boy,\n Went a\u2019 to Benachie.\n\n * * * * *\n\n 27^4. hae.\n\n\n\n\n 252\n\n THE KITCHIE-BOY\n\n #A.# Skene MS., p. 89.\n\n #B.# \u2018Earl Richard\u2019s Daughter,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of\n Scotland, I, 145.\n\n #C.# \u2018Bonny Foot-Boy,\u2019 Alexander Fraser Tytler\u2019s Brown MS., No 7.\n\n #D.# \u2018The Kitchie-Boy,\u2019 Harris MS., fol. 21.\n\n #E.# \u2018Willie, the Kitchie-Boy,\u2019 Joseph Robertson\u2019s Note-Book,\n \u2018Adversaria,\u2019 p. 88.\n\n\nA lady of birth falls in love with her father\u2019s kitchen-boy (foot-boy,\n#C#). She makes her passion known to him. He begs for secrecy, for her\nfather would hang him; this is quite too likely, and she would be sent\nto a nunnery. The danger quickens her wits: she will send him off in a\nfine ship, and he can come back \u2018like some earl or baron\u2019s son\u2019 and\nmarry her (#C#). Being well provided with gold, her mother\u2019s legacy, she\nhas no difficulty in carrying out her plan; a very noble ship is\nprovided, and she gives Willie (#B#, #C#, #E#) a ring to mind him of\nher. She warns him, #C# 8, #E# 13, that there are pressing reasons why\nhe should not stay away very long. After a voyage of from three weeks to\ntwelve months, Willie lands at London, #A#, #E#; in Spain, #B#, #C#,\n#D#. A lady, looking over her castle-wall, sees the ship coming in, and\ngoes down to the shore with her maries to invite the master to dine. The\nmaster excuses himself; she asks him if he can fancy her; the woman he\nloves is far over the sea; the fairest woman in Scotland would break her\nheart if he should not return to her. The Spanish (or English) lady\noffers him a rich ring, to wear for her sake; he has a ring on his\nfinger which is far dearer than any she could give him. He sails\nhomeward; the lady\u2019s father sees the ship coming in, and is as much\nimpressed as his daughter could desire; he thinks some man of mark must\nbe aboard, and tells his daughter to busk herself, for he means to ask\nthe squire or lord to dine; he would give all his rents to have this\nsame marry his daughter. Willie blackens or paints or masks or veils his\nface, and goes with the father to the castle. He asks the lady if she\ncan fancy him; her father asks her if she will marry this lord, #C#. The\nman is far over sea that shall have her love, she replies. Willie hands\nher the ring which she had given him. Gat ye that by sea? or gat ye that\nby land? or gat ye it on the Spanish coast upon a dead man\u2019s hand? He\ngat it on a drowned man\u2019s hand. Alas! she cries, my true-love Willie!\nUpon this, Willie reveals himself. The father calls for a priest, little\nknowing that this lord was his own kitchen-boy.\n\nThe ballad is a modern \u201cadaptation\u201d of \u2018King Horn,\u2019 No 17, from which\n#A# 33, 34, #B# 47, #D# 7, 8, are taken outright. In the particular of\nthe hero\u2019s having his choice of two women it is more like the _gest_ of\n\u2018King Horn,\u2019 or \u2018Horn Childe and Maiden Rimnild;\u2019 but an independent\ninvention of the Spanish lady is not beyond the humble ability of the\ncomposer of \u2018The Kitchie-Boy.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n Skene MS., p. 89; taken down in the north of Scotland, 1802\u20133.\n\n 1\n There was a lady fair,\n An een a lady of birth an fame,\n She eyed her father\u2019s kitchen-boy,\n The greater was her shame.\n\n 2\n She could never her love reveal,\n Nor to him talk,\n But in the forest wide an brade,\n Where they were wont to walk.\n\n 3\n It fell ance upon a day\n Her father gaed frae home,\n And she sent for the kitchen-boy\n To her own room.\n\n 4\n \u2018Canna ye fancy me, Willie?\n Canna ye fancy me?\n By a\u2019 the lords I ever saw\n There is nane I loo but ye.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018O latna this be kent, lady,\n O latna this be . . . ,\n For gin yer father got word of this\n I vou he\u2019d gar me die.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018Yer life shall no be taen, Willie,\n Yer life sal na be taen;\n I wad er loss my ain heart\u2019s blood\n Or thy body gat wrang.\u2019\n\n 7\n Wi her monny fair speeches\n She made the boy bold,\n Till he began to kiss an clap,\n An on her sine lay hold.\n\n 8\n They hadna kissed an love claped,\n As lovers whan they meet,\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n 9\n \u2018The master-cook he will on me call,\n An answered he man be;\n An it wer kent I war in bower wi thee,\n I fear they wad gar me die.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018The master-cook may on ye call,\n But answerd he will never be,\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n 11\n \u2018For I hae three coffers fu o goud,\n Yer eyen did never see,\n An I will build a bonny ship for my love,\n An set her to the sea,\n And sail she east or sail she wast\n The ship sal be fair to see.\u2019\n\n 12\n She has built a bonny ship,\n And set her to the sea;\n The topmasts war o the red goud,\n The sails of tafetie.\n\n 13\n She gae him a gay goud ring,\n . . . . . . .\n To mind him on a gay lady\n That ance bear love to him.\n\n 14\n The day was fair, the ship was rare,\n Whan that swain set to sea;\n Whan that day twal-moth came and gaed,\n At London landed he.\n\n 15\n A lady looked our the castle-wa,\n Beheld the day gae down,\n And she beheld that bonny ship\n Come hailing to the town.\n\n 16\n \u2018Come here, come here, my maries a\u2019,\n Ye see na what I see;\n The bonniest ship is come to land\n Yer eyes did ever see.\n\n 17\n \u2018Gae busk ye, busk ye, my maries a\u2019,\n Busk ye unco fine,\n Till I gae down to yon shore-side,\n To invite yon squar to dine.\n\n 18\n \u2018O ye come up, gay young squar,\n An take wi me a dine;\n Ye sal eat o the guid white loaf,\n An drink the claret wine.\u2019\n\n 19\n \u2018I thank ye for yer bread,\n I thank ye for yer wine,\n I thank ye for yer courticie,\n But indeed I hanna time.\u2019\n\n 20\n \u2018Canna ye fancy me?\u2019 she says,\n \u2018Canna ye fancy me?\n O a\u2019 the lords an lairds I see\n There\u2019s nane I fancy but ye.\u2019\n\n 21\n \u2018The\u2019r far awa fra me,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018The\u2019r clean ayont the sea,\n That has my heart in hand,\n An my love ae sal be.\u2019\n\n 22\n \u2018Here is a guid goud ring,\n . . . . . .\n It will mind ye on a gay lady\n That ance bare love to ye.\u2019\n\n 23\n \u2018I ha a ring on my finger\n I loe thrice as well as thine,\n Tho yours were o the guid red goud\n An mine but simple tin.\u2019\n\n 24\n The day was fair, the ship was rare,\n Whan that squar set to sea;\n Whan that day twal-month came an gaed,\n At hame again landed he.\n\n 25\n The lady\u2019s father looked our castle-wa,\n To see the day gae down,\n An he beheld that bonny ship\n Come hailing to the town.\n\n 26\n \u2018Come here, my daughter,\n Ye see na what I see;\n The bonniest ship is come to land\n My eyes did ever see.\n\n 27\n \u2018Gae busk ye, my dochter,\n G[a]e busk ye unco fine,\n An I\u2019ll gae down to yon shore-side,\n To invite the squar to dine;\n I wad gie a\u2019 my rents\n To hae ye married to him.\u2019\n\n 28\n \u2018The\u2019r far awa frae me,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018Far ayont the sea,\n That has my heart in hand\n An my love ai sal be.\u2019\n\n 29\n \u2018O will ye come, ye gay hine squar,\n An take wi me a dine?\n Ye sal eat o the guid white bread,\n And drink the claret wine.\u2019\n\n 30\n \u2018I thank ye for yer bread,\n I thank ye for yer wine,\n I thank ye for yer courticie,\n For indeed I hanna grait time.\n\n 31\n \u2018O canna ye fancy me?\u2019 he says,\n \u2018O canna ye fancy me?\n O a\u2019 the ladys I eer did see\n There\u2019s nane I loo by ye.\u2019\n\n 32\n \u2018They are far awa fra me,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018The\u2019r far ayont the sea,\n That has my heart in hand,\n An my love ay sall be.\u2019\n\n 33\n \u2018Here it is, a gay goud ring,\n . . . . . .\n It will mind ye on a gay hin chil\n That ance bare love to ye.\u2019\n\n 34\n \u2018O gat ye that ring on the sea sailing?\n Or gat ye it on the land?\n O gat ye it on the shore laying,\n On a drowned man\u2019s hand?\u2019\n\n 35\n \u2018I got na it on the sea sailing,\n I got na it on the land,\n But I got it on the shore lying,\n On a drowned man\u2019s hand.\n\n 36\n \u2018O bonny was his cheek,\n An lovely was his face!\u2019\n \u2018Allas!\u2019 says she, \u2018it is my true-love Willie,\u2019\n . . . . . .\n\n 37\n He turned him round about,\n An sweetly could he smile;\n She turned her round, says, My love Willie,\n How could ye me beguile?\n\n 38\n \u2018A priest! a priest!\u2019 the old man cries,\n \u2018An lat this twa married be:\u2019\n Little did the old man kin\n It was his ain kitchen-boy.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 145.\n\n 1\n Earl Richard had but ae daughter,\n A maid o birth and fame;\n She loved her father\u2019s kitchen-boy,\n The greater was her shame.\n\n 2\n But she could neer her true-love see,\n Nor with him could she talk,\n In towns where she had wont to go,\n Nor fields where she could walk.\n\n 3\n But it fell ance upon a day\n Her father went from home;\n She\u2019s calld upon the kitchen boy\n To come and clean her room.\n\n 4\n \u2018Come sit ye down by me, Willie,\n Come sit ye down by me;\n There \u2018s nae a lord in a\u2019 the north\n That I can love but thee.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018Let never the like be heard, lady,\n Nor let it ever be;\n For if your father get word o this\n He will gar hang me hie.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018O ye shall neer be hangd, Willie,\n Your blude shall neer be drawn;\n I\u2019ll lay my life in pledge o thine\n Your body\u2019s neer get wrang.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018Excuse me now, my comely dame,\n No langer here I\u2019ll stay;\n You know my time is near expir\u2019d,\n And now I must away.\n\n 8\n \u2018The master-cook will on me call,\n And answered he must be;\n If I am found in bower with thee,\n Great anger will there be.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018The master-cook will on you call,\n But shall not answerd be;\n I\u2019ll put you in a higher place\n Than any cook\u2019s degree.\n\n 10\n \u2018I have a coffer full of gold,\n Another of white monie,\n And I will build a bonny ship,\n And set my love to sea.\n\n 11\n \u2018Silk shall be your sailing-clothes,\n Gold yellow is your hair,\n As white like milk are your twa hands,\n Your body neat and fair.\u2019\n\n 12\n This lady, with her fair speeches,\n She made the boy grow bold,\n And he began to kiss and clap,\n And on his love lay hold.\n\n 13\n And she has built a bonny ship,\n Set her love to the sea,\n Seven score o brisk young men\n To bear him companie.\n\n 14\n Then she\u2019s taen out a gay gold ring,\n To him she did it gie:\n \u2018This will mind you on the ladie, Willie,\n That\u2019s laid her love on thee.\u2019\n\n 15\n Then he\u2019s taen out a piece of gold,\n And he brake it in two:\n \u2018All I have in the world, my dame,\n For love I give to you.\u2019\n\n 16\n Now he is to his bonny ship,\n And merrily taen the sea;\n The lady lay oer castle-wa,\n The tear blinded her ee.\n\n 17\n They had not saild upon the sea\n A week but barely three\n When came a prosperous gale of wind,\n On Spain\u2019s coast landed he.\n\n 18\n A lady lay oer castle-wa,\n Beholding dale and down,\n And she beheld the bonny ship\n Come sailing to the town.\n\n 19\n \u2018Come here, come here, my maries a\u2019,\n Ye see not what I see;\n For here I see the bonniest ship\n That ever saild the sea.\n\n 20\n \u2018In her there is the bravest squire\n That eer my eyes did see;\n All clad in silk and rich attire,\n And comely, comely\u2019s he.\n\n 21\n \u2018O busk, O busk, my maries all,\n O busk and make ye fine;\n And we will on to yon shore-side,\n Invite yon squire to dine.\n\n 22\n \u2018Will ye come up to my castle\n Wi me and take your dine?\n And ye shall eat the gude white bread,\n And drink the claret wine.\u2019\n\n 23\n \u2018I thank you for your bread, lady,\n I thank you for your wine;\n I thank you for your kind offer,\n But now I have not time.\u2019\n\n 24\n \u2018I would gie all my land,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018Your gay bride were I she;\n And then to live on a small portion\n Contented I would be.\u2019\n\n 25\n \u2018She\u2019s far awa frae me, lady,\n She\u2019s far awa frae me\n That has my heart a-keeping fast,\n And my love still she\u2019ll be.\u2019\n\n 26\n \u2018But ladies they are unconstant,\n When their loves go to sea,\n And she\u2019ll be wed ere ye gae back;\n My love, pray stay wi me.\u2019\n\n 27\n \u2018If she be wed ere I go back,\n And prove sae false to me,\n I shall live single all my life;\n I\u2019ll neer wed one but she.\u2019\n\n 28\n Then she\u2019s taen out a gay gold ring,\n And gae him presentlie:\n \u2018'T will mind you on the lady, young man,\n That laid her love on thee.\u2019\n\n 29\n \u2018The ring that\u2019s on my mid-finger\n Is far dearer to me,\n Tho yours were o the gude red gold,\n And mine the metal free.\u2019\n\n 30\n He viewd them all, baith neat and small,\n As they stood on the shore,\n Then hoist the mainsail to the wind,\n Adieu, for evermore!\n\n 31\n He had not saild upon the sea\n A week but barely three\n Until there came a prosperous gale,\n In Scotland landed he.\n\n 32\n But he put paint upon his face,\n And oil upon his hair,\n Likewise a mask above his brow,\n Which did disguise him sair.\n\n 33\n Earl Richard lay oer castle-wa,\n Beholding dale and down,\n And he beheld the bonny ship\n Come sailing to the town.\n\n 34\n \u2018Come here, come here, my daughter dear,\n Ye see not what I see;\n For here I see the bonniest ship\n That ever saild the sea.\n\n 35\n \u2018In her there is the bravest squire\n That eer my eyes did see;\n O busk, O busk, my daughter dear,\n Come here, come here, to me.\n\n 36\n \u2018O busk, O busk, my daughter dear,\n O busk, and make ye fine,\n And we will on to the shore-side,\n Invite yon squire to dine.\u2019\n\n 37\n \u2018He\u2019s far awa frae me, father,\n He\u2019s far awa frae me\n Who has the keeping o my heart,\n And I\u2019ll wed nane but he.\u2019\n\n 38\n \u2018Whoever has your heart in hand,\n Yon lad\u2019s the match for thee,\n And he shall come to my castle\n This day and dine wi me.\n\n 39\n \u2018Will ye come up to my castle\n With me and take your dine?\n And ye shall eat the gude white bread,\n And drink the claret wine.\u2019\n\n 40\n \u2018Yes, I\u2019ll come up to your castle\n With you and take my dine,\n For I would give my bonny ship\n Were your fair daughter mine.\u2019\n\n 41\n \u2018I would give all my lands,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018That your bride she would be;\n Then to live on a small portion\n Contented would I be.\u2019\n\n 42\n As they gaed up from yon sea-strand\n And down the bowling-green,\n He drew the mask out-oer his face,\n For fear he should be seen.\n\n 43\n He\u2019s done him down from bower to bower,\n Likewise from bower to ha,\n And there he saw that lady gay,\n The flower out-oer them a\u2019.\n\n 44\n He\u2019s taen her in his arms twa,\n And haild her courteouslie:\n \u2018Excuse me, sir, there\u2019s no strange man\n Such freedom use with me.\u2019\n\n 45\n Her father turnd him round about,\n A light laugh then gave he:\n \u2018Stay, I\u2019ll retire a little while,\n Perhaps you may agree.\u2019\n\n 46\n Now Willie\u2019s taen a gay gold ring,\n And gave her presentlie;\n Says, Take ye that, ye lady fair,\n A love-token from me.\n\n 47\n \u2018O got ye\u2019t on the sea sailing?\n Or got ye\u2019t on the sand?\n Or got ye\u2019t on the coast of Spain,\n Upon a dead man\u2019s hand?\u2019\n\n 48\n \u2018Fine silk it was his sailing-clothes,\n Gold yellow was his hair;\n It would hae made a hale heart bleed\n To see him lying there.\n\n 49\n \u2018He was not dead as I passd by,\n But no remeid could be;\n He gave me this token to bear\n Unto a fair ladie.\n\n 50\n \u2018And by the marks he has descryvd\n I\u2019m sure that you are she;\n So take this token of free will,\n For him you\u2019ll never see.\u2019\n\n 51\n In sorrow she tore her mantle,\n With care she tore her hair:\n \u2018Now since I\u2019ve lost my own true-love,\n I\u2019ll neer love young men mair.\u2019\n\n 52\n He drew the mask from off his face,\n The lady sweetly smiled:\n \u2018Awa, awa, ye fause Willie!\n How have you me beguiled?\u2019\n\n 53\n Earl Richard he went thro the ha,\n The wine-glass in his hand,\n But little thought his kitchen-boy\n Was heir oer a\u2019 his land.\n\n 54\n But this she kept within her heart,\n And never told to one\n Until nine months they were expir\u2019d,\n That her young son came home.\n\n 55\n She told it to her father dear;\n He said, Daughter, well won;\n You\u2019ve married for love, not for gold,\n Your joys will neer be done.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n C\n\n Alexander Fraser Tytler\u2019s Brown MS., No 7.\n\n 1\n O there was a ladie, a noble ladie,\n She was a ladie of birth and fame,\n But she fell in love wi her father\u2019s foot-boy,\n I wis she was the mair to blame.\n\n 2\n A word of him she neer could get\n Till her father was a hunting gone;\n Then she calld on the bonny foot-boy\n To speak wi her in her bower alone.\n\n 3\n Says, Ye ken you are my love, Willie,\n And that I am a ladie free,\n And there\u2019s naething ye can ask, Willie,\n But at your bidding I maun be.\n\n 4\n O the loving looks that ladie gave\n Soon made the bonny boy grow bold,\n And the loving words that ladie spake\n As soon on them he did lay hold.\n\n 5\n She has taen a ring frae her white finger,\n And unto him she did it gie;\n Says, Wear this token for my sake,\n And keep it till the day you die.\n\n 6\n \u2018But shoud my father get word of this\n I fear we baith will have cause to rue,\n For to some nunnery I shoud be sent,\n And I fear, my love, he would ruin you.\n\n 7\n \u2018But here is a coffer of the good red gowd,\n I wot my mother left it to me;\n And wi it you\u2019ll buy a bonny ship,\n And ye maun sail the raging sea;\n Then like some earl or baron\u2019s son\n You can come back and marrie me.\n\n 8\n \u2018But stay not lang awa, Willie,\n O stay not lang across the fame,\n For fear your ladie shoud lighter be,\n Or your young son shoud want a name.\u2019\n\n 9\n He had not been o the sea sailling\n But till three months were come and gane,\n Till he has landed his bonny ship;\n It was upon the coast of Spain.\n\n 10\n There was a ladie of high degree\n That saw him walking up and down;\n She fell in love wi sweet Willie,\n But she wist no how to make it known.\n\n 11\n She has calld up her maries a\u2019,\n Says, Hearken well to what I say;\n There is a young man in yon ship\n That has been my love this many a day.\n\n 12\n \u2018Now bear a hand, my maries a\u2019,\n And busk me brave and make me fine,\n And go wi me to yon shore-side\n To invite that noble youth to dine.\u2019\n\n 13\n O they have buskit that ladie gay\n In velvet pall and jewels rare;\n A poor man might have been made rich\n Wi half the pearles they pat in her hair.\n\n 14\n Her mantle was of gowd sae red,\n It glaned as far as ane coud see;\n Sweet Willie thought she had been the queen,\n And bowd full low and bent his knee.\n\n 15\n She\u2019s gard her maries step aside,\n And on sweet Willie sae did smile;\n She thought that man was not on earth\n But of his heart she could beguile.\n\n 16\n Says, Ye maun leave your bonny ship\n And go this day wi me and dine,\n And you shall eat the baken meat,\n And you shall drink the Spanish wine.\n\n 17\n \u2018I canna leave my bonny ship,\n Nor go this day to dine wi thee,\n For a\u2019 my sails are ready bent\n To bear me back to my ain countrie.\u2019\n\n 18\n \u2018O gin you\u2019d forsake your bonny ship\n And wed a ladie of this countrie,\n I would make you lord of a\u2019 this town,\n And towns and castles twa or three.\u2019\n\n 19\n \u2018Should I wed a ladie of this countrie,\n In sooth I woud be sair to blame,\n For the fairest ladie in fair Scotland\n Woud break her heart gin I gaed na hame.\u2019\n\n 20\n \u2018That ladie may choose another lord,\n And you another love may choose;\n There is not a lord in this countrie\n That such a proffer could refuse.\u2019\n\n 21\n \u2018O ladie, shoud I your proffer take,\n You\u2019d soon yoursell have cause to rue,\n For the man that his first love forsakes\n Woud to a seccond neer prove true.\u2019\n\n 22\n She has taen a ring frae her white finger,\n It might have been a prince\u2019s fee;\n Says, Wear this token for my sake,\n And give me that which now I see.\n\n 23\n \u2018Take back your token, ye ladie fair;\n This ring you see on my right hand\n Was gien me by my ain true-love,\n Before I left my native land.\n\n 24\n \u2018And tho yours woud buy it nine times oer\n I far more dearly prize my ain;\n Nor woud I make the niffer,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018For a\u2019 the gowd that is in Spain.\u2019\n\n 25\n The ladie turnd her head away\n To dry the sat tears frae her eyne;\n She naething more to him did say\n But, I wish your face I neer had seen!\n\n 26\n He has set his foot on good ship-board,\n The ladie waved her milk-white hand,\n The wind sprang up and filld his sails,\n And he quickly left the Spanish land.\n\n 27\n He soon came back to his native strand,\n He langd his ain true-love to see;\n Her father saw him come to land,\n And took him some great lord to be.\n\n 28\n Says, Will ye leave your bonny ship\n And come wi me this day to dine?\n And you shall eat the baken meat,\n And you shall drink the claret wine.\n\n 29\n \u2018O I will leave my bonny ship,\n And gladly go wi you to dine,\n And I woud gie thrice three thousand pounds\n That your fair daughter were but mine.\u2019\n\n 30\n \u2018O gin ye will part wi your bonny ship\n And wed a ladie of this countrie,\n I will gie you my ae daughter,\n Gin she\u2019ll consent your bride to be.\u2019\n\n 31\n O he has blaket his bonny face\n And closs tuckd up his yellow hair;\n His true-love met them at the yate,\n But she little thought her love was there.\n\n 32\n \u2018O will you marrie this lord, daughter,\n That I\u2019ve brought hame to dine wi me?\n You shall be heir of a\u2019 my lands,\n Gin you\u2019ll consent his bride to be.\u2019\n\n 33\n She looked oer her left shoulder,\n I wot the tears stood in her eye;\n Says, The man is on the sea sailling\n That fair wedding shall get of me.\n\n 34\n Then Willie has washd his bonny face,\n And he\u2019s kaimd down his yellow hair;\n He took his true-love in his arms,\n And kindly has he kissd her there.\n\n 35\n She\u2019s looked in his bonny face,\n And thro her tears did sweetly smile,\n Then sayd, Awa, awa, Willie!\n How could you thus your love beguile?\n\n 36\n She kept the secret in her breast,\n Full seven years she\u2019s kept the same,\n Till it fell out at a christning-feast,\n And then of it she made good game.\n\n 37\n And her father laughd aboon the rest,\n And said, My daughter, you\u2019r nae to blame;\n For you\u2019ve married for love, and no for land,\n So a\u2019 my gowd is yours to claim.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n D\n\n Harris MS., fol. 21; from the recitation of Mrs Harris and others.\n\n 1\n There lived a lady in the north\n O muckle birth an fame;\n She\u2019s faun in love wi her kitchie-boy,\n The greater was her shame.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 2\n \u2018Maister cook, he will cry oot,\n An answered he maun be;\u2019\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n 3\n \u2018I hae a coffer o ried gowd\n My mither left to me,\n An I will build a bonnie ship,\n And send her ower the sea,\n An you\u2019ll come hame like lord or squire,\n An answered you maun be.\u2019\n\n 4\n She has biggit a bonnie ship,\n Sent her across the main,\n An in less than sax months an a day\n That ship cam back again.\n\n 5\n \u2018Go dress, go dress, my dochter Janet,\n Go dress, an mak you fine,\n An we\u2019ll go doun to yon shore-side\n An bid yon lords to dine.\u2019\n\n 6\n He\u2019s pued the black mask ower his face,\n Kaimed doun his yellow hair,\n A\u2019 no to lat her father ken\n That ere he had been there.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 7\n \u2018Oh, got you that by sea sailin?\n Or got you that by land?\n Or got you that on Spanish coast,\n Upon a died man\u2019s hand?\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018I got na that by sea sailin,\n I got na that by land;\n But I got that on Spanish coast,\n Upon a died man\u2019s hand.\u2019\n\n 9\n He\u2019s pued the black mask aff his face,\n Threw back his yellow hair,\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n 10\n \u2018A priest, a priest,\u2019 the lady she cried,\n \u2018To marry my love an me;\u2019\n \u2018A clerk, a clerk,\u2019 her father cried,\n \u2018To sign her tocher free.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n E\n\n Joseph Robertson\u2019s Note-Book \u201cAdversaria,\u201d p. 88; from tradition.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 1\n And she has built a lofty ship,\n And set her to the main;\n The masts o her were o gude reed gowd,\n And the sails o silver clear.\n\n 2\n \u2018Ye winna bide three months awa\n When ye\u2019ll return again,\n In case your lady lichter be,\n And your baby want the name.\u2019\n\n 3\n But the wind blew high,\n The mariners they did land at Lundin soon.\n\n 4\n A lady sat on the castell-wa,\n Beheld baith dale and down,\n And there she saw this lofty ship,\n Comin sailin in the Downs.\n\n 5\n \u2018Look out, look out, my maidens a\u2019,\n Ye seena what I see;\n For I do see as bonny a ship\n As ever sailed the sea,\n And the master o her\u2019s the bonniest boy\n That ever my eyes did see.\u2019\n\n 6\n She\u2019s taen her mantell her about,\n Her cane intill her han,\n And she\u2019s away to the shore-side,\n Till invite the square to dine.\n\n 7\n \u2018O will ye come to our castell?\n Or will ye sup or dine?\u2019\n \u2018O excuse me, madam,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018For I hae but little time.\u2019\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 8\n The wind blew high,\n The mariners they did land at home again.\n\n 9\n The old man sat in the castell-wa,\n Beholding dale and down,\n And there he spied this goodly ship\n Come sailin to the town.\n\n 10\n \u2018Look out, look out, my dauchter dear,\n Ye see not what I see;\n For I do see as bonny a ship\n As ever sailed the sea.\n\n 11\n \u2018And the master o her\u2019s the bonniest boy\n That my eyes did ever see,\n And if I were a woman as I\u2019m a man\n My husband he should be.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018Haud far awa frae me, fader,\n Haud far awa frae me,\n For I never had a lad but ane,\n And he\u2019s far awa at sea.\n\n 13\n \u2018There is a love-token atween us twa,\n It\u2019ll be mair ere it be less,\n An aye the langer he bides awa\n It will the mair encreass.\u2019\n\n 14\n He\u2019s taen his mantell him about,\n His cane intil his hand,\n And he\u2019s awa to the shore-side,\n To invite the square to dine.\n\n 15\n \u2018O will ye come to our castle?\n Or will ye sup or dine?\u2019\n \u2018Indeed I will, kind sir,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018Tho I\u2019ve but little time.\u2019\n\n 16\n The lady sat on castle-wa,\n Beholding dale and down,\n But he\u2019s put his veil upon his face,\n That she might not him ken.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A.#\n\n _Written in long couplets._\n\n 8^1. hadne.\n\n 22^4, 32^4. ance hane? _Cf._ 3^4.\n\n 23^2. I lee. 35^2. got no.\n\n#B.#\n\n 11^2. yellow in.\n\n#C.#\n\n 14^2. glaned. Glant, glent _is probably intended_. Glancd _is less\n likely_.\n\n 20^4. could. _MS. possibly_ would.\n\n#E.#\n\n _Before_ 1: \u201cA lady falls in love with her father\u2019s kitchie-boy\n when her father is absent, and to conceal him from him procures\n a ship and puts him to sea. Her father thinks he has run away.\u201d\n\n _After 7_: She kills herself.\n\n _After 16_: Continued on page [ ]: _but not continued_.\n\n\n\n\n 253\n\n THOMAS O YONDERDALE\n\n #a.# Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 221.\n\n #b.# Christie\u2019s Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 96.\n\n\n#b# is epitomized from #a#, with a few variations, mostly very trifling,\nas Christie had heard the ballad sung.\n\nThomas of Yonderdale gains Lady Maisry\u2019s love and has a son by her.\nOverhearing some reproachful words one day as he passes her bower, he is\ntouched, and promises to marry her after returning from a voyage, but\nwhile he is in a strange country wooes another woman. He dreams that\nMaisry stands by his bed upbraiding him for his inconstancy, and sends a\nboy to her to bring her to his wedding. Maisry comes, arrayed, as she\nhad been directed, in noble style. The bride asks the boy who she may\nbe, and is told that she is Thomas\u2019s first love. Maisry asks Thomas why\nshe was sent for: she is to be his wife. The nominal bride asks his\nwill: she is to go home, with the comfort of being sent back in a coach,\nwhereas she came on a hired horse! This ill-used, but not diffident,\nyoung woman proposes that Thomas shall give two thirds of his lands to\nhis brother and make him marry her. Thomas refuses to divide his lands\nfor any woman, and has no power over his brother. According to #b#, the\ndiscarded bride asks only a modest third of Thomas\u2019s lands for the\nbrother; Thomas promises to give a third to _her_, but disclaims, as in\n#a#, his competency to arrange a marriage for his brother.\n\n\nThis looks like a recent piece, fabricated, with a certain amount of\ncheap mortar, from recollections of \u2018Fair Annie,\u2019 No 62, \u2018Lord Thomas\nand Fair Annet,\u2019 No 73, and \u2018Young Beichan,\u2019 No 53.\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1\n Lady Maisry lives intill a bower,\n She never wore but what she would;\n Her gowns were o the silks sae fine,\n Her coats stood up wi bolts o gold.\n\n 2\n Mony a knight there courted her,\n And gentlemen o high degree,\n But it was Thomas o Yonderdale\n That gaind the love o this ladie.\n\n 3\n Now he has hunted her till her bower,\n Baith late at night and the mid day,\n But when he stole her virgin rose\n Nae mair this maid he would come nigh.\n\n 4\n But it fell ance upon a time\n Thomas her bower he walk\u00ebd by;\n There he saw her Lady Maisry,\n Nursing her young son on her knee.\n\n 5\n \u2018O seal on you, my bonny babe,\n And lang may ye my comfort be!\n Your father passes by our bower,\n And now minds neither you nor me.\u2019\n\n 6\n Now when Thomas heard her speak,\n The saut tear trinkled frae his ee;\n To Lady Maisry\u2019s bower he went,\n Says, Now I\u2019m come to comfort thee.\n\n 7\n \u2018Is this the promise ye did make\n Last when I was in your companie?\n You said before nine months were gane\n Your wedded wife that I should be.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018If Saturday be a bonny day,\n Then, my love, I maun sail the sea;\n But if I live for to return,\n O then, my love, I\u2019ll marry thee.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018I wish Saturday a stormy day,\n High and stormy be the sea,\n Ships may not sail, nor boats row,\n But gar true Thomas stay wi me.\u2019\n\n 10\n Saturday was a bonny day,\n Fair and leesome blew the wind;\n Ships did sail, and boats did row,\n Which had true Thomas to unco ground.\n\n 11\n He hadna been on unco ground\n A month, a month but barely three,\n Till he has courted anither maid,\n And quite forgotten Lady Maisry.\n\n 12\n Ae night as he lay on his bed,\n In a dreary dream dreamed he\n That Maisry stood by his bedside,\n Upbraiding him for\u2019s inconstancie.\n\n 13\n He\u2019s calld upon his little boy,\n Says, Bring me candle, that I see;\n And ye maun gang this night, [my] boy,\n Wi a letter to a gay ladie.\n\n 14\n \u2018It is my duty you to serve,\n And bring you coal and candle-light,\n And I would rin your errand, master,\n If\u2019t were to Lady Maisry bright.\n\n 15\n \u2018Tho my legs were sair I coudna gang,\n Tho the night were dark I coudna see,\n Tho I should creep on hands and feet,\n I woud gae to Lady Maisry.\u2019\n\n 16\n \u2018Win up, win up, my bonny boy,\n And at my bidding for to be;\n For ye maun quickly my errand rin,\n For it is to Lady Maisry.\n\n 17\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll bid her dress in the gowns o silk,\n Likewise in the coats o cramasie;\n Ye\u2019ll bid her come alang wi you,\n True Thomas\u2019s wedding for to see.\n\n 18\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll bid her shoe her steed before,\n And a\u2019 gowd graithing him behind;\n On ilka tip o her horse mane,\n Twa bonny bells to loudly ring.\n\n 19\n \u2018And on the tor o her saddle\n A courtly bird to sweetly sing;\n Her bridle-reins o silver fine,\n And stirrups by her side to hing.\u2019\n\n 20\n She dressd her in the finest silk,\n Her coats were o the cramasie,\n And she\u2019s awa to unco land,\n True Thomas\u2019s wedding for to see.\n\n 21\n At ilka tippet o her horse mane,\n Twa bonny bells did loudly ring,\n And on the tor o her saddle\n A courtly bird did sweetly sing.\n\n 22\n The bells they rang, the bird he sang,\n As they rode in yon pleasant plain;\n Then soon she met true Thomas\u2019s bride,\n Wi a\u2019 her maidens and young men.\n\n 23\n The bride she garned round about,\n \u2018I wonder,\u2019 said she, \u2018who this may be?\n It surely is our Scottish queen,\n Come here our wedding for to see.\u2019\n\n 24\n Out it speaks true Thomas\u2019s boy,\n \u2018She maunna lift her head sae hie;\n But it\u2019s true Thomas\u2019s first love,\n Come here your wedding for to see.\u2019\n\n 25\n Then out bespake true Thomas\u2019s bride,\n I wyte the tear did blind her ee;\n If this be Thomas\u2019s first true-love,\n I\u2019m sair afraid he\u2019ll neer hae me.\n\n 26\n Then in it came her Lady Maisry,\n And aye as she trips in the fleer,\n \u2018What is your will, Thomas?\u2019 she said,\n \u2018This day, ye know, ye calld me here.\u2019\n\n 27\n \u2018Come hither by me, ye lily flower,\n Come hither and set ye down by me,\n For ye\u2019re the ane I\u2019ve call\u2019d upon,\n And ye my wedded wife maun be.\u2019\n\n 28\n Then in it came true Thomas\u2019s bride,\n And aye as she trippd on the stane,\n \u2018What is your will, Thomas?\u2019 she said,\n \u2018This day, ye know, ye calld me hame.\u2019\n\n 29\n \u2018Ye hae come on hired horseback,\n But ye\u2019se gae hame in coach sae free;\n For here\u2019s the flower into my bower\n I mean my wedded wife shall be.\u2019\n\n 30\n \u2018O ye will break your lands, Thomas,\n And part them in divisions three;\n Gie twa o them to your ae brother,\n And cause your brother marry me.\u2019\n\n 31\n \u2018I winna break my lands,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018For ony woman that I see;\n My brother\u2019s a knight o wealth and might,\n He\u2019ll wed nane but he will for me.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n#b.#\n\n 1^4. And a\u2019 stood.\n\n 2^1. And mony knight.\n\n 2^4. this gay.\n\n 8^3. return again.\n\n 10^1. And Saturday.\n\n 10^4. took true.\n\n 13^2. I may see.\n\n 13^3. my boy.\n\n 16^2. ye maun be.\n\n 24^3. ain first.\n\n 30^3. Gie ane.\n\n 31\n \u2018O I will break my lands,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018And ae third will I gie to thee;\n But my brother\u2019s ane o wealth and might,\n And he\u2019ll wed nane but he will for me.\u2019\n\n\n\n\n 254\n\n LORD WILLIAM, OR, LORD LUNDY\n\n #A.# Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 361. \u2018Sweet William,\u2019 Motherwell\u2019s\n Minstrelsy, p. 307.\n\n #B.# \u2018Lord Lundy,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 57.\n\n #C.# \u2018Lord William,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s MSS, II, 126; Dixon, Scottish\n Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads, p. 57, Percy Society, vol.\n xvii.\n\n\nSweet William (Lord William\u2019s son, or Lord William) and the Baillie\u2019s\ndaughter (Lord Lundy\u2019s daughter) have been lovers: they have in fact\nbeen over-sea together, learning \u201csome unco lair.\u201d The young woman\u2019s\nfather recalls her from her studies abroad, and requires her to marry a\nSouthland lord (the young prince of England). She will submit to her\nfather\u2019s will, though she had rather die. In #A# she sends a letter to\nWilliam by a bird. The minister has begun the marriage-service, when the\nlover enters the church with a party of armed men and bids the\nbridegroom stand back; the bride shall join with him. The father fumes;\nwould shoot William if he had a pistol, #A#; will give his daughter no\ndowry, #B#. William of course cares not the least for dowry; he has what\nhe wants. He tells his \u2018foremost man\u2019 to lift his bride on her horse,\nand sends commendations to her mother.\n\n\n#A# 4, #B# 10, 11, #C# 6, 7, may be borrowed from \u2018Fair Janet,\u2019 No 64,\n#G# 1, 2, II, 110.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 361; from the recitation of Agnes Lyle, an old\n woman of Kilbarchan.\n\n 1\n Sweet William\u2019s gone over seas,\n Some unco lair to learn,\n And our gude Bailie\u2019s ae dochter\n Is awa to learn the same.\n\n 2\n In one broad buke they learned baith,\n In one broad bed they lay;\n But when her father came to know\n He gart her come away.\n\n 3\n \u2018It\u2019s you must marry that Southland lord,\n His lady for to be;\n It\u2019s ye maun marry that Southland lord,\n Or nocht ye\u2019ll get frae me.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018I must marry that Southland lord,\n Father, an it be your will;\n But I rather it were my burial-day,\n My grave for to fill.\u2019\n\n 5\n She walked up, she walked down,\n Had none to make her moan,\n Nothing but the pretty bird\n Sat on the causey-stone.\n\n 6\n \u2018If thou could speak, wee bird,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018As weell as thou can flee,\n I would write a long letter\n To Will ayont the sea.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018What thou wants wi Will,\u2019 it says,\n \u2018Thou\u2019ll seal it with thy ring,\n Tak a thread o silk and anither o twine,\n About my neck will hing.\u2019\n\n 8\n What she wanted wi Willie\n She sealed it wi a ring,\n Took a thread of silk, another o twine,\n About its neck did hing.\n\n 9\n This bird flew high, this bird flew low,\n This bird flew owre the sea,\n Until it entered the same room\n Wherein was Sweet Willie.\n\n 10\n This bird flew high, this bird flew low,\n Poor bird, it was mistaen!\n It let the letter fa on Baldie\u2019s breist,\n Instead of Sweet William.\n\n 11\n \u2018Here\u2019s a letter, William,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018I\u2019m sure it\u2019s not to me;\n And gin the morn gin twelve o\u2019clock\n Your love shall married be.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018Come saddle to me my horse,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018The brown and a\u2019 that\u2019s speedie,\n And I\u2019ll awa to Old England,\n To bring home my ladie.\u2019\n\n 13\n Awa he gaed, awa he rade,\n Awa wi mickle speed;\n He lichtit at every twa miles\u2019 end,\n Lichtit and changed his steed.\n\n 14\n When she entered the church-style,\n The tear was in her ee;\n But when she entered the church-door\n A blythe sicht did she see.\n\n 15\n \u2018O hold your hand, you minister,\n Hold it a little wee,\n Till I speak wi the bonnie bride,\n For she\u2019s a friend to me.\n\n 16\n \u2018Stand off, stand off, you braw bridegroom,\n Stand off a little wee;\n Stand off, stand off, you braw bridegroom,\n For the bride shall join wi me.\u2019\n\n 17\n Up and spak the bride\u2019s father,\n And an angry man was he;\n \u2018If I had pistol, powther and lead,\n And all at my command,\n I would shoot thee stiff and dead\n In the place where thou dost stand.\u2019\n\n 18\n Up and spoke then Sweet William,\n And a blithe blink from his ee;\n \u2018If ye neer be shot till I shoot you,\n Ye\u2019se neer be shot for me.\n\n 19\n \u2018Come out, come out, my foremost man,\n And lift my lady on;\n Commend me all to my good-mother,\n At night when ye gang home.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 57.\n\n 1\n Lord William has but ae dear son,\n In this world had nae mair;\n Lord Lundie had but ae daughter,\n And he will hae nane but her.\n\n 2\n They dressed up in maids\u2019 array,\n And passd for sisters fair;\n With ae consent gaed ower the sea,\n For to seek after lear.\n\n 3\n They baith did eat at ae braid board,\n In ae bed baith did lye;\n When Lord Lundie got word o that,\n He\u2019s taen her soon away.\n\n 4\n When Lord Lundie got word of that,\n An angry man was he;\n He wrote his daughter on great haste\n To return right speedilie.\n\n 5\n When she looked the letter upon,\n A light laugh then gae she;\n But ere she read it till an end\n The tear blinded her ee.\n\n 6\n \u2018Bad news, bad news, my love Willie,\n Bad news is come to me;\n My father\u2019s written a braid letter,\n Bids me gae speedilie.\n\n 7\n \u2018Set trysts, set trysts, my love Willie,\n Set trysts, I pray, wi me;\n Set trysts, set trysts, my love Willie,\n When will our wedding be.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018On Wednesday, on Wednesday,\n The first that ever ye see;\n On Wednesday at twelve o\u2019clock,\n My dear, I\u2019ll meet wi thee.\u2019\n\n 9\n When she came to her father\u2019s ha,\n He hailed her courteouslie;\n Says, I\u2019ll forgie offences past,\n If now ye\u2019ll answer me.\n\n 10\n \u2018Will ye marry yon young prince,\n Queen of England to be?\n Or will you marry Lord William\u2019s son,\n Be loved by nane but he?\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018I will marry yon young prince,\n Father, if it be your will;\n But I woud rather I were dead and gane,\n My grave I woud win till.\u2019\n\n 12\n When she was in her saddle set,\n She skyred like the fire,\n To go her bridegroom for to meet,\n For whom she\u2019d nae desire.\n\n 13\n On every tippet o her horse mane\n There hang a siller bell,\n And whether the wind blew east or west\n They gae a sundry knell.\n\n 14\n And when she came to Mary\u2019s kirk\n She skyred like the fire;\n There her young bridegroom she did meet,\n For whom she\u2019d nae desire.\n\n 15\n She looked ower her left shoulder,\n The tear blinded her ee;\n But looking ower her right shoulder,\n A blythe sight then saw she.\n\n 16\n There she saw Lord William\u2019s son,\n And mony a man him wi,\n Wi targes braid and glittering spears\n All marching ower the lee.\n\n 17\n The minister looked on a book\n Her marriage to begin:\n \u2018If there is naething to be said,\n These two may join in ane.\u2019\n\n 18\n \u2018O huly, huly, sir,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018O stay a little wee;\n I hae a friend to welcome yet\n That\u2019s been a dear friend to me.\u2019\n\n 19\n O then the parson he spake out,\n A wise word then spake he;\n \u2018You might hae had your friends welcomd\n Before ye\u2019d come to me.\u2019\n\n 20\n Then in it came the bride\u2019s first love,\n And mony a man him wi:\n \u2018Stand back, stand back, ye jelly bridegroom,\n Bride, ye maun join wi me.\u2019\n\n 21\n Then out it speaks him Lord Lundie,\n An angry man was he;\n \u2018Lord William\u2019s son will hae my daughter\n Without leave askd of me.\n\n 22\n \u2018But since it\u2019s sae that she will gang,\n And proved sae fause to thee,\n I\u2019ll make a vow, and keep it true,\n Nae portion shall I gie.\u2019\n\n 23\n Then out it speaks the bride\u2019s first love,\n And [a] light laugh then gae he;\n \u2018I\u2019ve got the best portion now, my lord,\n That ye can gie to me.\n\n 24\n \u2018Your gude red gold I value not,\n Nor yet your white monie;\n I hae her by the hand this day\n That\u2019s far dearer to me.\n\n 25\n \u2018So gie the prince a coffer o gold\n When he gaes to his bed,\n And bid him clap his coffer o gold,\n And I\u2019ll clap my bonny bride.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n C\n\n Buchan\u2019s MSS, II, 126.\n\n 1\n Lord William has gane oer the sea\n For to seek after lear;\n Lord Lundie had but ae daughter,\n And he\u2019d wed nane but her.\n\n 2\n Upon a book they both did read,\n And in ae bed did ly:\n \u2018But if my father get word of this,\n I\u2019ll soon be taen away.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018Your father\u2019s gotten word of this,\n Soon married then ye\u2019ll be;\n Set trysts, set trysts wi me, Janet,\n Set trysts, set trysts wi me.\n\n 4\n \u2018Set trysts, set trysts wi me, Janet,\n When your wedding-day\u2019s to be;\n \u2018On Saturday, the first that comes,\n Must be my wedding-day.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018Bad news, bad news is come, Janet,\n Bad news is come to me;\n Your father\u2019s gotten word of this,\n Soon married then ye\u2019ll be.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018O will ye marry the young prince, daughter,\n The queen of England to be?\n Or will ye marry Lord William,\n And die immediately?\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018O I will marry the young prince, father,\n Because it is your will;\n But I wish it was my burial-day,\n For my grave I could gang till.\u2019\n\n 8\n When they gaed in into the kirk,\n And ae seat they sat in,\n The minister took up the book,\n The marriage to begin.\n\n 9\n \u2018Lay down the book, O dear, kind sir,\n And wait a little wee;\n I have a lady to welcome yet,\n She\u2019s been a good friend to me.\u2019\n\n 10\n Out then spake the minister,\n An angry man was he;\n \u2018You might have had your ladies welcomd\n Before ye came to me.\u2019\n\n 11\n She looked oer her left shoulder,\n And tears did blind her ee;\n But she looked oer her right shoulder,\n And a blythe sight saw she,\n For in there came him Lord William,\n And his valiant company.\n\n 12\n And in there came him Lord William,\n His armour shining clear,\n And in it came him Lord William,\n And many glittering spear.\n\n 13\n \u2018Stand by, stand by, ye bonny bridegroom,\n Stand by, stand by,\u2019 said he;\n \u2018Stand by, stand by, ye bonny bridegroom,\n Bride, ye maun join wi me.\n\n 14\n \u2018Let the young prince clap his coffer of gold\n When he gangs to his bed;\n Let the young prince clap his coffer of gold,\n But I\u2019ll clap my bonny bride.\u2019\n\n 15\n Out it spake him Lord Lundie,\n And an angry man was he;\n \u2018My daughter will marry him Lord William,\n It seems, in spite of me.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A, C.#\n\n _Motherwell and Dixon have made a few slight changes._\n\n\n\n\n 255\n\n WILLIE\u2019S FATAL VISIT\n\n Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 259.\n\n\nA maid, Meggie, inquires after her lover, Willie, and is told that he\nwill be with her at night. Willie tirls the pin and is admitted. He is\ngiven the option of cards, wine, or bed, and chooses the bed, a too\nfamiliar commonplace in Buchan\u2019s ballads. Meggie charges the cock not to\ncrow till day, but the cock crows an hour too soon. Willie dons his\nclothes, and in a dowie den encounters a grievous ghost, which, wan and\nweary though it be, smiles upon him; smiles, we may suppose, to have\ncaught him. Willie has travelled this road often, and never uttered a\nprayer for safety; but he will never travel that road again. The ghost\ntears him to pieces, and hangs a bit \u2018on every seat\u2019 of Mary\u2019s kirk, the\nhead right over Meggie\u2019s pew! Meggie rives her yellow hair.\n\nThe first half of this piece is a medley of \u2018Sweet William\u2019s Ghost,\u2019\n\u2018Clerk Saunders,\u2019 and \u2018The Grey Cock.\u2019 For 1^{3\u20136}, 2, compare No 77,\n#A#, #E#, 2, 3, No 248, 1; for 5\u20138, No 69, #F# 3\u20136, No 70, #B# 2, 4; for\n9, 10, No 248, 6, 7. 13 is caught, or taken, from \u2018Clyde\u2019s Water,\u2019 No\n216, #A# 7.\n\nStanzas 15\u201317, wherever they came from, are too good for the setting:\nnothing so spirited, word or deed, could have been looked for from a\nghost wan, weary, and smiling.\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1\n \u2019Twas on an evening fair I went to take the air,\n I heard a maid making her moan;\n Said, Saw ye my father? Or saw ye my mother?\n Or saw ye my brother John?\n Or saw ye the lad that I love best,\n And his name it is Sweet William?\n\n 2\n \u2018I saw not your father, I saw not your mother,\n Nor saw I your brother John;\n But I saw the lad that ye love best,\n And his name it is Sweet William.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018O was my love riding? or was he running?\n Or was he walking alone?\n Or says he that he will be here this night?\n O dear, but he tarries long!\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018Your love was not riding, nor yet was he running,\n But fast was he walking alone;\n He says that he will be here this night to thee,\n And forbids you to think long.\u2019\n\n 5\n Then Willie he has gane to his love\u2019s door,\n And gently tirled the pin:\n \u2018O sleep ye, wake ye, my bonny Meggie,\n Ye\u2019ll rise, lat your true love in.\u2019\n\n 6\n The lassie being swack ran to the door fu snack,\n And gently she lifted the pin,\n Then into her arms sae large and sae lang\n She embraced her bonny love in.\n\n 7\n \u2018O will ye gang to the cards or the dice,\n Or to a table o wine?\n Or will ye gang to a well-made bed,\n Well coverd wi blankets fine?\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018O I winna gang to the cards nor the dice.\n Nor yet to a table o wine;\n But I\u2019ll rather gang to a well-made bed,\n Well coverd wi blankets fine.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018My braw little cock, sits on the house tap,\n Ye\u2019ll craw not till it be day,\n And your kame shall be o the gude red gowd,\n And your wings o the siller grey.\u2019\n\n 10\n The cock being fause untrue he was,\n And he crew an hour ower seen;\n They thought it was the gude day-light,\n But it was but the light o the meen.\n\n 11\n \u2018Ohon, alas!\u2019 says bonny Meggie then,\n \u2018This night we hae sleeped ower lang!\u2019\n \u2018O what is the matter?\u2019 then Willie replied,\n \u2018The faster then I must gang.\u2019\n\n 12\n Then Sweet Willie raise, and put on his claise,\n And drew till him stockings and sheen,\n And took by his side his berry-brown sword,\n And ower yon lang hill he\u2019s gane.\n\n 13\n As he gaed ower yon high, high hill,\n And down yon dowie den,\n Great and grievous was the ghost he saw,\n Would fear ten thousand men.\n\n 14\n As he gaed in by Mary kirk,\n And in by Mary stile,\n Wan and weary was the ghost\n Upon sweet Willie did smile.\n\n 15\n \u2018Aft hae ye travelld this road, Willie,\n Aft hae ye travelld in sin;\n Ye neer said sae muckle for your saul\n As My Maker bring me hame!\n\n 16\n \u2018Aft hae ye travelld this road, Willie,\n Your bonny love to see;\n But ye\u2019ll never travel this road again\n Till ye leave a token wi me.\u2019\n\n 17\n Then she has taen him Sweet Willie,\n Riven him frae gair to gair,\n And on ilka seat o Mary\u2019s kirk\n O Willie she hang a share;\n Even abeen his love Meggie\u2019s dice,\n Hang\u2019s head and yellow hair.\n\n 18\n His father made moan, his mother made moan,\n But Meggie made muckle mair;\n His father made moan, his mother made moan,\n But Meggie reave her yellow hair.\n\n\n\n\n 256\n\n ALISON AND WILLIE\n\n #A.# \u2018My luve she lives in Lincolnshire,\u2019 Harris MS., fol. 18 b; Mrs\n Harris. #b.# \u2018Alison\u2019 Buchan\u2019s MSS., I, 231.\n\n\nAlison gaily invites Willie to her wedding; he will not come unless to\nbe the bridegroom, with her for bride. That day you will never see, says\nAlison; once on your horse, you will have no more mind of me than if I\nwere dead. Willie rides slowly away, and his heart breaks with the pains\nof love; he dies by the way, and is left to the birds. A letter stops\nthe wedding, and breaks Alison\u2019s heart.\n\n\nStanza 7 must be left to those who can interpret Thomas of Erceldoune\u2019s\nprophecies.\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1\n \u2018My luve she lives in Lincolnshire,\n I wat she\u2019s neither black nor broun,\n But her hair is like the thread o gowd,\n Aye an it waur weel kaim\u00ebd doun.\u2019\n\n 2\n She\u2019s pued the black mask owre her face,\n An blinkit gaily wi her ee:\n \u2018O will you to my weddin come,\n An will you bear me gude companie?\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018I winna to your weddin come,\n Nor [will] I bear you gude companie,\n Unless you be the bride yoursell,\n An me the bridegroom to be.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018For me to be the bride mysel,\n An you the bonnie bridegroom to be\u2014\n Cheer up your heart, Sweet Willie,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018For that\u2019s the day you\u2019ll never see.\n\n 5\n \u2018Gin you waur on your saiddle set,\n An gaily ridin on the way,\n You\u2019ll hae nae mair mind o Alison\n Than she waur dead an laid in clay.\u2019\n\n 6\n When he was on his saiddle set,\n An slowly ridin on the way,\n He had mair mind o Alison\n Than he had o the licht o day.\n\n 7\n He saw a hart draw near a hare,\n An aye that hare drew near a toun,\n An that same hart did get a hare,\n But the gentle knicht got neer a toun.\n\n 8\n He leant him owre his saiddle-bow,\n An his heart did brak in pieces three;\n Wi sighen said him Sweet Willie,\n \u2018The pains o luve hae taen hald o me.\u2019\n\n 9\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n There cam a white horse an a letter,\n That stopped the weddin speidilie.\n\n 10\n She leant her back on her bed-side,\n An her heart did brak in pieces three;\n She was buried an bemoaned,\n But the birds waur Willie\u2019s companie.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#a.#\n\n 2^3. Oh. 10^3. He was.\n\n#b.#\n\n But _wanting:_ threads.\n\n 2^1. She pu\u2019d: mask aff.\n\n 2^2. blinked blythely.\n\n 2^3. Says, Will ye.\n\n 2^4. Or: gude _wanting_.\n\n 3^2. Nor will; gude wanting.\n\n 3^4. the bonny bridegroom be.\n\n 4^2. to _wanting_.\n\n 4^3. Sweet _wanting_.\n\n 5^2. And merry.\n\n 5^3. Ye\u2019ll mind nae mair o.\n\n 5^4. When.\n\n 6^2. An weary.\n\n 7^1. He spied: draw till.\n\n 7^2. aye the.\n\n 7^3. An _wanting_.\n\n 8^1. leand his back to his.\n\n 8^3. said that sweet.\n\n 8^4. luve\u2019s taen.\n\n 9^{1,2}. Their wedding-day it was well set, And a\u2019 their friends\n invited there.\n\n 9^3. While came.\n\n 9^4. wedding in prepare.\n\n _Before 10^1_: She said, If Willie he be dead, A wedded wife I\u2019ll\n never be.\n\n 10^1. Then leand her back to her bed-stock.\n\n 10^2. Her heart in pieces broke in three.\n\n 10^3. then was.\n\n\n\n\n 257\n\n BURD ISABEL AND EARL PATRICK\n\n #A.# \u2018Burd Bell,\u2019 Kinloch MSS, I, 211.\n\n #B.# \u2018Burd Isbel and Sir Patrick,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of\n Scotland, I, 76.\n\n #C.# \u2018Earl Patrick and Burd Isabel,\u2019 Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 440.\n\n\nChristie, Traditional Ballad Airs, II, 34, I, 42, says that an old woman\nin Buckie, Enzie, Banff, who died in 1866 at the age of nearly eighty,\nand whose father was a noted ballad-singer, sang him words which, so far\nas he could remember, were like those of #B#.\n\n#A.# Unmarried Burd Isabel bears a son to Earl Patrick. He has passed\nhis word to make her his wife in case the expected bairn should be a\nboy, but his mother objects. He now promises to bring her home after the\ndemise of his parents, and in the mean while builds her a gold and\nsilver bower (which for a reason inscrutable is \u2018strawn round wi sand\u2019).\nFather and mother die; Patrick takes no step to fulfil his engagement,\nand Isabel asks why. Patrick wishes that a hundred evils may enter him,\nand he \u2018fa oure the brim,\u2019 if ever he marries another; nevertheless he\nweds a duke\u2019s daughter. His bride has a fancy to see his son, and\nPatrick sends his aunt (or his grand-aunt, or his great-grand-aunt) to\nfetch the boy. Isabel dares any woman to take the bairn away. Patrick\ncomes in person. Isabel repeats the words she had used to his aunt, and\nreminds him of the curse which he had conditionally wished himself at\ntheir last interview. The perjured man turns to go away, the hundred\nevils enter him, and he falls \u2018oure the brim.\u2019\n\n#B# has nearly the same story with additional circumstances. Patrick\nwishes that eleven devils may attend his last day should he wed another\nwoman. When he goes to inquire how Isabel came to refuse the request he\nhad made through his aunt, he takes the opportunity to make over to her\nchild the third part of his land. She has two clerks, her cousins, at\nher call, who see to the legal formalities pertaining to this transfer;\nshe commits the boy to one of these, and herself goes to an unco land to\ndrive love out of her mind. We hear of nothing worse happening to Earl\nPatrick for selling his precious soul than his never getting further ben\nthe church than the door.\n\n#C# is a variety of #B#, but not half so long. Whether #B# has added or\n#C# omitted, no reader will much concern himself to know.\n\nSt. 7 (nearly) occurs in No 92, #B# 17, II, 313, and something similar\nin various ballads.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n Kinloch MSS, I, 211; \u201cobtained in the North Country, from the\n recitation of Mrs Charles.\u201d\n\n 1\n There is a stane in yon water,\n It\u2019s lang or it grow green;\n It\u2019s a maid that maks her ain fortune,\n It\u2019ll never end its leen.\n\n 2\n Burd Bell was na full fyfteen\n Till to service she did gae;\n Burd Bell was na full sixteen\n Till big wi bairn was scho.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 3\n \u2018Burd Bell she is a gude woman,\n She bides at hame wi me;\n She never seeks to gang to church,\n But bides at hame wi me.\u2019\n\n 4\n It fell ance upon a day\n She fell in travail-pain;\n He is gane to the stair-head\n Some ladies to call in.\n\n 5\n \u2018O gin ye hae a lass-bairn, Burd Bell,\n A lass-bairn though it be,\n Twenty ploughs bot and a mill\n Will mak ye lady free.\n\n 6\n \u2018But gin ye hae a son, Burd Bell,\n Ye\u2019se be my wedded wife,\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\u2019\n\n 7\n The knichts they knack their white fingers,\n The ladies sat and sang,\n T was a\u2019 to cheer bonnie Burd Bell,\n She was far sunk in pain.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 8\n Earl Patrick is to his mither gane,\n As fast as he could hie:\n \u2018An askin, an askin, dear mither,\n An askin I want frae thee.\n\n 9\n \u2018Burd Bell has born to me a son;\n What sail I do her wi?\u2019\n \u2018Gie her what ye like, Patrick,\n Mak na her your ladie.\u2019\n\n 10\n He has gane to bonnie Burd Bell,\n Hir heart was pressd wi care:\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n 11\n \u2018My father will dee, bonnie Burd Bell,\n My mither will do the same,\n And whan ye hear that they are gane\n It\u2019s then I\u2019ll bring ye hame.\u2019\n\n 12\n Earl Patrick\u2019s bigget to her a hour,\n And strawn it round wi sand;\n He coverd it wi silver on the outside,\n Wi the red gowd within.\n\n 13\n It happened ance upon a day\n She was kaiming his yellow hair,\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n 14\n \u2018Your father is dead, Earl Patrick,\n Your mither is the same;\n And what is the reason, Earl Patrick,\n Ye winna tak me hame?\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018I\u2019ve bigget to you a bonnie bour,\n I\u2019ve strawn it round wi sand;\n I\u2019ve coverd it wi silver on the outside,\n Wi gude red gowd within.\n\n 16\n \u2018If eer I marry anither woman,\n Or bring anither hame,\n I wish a hundred evils may enter me,\n And may I fa oure the brim!\u2019\n\n 17\n It was na very lang after this\n That a duke\u2019s dochter he\u2019s wed,\n Wi a waggon fu of gowd\n . . . . . . .\n\n 18\n Burd Bell lookit oure her castle-wa,\n And spied baith dale and down,\n And there she saw Earl Patrick\u2019s aunt\n Come riding to the town.\n\n 19\n \u2018What want ye here, Earl Patrick\u2019s aunt?\n What want ye here wi me?\u2019\n \u2018I want Earl Patrick\u2019s bonnie young son;\n His bride fain wad him see.\u2019\n\n 20\n \u2018I wad like to see that woman or man,\n Of high or low degree,\n That wad tak the bairn frae my foot\n That I ance for bowd my knee.\u2019\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 21\n \u2018Burd Bell, she\u2019s the bauldest woman\n That ever I did see:\u2019\n \u2018It\u2019s I\u2019ll gang to bonnie Burd Bell,\n She was never bauld to me.\u2019\n\n 22\n Burd Bell lookit oure her castle-wa,\n Behauding brave dale and down,\n And there she spied him Earl Patrick\n Slowly riding to the town.\n\n 23\n \u2018What said ye to my great-grand-aunt\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\u2019\n\n 24\n \u2018I said nathing to your great-grand-aunt\n But I will say to thee:\n I wad like to see the woman or man,\n Of high or low degree,\n That wad tak the bairn frae my foot\n I ance for bowd my knee.\n\n 25\n \u2018O dinna ye mind, Earl Patrick,\n The vows ye made to me,\n That a hundred evils wad enter you\n If ye provd fause to me?\u2019\n\n 26\n He\u2019s turnd him richt and round about,\n His horse head to the wind,\n The hundred evils enterd him,\n And he fell oure the brim.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 76.\n\n 1\n Take warning, a\u2019 ye young women,\n Of low station or hie,\n Lay never your love upon a man\n Above your ain degree.\n\n 2\n Thus I speak by Burd Isbel;\n She was a maid sae fair,\n She laid her love on Sir Patrick,\n She\u2019ll rue it for evermair.\n\n 3\n And likewise, a\u2019 ye sprightly youths,\n Of low station or hie,\n Lay never your love upon a maid\n Below your ain degree.\n\n 4\n And thus I speak by Sir Patrick,\n Who was a knight sae rare;\n He\u2019s laid his love on Burd Isbel,\n He\u2019ll rue it for evermair.\n\n 5\n Burd Isbel was but ten years auld,\n To service she has gane;\n And Burd Isbel was but fifeteen\n Whan her young son came hame.\n\n 6\n It fell ance upon a day\n Strong travelling took she;\n None there was her bower within\n But Sir Patrick and she.\n\n 7\n \u2018This is a wark now, Sir Patrick,\n That we twa neer will end;\n Ye\u2019ll do you to the outer court\n And call some women in.\u2019\n\n 8\n He\u2019s done him to the outer court,\n And stately there did stand;\n Eleven ladies he\u2019s calld in,\n Wi ae shake o his hand.\n\n 9\n \u2018Be favourable to Burd Isbel,\n Deal favourable if ye may;\n Her kirking and her fair wedding\n Shall baith stand on ae day.\n\n 10\n \u2018Deal favourable to Burd Isbel,\n Whom I love as my life;\n Ere this day month be come and gane,\n She\u2019s be my wedded wife.\u2019\n\n 11\n Then he is on to his father,\n Fell low down on his knee;\n Says, Will I marry Burd Isbel?\n She\u2019s born a son to me.\n\n 12\n \u2018O marry, marry Burd Isbel,\n Or use her as ye like;\n Ye\u2019ll gar her wear the silks sae red\n And sae may ye the white.\n O woud ye marry Burd Isbel,\n Make her your heart\u2019s delight?\n\n 13\n \u2018You want not lands nor rents, Patrick,\n You know your fortune\u2019s free;\n But ere you\u2019d marry Burd Isbel\n I\u2019d rather bury thee.\n\n 14\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll build a bower for Burd Isbel,\n And set it round wi sand;\n Make as much mirth in Isbel\u2019s bower\n As ony in a\u2019 the land.\u2019\n\n 15\n Then he is to his mother gane,\n Fell low down on his knee:\n \u2018O shall I marry Burd Isbel?\n She\u2019s born a son to me.\u2019\n\n 16\n \u2018O marry, marry Burd Isbel,\n Or use her as ye like;\n Ye\u2019ll gar her wear the silks sae red,\n And sae may ye the white.\n O would ye marry Burd Isbel,\n Make her wi me alike?\n\n 17\n \u2018You want not lands and rents, Patrick,\n You know your fortune\u2019s free;\n But ere you marry Burd Isbel\n I\u2019d rather bury thee.\n\n 18\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll build a bower to Burd Isbel,\n And set it round wi glass;\n Make as much mirth in Isbel\u2019s bower\n As ony in a\u2019 the place.\u2019\n\n 19\n He\u2019s done him down thro ha, thro ha,\n Sae has he in thro bower;\n The tears ran frae his twa grey eyes,\n And loot them fast down pour.\n\n 20\n \u2018My father and my mother baith\n To age are coming on;\n When they are dead and buried baith,\n Burd Isbel I\u2019ll bring home.\u2019\n\n 21\n The words that passd atween these twa\n Ought never to be spoken;\n The vows that passd atween these twa\n Ought never to be broken.\n\n 22\n Says he, If I another court,\n Or wed another wife,\n May eleven devils me attend\n At the end-day o my life.\n\n 23\n But his father he soon did die,\n His mother nae lang behind;\n But Sir Patrick of Burd Isbel\n He now had little mind.\n\n 24\n It fell ance upon a day,\n As she went out to walk,\n And there she saw him Sir Patrick,\n Going wi his hound and hawk.\n\n 25\n \u2018Stay still, stay still, now Sir Patrick,\n O stay a little wee,\n And think upon the fair promise\n Last year ye made to me.\n\n 26\n \u2018Now your father\u2019s dead, kind sir,\n And your mother the same;\n Yet nevertheless now, Sir Patrick,\n Ye\u2019re nae bringing me hame.\u2019\n\n 27\n \u2018If the morn be a pleasant day,\n I mean to sail the sea,\n To spend my time in fair England,\n All for a month or three.\u2019\n\n 28\n He hadna been in fair England\n A month but barely ane\n Till he forgot her Burd Isbel,\n The mother of his son.\n\n 29\n Some time he spent in fair England,\n And when returnd again\n He laid his love on a duke\u2019s daughter,\n And he has brought her hame.\n\n 30\n Now he\u2019s forgot his first true love\n He ance lovd ower them a\u2019;\n But now the devil did begin\n To work between them twa.\n\n 31\n When Sir Patrick he was wed,\n And all set down to dine,\n Upon his first love, Burd Isbel,\n A thought ran in his mind.\n\n 32\n He calld upon his gude grand-aunt\n To come right speedilie;\n Says, Ye\u2019ll gae on to Burd Isbel,\n Bring my young son to me.\n\n 33\n She\u2019s taen her mantle her about,\n Wi gowd gloves on her hand,\n And she is on to Burd Isbel,\n As fast as she coud gang.\n\n 34\n She haild her high, she haild her low,\n With stile in great degree:\n \u2018O busk, O busk your little young son,\n For he maun gang wi me.\u2019\n\n 35\n \u2018I woud fain see the one,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018O low station or hie,\n Woud take the bairn frae my foot,\n For him I bowed my knee.\n\n 36\n \u2018I woud fain see the one,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018O low station or mean,\n Woud take the bairn frae my foot\n Whom I own to be mine.\u2019\n\n 37\n Then she has done her hame again,\n As fast as gang coud she;\n \u2018Present,\u2019 said he, \u2018my little young son,\n For him I wish to see.\u2019\n\n 38\n \u2018Burd Isbel\u2019s a bauld woman,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018As eer I yet spake wi;\u2019\n But sighing said him Sir Patrick,\n She ne\u2019er was bauld to me.\n\n 39\n But he\u2019s dressd in his best array,\n His gowd rod in his hand,\n And he is to Burd Isbel\u2019s bower,\n As fast as he coud gang.\n\n 40\n \u2018O how is this, Burd Isbel,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018So ill ye\u2019ve used me?\n What gart you anger my gude grand-aunt,\n That I did send to thee?\u2019\n\n 41\n \u2018If I hae angerd your gude grand-aunt,\n O then sae lat it be;\n I said naething to your gude grand-aunt\n But what I\u2019ll say to thee.\n\n 42\n \u2018I woud fain see the one, I said,\n O low station or hie,\n Wha woud take this bairn frae my foot,\n For him I bowed the knee.\n\n 43\n \u2018I woud fain see the one, I said,\n O low station or mean,\n Woud take this bairn frae my foot\n Whom I own to be mine.\u2019\n\n 44\n \u2018O if I had some counsellers here,\n And clerks to seal the band,\n I woud infeft your son this day\n In third part o my land.\u2019\n\n 45\n \u2018I hae two couzins, Scottish clerks,\n Wi bills into their hand,\n An ye\u2019ll infeft my son this day\n In third part o your land.\u2019\n\n 46\n Then he calld in her Scottish clerks,\n Wi bills into their hand,\n And he\u2019s infeft his son that day\n The third part o his land.\n\n 47\n To ane o these young clerks she spoke,\n Clerk John it was his name;\n Says, Of my son I gie you charge\n Till I return again.\n\n 48\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll take here my son, clerk John,\n Learn him to dance and sing,\n And I will to some unco land,\n Drive love out of my mind.\n\n 49\n \u2018And ye\u2019ll take here my son, clerk John,\n Learn him to hunt the roe,\n And I will to some unco land;\n Now lat Sir Patrick go.\n\n 50\n \u2018But I\u2019ll cause this knight at church-door stand,\n For a\u2019 his noble train;\n For selling o his precious soul\n Dare never come farther ben.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n C\n\n Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 440.\n\n 1\n All young maidens fair and gay,\n Whatever your station be,\n Never lay your love upon a man\n Above your own degree.\n\n 2\n I speak it all by Bird Isabel;\n She was her father\u2019s dear,\n She laid her love on Earl Patrick,\n Which she rues ever mair.\n\n 3\n \u2018Oh, we began a wark, Patrick,\n That we two cannot end;\n Go you unto the outer stair\n And call some women in.\u2019\n\n 4\n He\u2019s gone unto the outer stair,\n And up in it did stand,\n And did bring in eleven ladies,\n With one sign of his hand.\n\n 5\n He did him to the doctor\u2019s shop,\n As fast as he could gang,\n But ere the doctor could get there\n Bird Isabel bore a son.\n\n 6\n But he has courted a duke\u2019s daughter,\n Lived far beyont the sea;\n Burd Isabel\u2019s parents were but mean,\n They had not gear to gie.\n\n 7\n He has courted a duke\u2019s daughter,\n Lived far beyond the foam;\n Burd Isabel was a mean woman,\n And tocher she had none.\n\n 8\n Now it fell once upon a day\n His wedding day was come;\n He\u2019s hied him to his great-grand-aunt,\n As fast as he could gang.\n\n 9\n Says, Will you go this errand, aunt?\n Go you this errand for me,\n And if I live and bruick my life\n I will go as far for thee.\n\n 10\n \u2018Go and bring me Bird Isbel\u2019s son,\n Dressed in silks so fine,\n And if he live to be a man\n He shall heir all my land.\u2019\n\n 11\n Now she went hailing to the door,\n And hailing ben the floor,\n And Isabel styled her madame,\n And she, her Isabel dear.\n\n 12\n \u2018I came to take Earl Patrick\u2019s son,\n To dress in silks so fine;\n For if he live to be a man\n He is to heir his land.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018Oh is there ever a woman,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018Of high station or mean,\n Daur take this bairn from my knee?\n For he is called mine.\n\n 14\n \u2018Oh is there ever a woman,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018Of mean station or hie,\n Daur tak this bairn frae my foot?\n For him I bowed my knee.\u2019\n\n 15\n His aunt went hailing to his door,\n And hailing ben the floor,\n And she has styled him, Patrick,\n And [he] her, aunty dear.\n\n 16\n She says, I have been east and west,\n And far beyond the sea,\n But Isabel is the boldest woman\n That ever my eyes did see.\n\n 17\n \u2018You surely dream, my aunty dear,\n For that can never be;\n Burd Isabel\u2019s not a bold woman,\n She never was bold to me.\u2019\n\n 18\n Now he went hailing to her door,\n And hailing ben the floor,\n And she has styled him, Patrick,\n And he her, Isabel dear.\n\n 19\n \u2018O ye have angered my great-grand-aunt;\n You know she\u2019s a lady free;\u2019\n \u2018I said naught to your great-grand-aunt\n But what I\u2019ll say to thee.\n\n 20\n \u2018Oh is there ever a woman, I said,\n Of high station or mean,\n Daur tak this bairn from my knee?\n For he is called mine.\n\n 21\n \u2018Oh is there ever a woman, I said,\n Of mean station or hie,\n Daur tak this bairn from my foot?\n For him I bowed my knee.\n\n 22\n \u2018But I\u2019ll cause you stand at good church-door,\n For all your noble train;\n For selling of your precious soul,\n You shall not get further ben.\u2019\n\n\n\n\n 258\n\n BROUGHTY WA\u2019S\n\n\n #a.# \u2018Helen,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s MSS, I, 233.\n\n #b.# \u2018Burd Hellen,\u2019 or, \u2018Browghty Wa\u2019s,\u2019 Harris MS., fol. 17 b; from\n Mrs Harris.\n\n\nA young woman is carried off from Broughty Castle, near Dundee, by a\nbody of armed Highlanders. Her lover, who is making her a visit at the\ntime, is either taken along with her\u2014an unnecessary incumbrance, one\nwould think\u2014or follows her. The pair go out to take the air; she throws\nherself into a river; her lover leaps in after her and is drowned. She\nkilts up her clothes and makes her way to Dundee, congratulating herself\nthat she had learned to swim for liberty.\n\nStanza 9, as it runs in #b#, is a reminiscence of \u2018Bonny Baby\nLivingston,\u2019 and 13 recalls \u2018Child Waters,\u2019 or \u2018The Knight and the\nShepherd\u2019s Daughter.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1\n Burd Helen was her mother\u2019s dear,\n Her father\u2019s heir to be;\n He was the laird of Broughty Walls,\n And the provost o Dundee.\n\n 2\n Burd Helen she was much admired\n By all that were round about;\n Unto Hazelan she was betrothed,\n Her virgin days were out.\n\n 3\n Glenhazlen was a comely youth,\n And virtuous were his friends;\n He left the schools o bonny Dundee\n And on to Aberdeen.\n\n 4\n It fell upon a Christmas Day\n Burd Helen was left alone\n For to keep her father\u2019s towers;\n They stand two miles from town.\n\n 5\n Glenhazlen\u2019s on to Broughty Walls,\n Was thinking to win in;\n But the wind it blew, and the rain dang on\n And wat him to the skin.\n\n 6\n He was very well entertaind,\n Baith for his bed and board,\n Till a band o men surrounded them,\n Well armd wi spear and sword.\n\n 7\n They hurried her along wi them,\n Lockd up her maids behind;\n They threw the keys out-ower the walls,\n That none the plot might find.\n\n 8\n They hurried her along wi them,\n Ower mony a rock and glen,\n But, all that they could say or do,\n From weeping would not refrain.\n\n 9\n \u2018The Hiland hills are hie, hie hills,\n The Hiland hills are hie;\n They are no like the banks o Tay,\n Or bonny town o Dundee.\u2019\n\n 10\n It fell out ance upon a day\n They went to take the air;\n She threw hersell upon the stream,\n Against wind and despair.\n\n 11\n It was sae deep he coudna wide,\n Boats werna to be found,\n But he leapt in after himsell,\n And sunk down like a stone.\n\n 12\n She kilted up her green claiding\n A little below her knee,\n And never rest nor was undrest\n Till she reachd again Dundee.\n\n 13\n \u2018I learned this at Broughty Walls,\n At Broughty near Dundee,\n That if water were my prison strong\n I would swim for libertie.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n#a.#\n\n 7^2. Tuckd.\n\n#b.#\n\n 1^4. the _wanting_.\n\n 2^3. But to Hunglen.\n\n 3^2. were _wanting_.\n\n 4^1. fell oot once upon a time.\n\n 4^3. All for.\n\n 4^4. stand ten.\n\n 5^1. Glenhazlen he cam ridin bye.\n\n 5^2. An thinkin to get in.\n\n 7^1, 8^1. They hies\u0304\u0113d.\n\n 7^2. Locked up.\n\n 7^3. An flang.\n\n 8^4. To weep she wald.\n\n 9^{3,4}. An if you wald my favour gain, Oh, tak me to Dundee!\n\n 10^1. once upon a time.\n\n 10^2. went oot to.\n\n 10^3. into the.\n\n 10^4. Between.\n\n 11^1. The stream was deep.\n\n 11^2. So he: after her himsell.\n\n _After 11_:\n\n \u2018The Highland hills are high, high hills,\n The Highland hills are hie;\n They\u2019re no like the pleasant banks o Tay,\n Nor the bonnie town o Dundee\u2019.\n\n 13^3. water waur my prison-walls.\n\n 13^4. I could.\n\n\n\n\n 259\n\n LORD THOMAS STUART\n\n Maidment\u2019s North Countrie Garland, p. 1.\n\n\nLord Thomas Stuart has married a young countess, and has given her\nStrathbogie and Aboyne for a morning-gift. The lady has a desire to see\nthese places. As they are on their way thither (from Edinburgh), her\nhusband is attacked with a pain which obliges him to turn back; he tells\nher to ride on, and she seems so to do. The pain proves to be beyond the\nskill of leeches. Lord Thomas begs his father to see that his wife gets\nwhat he has given her. He dies; the horses turn wild in the stables, the\nhounds howl on the leash. Lady Stuart has the usual dream (No 74, #A# 8,\n#B# 11, etc.). She comes back wringing her hands; she knows by the\nhorses that are standing about the house that the burial is preparing.\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1\n Thomas Stuart was a lord,\n A lord of mickle land;\n He used to wear a coat of gold,\n But now his grave is green.\n\n 2\n Now he has wooed the young countess,\n The Countess of Balquhin,\n An given her for a morning-gift\n Strathboggie and Aboyne.\n\n 3\n But women\u2019s wit is aye willful,\n Alas that ever it was sae!\n She longed to see the morning-gift\n That her gude lord to her gae.\n\n 4\n When steeds were saddled an weel bridled,\n An ready for to ride,\n There came a pain on that gude lord,\n His back, likewise his side.\n\n 5\n He said, Ride on, my lady fair,\n May goodness be your guide!\n For I\u2019m sae sick an weary that\n No farther can I ride.\n\n 6\n Now ben did come his father dear,\n Wearing a golden band;\n Says, Is there nae leech in Edinburgh\n Can cure my son from wrang?\n\n 7\n \u2018O leech is come, an leech is gane,\n Yet, father, I\u2019m aye waur;\n There\u2019s not a leech in Edinbro\n Can death from me debar.\n\n 8\n \u2018But be a friend to my wife, father,\n Restore to her her own;\n Restore to her my morning-gift,\n Strathboggie and Aboyne.\n\n 9\n \u2018It had been gude for my wife, father,\n To me she\u2019d born a son;\n He would have got my land an rents,\n Where they lie out an in.\n\n 10\n \u2018It had been gude for my wife, father,\n To me she\u2019d born an heir;\n He would have got my land an rents,\n Where they lie fine an fair.\u2019\n\n 11\n The steeds they strave into their stables,\n The boys could\u2019nt get them bound;\n The hounds lay howling on the leech,\n Cause their master was behind.\n\n 12\n \u2018I dreamed a dream since late yestreen,\n I wish it may be good,\n That our chamber was full of swine,\n An our bed full of blood.\u2019\n\n 13\n I saw a woman come from the West,\n Full sore wringing her hands,\n And aye she cried, Ohon, alas!\n My good lord\u2019s broken bands.\n\n 14\n As she came by my good lord\u2019s bower,\n Saw mony black steeds an brown:\n \u2018I\u2019m feared it be mony unco lords\n Havin my love from town!\u2019\n\n 15\n As she came by my gude lord\u2019s bower,\n Saw mony black steeds an grey:\n \u2018I\u2019m feared it\u2019s mony unco lords\n Havin my love to the clay!\u2019\n\n\n\n\n 260\n\n LORD THOMAS AND LADY MARGARET\n\n #A. a.# \u2018Lord Thomas,\u2019 Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 407. #b.# \u2018Lord Thomas and\n Lady Margaret,\u2019 the same, p. 71.\n\n #B.# \u2018Clerk Tamas,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 43.\n\n\nChristie, who gives #B#, \u201cepitomized and slightly changed,\u201d under the\ntitle \u2018Clerk Tamas and Fair Annie,\u2019 Traditional Ballad Airs, II, 12,\nsays that he can trace the ballad, traditionally, far into the last\ncentury.\n\n#A.# Lord Thomas goes a-hunting, and Lady Margaret rides after him; when\nhe sees her following, he orders his servants to hunt her far from him,\nand they hunt her high and low. She comes upon a tall young man, and\nbegs \u2018relief\u2019 from him for a lady wronged in love and chased from her\n\u2018country.\u2019 No relief is to be had from him unless she will renounce all\nother men and be his wife. After a time, Lady Margaret, sewing at her\nwindow, observes a vagrant body, who turns out to be Lord Thomas,\nreduced to beggary; he has been banished from his own country, and asks\nrelief. No relief from her; she would hang him were he within her bower.\nNot so, says Lord Thomas; rather he would kill her lord with his\nbroadsword and carry her off. Not so, says Lady Margaret, but you must\ncome in and drink with me. She poisons three bottles of wine, and\npretends to be his taster. Lord Thomas drinks away merrily, but soon\nfeels the poison. I am wearied with this drinking, he says. And so was I\nwhen you set your hounds at me, she replies; but you shall be buried as\nif you were one of my own.\n\n#B# has Clerk Tamas for Lord Thomas, and Fair Annie for Lady Margaret.\nTamas has loved Annie devotedly, but now hates her and the lands she\nlives in. Annie goes to ask him to pity her; he sees her coming, as he\nlies \u2018over his shot-window,\u2019 and orders his men to hunt her to the sea.\nA captain, lying \u2018over his ship-window,\u2019 sees Annie driven from the\ntown, and offers to take her in if she will forsake friends and lands\nfor him. The story goes on much as in #A#.\n\n#A# 8 is borrowed from \u2018The Douglas Tragedy,\u2019 see No 7, #C# 9. #B#\n14^{3,4} is a commonplace, which, in inferior traditional ballads, is\noften, as here, an out-of-place. #B# 15, 16 is another commonplace, of\nthe silly sort: see No 87, #B# 3, 4, #D# 4, 5, and Buchan\u2019s \u2018Lady\nIsabel,\u2019 20, 21.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n #a.# Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 407; from the recitation of Mrs Parkhill,\n Maxweltown, 28 September, 1825 (with variations, furnished by\n another person of the same neighborhood, interlined). #b.#\n Motherwell\u2019s MS., p. 71; from Miss \u2014\u2014, Glasgow.\n\n 1\n Lord Thomas is to the hunting gone,\n To hunt the fallow deer;\n Lady Margaret\u2019s to the greenwood shaw,\n To see her lover hunt there.\n\n 2\n He has looked over his left shoulder,\n To see what might be seen,\n And there he saw Lady Margaret,\n As she was riding her lane.\n\n 3\n He called on his servants all,\n By one, by two, by three:\n \u2018Go hunt, go hunt that wild woman,\n Go hunt her far from me!\u2019\n\n 4\n They hunted her high, they hunted her low,\n They hunted her over the plain,\n And the red scarlet robes Lady Margaret had on\n Would never be mended again.\n\n 5\n They hunted her high, they hunted her low,\n They hunted her over the plain,\n Till at last she spy\u2019d a tall young man,\n As he was riding alane.\n\n 6\n \u2018Some relief, some relief, thou tall young man!\n Some relief I pray thee grant me!\n For I am a lady deep wronged in love,\n And chased from my own countrie.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018No relief, no relief, thou lady fair,\n No relief will I grant unto thee\n Till once thou renounce all the men in the world\n My wedded wife for to be.\u2019\n\n 8\n Then he set her on a milk-white steed,\n Himself upon a gray,\n And he has drawn his hat over his face,\n And chearfully they rode away.\n\n 9\n Lady Margaret was at her bower-window,\n Sewing her silken seam,\n And there she spy\u2019d, like a wandering bodie,\n Lord Thomas begging alane.\n\n 10\n \u2018Some relief, some relief, thou lady fair!\n Some relief, I pray thee grant me!\n For I am a puir auld doited carle,\n And banishd from my ain countrie.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018No relief, no relief, thou perjured man,\n No relief will I grant unto thee;\n For oh, if I had thee within my bower,\n There hanged dead thou would be.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018No such thing, Lady Margaret,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018Such a thing would never be;\n For with my broadsword I would kill thy wedded lord,\n And carry thee far off with me.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018Oh no, no! Lord Thomas,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018Oh, no such things must be;\n For I have wine in my cellars,\n And you must drink with me.\u2019\n\n 14\n Lady Margaret then called her servants all,\n By one, by two, by three:\n \u2018Go fetch me the bottles of blude-red wine,\n That Lord Thomas may drink with me.\u2019\n\n 15\n They brought her the bottles of blude-red wine,\n By one, by two, by three,\n And with her fingers long and small\n She poisond them all three.\n\n 16\n She took the cup in her lilly-white hand,\n Betwixt her finger and her thumb,\n She put it to her red rosy lips,\n But never a drop went down.\n\n 17\n Then he took the cup in his manly hand,\n Betwixt his finger and his thumb,\n He put it to his red rosy lips,\n And so merrily it ran down.\n\n 18\n \u2018Oh, I am wearied drinking with thee, Margaret!\n I am wearied drinking with thee!\u2019\n \u2018And so was I,\u2019 Lady Margaret said,\n \u2018When thou hunted thy hounds after me.\u2019\n\n 19\n \u2018But I will bury thee, Lord Thomas,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018Just as if thou wert one of my own;\n And when that my good lord comes home\n I will say thou\u2019s my sister\u2019s son.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\n Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 43.\n\n 1\n Clerk Tamas lovd her fair Annie\n As well as Mary lovd her son;\n But now he hates her fair Annie,\n And hates the lands that she lives in.\n\n 2\n \u2018Ohon, alas!\u2019 said fair Annie,\n \u2018Alas! this day I fear I\u2019ll die;\n But I will on to sweet Tamas,\n And see gin he will pity me.\u2019\n\n 3\n As Tamas lay ower his shott-window,\n Just as the sun was gaen down,\n There he beheld her fair Annie,\n As she came walking to the town.\n\n 4\n \u2018O where are a\u2019 my well-wight men,\n I wat, that I pay meat and fee,\n For to lat a\u2019 my hounds gang loose\n To hunt this vile whore to the sea.\u2019\n\n 5\n The hounds they knew the lady well,\n And nane o them they woud her bite,\n Save ane that is ca\u2019d Gaudywhere,\n I wat he did the lady smite.\n\n 6\n \u2018O wae mat worth ye, Gaudywhere!\n An ill reward this is to me;\n For ae bit that I gae the lave,\n I\u2019m very sure I\u2019ve gien you three.\n\n 7\n \u2018For me, alas! there\u2019s nae remeid,\n Here comes the day that I maun die;\n I ken ye lovd your master well,\n And sae, alas for me! did I.\u2019\n\n 8\n A captain lay ower his ship-window,\n Just as the sun was gaen down;\n There he beheld her fair Annie,\n As she was hunted frae the town.\n\n 9\n \u2018Gin ye\u2019ll forsake father and mither,\n And sae will ye your friends and kin,\n Gin ye\u2019ll forsake your lands sae broad,\n Then come and I will take you in.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018Yes, I\u2019ll forsake baith father and mither,\n And sae will I my friends and kin;\n Yes, I\u2019ll forsake my lands sae broad,\n And come, gin ye will take me in.\u2019\n\n 11\n Then a\u2019 thing gaed frae fause Tamas,\n And there was naething byde him wi;\n Then he thought lang for Arrandella,\n It was fair Annie for to see.\n\n 12\n \u2018How do ye now, ye sweet Tamas?\n And how gaes a\u2019 in your countrie?\u2019\n \u2018I\u2019ll do better to you than ever I\u2019ve done,\n Fair Annie, gin ye\u2019ll come an see.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018O Guid forbid,\u2019 said fair Annie,\n \u2018That e\u2019er the like fa in my hand!\n Woud I forsake my ain gude lord\n And follow you, a gae-through-land?\n\n 14\n \u2018Yet nevertheless now, sweet Tamas,\n Ye\u2019ll drink a cup o wine wi me,\n And nine times in the live lang day\n Your fair claithing shall changed be.\u2019\n\n 15\n Fair Annie pat it till her cheek,\n Sae did she till her milk-white chin,\n Sae did she till her flattering lips,\n But never a drap o wine gaed in.\n\n 16\n Tamas pat it till his cheek,\n Sae did he till his dimpled chin;\n He pat it till his rosy lips,\n And then the well o wine gaed in.\n\n 17\n \u2018These pains,\u2019 said he, \u2018are ill to bide;\n Here is the day that I maun die;\n O take this cup frae me, Annie,\n For o the same I am weary.\u2019\n\n 18\n \u2018And sae was I o you, Tamas,\n When I was hunted to the sea;\n But I\u2019se gar bury you in state,\n Which is mair than ye\u2019d done to me.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A. a.#\n\n 12^1. (no such thing) _a second time_; _inserted apparently by\n Motherwell_.\n\n _Interlineations_: 2^2. what he might spy. 2^4. riding by.\n\n 8^3. his broadsword from his side.\n\n 8^4. And slowly.\n\n 9^2. To see what she might spy.\n\n 9^3. spy\u2019d Lord Thomas.\n\n 9^4. A begging along the highway.\n\n 10^3. puir oppressed man.\n\n 15^1. They glowred, but they brought the blude-red wine.\n\n#b.#\n\n 1^1. is a.\n\n 1^2. the green wood oer.\n\n 1^3. Lady Margaret has followed him.\n\n 1^4. To seek her own true-love.\n\n 2. _Wanting._\n\n 3^1. He has called up his merrie men all.\n\n 3^3. Hunt away, hunt away this.\n\n 3^4. her away from.\n\n 4^1, 5^1. and they.\n\n 4^2, 5^2. Till she ran quite over.\n\n 4^3. The scarlet robes.\n\n 4^4. They can never.\n\n 5^3. And there she spied.\n\n 5^4. Just as.\n\n 6^2. Some relief, some relief grant me.\n\n 6^3. lady that is deep, deep in.\n\n 6^4. And I am banished from.\n\n 7^1. fair ladie.\n\n 7^2. No relief, no relief I\u2019ll grant thee.\n\n 7^3. Unless you forsake: in this.\n\n 7^4. And my: you will be.\n\n 8^1. He has mounted her.\n\n 8^2. And himself on a dapple.\n\n 8^3. The buglet horn hung done by there side.\n\n 8^4. And so slowly as they both.\n\n 9^1. One day L. M. at her castle-window.\n\n 9^2. Was sewing.\n\n 9^3. espied L. T.\n\n 9^4. A begging all.\n\n 10^1. fair ladie.\n\n 10^2. Some relief, some relief grant me.\n\n 10^{3,4}, 11. No relief, no relief, Lord Thomas, she said, But\n hanged thou shalt be.\n\n 12^1. O no, O no, Lady.\n\n 12^2. For no such things must be.\n\n 12^3. But with: I will.\n\n 12^4. And I\u2019ll ride far off with thee.\n\n 13^1. O no, O no.\n\n 13^2. O no: must not.\n\n 14^1. She has called up her.\n\n 14^2, 15^2. and by.\n\n 14^3. Go bring to me a bottle of wine.\n\n 15^1. her up a bottle of wine.\n\n 15^3. so long.\n\n 15^4. The rank poison in put she.\n\n 16, 17. _Wanting._\n\n 18^1. I\u2019m wearied, I\u2019m wearied, Lady Margaret, he said.\n\n 18^2. O I\u2019m: talking to.\n\n 18^3. I, Lord Thomas, she.\n\n 18^4. you hounded your dogs.\n\n 19^1. bury you as one of my own.\n\n 19^2. And all in my own ground.\n\n 19^4. say you\u2019re.\n\n\n\n\n 261\n\n LADY ISABEL\n\n \u2018Lady Isabel,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 129.\n\n\nLady Isabel\u2019s step-mother accuses her of being her father\u2019s leman; he\ngives her finer gowns than he gives his wife. Isabel replies that, in\nthe first place, she is young, which is reason enough why her gowns\nshould be fairer; but that, as a matter of fact, a lover of hers over\nseas sends her ten gowns to one that her father buys her. The\nstep-mother invites Isabel to take wine with her. Isabel wishes first to\ngo to a church. At this church she sees her own mother, and asks whether\nshe shall flee the country or drink what has been prepared for her. Her\nmother enjoins her to drink the dowie drink; before she is cold she will\nbe in a better place. Upon returning, Isabel is again pressed to take\nwine, and again begs to be excused for the moment; she wishes to see her\nmaids in the garden. She gives her maids ring and brooch. A third time\nthe step-mother proposes that they shall take wine together; the\ndaughter, with due courtesy, begs the elder to begin. The step-mother\ngoes through certain motions customary in ballads of this description,\nand swallows not a drop; Isabel duly repeats the mummery, but drinks.\nShe has time to tell this wicked dame that their beds will be made very\nfar apart. The step-mother goes mad.\n\nStanzas 20, 21, as has already been intimated, are a commonplace, and a\nfoolish one. Stanza 24, in various forms, not always well adapted to the\nparticular circumstances, ends several ballads: as No 64, #F#; No 65,\n#H#; No 66, #A# 28, 29, #B# 20, 21; No 67, #B#; No 70, #B#.\n\n\nTranslated by Gerhard, p. 161.\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1\n \u2018T was early on a May morning\n Lady Isabel combd her hair;\n But little kent she, or the morn\n She woud never comb it mair.\n\n 2\n \u2018T was early on a May morning\n Lady Isabel rang the keys;\n But little kent she, or the morn\n A fey woman she was.\n\n 3\n Ben it came her step-mother,\n As white \u2018s the lily flower:\n \u2018It\u2019s tauld me this day, Isabel,\n You are your father\u2019s whore.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018O them that tauld you that, mother,\n I wish they neer drink wine;\n For if I be the same woman\n My ain sell drees the pine.\n\n 5\n \u2018And them that\u2019s tauld you that, mother,\n I wish they neer drink ale;\n For if I be the same woman\n My ain sell drees the dail.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018It may be very well seen, Isabel,\n It may be very well seen;\n He buys to you the damask gowns,\n To me the dowie green.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018Ye are of age and I am young,\n And young amo my flowers;\n The fairer that my claithing be,\n The mair honour is yours.\n\n 8\n \u2018I hae a love beyond the sea,\n And far ayont the faem;\n For ilka gown my father buys me,\n My ain luve sends me ten.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018Come ben, come ben now, Lady Isabel,\n And drink the wine wi me;\n I hae twa jewels in ae coffer,\n And ane o them I\u2019ll gie [ye].\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018Stay still, stay still, my mother dear,\n Stay still a little while,\n Till I gang into Marykirk;\n It\u2019s but a little mile.\u2019\n\n 11\n When she gaed on to Marykirk,\n And into Mary\u2019s quire,\n There she saw her ain mother\n Sit in a gowden chair.\n\n 12\n \u2018O will I leave the lands, mother?\n Or shall I sail the sea?\n Or shall I drink this dowie drink\n That is prepar\u2019d for me?\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018Ye winna leave the lands, daughter,\n Nor will ye sail the sea,\n But ye will drink this dowie drink\n This woman\u2019s prepar\u2019d for thee.\n\n 14\n \u2018Your bed is made in a better place\n Than ever hers will be,\n And ere ye\u2019re cauld into the room\n Ye will be there wi me.\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018Come in, come in now, Lady Isabel,\n And drink the wine wi me;\n I hae twa jewels in ae coffer,\n And ane o them I\u2019ll gie [ye].\u2019\n\n 16\n \u2018Stay still, stay still, my mother dear,\n Stay still a little wee,\n Till I gang to yon garden green,\n My Maries a\u2019 to see.\u2019\n\n 17\n To some she gae the broach, the broach,\n To some she gae a ring;\n But wae befa her step-mother!\n To her she gae nae thing.\n\n 18\n \u2018Come in, come in now, Lady Isabel,\n And drink the wine wi me;\n I hae twa jewels in ae coffer,\n And ane o them I\u2019ll gie [ye].\u2019\n\n 19\n Slowly to the bower she came,\n And slowly enterd in,\n And being full o courtesie,\n Says, Begin, mother, begin.\n\n 20\n She put it till her cheek, her cheek,\n Sae did she till her chin,\n Sae did she till her fu fause lips,\n But never a drap gaed in.\n\n 21\n Lady Isabel put it till her cheek,\n Sae did she till her chin,\n Sae did she till her rosy lips,\n And the rank poison gaed in.\n\n 22\n \u2018O take this cup frae me, mother,\n O take this cup frae me;\n My bed is made in a better place\n Than ever yours will be.\n\n 23\n \u2018My bed is in the heavens high,\n Amang the angels fine;\n But yours is in the lowest hell,\n To drie torment and pine.\u2019\n\n 24\n Nae moan was made for Lady Isabel\n In bower where she lay dead,\n But a\u2019 was for that ill woman,\n In the fields mad she gaed.\n\n\n\n\n 262\n\n LORD LIVINGSTON\n\n \u2018Lord Livingston,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II,\n 39.\n\n\nAs far as can be made out, Livingston and Seaton engage themselves to\nplay against one another at some game, the victor expecting to stand the\nbetter in the eyes of a lady. They then proceed to Edinburgh castle,\nwhere a lady, whose \u2018gowns seem like green,\u2019 marshals the company in\npairs, and chooses Livingston for her own partner. This preference\nenrages Seaton, who challenges Livingston to fight with him the next\nday. Up to this point the pairing may have been for a dance, or what\nnot, but now we are told that Livingston and the fair dame are laid in\nthe same bed, and further on that they were wedded that same night. In\nthe morning Livingston arms himself for his fight; he declines to let\nhis lady dress herself in man\u2019s clothes and fight in his stead. On his\nway \u2018to plain fields\u2019 a witch warns him that she has had the dream which\nSweet William dreams in No 74, and others elsewhere. Livingston is\n\u2018slain,\u2019 but for all that stands presently bleeding by his lady\u2019s knee:\nsee No 73, #B# 34, #D# 17. She begs him to hold out but half an hour,\nand every leech in Edinburgh shall come to him: see No 88, #A# 12, etc.\nHe orders his lands to be dealt to the auld that may not, the young that\ncannot, etc.: see No 92, #A# 10, #B# 15. The lady declares that it was\nknown from her birth that she was to marry a knight and lose him the\nnext day. She will now do for his sake what other ladies would not be\nequal to (and which nevertheless many other ballad-ladies have\nundertaken, as in No 69 and elsewhere). When seven years are near an end\nher heart breaks.\n\nThis ballad, or something like it, was known at the end of the last\ncentury. The story has a faint resemblance to that of \u2018Armstrong and\nMusgrave,\u2019 a broadside printed in the last quarter of the seventeenth\ncentury: Crawford Ballads, No 123, Old Ballads, 1723, I, 175; Evans, Old\nBallads, 1777, II, 70. Pinkerton acknowledges that he composed the \u2018Lord\nLivingston\u2019 of his Tragic Ballads, 1781, p. 69, but he says that he had\n\u201csmall lines from tradition.\u201d (Ancient Scotish Poems, 1786, I, cxxxi.)\nPinkerton\u2019s ballad is the one which Buchan refers to, II, 308. It is\ntranslated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, p. 139, No 21.\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1\n It fell about the Lammas time,\n When wightsmen won their hay,\n A\u2019 the squires in merry Linkum\n Went a\u2019 forth till a play.\n\n 2\n They playd until the evening tide,\n The sun was gaeing down;\n A lady thro plain fields was bound,\n A lily leesome thing.\n\n 3\n Two squires that for this lady pledged,\n In hopes for a renown,\n The one was calld the proud Seaton,\n The other Livingston.\n\n 4\n \u2018When will ye, Michaell o Livingston,\n Wad for this lady gay?\u2019\n \u2018To-morrow, to-morrow,\u2019 said Livingston,\n \u2018To-morrow, if you may.\u2019\n\n 5\n Then they hae wadded their wagers,\n And laid their pledges down;\n To the high castle o Edinbro\n They made them ready boun.\n\n 6\n The chamber that they did gang in,\n There it was daily dight;\n The kipples were like the gude red gowd,\n As they stood up in hight,\n And the roof-tree like the siller white,\n And shin\u2019d like candles bright.\n\n 7\n The lady fair into that ha\n Was comely to be seen;\n Her kirtle was made o the pa,\n Her gowns seemd o the green.\n\n 8\n Her gowns seemd like green, like green,\n Her kirtle o the pa;\n A siller wand intill her hand,\n She marshalld ower them a\u2019.\n\n 9\n She gae every knight a lady bright,\n And every squire a may;\n Her own sell chose him Livingston,\n They were a comely tway.\n\n 10\n Then Seaton started till his foot,\n The fierce flame in his ee:\n \u2018On the next day, wi sword in hand,\n On plain fields meet ye me.\u2019\n\n 11\n When bells were rung, and mass was sung,\n And a\u2019 man bound for bed,\n Lord Livingston and his fair dame\n In bed were sweetly laid.\n\n 12\n The bed, the bed where they lay in\n Was coverd wi the pa;\n A covering o the gude red gowd\n Lay nightly ower the twa.\n\n 13\n So they lay there, till on the morn\n The sun shone on their feet;\n Then up it raise him Livingston\n To draw to him a weed.\n\n 14\n The first an weed that he drew on\n Was o the linen clear;\n The next an weed that he drew on,\n It was a weed o weir.\n\n 15\n The niest an weed that he drew on\n Was gude iron and steel;\n Twa gloves o plate, a gowden helmet,\n Became that hind chiel weel.\n\n 16\n Then out it speaks that lady gay\u2014\n A little forbye stood she\u2014\n \u2018I\u2019ll dress mysell in men\u2019s array,\n Gae to the fields for thee.\u2019\n\n 17\n \u2018O God forbid,\u2019 said Livingston,\n \u2018That eer I dree the shame;\n My lady slain in plain fields,\n And I coward knight at hame!\u2019\n\n 18\n He scarcely travelled frae the town\n A mile but barely twa\n Till he met wi a witch-woman,\n I pray to send her wae!\n\n 19\n \u2018This is too gude a day, my lord,\n To gang sae far frae town;\n This is too gude a day, my lord,\n On field to make you boun.\n\n 20\n \u2018I dreamd a dream concerning thee,\n O read ill dreams to guid!\n Your bower was full o milk-white swans,\n Your bride\u2019s bed full o bluid.\u2019\n\n 21\n \u2018O bluid is gude,\u2019 said Livingston,\n \u2018To bide it whoso may;\n If I be frae yon plain fields,\n Nane knew the plight I lay.\u2019\n\n 22\n Then he rade on to plain fields\n As swift\u2019s his horse coud hie,\n And there he met the proud Seaton,\n Come boldly ower the lee.\n\n 23\n \u2018Come on to me now, Livingston,\n Or then take foot and flee;\n This is the day that we must try\n Who gains the victorie.\u2019\n\n 24\n Then they fought with sword in hand\n Till they were bluidy men;\n But on the point o Seaton\u2019s sword\n Brave Livingston was slain.\n\n 25\n His lady lay ower castle-wa,\n Beholding dale and down,\n When Blenchant brave, his gallant steed,\n Came prancing to the town.\n\n 26\n \u2018O where is now my ain gude lord\n He stays sae far frae me?\u2019\n \u2018O dinna ye see your ain gude lord\n Stand bleeding by your knee?\u2019\n\n 27\n \u2018O live, O live, Lord Livingston,\n The space o ae half hour,\n There\u2019s nae a leech in Edinbro town\n But I\u2019ll bring to your door.\u2019\n\n 28\n \u2018Awa wi your leeches, lady,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018Of them I\u2019ll be the waur;\n There\u2019s nae a leech in Edinbro town\n That can strong death debar.\n\n 29\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll take the lands o Livingston\n And deal them liberallie,\n To the auld that may not, the young that cannot,\n And blind that does na see,\n And help young maidens\u2019 marriages,\n That has nae gear to gie.\u2019\n\n 30\n \u2018My mother got it in a book,\n The first night I was born,\n I woud be wedded till a knight,\n And him slain on the morn.\n\n 31\n \u2018But I will do for my love\u2019s sake\n What ladies woudna thole;\n Ere seven years shall hae an end,\n Nae shoe\u2019s gang on my sole.\n\n 32\n \u2018There\u2019s never lint gang on my head,\n Nor kame gang in my hair,\n Nor ever coal nor candle-light\n Shine in my bower mair.\u2019\n\n 33\n When seven years were near an end,\n The lady she thought lang,\n And wi a crack her heart did brake,\n And sae this ends my sang.\n\n\n\n\n 263\n\n THE NEW-SLAIN KNIGHT\n\n \u2018The New-Slain Knight,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland,\n I, 197.\n\n\nA knight (who twaddles in the first person at the beginning) finds a\nmaid sleeping under a hedge, wakes her, and tells her that he has seen a\ndead man in her father\u2019s garden. She asks about the dead man\u2019s hawk,\nhound, sword. His hawk and hound were gone, his horse was tied to a\ntree, a bloody sword lay under his head. She asks about his clothes, and\nreceives a description, with the addition that his hair was bonny and\nnew combed. \u2018I combed it late yesterday!\u2019 says the lady. \u2018Who now will\nshoe my foot, and glove my hand, and father my bairn?\u2019 The knight offers\nhimself for all these, but the lady will commit herself only to Heaven.\nThe knight, after knacking his fingers quite superfluously, unmasks; he\nhas only been making a trial of her truth.\n\nA large part of this piece is imitated or taken outright from very well\nknown ballads (as has already been pointed out by the editor of the\nBallad Minstrelsy of Scotland, 1871, p. 345): 5\u20138 from \u2018Young\nJohnstone,\u2019 No 88; 10, 11 from \u2018The Lass of Roch Royal,\u2019 No 76 (see\nparticularly #E# 1\u20134, and compare No 66, #A# 24, etc.); for 13^{1,2} see\nNo 91, #B# 5^1, 6^1, 7^1, #D# 7^{1,2}, No 257, #A# 7.\n\nGrundtvig notes that this piece is of the same description as the Danish\n\u2018Troskabspr\u00f6ven,\u2019 Danmarks gamle Folkeviser, IV, 553, No 252, one\nversion of which is translated by Prior, III, 289, No 146. Naturally,\nthe fidelity of maid or wife is celebrated in the ballads of every\ntongue and people. This particular ballad, so far as it is original, is\nof very ordinary quality. The ninth stanza is pretty, but not quite\nartless.\n\n\nTranslated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, p. 294, No 46.\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1\n My heart is lighter than the poll;\n My folly made me glad,\n As on my rambles I went out,\n Near by a garden-side.\n\n 2\n I walked on, and farther on,\n Love did my heart engage;\n There I spied a well-faird maid,\n Lay sleeping near a hedge.\n\n 3\n Then I kissd her with my lips\n And stroked her with my hand:\n \u2018Win up, win up, ye well-faird maid,\n This day ye sleep oer lang.\n\n 4\n \u2018This dreary sight that I hae seen\n Unto my heart gives pain;\n At the south side o your father\u2019s garden,\n I see a knight lies slain.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018O what like was his hawk, his hawk?\n Or what like was his hound?\n And what like was the trusty brand\n This new-slain knight had on?\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018His hawk and hound were from him gone,\n His steed tied to a tree;\n A bloody brand beneath his head,\n And on the ground lies he.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018O what like was his hose, his hose?\n And what like were his shoon?\n And what like was the gay clothing\n This new-slain knight had on?\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018His coat was of the red scarlet,\n His waistcoat of the same;\n His hose were of the bonny black,\n And shoon laced with cordin.\n\n 9\n \u2018Bonny was his yellow hair,\n For it was new combd down;\u2019\n Then, sighing sair, said the lady fair,\n \u2018I combd it late yestreen.\n\n 10\n \u2018O wha will shoe my fu fair foot?\n Or wha will glove my hand?\n Or wha will father my dear bairn,\n Since my love\u2019s dead and gane?\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018O I will shoe your fu fair foot,\n And I will glove your hand;\n And I\u2019ll be father to your bairn,\n Since your love\u2019s dead and gane.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018I winna father my bairn,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018Upon an unkent man;\n I\u2019ll father it on the King of Heaven,\n Since my love\u2019s dead and gane.\u2019\n\n 13\n The knight he knackd his white fingers,\n The lady tore her hair;\n He\u2019s drawn the mask from off his face,\n Says, Lady, mourn nae mair.\n\n 14\n \u2018For ye are mine, and I am thine,\n I see your love is true;\n And if I live and brook my life\n Ye\u2019se never hae cause to rue.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n 10^1, 11^1. fair fu.\n\n\n\n\n 264\n\n THE WHITE FISHER\n\n \u2018The White Fisher,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I,\n 200.\n\n\nA young lord, Willie, asks his \u2018gay lady\u2019 whose the child is that she is\ngoing with. She owns that a priest is the father, which does not appear\nto disconcert Willie. A boy is born, and the mother charges Willie to\nthrow him into the sea, \u2018never to return till white fish he bring hame.\u2019\nWillie takes the boy (now called his son) to his mother, and tells her\nthat his \u2018bride\u2019 is a king\u2019s daughter; upon which his mother, who had\nhad an ill opinion of the lady, promises to do as well by Willie\u2019s son\nas she had done by Willie. Returning to his wife, he finds her weeping\nand repining for the \u2018white fisher\u2019 that she had \u2018sent to the sea.\u2019\nWillie offers her a cordial; she says that the man who could have\ndrowned her son would be capable of poisoning her. Willie then tells her\nthat his mother has the boy in charge; she is consoled, and declares\nthat if he had not been the father she should not have been the mother.\n\nTo make this story hang together at all, we must suppose that the third\nand fourth stanzas are tropical, and that Willie was the priest; or else\nthat they are sarcastic, and are uttered in bitter resentment of\nWillie\u2019s suspicion, or affected suspicion. But we need not trouble\nourselves much to make these counterfeits reasonable. Those who utter\nthem rely confidently upon our taking folly and jargon as the marks of\ngenuineness. The white fisher is a trumpery fancy; 2, 7, 8, 12 are\nfrippery commonplaces.\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1\n \u2018It is a month, and isna mair,\n Love, sin I was at thee,\n But find a stirring in your side;\n Who may the father be?\n\n 2\n \u2018Is it to a lord of might,\n Or baron of high degree?\n Or is it to the little wee page\n That rode along wi me?\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018It is not to a man of might,\n Nor baron of high degree,\n But it is to a popish priest;\n My lord, I winna lie.\n\n 4\n \u2018He got me in my bower alone,\n As I sat pensively;\n He vowed he would forgive my sins,\n If I would him obey.\u2019\n\n 5\n Now it fell ance upon a day\n This young lord went from home,\n And great and heavy were the pains\n That came this lady on.\n\n 6\n Then word has gane to her gude lord,\n As he sat at the wine,\n And when the tidings he did hear\n Then he came singing hame.\n\n 7\n When he came to his own bower-door,\n He tirled at the pin:\n \u2018Sleep ye, wake ye, my gay lady,\n Ye\u2019ll let your gude lord in.\u2019\n\n 8\n Huly, huly raise she up,\n And slowly put she on,\n And slowly came she to the door;\n She was a weary woman.\n\n 9\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll take up my son, Willie,\n That ye see here wi me,\n And hae him down to yon shore-side,\n And throw him in the sea.\n\n 10\n \u2018Gin he sink, ye\u2019ll let him sink,\n Gin he swim, ye\u2019ll let him swim;\n And never let him return again\n Till white fish he bring hame.\u2019\n\n 11\n Then he\u2019s taen up his little young son,\n And rowd him in a band,\n And he is on to his mother,\n As fast as he could gang.\n\n 12\n \u2018Ye\u2019ll open the door, my mother dear,\n Ye\u2019ll open, let me come in;\n My young son is in my arms twa,\n And shivering at the chin.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018I tauld you true, my son Willie,\n When ye was gaun to ride,\n That lady was an ill woman\n That ye chose for your bride.\u2019\n\n 14\n \u2018O hold your tongue, my mother dear,\n Let a\u2019 your folly be;\n I wat she is a king\u2019s daughter\n That\u2019s sent this son to thee.\n\n 15\n \u2018I wat she was a king\u2019s daughter\n I loved beyond the sea,\n And if my lady hear of this\n Right angry will she be.\u2019\n\n 16\n \u2018If that be true, my son Willie\u2014\n Your ain tongue winna lie\u2014\n Nae waur to your son will be done\n Than what was done to thee.\u2019\n\n 17\n He\u2019s gane hame to his lady,\n And sair mourning was she:\n \u2018What ails you now, my lady gay,\n Ye weep sa bitterlie?\u2019\n\n 18\n \u2018O bonny was the white fisher\n That I sent to the sea;\n But lang, lang will I look for fish\n Ere white fish he bring me!\n\n 19\n \u2018O bonny was the white fisher\n That ye kiest in the faem;\n But lang, lang will I look for fish\n Ere white fish he fetch hame!\n\n 20\n \u2018I fell a slumbering on my bed\n That time ye went frae me,\n And dreamd my young son filld my arms,\n But when waked, he\u2019s in the sea.\u2019\n\n 21\n \u2018O hold your tongue, my gay lady,\n Let a\u2019 your mourning be,\n And I\u2019ll gie you some fine cordial,\n My love, to comfort thee.\u2019\n\n 22\n \u2018I value not your fine cordial,\n Nor aught that ye can gie;\n Who could hae drownd my bonny young son\n Could as well poison me.\u2019\n\n 28\n \u2018Cheer up your heart, my lily flower,\n Think nae sic ill o me;\n Your young son\u2019s in my mother\u2019s bower,\n Set on the nourice knee.\n\n 24\n \u2018Now, if ye\u2019ll be a gude woman,\n I\u2019ll neer mind this to thee;\n Nae waur is done to your young son\n Than what was done to me.\u2019\n\n 25\n \u2018Well fell\u2019s me now, my ain gude lord;\n These words do cherish me;\n If it hadna come o yoursell, my lord,\n \u2018T would neer hae come o me.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n 7^3. Ye sleep ye, wake ye.\n\n\n\n\n 265\n\n THE KNIGHT\u2019S GHOST\n\n \u2018The Knight\u2019s Ghost,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I,\n 227.\n\n\nA lady who is expecting the return of her lord from sea goes down to the\nstrand to meet him. The ship comes in, but the sailors tell her that she\nwill never see her husband; he has been slain. She invites the men to\ndrink with her, takes them down to the cellar, makes them drunk, locks\nthe door, and bids them lie there for the bad news they have told; then\nshe throws the keys into the sea, to lie there till her lord returns.\nAfter these efforts she falls asleep in her own room, and her dead lord\nstarts up at her feet; he brings the keys with him, and charges her to\nrelease his men, who had done their best for him and were not to blame\nfor his death. The lady, to turn this visit to the more account, asks to\nbe informed what day she is to die, and what day to be buried. The\nknight is not empowered to answer, but, come to heaven when she will, he\nwill be her porter. He sees no objection to telling her that she will be\nmarried again and have nine children, six ladies free and three bold\nyoung men.\n\nThe piece has not a perceptible globule of old blood in it, yet it has\nhad the distinction of being more than once translated as a specimen of\nScottish popular ballads. \u2018Monie\u2019 in 2^2 may be plausibly read, or\nunderstood, \u2018menie,\u2019 retinue; still the antecedent presumption in favor\nof nonsense in ballads of this class makes one hesitate. 7^{3,4} is\nunnatural; no dissembling would be required to induce the young men to\ndrink. In 8^3, \u2018birled them wi the beer\u2019 is what we should expect, not\n\u2018birled wi them.\u2019\n\n\nTranslated by Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder der Vorzeit, p. 57,\nNo 13; by Gerhard, p. 154.\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1\n \u2018There is a fashion in this land,\n And even come to this country,\n That every lady should meet her lord\n When he is newly come frae sea:\n\n 2\n \u2018Some wi hawks, and some wi hounds,\n And other some wi gay monie;\n But I will gae myself alone,\n And set his young son on his knee.\u2019\n\n 3\n She\u2019s taen her young son in her arms,\n And nimbly walkd by yon sea-strand,\n And there she spy\u2019d her father\u2019s ship,\n As she was sailing to dry land.\n\n 4\n \u2018Where hae ye put my ain gude lord,\n This day he stays sae far frae me?\u2019\n \u2018If ye be wanting your ain gude lord,\n A sight o him ye\u2019ll never see.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018Was he brunt? or was he shot?\n Or was he drowned in the sea?\n Or what\u2019s become o my ain gude lord,\n That he will neer appear to me?\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018He wasna brunt, nor was he shot,\n Nor was he drowned in the sea;\n He was slain in Dumfermling,\n A fatal day to you and me.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018Come in, come in, my merry young men,\n Come in and drink the wine wi me;\n And a\u2019 the better ye shall fare\n For this gude news ye tell to me.\u2019\n\n 8\n She\u2019s brought them down to yon cellar,\n She brought them fifty steps and three;\n She birled wi them the beer and wine,\n Till they were as drunk as drunk could be.\n\n 9\n Then she has lockd her cellar-door,\n For there were fifty steps and three:\n \u2018Lie there, wi my sad malison,\n For this bad news ye\u2019ve tauld to me.\u2019\n\n 10\n She\u2019s taen the keys intill her hand\n And threw them deep, deep in the sea:\n \u2018Lie there, wi my sad malison,\n Till my gude lord return to me.\u2019\n\n 11\n Then she sat down in her own room,\n And sorrow lulld her fast asleep,\n And up it starts her own gude lord,\n And even at that lady\u2019s feet.\n\n 12\n \u2018Take here the keys, Janet,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018That ye threw deep, deep in the sea;\n And ye\u2019ll relieve my merry young men,\n For they\u2019ve nane o the swick o me.\n\n 13\n \u2018They shot the shot, and drew the stroke,\n And wad in red bluid to the knee;\n Nae sailors mair for their lord coud do\n Nor my young men they did for me.\u2019\n\n 14\n \u2018I hae a question at you to ask,\n Before that ye depart frae me;\n You\u2019ll tell to me what day I\u2019ll die,\n And what day will my burial be?\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018I hae nae mair o God\u2019s power\n Than he has granted unto me;\n But come to heaven when ye will,\n There porter to you I will be.\n\n 16\n \u2018But ye\u2019ll be wed to a finer knight\n Than ever was in my degree;\n Unto him ye\u2019ll hae children nine,\n And six o them will be ladies free.\n\n 17\n \u2018The other three will be bold young men,\n To fight for king and countrie;\n The ane a duke, the second a knight,\n And third a laird o lands sae free.\u2019\n\n\n\n\n ADDITIONS AND CORRECTIONS\n\n\n VOL. I.\n\n\n 1. Riddles Wisely Expounded.\n\nPp. 1\u20133, 484; II, 495 a. #Little-Russian#. Three lads give a girl\nriddles. \u2018If you guess right, shall you be ours?\u2019 Golovatsky, II, 83,\n19. Two other pieces in the same, III, 180, 55. (W. W.)\n\nA king\u2019s daughter, or other maid, makes the reading of her riddles a\ncondition of marriage in several Polish tales; it may be further\nstipulated that a riddle shall be also given which the woman cannot\nguess, or that those who fail shall forfeit their life. Kar\u0142owicz in\nWis\u0142a, III, 258, 270, where are cited, besides a MS. communication,\nZbi\u00f3r wiadomo\u015bci do antropologii krajowej, V, 194, VII, 12; Gli[\u2018n]ski,\nBajarz Polski, III, No 1; Kolberg, Krakowskie, IV, 204.\n\n\n 2. The Elfin Knight.\n\nP. 7 a. The last two stanzas of #F# are also in Kinloch MSS, V, 275,\nwith one trivial variation, and the burden, \u2018And then, etc.\u2019\n\nSir Walter Scott had a copy beginning, \u2018There lived a wife in the wilds\nof Kent:\u2019 Sharpe\u2019s Ballad Book, 1880, p. 147 f.\n\n7 b, 484 a. Add: #P#, #Q#, Hruschka u. Toischer, Deutsche Volkslieder\naus B\u00f6hmen, p. 171, No 124, a, b.\n\n7 b, III, 496 a. \u2018Store Fordringer,\u2019 Kristensen, Jyske Folkeminder, X,\n342, No 85 (with the stupid painted roses).\n\n7 f, 484 a, II, 495 a, III, 496 a. Add: \u2018I tre Tamburi,\u2019 Ferraro, C. P.\ndel Basso Monferrato, p. 52; \u2018Il Compito,\u2019 Romaic, Tommaseo, III, 13\n(already cited by Nigra).\n\n8 a, II, 495 a. Tasks. #Servian# ballads. Karad\u017ei\u0107, Sr. n. pj., I,\n164, No 240, \u2018The Spinster and the Tsar;\u2019 I, 165, No 242, \u2018The\nSpinster and the Goldsmith.\u2019 Cf. I, 166, No 243. Also, Karad\u017ei\u0107, Sr.\nn. pj. iz Herz., p. 217, No 191; Petranovi\u0107, I, 13, No 16 (where the\ngirl\u2019s father sets the tasks), and p. 218, No 238; Rajkovi\u0107, p. 209,\nNo 237. #Bulgarian.# Collection of the Bulgarian Ministry of Public\nInstruction, II, 31, 3; III, 28, 4. Cf. Verkovi\u0107, p. 52, 43; Bezsonov,\nII, 74, 105; Miladinof, p. 471, 536. #Russian.# An episode in the old\nRussian legend of Prince Peter of Murom and his wife Fevronija, three\nversions: Ku\u0161elev-Bezborodko, Monuments of Old Russian Literature, I,\n29 ff. (W. W.)\n\nWit-contests in verse, the motive of love or marriage having probably\ndropped out. Polish. Five examples are cited by Kar\u0142owicz, Wis\u0142a, III,\n267 ff.: Kolberg, Krakowskie, II, 149, and Mazowsze, II, 149, No 332,\nZbi\u00f3r wiad. do antrop., X, 297, No 217, and two not before printed.\nMoravian examples from Su\u0161il, p. 692 f., No 809, p. 701 ff., No 815:\nmake me a shirt without needle or thread, twist me silk out of oaten\nstraw; count me the stars, build me a ladder to go up to them; drain the\nRed Sea, make me a bucket that will hold it; etc. Zapolski, White\nRussian Weddings and Wedding-Songs, p. 35, No 19. Wis\u0142a, as before, III,\n532 ff.\n\nPolish tales of The Clever Wench are numerous: Wis\u0142a, III, 270 ff.\n\n13 b. A fragment of a riddle given by a wise man to the gods is\npreserved in a cuneiform inscription: [What is that] which is in the\nhouse? which roars like a bull? which growls like a bear? which enters\ninto the heart of a man? etc. The answer is evidently air, wind. George\nSmith, The Chaldean Account of Genesis, 1876, p. 156 : cited by J.\nKar\u0142owicz, Wis\u0142a, III, 273.\n\n15\u201320, 484 f., II, 495 f. Communicated by the Rev. S. Baring-Gould.\n\u201cFrom the north of Cornwall, near Camelford. This used to be sung as a\nsort of game in farm-houses, between a young man who went outside the\nroom and a girl who sat on the settle or a chair, and a sort of chorus\nof farm lads and lasses. Now quite discontinued.\u201d The dead lover\nrepresents the auld man in #I#.\n\n 1\n A fair pretty maiden she sat on her bed,\n The wind is blowing in forest and town\n She sighed and she said, O my love he is dead!\n And the wind it shaketh the acorns down\n\n 2\n The maiden she sighed; \u2018I would,\u2019 said she,\n \u2018That again my lover might be with me!\u2019\n\n 3\n Before ever a word the maid she spake,\n But she for fear did shiver and shake.\n\n 4\n There stood at her side her lover dead;\n \u2018Take me by the hand, sweet love,\u2019 he said.\n\n 5\n . . . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . . . .\n\n 6\n \u2018Thou must buy me, my lady, a cambrick shirt,\n Whilst every grove rings with a merry antine\n And stitch it without any needle-work.\n O and thus shalt thou be a true love of mine\n\n 7\n \u2018And thou must wash it in yonder well,\n Whilst, etc.\n Where never a drop of water in fell.\n O and thus, etc.\n\n 8\n \u2018And thou must hang it upon a white thorn\n That never has blossomed since Adam was born.\n\n 9\n \u2018And when that these tasks are finished and done\n I\u2019ll take thee and marry thee under the sun.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018Before ever I do these two and three,\n I will set of tasks as many to thee.\n\n 11\n \u2018Thou must buy for me an acre of land\n Between the salt ocean and the yellow sand.\n\n 12\n \u2018Thou must plough it oer with a horse\u2019s horn,\n And sow it over with one peppercorn.\n\n 13\n \u2018Thou must reap it too with a piece of leather,\n And bind it up with a peacock\u2019s feather.\n\n 14\n \u2018And when that these tasks are finished and done,\n O then will I marry thee under the sun.\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018Now thou hast answered me well,\u2019 he said,\n The wind, etc.\n \u2018Or thou must have gone away with the dead.\u2019\n And the wind, etc.\n\n 16\n . . . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . . . .\n\nMr Frank Kidsen has given a copy of \u2018Scarborough Fair,\u2019 with some better\nreadings, as sung \u201cin Whitby streets twenty or thirty years ago,\u201d in\nTraditional Tunes, p. 43, 1891.\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1\u20134, _second line of burden_, true love.\n\n 2^2. Without any seam or needlework.\n\n 3^1. yonder dry well.\n\n 3^2. no water sprung.\n\n 4^1. Tell her to dry it on yonder thorn.\n\n 4^2. Which never bore blossom since.\n\n 5, 6. _Wanting._\n\n 7^1. O will you find me.\n\n 7^2. Between the sea-foam [and] the sea-sand. Or never be a true\n lover of mine.\n\n 8^1. O will you plough.\n\n 9^1. O will you reap it.\n\n 9^2. And tie it all up.\n\n 10^1. And when you have done and finished your work.\n\n 10^2. You may come to me for your. And then you shall be a. _At p.\n 172, the first stanza of another version is given, with_ Rue,\n parsley, rosemary and thyme _for the first line of the burden_.\n\n\n 3. The Fause Knight upon the Road.\n\nPp. 20, 485 (also, 14 a, 484 a), III, 496 a. Foiling mischievous sprites\nand ghosts by getting the last word, or prolonging talk till the time\nwhen they must go, especially the noon-sprite: Wis\u0142a, III, 275 f., and\nnotes 44\u20136; also, 269 f. The Wends have the proverbial phrase, to ask as\nmany questions as a noon-sprite. The Poles have many stories of beings\nthat take service without wages, on condition of no fault being found,\nand make off instantly upon the terms being broken.\n\n20, III, 496 a. The last verses of \u2018Tsanno d\u2019Oym\u00e9,\u2019 Daymard, Vieux\nChants pop. recueillis en Quercy, p. 70, are after the fashion of this\nballad.\n\n \u2018Tsano d\u2019Oym\u00e9, atal fuess\u00e9s n\u00e9gado!\u2019\n \u2018Lou fil del rey, et bous n\u00e9 fuess\u00e9s l\u2019aygo!\u2019\n\n \u2018Tsano d\u2019Oym\u00e9, atal fuess\u00e9s brullado!\u2019\n \u2018Lou fil del rey, et bous fuess\u00e9s las clappos!\u2019\n\n\n 4. Lady Isabel and the Elf-Knight.\n\nP. 24 a. A copy in Christie\u2019s Traditional Ballad Airs, II, 236, \u2018May\nColvine and Fause Sir John\u2019 (of which no account is given), is a free\ncompilation from #D b#, #D a#, and #C c#.\n\nThe Gaelic tale referred to by Jamieson may be seen, as Mr Macmath has\npointed out to me, in Rev. Alexander Stewart\u2019s \u2019Twixt Ben Nevis and\nGlencoe, Edinburgh, 1885, p. 205 ff. Dr Stewart gives nine stanzas of a\nGaelic ballad, and furnishes an English rendering. The story has no\nconnection with that of No 4.\n\n25 b, note. \u2018Halewyn en het kleyne Kind,\u2019 in the first volume of the MS.\nPo\u00e9sies pop. de la France, was communicated by Crussemaker, and is the\nsame piece that he printed. Other copies in Lootens et Feys, No 45, p.\n85 (see p. 296); Volkskunde, II, 194, \u2018Van Mijn-heerken van\nBruindergestem.\u2019\n\n27 a, note \u2020. Add: MacInness, Folk and Hero Tales [Gaelic], p. 301, a\nHighland St George: see I, 487, note.\n\n27 f. Professor Bugge, Arkiv f\u00f6r nordisk Filologi, VII, 120\u201336, 1891,\npoints out that a Swedish ballad given in Grundtvig, D. g. F. IV, 813\nf., #F#, and here referred to under \u2018Hind Etin,\u2019 I, 364 b, as Swedish\n#C#, has resemblances with \u2018Kvindemorderen.\u2019 Fru Malin is combing her\nhair _al fresco_, when a suitor enters her premises; he remarks that a\ncrown would sit well on her head. The lady skips off to her chamber, and\nexclaims, Christ grant he may wish to be mine! The suitor follows her,\nand asks, Where is the fair dame who wishes to be mine? But when Fru\nMalin comes to table she is in trouble, and the suitor puts her several\nleading questions. She is sad, not for any of several reasons suggested,\nbut for the bridge under which her seven sisters (syskon) lie. \u2018Sorrow\nnot,\u2019 he says, \u2018we shall build the bridge so broad and long that\nfour-and-twenty horses may go over at a time.\u2019 They pass through a wood;\non the bridge her horse stumbles, and she is thrown into the water. She\ncries for help; she will give him her gold crown. He cares nothing for\nthe crown, and never will help her out. Bugge maintains that this ballad\nis not, as Grundtvig considered it, a compound of \u2018N\u00f6kkens Svig\u2019 and\n\u2018Harpens Kraft,\u2019 but an independent ballad, \u2018The Bride Drowned,\u2019 of a\nset to which belong \u2018Der Wasserman,\u2019 Haupt and Schmaler, I, 62, No 34,\nand many German ballads: see Grundtvig, IV, 810 f, and here I, 365 f.,\n38.\n\n29\u201337, 486 a. Add: #E E#, Hruschka u. Toischer, Deutsche Volkslieder aus\nB\u00f6hmen, p. 126, No 35. Like #Q#, p. 35.\n\n39 ff. The Polish ballad \u2018J\u00e1s i Kasia.\u2019 Mr John Kar\u0142owicz has given, in\nWis\u0142a, IV, 393\u2013424, the results of a study of this ballad, and they are\nhere briefly summarized.\n\nTen unprinted versions are there added to the large number already\npublished, making about ninety copies, if fragments are counted. Copies\nnot noted at I, 39, 486, are, besides these ten, the following. Kolberg,\nKrakowskie, II, 111, 168, Nos 208, 336; Kieleckie, II, 148, No 453;\nLe\u0119czychie, p. 131, No 223; Lubelskie, I, 289 ff., Nos 473, 474;\nPozna[\u2018n]skie, IV, 63, No 131; Mazowsze, III, 274, No 386, IV, 320, No\n346. Zbi\u00f3r wiadomo\u015bci do antropologii krajowej, II, 78, Nos 89, 90; IV,\n129; X, 123. Wis\u0142a, II, 132, 159. Prace filologiczne, II, 568.\nKe\u0119trzy[\u2018n]ski, O Mazurach, p. 35, No 1. Zawili[\u2018n]ski, Z powie\u015bci i\npie\u015bni g\u00f3rali beskidowych, p. 88, No 66. Wasilewski, Jagodne, etc., No\n120. Federowski, Lud okolic \u017barek, etc., p. 102, No 49.\n\nMost of the ten versions printed in Wis\u0142a agree with others previously\npublished; in some there are novel details. In No 3, p. 398, Kasia,\nthrown into the water by her lover, is rescued by her brother. In No 10,\np. 404, J\u00e1s, when drowning the girl, tells her that he has drowned four\nalready, and she shall be the fifth; her brother comes sliding down a\nsilken rope; fishermen take the girl out dead. There are still only two\nof all the Polish versions in which Catharine kills John, #A a#, #b#.\nThe name Ligar, in the latter, points clearly, Mr Kar\u0142owicz remarks, to\nthe U-linger, Ad-elger, Ol-legehr of the German versions, and he is\nconvinced that the ballad came into Poland from Germany, although the\ngirl is not drowned in the German ballad, as in the Polish, English, and\nFrench.\n\nJohn, who is commonly the hero in the Polish ballad, is at the beginning\nof many copies declared to have sung, and the words have no apparent\nsense. But we observe that in the versions of western Europe the hero\nplays on the horn, sings a seductive song, promises to teach the girl to\nsing, etc.; the unmeaning Polish phrase is therefore a survival.\n\nIn many of the German versions a bird warns the maid of her danger. This\nfeature is found once only in Polish: in Zawili[\u2018n]ski (No 69 A of\nKar\u0142owicz).\n\nAt p. 777 of Su\u0161il\u2019s Moravian Songs there are two other versions which I\nhave not noticed, the second of them manifestly derived from Poland.\n\nThere is a Little-Russian ballad which begins like the Polish \u2018J\u00e1s i\nKasia,\u2019 but ends with the girl being tied to a tree and burned, instead\nof being drowned: Wis\u0142a, IV, 423, from Zbi\u00f3r wiadom. do antrop., III,\n150, No 17. Traces of the incident of the burning are also found in\nPolish and Moravian songs: Wis\u0142a, pp. 418\u201322. It is probable that there\nwere two independent ballads, and that these have been confounded.\n\n42 a, III, 497 a. #A#. Add: \u2018Renaud et ses Femmes,\u2019 Revue des Traditions\nPopulaires, VI, 34.\n\n43 a. \u2018Lou Cros d\u00e9 Proucinello,\u2019 Daymard, Vieux Chants p. recueillis en\nQuercy, p. 130, has at the end two traits of this ballad. A young man\ncarries off a girl whom he has been in love with seven years; he throws\nher into a ravine; as she falls, she catches at a tree; he cuts it away;\nshe cries, What shall I do with my pretty gowns? and is answered, Give\nthem to me for another mistress. Cf. also Daymard, p. 128.\n\n43 b, III, 497 a. \u2018La Fille de Saint-Martin.\u2019 Add: \u2018Le Mari Assassin,\u2019\nChanson du pays de Caux, Revue des Traditions Populaires, IV, 133.\n\n43 f., 488 a, III, 497. #Italian.# The ballad in Nannarelli (488 a) I\nhave seen: it is like \u2018La Monferrina incontaminata.\u2019 Add: \u2018La bella\nInglese,\u2019 Salvadori, in Giornale di Filologia Romanza, II, 201; \u2018Un\u2019\neroina,\u2019 A. Giannini, Canzoni del Contado di Massa Lunense, No 1,\nArchivio, VIII, 273; [\u2018Montiglia\u2019], [\u2018Inglesa\u2019], Bolognini, Annuario\ndegli Alpinisti Tridentini, XIII, Usi e Costumi del Trentino, 1888, p.\n37 f.\n\n44 b. \u2018La Princesa Isabel,\u2019 Pidal, Romancero Asturiano, p. 350 (sung by\nchildren as an accompaniment to a game), is a variety of \u2018Rico Franco.\u2019\n\n45 a, 488 a. Another Portuguese version, \u2018O caso de D. Ignez,\u2019 Braga,\nAmplia\u00e7\u00f5es ao Romanceiro das Ilhas dos A\u00e7ores, Revista Lusitana, I, 103.\n\n45 b. Breton, 5. Marivonnic also in Quellien, Chansons et Danses des\nBretons, 1889, p. 99.\n\n50 b, note \u01c1. As to this use of blood, cf. H. von Wlis\u0142ocki,\nVolksth\u00fcmliches zum Armen Heinrich, Ztschr. f. deutsche Philologie,\n1890, XXIII, 217 ff; Notes and Queries, 7th Series, VIII, 363. (G. L.\nK.)\n\n55. #B#. A copy in Walks near Edinburgh, by Margaret Warrender, 1890, p.\n104, differs from #B b# in only a few words, as any ordinary\nrecollection would. As:\n\n * * * * *\n\n 4^3, 6^3, 8^3. my guid steed.\n\n 9^4. It will gar our loves to twine.\n\n 10^4. An I\u2019ll ring for you the bell.\n\n 11^3. Grant me ae kiss o your fause, fause mouth (_improbable\n reading_).\n\n 14^2. she won.\n\n 14^3. most heartily.\n\n56 ff., 488 f., II, 497 f.\n\nThe copy of \u2018May Collin\u2019 which follows is quite the best of the series\n#C-G#. It is written on the same sheet of paper as the \u201ccopy of some\nantiquity\u201d used by Scott in making up his \u2018Gay Goss Hawk\u2019 (ed. 1802, II,\n7). The sheet is perhaps as old as any in the volume in which it occurs,\nbut may possibly not be the original. \u2018May Collin\u2019 is not in the same\nhand as the other ballad.\n\nAccording to the preface to a stall-copy spoken of by Motherwell,\nMinstrelsy, p. lxx, 24, \u201cthe treacherous and murder-minting lover was an\necclesiastic of the monastery of Maybole,\u201d and the preface to #D d# (see\nI, 488) makes him a Dominican friar. So, if we were to accept these\nguides, the \u2018Sir\u2019 would be the old ecclesiastical title and equivalent\nto the \u2018Mess\u2019 of the copy now to be given.\n\n\n\u2018May Collin,\u2019 \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 146,\nAbbotsford.\n\n 1\n May Collin . . . . .\n . . . was her father\u2019s heir,\n And she fell in love with a falsh priest,\n And she rued it ever mair.\n\n 2\n He followd her butt, he followd her benn,\n He followd her through the hall,\n Till she had neither tongue nor teeth\n Nor lips to say him naw.\n\n 3\n \u2018We\u2019ll take the steed out where he is,\n The gold where eer it be,\n And we\u2019ll away to some unco land,\n And married we shall be.\u2019\n\n 4\n They had not riden a mile, a mile,\n A mile but barely three,\n Till they came to a rank river,\n Was raging like the sea.\n\n 5\n \u2018Light off, light off now, May Collin,\n It\u2019s here that you must die;\n Here I have drownd seven king\u2019s daughters,\n The eight now you must be.\n\n 6\n \u2018Cast off, cast off now, May Collin,\n Your gown that\u2019s of the green;\n For it\u2019s oer good and oer costly\n To rot in the sea-stream.\n\n 7\n \u2018Cast off, cast off now, May Collin,\n Your coat that\u2019s of the black;\n For it\u2019s oer good and oer costly\n To rot in the sea-wreck.\n\n 8\n \u2018Cast off, cast off now, May Collin,\n Your stays that are well laced;\n For thei\u2019r oer good and costly\n In the sea\u2019s ground to waste.\n\n 9\n \u2018Cast [off, cast off now, May Collin,]\n Your sark that\u2019s of the holland;\n For [it\u2019s oer good and oer costly]\n To rot in the sea-bottom.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018Turn you about now, falsh Mess John,\n To the green leaf of the tree;\n It does not fit a mansworn man\n A naked woman to see.\u2019\n\n 11\n He turnd him quickly round about,\n To the green leaf of the tree;\n She took him hastly in her arms\n And flung him in the sea.\n\n 12\n \u2018Now lye you there, you falsh Mess John,\n My mallasin go with thee!\n You thought to drown me naked and bare,\n But take your cloaths with thee,\n And if there be seven king\u2019s daughters there\n Bear you them company.\u2019\n\n 13\n She lap on her milk steed\n And fast she bent the way,\n And she was at her father\u2019s yate\n Three long hours or day.\n\n 14\n Up and speaks the wylie parrot,\n So wylily and slee:\n \u2018Where is the man now, May Collin,\n That gaed away wie thee?\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018Hold your tongue, my wylie parrot,\n And tell no tales of me,\n And where I gave a pickle befor\n It\u2019s now I\u2019ll give you three.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1^{1,2}. _One line_: May Collin was her father\u2019s heir.\n\n 7^4. on the.\n\n 8^4. ina? _indistinct._\n\n 12^5. 7.\n\n\n 5. Gil Brenton.\n\nP. 63 b. #Swedish.# \u2018Riddar Olof,\u2019 Lagus, Nyl\u00e4ndska Folkvisor, I, 63, No\n16, _a_, _b_, imperfect copies.\n\n64 b. #Danish.# \u2018Den rette Brudgom\u2019 (Samson and Vendelru), Kristensen,\nJyske Folkeminder, X, 363, No 97.\n\n65 b. \u2018Herr Peders Hustru,\u2019 the same, p. 365,==Grundtvig, No 278.\n\n70. #B#. The three stanzas which follow were communicated to Scott by\nMajor Henry Hutton, Royal Artillery, 24th December, 1802 (Letters, I, No\n77), as recollected by his father and the family. \u201cScotch Ballads,\nMaterials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 18. Instead of 3, 4:\n\n There\u2019s five o them with meal and malt,\n And other five wi beef and salt;\n There\u2019s five o them wi well-bak\u2019d bread,\n And other five wi goud so red.\n\n There\u2019s five o them wi the ladies bright,\n There\u2019s other five o belted knights;\n There\u2019s five o them wi a good black neat,\n And other five wi bleating sheep.\n\n\u201cAnd before the two last stanzas, introduce\u201d\n\n O there was seald on his breast-bane,\n \u2018Cospatric is his father\u2019s name;\u2019\n O there was seald on his right hand\n He should inherit his father\u2019s land.\n\n so _is written over the second_ and _in_ 1^2.\n\n\n 7. Earl Brand.\n\nP. 88. \u2018Ribold og Guldborg:\u2019 Kristensen, Jyske Folkeminder, X, 33,\n\u2018N\u00e6vnet til d\u00f8de,\u2019 No 15, #A-I#.\n\n91 b. #Swedish.# \u2018Kung Valdemo,\u2019 \u2018Ellibrand och Fr\u00f6ken Gyllenborg,\u2019\nLagus, Nyl\u00e4ndska Folkvisor, I, 1, No 1, _a_, _b_. (\u201cName not my name,\u201d\n_a_ 20, _b_ 12.)\n\n95 b, 489 b; III, 498 a. For the whole subject, see K. Nyrop. Navnets\nMagt, 1887, and especially sections 4, 5, pp. 46\u201370. As to reluctance to\nhave one\u2019s name known, and the advantage such knowledge gives an\nadversary, see E. Clodd, in The Folk Lore Journal, VII, 154 ff., and, in\ncontinuation, Folk-Lore, I, 272.\n\nThe berserkr Glamma\u00f0r could pick off any man with his pike, if only he\nknew his name. Saga Egils ok \u00c1smundar, Rafn, Fornaldar S\u00f6gur, III, 387,\n\u00c1smundarson, F. s. Nor\u00f0rlan\u00f0a, III, 292. (G. L. K.)\n\nThe demonic Gel\u00f4 informs certain saints who force her \u201cto tell them how\nother people\u2019s children [may] be defended from her attacks,\u201d that if\nthey \u201ccan write her twelve names and a half she shall never be able to\ncome within seventy-five stadia and a half:\u201d Thomas Wright, Essays on\nSubjects connected with the Literature, etc., of the Middle Ages, 1846,\nI, 294 (referring to Leo Allatius, De Gr\u00e6corum hodie quorundam\nopinationibus). The passage in question is to be found at p. 127 of Leo\nAllatius, De templis Gr\u00e6corum recentioribus, ad Ioannem Morinum; De\nNarthece ecclesi\u00e6 veteris; nec non De Gr\u00e6corum hodie quorundam\nopinationibus, ad Paullum Zacchiam. Coloni\u00e6 Agrippin\u00e6, 1645. (G. L. K.)\n\n96 b. #Swedish.# Two copies of \u2018Rosen lilla\u2019 in Lagus, Nyl\u00e4ndska\nFolkvisor, I, 37, No 10.\n\n#Danish.# Kristensen, Jyske Folkeminder, X, 215, No 52, #C# 9, two\nlilies; p. 318, No 78, 9, 10, graves south and north, two lilies.\n\n97 b. #French.# \u2018Les deux Amoureux,\u2019 Daymard, Vieux Chants p. rec. en\nQuercy, p. 122, lavender and tree.\n\n97 b, 489 b, II, 498 a, III, 498 b. #Slavic.# (1.) White-Russian: he\nburied in church, she in ditch; plane and linden (planted); plane\nembraces linden. MS. (2.) Little-Russian: buried apart; plane grows over\nhis grave, two birches over hers; branches do _not_ interlace. Kolberg,\nPokucie, p. 41. (3.) White-Russian: he in church, she near church; oak,\nbirch (planted); trees touch. Zbi\u00f3r wiado do antropol., XIII, 102 f.\n(4.) Little-Russian: burial apart in a church; rosemary and lily from\ngraves. Var.: rose and sage, rosemary; flowers interlace. Holovatzky,\nIII, 254. (J. Kar\u0142owicz, in M\u00e9lusine, V, 39 ff.)\n\n#Bulgarian.# A poplar from the maid\u2019s grave, a pine from her lover\u2019s:\nCollection of the Bulgarian Ministry of Instruction, I, 35. (W. W.)\n\n97 b, 490 a, III, 498 b. #Breton.# Luzel, Soniou, I, 272\u20133: a tree from\nthe young man\u2019s grave, a rose from the maid\u2019s.\n\n99 ff., 490 ff. \u2018The Earl o Bran,\u2019 \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border\nMinstrelsy,\u201d No 22 b, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of Richard Heber.\n\n 1\n Did ye ever hear o guid Earl o Bran\n An the queen\u2019s daughter o the south-lan?\n\n 2\n She was na fifteen years o age\n Till she came to the Earl\u2019s bed-side.\n\n 3\n \u2018O guid Earl o Bran, I fain wad see\n My grey hounds run over the lea.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018O kind lady, I have no steeds but one,\n But ye shall ride, an I shall run.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018O guid Earl o Bran, but I have tua,\n An ye shall hae yere wael o those.\u2019\n\n 6\n The\u2019re ovr moss an the\u2019re over muir,\n An they saw neither rich nor poor.\n\n 7\n Till they came to ald Carl Hood,\n He\u2019s ay for ill, but he\u2019s never for good.\n\n 8\n \u2018O guid Earl o Bran, if ye loe me,\n Kill Carl Hood an gar him die.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018O kind lady, we had better spare;\n I never killd ane that wore grey hair.\n\n 10\n \u2018We\u2019ll gie him a penny-fie an let him gae,\n An then he\u2019ll carry nae tiddings away.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018Where hae been riding this lang simmer-day?\n Or where hae stolen this lady away?\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018O I hae not riden this lang simmer-day,\n Nor hae I stolen this lady away.\n\n 13\n \u2018For she is my sick sister\n I got at the Wamshester.\u2019\n\n 14\n \u2018If she were sick an like to die,\n She wad na be wearing the gold sae high.\u2019\n\n 15\n Ald Carl Hood is over the know,\n Where they rode one mile, he ran four.\n\n 16\n Till he came to her mother\u2019s yetts,\n An I wat he rapped rudely at.\n\n 17\n \u2018Where is the lady o this ha?\u2019\n \u2018She\u2019s out wie her maidens, playing at the ba.\u2019\n\n 18\n \u2018O na! fy na!\n For I met her fifteen miles awa.\n\n 19\n \u2018She\u2019s over moss, an she\u2019s over muir,\n An a\u2019 to be the Earl o Bran\u2019s whore.\u2019\n\n 20\n Some rode wie sticks, an some wie rungs,\n An a\u2019 to get the Earl o Bran slain.\n\n 21\n That lady lookd over her left shoudder-bane:\n \u2018O guid Earl o Bran, we\u2019ll a\u2019 be taen!\n For yond\u2019r a\u2019 my father\u2019s men.\n\n 22\n \u2018But if ye\u2019ll take my claiths, I\u2019ll take thine,\n An I\u2019ll fight a\u2019 my father\u2019s men.\u2019\n\n 23\n \u2018It\u2019s no the custom in our land\n For ladies to fight an knights to stand.\n\n 24\n \u2018If they come on me ane by ane,\n I\u2019ll smash them a\u2019 doun bane by bane.\n\n 25\n \u2018If they come on me ane and a\u2019,\n Ye soon will see my body fa.\u2019\n\n 26\n He has luppen from his steed,\n An he has gein her that to had.\n\n 27\n An bad her never change her cheer\n Untill she saw his body bleed.\n\n 28\n They came on him ane by ane,\n An he smashed them doun a\u2019 bane by bane.\n\n 29\n He sat him doun on the green grass,\n For I wat a wearit man he was.\n\n 30\n But ald Carl Hood came him behind,\n An I wat he gae him a deadly wound.\n\n 31\n He\u2019s awa to his lady then,\n He kissed her, an set her on her steed again.\n\n 32\n He rode whistlin out the way,\n An a\u2019 to hearten his lady gay.\n\n 33\n \u2018Till he came to the water-flood:\n \u2018O guid Earl o Bran, I see blood!\u2019\n\n 34\n \u2018O it is but my scarlet hood,\n That shines upon the water-flood.\u2019\n\n 35\n They came on \u2018till his mother\u2019s yett,\n An I wat he rappit poorly at.\n\n 36\n His mother she\u2019s come to the door:\n \u2018O son, ye\u2019ve gotten yere dead wie an Eng_lish_ wh_o_re!\u2019\n\n 37\n \u2018She was never a wh_o_re to me;\n Sae let my brother her husband be.\u2019\n\n 38\n Sae ald Carl Hood was not the dead o ane,\n But he was the dead o hale seeventeen.\n\n _Note at the end_: I have not written the chorus, but Mr Leyden,\n having it by him, knows how to insert it.\n\n\n \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 22 d. In\n the handwriting of William Laidlaw. Scott has written at the\n head, Earl Bran, another copy.\n\n 1\n Earl Bran\u2019s a wooing gane;\n Ae lalie, O lilly lalie\n He woo\u2019d a lady, an was bringing her hame.\n O the gae knights o Airly\n\n 2\n . . . . . . . .\n They met neither wi rich nor poor.\n\n 3\n Till they met wi an auld palmer Hood,\n Was ay for ill, an never for good.\n\n 4\n \u2018O yonder is an auld palmer Heed:\n Tak your sword an kill him dead.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018Gude forbid, O ladie fair,\n That I kill an auld man an grey hair.\n\n 6\n \u2018We\u2019ll gie him a an forbid him to tell;\u2019\n The gae him a an forbad him to tell.\n\n 7\n The auld man than he\u2019s away hame,\n He telld o Jane whan he gaed hame.\n\n 8\n \u2018I thought I saw her on yon moss,\n Riding on a milk-white horse.\n\n 9\n \u2018I thought I saw her on yon muir;\n By this time she\u2019s Earl Bran\u2019s wh_ore_.\u2019\n\n 10\n Her father he\u2019s ca\u2019d on his men:\n \u2018Gae follow, an fetch her again.\u2019\n\n 11\n She\u2019s lookit oer her left shoulder:\n \u2018O yonder is my father\u2019s men!\n\n 12\n \u2018O yonder is my father\u2019s men:\n Take my cleadin, an I\u2019ll take thine.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018O that was never law in land,\n For a ladie to feiht an a knight to stand.\n\n 14\n \u2018But if yer father\u2019s men come ane an ane,\n Stand ye by, an ye\u2019ll see them slain.\n\n 15\n \u2018If they come twae an twae,\n Stand ye by, an ye\u2019ll see them gae.\n\n 16\n \u2018And if they come three an three,\n Stand ye by, an ye\u2019ll see them die.\u2019\n\n 17\n Her father\u2019s men came ane an ane,\n She stood by . . . .\n\n 18\n Than they cam by twae an twae,\n . . . . . . .\n\n 19\n Than they cam by three an three,\n . . . . . . .\n\n 20\n But ahint him cam the auld palmer Hood,\n An ran him outthro the heart\u2019s blood.\n\n 21\n \u2018I think I see your heart\u2019s blood:\u2019\n \u2018It\u2019s but the glistering o your scarlet hood.\u2019\n\n * * * * * *\n\n * * * * *\n\n 7^1. _MS._, he\u2019s *, _and, in the margin_, * away has been gane.\n _Over_ away hame _is written_ thre them (==thrae, frae, them),\n _or, perhaps_, thre than.\n\n 20^1. _MS_., palmer weed: _cf._ 3^1, 4^1.\n\n 20^2. outr thro.\n\nP. 100, #B#; 489 b, 492, #I#. The printed copy used by Scott was \u2018Lord\nDouglas\u2019 Tragedy,\u2019 the first of four pieces in a stall-pamphlet,\n\u201clicensed and entered, 1792:\u201d \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border\nMinstrelsy,\u201d No 1. #I# is another edition of the same. The variations\nfrom #I# are as follows:\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1^1, says.\n\n 2^2. your arms.\n\n 3^4. father who.\n\n 4^3. seven _wanting_.\n\n 4^4. just now.\n\n 5^1. better _for_ (_the obvious misprint_) bitter.\n\n 5^3. once that.\n\n 6^1. Hold your hand.\n\n 7^2. wounds.\n\n 7^4. forkd in the.\n\n 8^1. Lady Margret.\n\n 9^3, 13^3. blue gilded, _as in_ #I#, _for_ bugelet: hanging down.\n\n 9^4, 13^4. slowly they both.\n\n 10^3. yon clear river-side.\n\n 11^3. his pretty.\n\n 12^3. \u2019Tis nothing.\n\n 15^2. soft.\n\n 16^2. long ere day.\n\n 16^4. died _wanting_.\n\n 17^1. St _for_ Lady.\n\n 17^3. sprung.\n\n 18^2. be near.\n\n 18^3. ye: weil.\n\n\n 8. Erlinton.\n\nP. 107. The two copies from which (with some editorial garnish and\nfilling out) #A# was compounded were: #a#. \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials\nfor Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 20, obtained from Nelly Laidlaw, and in the\nhandwriting of William Laidlaw; #b#. \u2018Earlington\u2019s Daughter,\u2019 the same\ncollection, No 11, in the handwriting of James Hogg. The differences are\npurely verbal, and both copies may probably have been derived from the\nsame reciter; still, since only seven or eight verses in sixty-eight\nagree, both will be given entire, instead of a list of the variations.\n\n #a.#\n 1\n Lord Erlinton had ae daughter,\n I trow he\u2019s weird her a grit sin;\n For he has bugn a bigly bower,\n An a\u2019 to pit his ae daughter in.\n An he has buggin, etc.\n\n 2\n An he has warn her sisters six,\n Her sisters six an her brethren se\u2019en,\n Thei\u2019r either to watch her a\u2019 the night,\n Or than to gang i the mornin soon.\n\n 3\n She had na been i that bigly bower\n Not ae night but only ane\n Untill that Willie, her true-love,\n Chappit at the bower-door, no at the gin.\n\n 4\n \u2018Whae\u2019s this, whae\u2019s this chaps at my bower-door,\n At my bower-door, no at the gin?\u2019\n \u2018O it is Willie, thy ain true-love;\n O will ye rise an let me in?\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018In my bower, Willie, there is a wane,\n An in the wane there is a wake;\n But I will come to the green woods\n The morn, for my ain true-love\u2019s sake.\u2019\n\n 6\n This lady she\u2019s lain down again,\n An she has lain till the cock crew thrice;\n She said unto her sisters baith,\n Lasses, it\u2019s time at we soud rise.\n\n 7\n She\u2019s putten on her breast a silver tee,\n An on her back a silken gown;\n She\u2019s taen a sister in ilka hand,\n An away to the bonnie green wood she\u2019s gane.\n\n 8\n They hadna gane a mile in that bonnie green wood,\n They had na gane a mile but only ane,\n Till they met wi Willie, her ain true-love,\n An thrae her sisters he has her taen.\n\n 9\n He\u2019s taen her sisters ilk by the hand,\n He\u2019s kissd them baith, an he\u2019s sent them hame;\n He\u2019s muntit his ladie him high behind,\n An thro the bonnie green wood thei\u2019r gane.\n\n 10\n They\u2019d ridden a mile i that bonnie green wood,\n They hadna ridden but only ane,\n When there cam fifteen o the baldest knights\n That ever boor flesh, bluid an bane.\n\n 11\n Than up bespak the foremost knight,\n He woor the gray hair on his chin;\n \u2018Yield me yer life or your lady fair,\n An ye sal walk the green woods within.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018For to gie my wife to thee,\n I wad be very laith,\u2019 said he;\n \u2018For than the folk wad think I was gane mad,\n Or that the senses war taen frae me.\u2019\n\n 13\n Up than bespak the niest foremost knight,\n I trow he spak right boustrouslie;\n \u2018Yield me yer life or your ladie fair,\n An ye sall walk the green woods wi me.\u2019\n\n 14\n \u2018My wife, she is my warld\u2019s meed,\n My life, it lyes me very near;\n But if ye be man o your manhood\n I serve will while my days are near.\u2019\n\n 15\n He\u2019s luppen off his milk-white steed,\n He\u2019s gien his lady him by the head:\n \u2018See that ye never change yer cheer\n Till ance ye see my body bleed.\u2019\n\n 16\n An he\u2019s killd a\u2019 the fifteen knights,\n He\u2019s killed them a\u2019 but only ane;\n A\u2019 but the auld grey-headed knight,\n He bade him carry the tiddins hame.\n\n 17\n He\u2019s gane to his lady again,\n I trow he\u2019s kissd her, baith cheek an chin;\n \u2018Now ye\u2019r my ain, I have ye win,\n An we will walk the green woods within.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n 2^3. Their _struck out_.\n\n 9^3. muntit _struck out, and_ set _written above_.\n\n 12^3. than _struck out_.\n\n 14^4. while, are, _struck out, and_ till, be, _written above_.\n\n 16^4. tiddins: _one_ d _struck out_. _These changes would seem to\n be somebody\u2019s editorial improvements._\n\n Wi me _in_ 13^4 _sacrifices sense to rhyme_. _We are to understand\n in_ 11^{3,4}, 13^{3,4} _that Willie is to die if he will not\n give up the lady, but if he will resign her he may live, and\n walk the wood at his pleasure._ 14^4 _is corrupt in both texts_.\n\n #b.#\n 1\n O Earlington, he has ae daughter,\n And I wot he has ward her in a great sin;\n He has buggin to her a bigly bowr,\n And a\u2019 to put his daughter in.\n\n 2\n O he has warnd her sisters six,\n Her sisters six and her brethren seven,\n Either to watch her a\u2019 the night,\n Or else to search her soon at morn.\n\n 3\n They had na been a night in that bigly bowr,\n \u2019Tis not a night but barely ane,\n Till there was Willie, her ain true-love,\n Rappd at the door, and knew not the gin.\n\n 4\n \u2018Whoe\u2019s this, whoe\u2019s this raps at my bowr-door,\n Raps at my bowr-door, and knows not the gin?\u2019\n \u2018O it is Willie, thy ain true-love;\n I pray thee rise and let me in.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018O in my bower, Willie, there is a wake,\n And in the wake there is a wan;\n But I\u2019ll come to the green wood the morn,\n To the green wood for thy name\u2019s sake.\u2019\n\n 6\n O she has gaen to her bed again,\n And a wait she has lain till the cock crew thrice;\n Then she said to her sisters baith,\n Lasses, \u2019tis time for us to rise.\n\n 7\n She\u2019s puten on her back a silken gown,\n And on her breast a silver tie;\n She\u2019s taen a sister in ilka hand,\n And thro the green wood they are gane.\n\n 8\n They had na walkt a mile in that good green wood,\n \u2019Tis not a mile but barely ane,\n Till there was Willie, her ain true-love,\n And from her sisters he has her taen.\n\n 9\n He\u2019s taen her sisters by the hand,\n He kist them baith, he sent them hame;\n He\u2019s taen his lady him behind,\n And thro the green wood they are gane.\n\n 10\n They had na ridden a mile in the good green wood,\n \u2019Tis not a mile but barely ane,\n Till there was fifteen of the boldest knights\n That ever bore flesh, blood or bane.\n\n 11\n The foremost of them was an aged knight,\n He wore the gray hair on his chin:\n \u2018Yield me thy life or thy lady bright,\n And thou shalt walk these woods within.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018\u2019Tis for to give my lady fair\n To such an aged knight as thee,\n People wad think I were gane mad,\n Or else the senses taen frae me.\u2019\n\n 13\n Up then spake the second of them,\n And he spake ay right bousterously;\n \u2018Yield me thy life or thy lady bright,\n And thou shalt walk these woods within.\u2019\n\n 14\n \u2018My wife, she is my warld\u2019s meed,\n My life it lies me very near;\n But if you\u2019ll be man of your manheed,\n I\u2019ll serve you till my days be near.\u2019\n\n 15\n He\u2019s lighted of his milk-white steed,\n He\u2019s given his lady him by the head:\n \u2018And see ye dinna change your cheer\n Till you do see my body bleed.\u2019\n\n 16\n O he has killd these fifteen lords,\n And he has killd them a\u2019 but ane,\n And he has left that old aged knight,\n And a\u2019 to carry the tidings hame.\n\n 17\n O he\u2019s gane to his lady again,\n And a wait he has kist her, baith cheek and chin:\n \u2018Thou art my ain love, I have thee bought,\n And thou shalt walk these woods within.\u2019\n\n 5. wake _should be_ wane _and_ wan wake, _as in #A#._\n\n\n 10. The Twa Sisters.\n\n P. 119 a. #Danish.# \u2018De talende Strenge,\u2019 Kristensen, Jyske\n Folkeminder, X, 68, 375, No 19, #A-E#.\n\n 119 b. #Swedish.# \u2018De tv\u00e5 systrarna,\u2019 Lagus, Nyl\u00e4ndska Folkvisor, I,\n 27, No 7, _a_, _b_; the latter imperfect.\n\n 124 b. Bohemian, Waldau, B\u00f6hmische Granaten, II, 97, No 137 (with\n the usual variations).\n\n 125 b, 493 b; II, 498 b; III, 499 a. Add: \u2018Les roseaux qui\n chantent,\u2019 Revue des Traditions Populaires, IV, 463, V, 178; \u2018La\n rose de Pimperl\u00e9,\u2019 Meyrac, Traditions, etc., des Ardennes, p. 486\n ff.; \u2018L\u2019os qui chante,\u2019 seven Walloon versions, E. Monseur, Bulletin\n de Folklore Wallon, I, 39 ff.\n\n 128. #C.# \u2018The Cruel Sister,\u2019 \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border\n Minstrelsy,\u201d No 16; communicated to Scott by Major Henry Hutton,\n Royal Artillery, December 24, 1802 (Letters, I, No 77), as\n recollected by his father \u201cand the family.\u201d\n\n 1\n There were twa sisters in a bowr,\n Binnorie, O Binnorie\n The eldest was black and the youngest fair.\n By the bonny milldams o Binnorie\n\n After 13 (or as 14):\n Your rosie cheeks and white hause-bane\n Garrd me bide lang maiden at hame.\n\n After 15:\n The miller\u2019s daughter went out wi speed\n To fetch some water to make her bread.\n\n After 17:\n He coud not see her fingers sma,\n For the goud rings they glistend a\u2019.\n He coud na see her yellow hair\n For pearlin and jewels that were so rare.\n\n And when he saw her white hause-bane\n Round it hung a gouden chain.\n\n He stretched her owt-our the bra\n And moan\u00ebd her wi mekle wa.\n\n\u201cThen, at the end, introduce the following\u201d (which, however, are not\ntraditional).\n\n The last tune the harp did sing,\n \u2018And yonder stands my false sister Alison.\n\n \u2018O listen, listen, all my kin,\n \u2019Twas she wha drownd me in the lin.\u2019\n\n And when the harp this song had done\n It brast a\u2019 o pieces oer the stane.\n\n\u201cAlison. The writer of these additional stanzas understands the name was\nAlison, and not Helen.\u201d Alison occurs in #D#, #K#.\n\nPp. 133, 139. #L.# Anna Seward to Walter Scott, April 25\u201329, 1802:\nLetters addressed to Sir Walter Scott, I, No 54, Abbotsford. \u201cThe\nBinnorie of endless repetition has nothing truly pathetic, and the\nludicrous use made of the drowned sister\u2019s body is well burlesqued in a\nridiculous ballad, which I first heard sung, with farcial grimace, in my\ninfancy [born 1747], thus:\u201d\n\n 1\n And O was it a pheasant cock,\n Or eke a pheasant hen?\n Or was it and a gay lady,\n Came swimming down the stream?\n\n 2\n O it was not a pheasant cock,\n Or eke a pheasant hen,\n But it was and a gay lady,\n Came swimming down the stream.\n\n 3\n And when she came to the mill-dam\n The miller he took her body,\n And with it he made him a fiddling thing,\n To make him sweet melody.\n\n 4\n And what did he do with her fingers small?\n He made of them pegs to his vial.\n\n 5\n And what did he do with her nose-ridge?\n Why to his fiddle he made it a bridge.\n Sing, O the damnd mill-dam, O\n\n 6\n And what did he do with her veins so blue?\n Why he made him strings his fiddle unto.\n\n 7\n And what did he do with her two shins?\n Why to his vial they dancd Moll Sims.\n\n 8\n And what did he do with her two sides?\n Why he made of them sides to his fiddle besides.\n\n 9\n And what did he do with her great toes?\n Why what he did with them that nobody knows.\n Sing, O the damnd mill-dam, O\n\nFor 4, 5, 6, 7, see #A# 8, 9, 10, 13.\n\nP. 137. MS. of Thomas Wilkie, p. 1, in \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for\nBorder Minstrelsy,\u201d No 32; taken down \u201cfrom a Miss Nancy Brockie,\nBemerside.\u201d 1813.\n\n 1\n There were twa sisters sat in a bower,\n By Nera and by Nora\n The youngest was the fairest flower.\n Of all the mill-dams of Bennora\n\n 2\n It happened upon a bonnie summer\u2019s day\n The eldest to the youngest did say:\n In the bonnie mill-dams of Bennora\n\n 3\n \u2018We must go and we shall go\n To see our brother\u2019s ships come to land.\u2019\n In, etc. (_and throughout_).\n\n 4\n \u2018I winna go and I downa go,\n For weeting the corks o my coal-black shoes.\u2019\n\n 5\n She set her foot into a rash-bush,\n To see how tightly she was dressd.\n\n 6\n But the youngest sat upon a stone,\n But the eldest threw the youngest in.\n\n 7\n \u2018O sister, oh sister, come lend me your hand,\n And draw my life into dry land!\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018You shall not have one bit o my hand;\n Nor will I draw you to dry land.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018O sister, O sister, come lend me your hand,\n And you shall have Sir John and all his land.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018You shall not have one bit o my hand,\n And I\u2019ll have Sir John and all his land.\n\n 11\n The miller\u2019s daughter, clad in red,\n Came for some water to bake her bread.\n\n 12\n \u2018O father, O father, go fish your mill-dams,\n For there either a swan or a drownd woman.\u2019\n\n 13\n You wad not have seen one bit o her waist,\n The body was swelld, and the stays strait laced.\n\n 14\n You wad not have seen one bit o her neck,\n The chains of gold they hang so thick.\n\n 15\n He has taen a tait of her bonnie yellow hair,\n He\u2019s tied it to his fiddle-strings there.\n\n 16\n The verry first spring that that fiddle playd\n Was, Blest be [the] queen, my mother! [it] has said.\n\n 17\n The verry next spring that that fiddle playd\n Was, Blest be Sir John, my own true-love!\n\n 18\n The very next spring that that fiddle playd\n Was, Burn my sister for her sins!\n\n 4^2. _Written at first_ my black heeld shoes.\n\n 12^2. swain.\n\n 17^2. thy own.\n\n\n 11. The Cruel Brother.\n\n#P.# 142 b, 496 a, III, 499 a. #B# was repeated by Salvadori in Giornale\ndi Filologia Romanza, II, 197; and #E# was first published by Mazzatinti\nin IV, 69, of the same.\n\n142 f. A variety of \u2018Graf Friedrich\u2019 in Hruschka u. Toischer, Deutsche\nVolkslieder aus B\u00f6hmen, p. 101, No 25.\n\n143 b. III, 499. Testament. \u2018Hr. Adelbrand,\u2019 Kristensen, Jyske\nFolkeminder, #X#, 227, 232, No 54, #A#, 20 ff., #F#, 10 ff.==\u2018Herr\nRadibrand och lilla Lena,\u2019 \u2018Sk\u00f6n Helena och riddaren Hildebrand,\u2019 Lagus,\nNyl\u00e4ndska Folkvisor, I, 89, No 25, _a_,_ b_.\n\n\u2018Adelbrand\u2019 is No 311 of Danmarks gamle Folkeviser, V, II, 297, ed.\nOlrik, of which the versions that have been cited in this book are #B#,\n#K e#, #G e#, #F#, #K b#, #I#. There is a testament in other copies of\nthe same. Also in No 320, not yet published.\n\n145 ff. \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 22 a. In\nthe handwriting of William Laidlaw; \u201cfrom Jean Scott.\u201d\n\n There was three ladies playd at the ba,\n With a hey hey an a lilly gay\n\n Bye cam three lords an woo\u2019d them a\u2019.\n Whan the roses smelld sae sweetly\n\n The first o them was clad in yellow:\n \u2018O fair may, will ye be my marrow?\u2019\n Whan the roses smell, etc.\n\n The niest o them was clad i ried:\n \u2018O fair may, will ye be my bride?\u2019\n\n The thrid o them was clad i green:\n He said, O fair may, will ye be my queen?\n\n\n 12. Lord Randal.\n\nPp. 152 b, 498 b, III, 499 b. #Italian.# Add #L#, \u2018'U Cavalieru\nTraditu;\u2019 communicated to La Calabria, October 15, 1888, p. 5, \u2018Storie\npopolari Acresi,\u2019 by Antonio Julia.\n\n_154_ a. #Danish.# \u2018Den forgivne S\u00f8ster\u2019 (with testament), Kristensen,\nJyske Folkeminder, X, 358, No 92.\n\n156 b. Vuk, I, No _302_, is translated by Bowring, p. 143.\n\n157 ff., 499 ff. \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No\n22 g, in the handwriting of William Laidlaw.\n\n 1\n \u2018Where ha ye been, Lord Randal, my son?\u2019\n \u2018I been at the huntin, mother, mak my bed soon;\n I\u2019m weariet wi huntin, I fain wad lie down.\u2019\n\n 2\n \u2018What gat ye to yer supper, Lord Randal, my son?\u2019\n \u2018An eel boild i broo, mother, mak my bed soon;\n I\u2019m,\u2019 etc.\n\n 3\n \u2018What gat yer dogs, Earl Randal, my son?\u2019\n \u2018The broo o the eel, mother,\u2019 etc.\n\n 4\n \u2018What leave [ye] yer false love, Lord Randal, my son?\u2019\n \u2018My goud silken garters, to hang hersel on;\n I\u2019m,\u2019 etc.\n\n 4^1. leave year.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n U\n\n Letters addressed to Sir Walter Scott, XX, No 77, Abbotsford; from\n Joseph Jamieson Archibald, Largs, 18th February, 1830.\n\n\u201cBy the bye! How does your copy of \u2018Willie Doo\u2019 go? Or is it the same as\nour \u2018Auld Nursery Lilt,\u2019 better known by the name of \u2018My Wee Croodling\nDoo\u2019? To give you every justice, I shall copy a stanza or two.\u201d\n\n 1\n \u2018Whare were ye the lea lang day,\n My wee crooding doo, doo?\u2019\n \u2018I hae been at my step-dame\u2019s;\n Mammy, mak my bed noo, noo!\u2019\n\n 2\n \u2018Whare gat she the wee, wee fish?\u2019\n \u2018She gat it neist the edder-flowe.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018What did she wi the fishie\u2019s banes?\u2019\n \u2018The wee black dog gat them to eat.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018What did the wee black doggie then?\u2019\n \u2018He shot out his fittie an deed;\n An sae maun I now too, too.\u2019 Etc.\n\n\u201cThe wee crooding doo next received a fatal drink, and syne a lullaby,\nwhen his bed was made \u2018baith saft an fine,\u2019 while his lang fareweel and\ndying lamentation was certainly both trying and afflicting to the loving\nparents.\u201d _The drink after the fish was a senseless interpolation_;\n_the_ \u2018lang fareweel\u2019 _was probably the testament of the longer ballad_.\n\n500. The title of #Q# in the MS. is \u2018Lord Randal;\u2019 of #R#, \u2018Little wee\ntoorin dow.\u2019\n\n\n 14. Babylon, or, The Bonnie Banks o Fordie.\n\nP. 171 a. #Danish.# \u2018Herr Tures D\u00f8tre,\u2019 Kristensen, Jyske Folkeminder,\nX, 294, No 72.\n\n\n 15. Leesome Brand.\n\nP. 178 a. \u2018Jomfru i Hindeham,\u2019 D. g. F. No 58, Kristensen, Jyske\nFolkeminder, X, 14, No 7.\n\n179 a, III, 500 b. #Danish#, II, \u2018Barnef\u00f8dsel i Lunden,\u2019 six copies and\na fragment, in Kristensen\u2019s Skattegraveren, X, 145 ff., Nos 416\u201322,\n1888. (\u2018Sadlen for trang, vejen for lang,\u2019 416, 17, 20; man\u2019s help, 416,\n419; children buried alive, 417, 18, 22; sister and brother, 418; lilies\nfrom grave, 416, 17.) \u2018Skj\u00f8n Medler,\u2019 Kristensen, Jyske Folkeminder, X,\n182, No 46, #A-H#. (Saddle, way, #A#; man\u2019s help, #A#, #B#, #E#, #F#,\n#H#; children buried alive, #A#, #B#, #C#, #E#, #F#.)\n\n#Swedish.# \u2018Herr Riddervall,\u2019 Lagus, Nyl\u00e4ndska Folkvisor, I, 75, No 20.\n\n\n 16. Sheath and Knife.\n\nP. 186. #D# is in or from T. Lyle\u2019s Ancient Ballads and Songs, 1827, p.\n241. Scott, as Lyle says, has nearly the same burden in a stanza (of his\nown?) which he makes E. Deans sing, in The Heart of Mid-Lothian.\n\n\n 17. Hind Horn.\n\nP. 193 b (2). \u2018Hr. Lovmand,\u2019 Kristensen, Jyske Folkeminder, X, 252, No\n62, #A-D#.\n\n194 ff., 502 f.; II, 499 b; III, 501 b. Ring stories. Cf. MacInnes, Folk\nand Hero Tales (Argyllshire), 1890, p. 157. (G. L. K.)\n\nBulgarian ballad.\u2014Stojan is married on Sunday; on Monday he is ordered\nto join the army. His wife gives him a posy, which will remain fresh\nuntil she marries another man. He serves nine years; the tenth the queen\ndiscovers from his talk that he has a wife, and gives him permission to\ngo home. He arrives the very day on which his wife is to be remarried,\ngoes to the wedding, and asks her to kiss his hand and accept a gift\nfrom him. She recognizes him by the ring on his hand, sends off the\nguests, and goes home with him. Collection of the Ministry of\nInstruction, I, 39. In a variant, Verkovi\u0107, p. 329, No 301, the man is\ngone three years, and arrives just as the wedding procession comes for\nthe bride. (W. W.)\n\n198 b. \u2018Le Retour du Mari.\u2019 \u2018Un Retour de Guerre\u2019 (cards), Daymard, pp.\n203, 4.\n\n202 a, III, 501 b. For more of these curiosities (in Salman u. Morolf,\nOrendel, Virginal, Laurin, etc.), see Vogt\u2019s note, p. 181 (248 ff.), to\nSalman u. Morolf.\n\n206. #H.# I have received from Mr Walker, of Aberdeen, author of \u2018The\nBards of Bonaccord,\u2019 a copy of \u2018Hind Horn\u2019 which was taken down by a\ncorrespondent of his on lower Deeside about 1880. It closely resembles\n#G# and #H#. Collated with #H#, the more note-worthy variations are as\nfollows:\n\n 1^1. Hey how, bound, lovie, hey how, free.\n\n 6^2. An the glintin o \u2018t was aboon.\n\n 10. An when he looked the ring upon, O but it was pale an wan!\n\n 13^2. What news, what news is in this lan?\n\n 19.\n Ye\u2019ll ging up to yon high hill,\n An ye\u2019ll blaw yer trumpet loud an shrill.\n\n 20.\n Doun at yon gate ye will enter in,\n And at yon stair ye will stan still.\n\n 21.\n Ye\u2019ll seek meat frae ane, ye\u2019ll seek meat frae twa,\n Ye\u2019ll seek meat fra the highest to the lowest o them a\u2019.\n\n 22.\n But it\u2019s out o their hans an ye will tak nane\n Till it comes out o the bride\u2019s ain han.\n\n 26^2. Wi the links o the yellow gowd in her hair.\n\n _After 27_: An when she looked the ring upon, O but she grew pale\n an wan!\n\n _After 28_: Or got ye it frae ane that is far, far away, To gie\n unto me upon my weddin-day?\n\n 30. But I got it frae you when I gaed away, To gie unto you on\n your weddin-day.\n\n 32. It\u2019s I\u2019ll gang wi you for evermore, An beg my bread frae door\n to door.\n\n502 a. There can hardly be a doubt that the two stanzas cited belonged\nto \u2018The Kitchie-Boy,\u2019 \u2018Bonny Foot-Boy,\u2019 No 252. Cf. #A# 34, 35, #B# 47,\n#D# 7, 8, of that ballad.\n\n\n 18. Sir Lionel.\n\nP. 209 b. \u2018Blow thy horne, hunter.\u2019 Found, with slight variations, in\nAdd. MS. 31922, British Museum, 39, b (Henry VIII): Ewald, in Anglia,\nXII, 238.\n\n\n 19. King Orfeo.\n\nP. 215. The relations of the Danish \u2018Harpens Kraft,\u2019 and incidentally\nthose of this ballad, to the English romance are discussed, with his\nusual acuteness, by Professor Sophus Bugge in Arkiv f\u00f6r nordisk\nFilologi, VII, 97 ff., 1891. See II, 137, of this collection.\n\n\n 20. The Cruel Mother.\n\nP. 218 b, III, 502 a. \u2018Barnemordersken,\u2019 Kristensen, Jyske Folkeminder,\nX, 356, No 90, #A#, #B#.\n\n219 b, 504 a, II, 500 a, III, 502 b. Add: #Q#, #R#, Hruschka u.\nToischer, Deutsche Volkslieder aus B\u00f6hmen, p. 129, No 40 a, b.\n\n220 ff. #a.# MS. of Thomas Wilkie, p. 4, in \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials\nfor Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 33. \u201cTaken down from Mrs Hislope, Gattonside.\nThe air is plaintive and very wild.\u201d 1813. #b.# \u201cScotch Ballads,\nMaterials,\u201d etc., No 113; in the hand of T. Wilkie.\n\n 1\n As I looked over my father\u2019s castle-wa,\n All alone and alone, O\n I saw two pretty babes playing at the ba.\n Down by yone greenwood side, O\n\n 2\n \u2018O pretty babes, if ye were mine,\u2019\n All alone, etc.,\n \u2018I would clead you o the silk so fine.\u2019\n Alone by the, etc.\n\n 3\n \u2018O mother dear, when we were thine,\n Ye houket a hole fornent the sun,\u2019\n And laid yer two babes in, O\n\n 4\n \u2018O pretty babes, if ye were mine,\n I would feed you wi the morning\u2019s milk.\u2019\n Alone by, etc.\n\n 5\n \u2018O mother dear, when we were thine,\n Ye houket a hole fornent the sun.\n And laid yer two babes in, O.\n\n 6\n \u2018But we are in the heavens high,\n And ye hae the pains of hell to dri.\u2019\n Alone by, etc.\n\n 7\n \u2018O pretty babes, pray weel for me!\u2019\n \u2018Aye, mother, as ye did for we.\u2019\n Down by, etc.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#a.#\n\n 3^1. when that ye had done _is written above_ we were thine.\n\n#b.#\n\n 1. _Burden, second line_, by the.\n\n 2^2. with the.\n\n _After 2_:\n\n \u2018O mother dear, when we were thine,\n Ye stabd us wi your little penknife.\u2019\n Down by the, etc.\n\n 3^1. when that ye had done.\n\n 4, 5. _Wanting._\n\n 6. _Burden, second line_, Down by the, etc.\n\nThe copy at II, 500 b (Pepys, V, 4, No 2), is also in the Crawford\ncollection, No 1127, and in that from the Osterley Park library, British\nMuseum, C. 39. k. 6 (60). It is dated 1688\u201395 in the Crawford catalogue,\nand 1690? in the Museum catalogue.\n\nThe text printed II, 500 is here corrected according to the Museum copy.\n\n 2^1. lovd.\n\n 3^2. for her heaviness.\n\n 6^2. pritty.\n\n 8^1. long and sharp.\n\n 12^2. other as naked as.\n\n 13^2. would.\n\n 14^2. dress us.\n\n 21^1, 22^1. O mother, O mother.\n\n 23^1. Alass! said.\n\n _After_ 10, _etc._: hair and.\n\n _Title_: Infants whom.\n\n _Imprint_: London: Printed, _etc._: Guiltspur.\n\n (9^2, 19^2. _have_ into, _wrongly_.)\n\n\n 21. The Maid and the Palmer.\n\nP. 228, III, 502. \u2018Synderinden,\u2019 Kristensen, Jyske Folkeminder, X, 71,\nNo 20.\n\nSwedish #K# is repeated in Lagus, Nyl\u00e4ndska Folkvisor, I, 105, No 32.\n\n230 b. A Bohemian ballad, to the same effect, in Waldau\u2019s B\u00f6hmische\nGranaten, II, 210, No 299.\n\n231, III, 502 b. #French.# #A# has been printed by Rolland, Chansons\nPopulaires, VI, 22, _o_ (it is folio 60 of the MS.). Two other before\nunprinted versions _p, q,_ at pp. 25, 26, of Rolland.\n\n232, 504 b. \u2018Maria Maddalena,\u2019 three stanzas only, Archivio, VIII, 323,\nCanti Parmigiani, No 2.\n\n\n 22. St Stephen and Herod.\n\nP. 236 a. #French.# \u2018Trois Pelerins de Dieu,\u2019 Meyrac, Traditions, etc.,\ndes Ardennes, p. 280.\n\n240 f., 505 f., II, 501 b. Add:\n\n Cantou il gatsu:\n \u00a1Cristu naci\u00fa!\n Dixu il buey:\n \u00bfAg\u00fa?\n Dixu la ubecha:\n \u00a1En Bil\u00e9n!\n Dixu la cabra:\n \u00a1Catsa, cascarra,\n Que naci\u00f3 en Grenada!\n\nMunthe, Folkpoesi fr\u00e5n Asturien, III, No 24, cited by Pitr\u00e8 in Archivio,\nVIII, 141.\n\n\u201cQuando Christo nasceu, disse o gallo: Jesus-Christo \u00e9 n\u00e1 ... \u00e1 ...\n\u00e1 ... do.\u201d Leite de Vasconcellos, Tradi\u00e7\u00f5es pop. de Portugal, p. 148, No\n285 _b_.\n\n241. Greek ballad, The Taking of Constantinople. There is a Bulgarian\nversion. A roasted cock crows, fried fish come to life: Sbornik of the\nMinistry of Public Instruction, II, 82. In other ballads the same\nincident is transferred to the downfall of Bulgaria: Ka\u010danofskij, p.\n235, No 116; Sbornik, II, 129, 2, and II, 131, 2. (W. W.)\n\n24. Bonnie Annie.\n\nP. 245 ff. The Rev. S. Baring-Gould has recently found this ballad in\nSouth Devon.\n\n#a.# Taken down from a man of above eighty years at Bradstone. #b.# From\na young man at Dartmoor. #c.# From an old man at Holne.\n\n 1\n \u2018T was of a sea-captain came oer the salt billow,\n He courted a maiden down by the green willow:\n \u2018O take of your father his gold and his treasure,\n O take of your mother her fee without measure.\u2019\n\n 2\n \u2018I\u2019ll take of my father his gold and his treasure,\n I\u2019ll take of my mother her fee without measure:\u2019\n She has come with the captain unto the sea-side, O,\n \u2018We\u2019ll sail to lands foreign upon the blue tide, O!\u2019\n\n 3\n And when she had sailed today and tomorrow,\n She was beating her hands, she was crying in sorrow;\n And when she had sailed the days were not many,\n The sails were outspread, but of miles made not any.\n\n 4\n And when she had sailed today and tomorrow,\n She was beating her hands, she was crying in sorrow;\n And when she had sailed not many a mile, O,\n The maid was delivered of a beautiful child, O.\n\n 5\n . . . . . . . . .\n\n 6\n \u2018O take a white napkin, about my head bind it!\n O take a white napkin, about my feet wind it!\n Alack! I must sink, both me and my baby,\n Alack! I must sink in the deep salten water.\n\n 7\n \u2018O captain, O captain, here\u2019s fifty gold crown, O,\n I pray thee to bear me and turn the ship round, O;\n O captain, O captain, here\u2019s fifty gold pound, O,\n If thou wilt but set me upon the green ground, O.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018O never, O never! the wind it blows stronger,\n O never, O never! the time it grows longer;\n And better it were that thy baby and thou, O,\n Should drown than the crew of the vessel, I vow, O.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018O get me a boat that is narrow and thin, O,\n And set me and my little baby therein, O:\u2019\n \u2018O no, it were better that thy baby and thou, O,\n Should drown than the crew of the vessel, I vow, O.\u2019\n\n 10\n They got a white napkin, about her head bound it,\n They got a white napkin, about her feet wound it;\n They cast her then overboard, baby and she, O,\n Together to sink in the cruel salt sea, O.\n\n 11\n The moon it was shining, the tide it was running;\n O what in the wake of the vessel was swimming?\n \u2018O see, boys! O see how she floats on the water!\n O see, boys! O see! the undutiful daughter!\n\n 12\n \u2018Why swim in the moonlight, upon the sea swaying?\n O what art thou seeking? for what art thou praying?\u2019\n \u2018O captain, O captain, I float on the water;\n For the sea giveth up the undutiful daughter.\n\n 13\n \u2018O take of my father the gold and the treasure,\n O take of my mother her fee without measure;\n O make me a coffin of gold that is yellow,\n And bury me under the banks of green willow!\u2019\n\n 14\n \u2018I will make thee a coffin of gold that is yellow,\n I\u2019ll bury thee under the banks of green willow;\n I\u2019ll bury thee there as becometh a lady,\n I\u2019ll bury thee there, both thou and thy baby.\u2019\n\n 15\n The sails they were spread, and the wind it was blowing,\n The sea was so salt, and the tide it was flowing;\n They steered for the land, and they reachd the shore, O,\n But the corpse of the maiden had reachd there before, O.\n\n#b.#\n\n 1^{1,2}.\n There was a sea-captain came to the sea-side, O,\n He courted a damsel and got her in trouble.\n\n 13^3. coffin of the deepest stoll yellow.\n\n 15^4. But the mother and baby had got there before, O.\n\n#c.#\n\n 1\n \u2019Tis of a sea-captain, down by the green willow,\n He courted a damsel and brought her in trouble;\n When gone her mother\u2019s good will and all her father\u2019s money,\n She fled across the wide sea along with her Johnny.\n\n 2\n They had not been sailing the miles they were many\n Before she was delivered of a beautiful baby:\n \u2018O tie up my head! O and tie it up easy,\n And throw me overboard, both me and my baby!\u2019\n\n 3\n She floated on the waves, and she floated so easy,\n That they took her on board again, both she and her baby.\n\n (_The rest forgotten._)\n\n\n 25. Willie\u2019s Lyke-Wake.\n\nPp. 247 ff., 506. \u2018The Blue Flowers and the Yellow,\u2019 Greenock, printed\nby W. Scott [1810].\n\n 1\n \u2018This seven long years I\u2019ve courted a maid,\u2019\n As the sun shines over the valley\n \u2018And she neer would consent for to be my bride.\u2019\n Among the blue flowers and the yellow\n\n 2\n \u2018O Jamie, O Jamie, I\u2019ll learn you the way\n How your innocent love you\u2019ll betray.\n\n 3\n \u2018If you will give to the bell-man a groat,\n And he\u2019ll toll you down a merry night-wake.\u2019\n\n 4\n Now he has given the bell-man a groat,\n And he has tolld him down a merry night-wake.\n\n 5\n \u2018It\u2019s I must go to my true-love\u2019s wake,\n For late last night I heard he was dead.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018Take with you your horse and boy,\n And give your true lover his last convoy.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018I\u2019ll have neither horse nor boy,\n But I\u2019ll go alone, and I\u2019ll mourn and cry.\u2019\n\n 8\n When that she came to her true-love\u2019s hall,\n Then the tears they did down fall.\n\n 9\n She lifted up the sheets so small,\n He took her in his arms and he threw her to the wa.\n\n 10\n \u2018It\u2019s let me go a maid, young Jamie,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018And I will be your bride, and to-morrow we\u2019ll be wed.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018If all your friends were in this bower,\n You should not be a maid one quarter of an hour.\n\n 12\n \u2018You came here a maid meek and mild,\n But you shall go home both marryd and with child.\u2019\n\n 13\n He gave to her a gay gold ring,\n And the next day they had a gay wedding.\n\nThe unfortunate Weaver. To which are added The Farmer\u2019s Daughter and The\nBlue Flowers and the Yellow. Greenock. Printed by W. Scott. [1810.]\nBritish Museum, 11621. b. 7 (43).\n\n248 a (#C#), III, 503 a. \u2018Hr. Mortens Klosterrov,\u2019 Kristensen, Jyske\nFolkeminder, X, 264, No 64.\n\n249 b, 506 a, III, 503 a. #Swedish.# \u2018Herr Karl,\u2019 Lagus, Nyl\u00e4ndska\nFolkvisor, I, 51, No 12.\n\n\n 26. The Three Ravens.\n\nP. 253. J. Haslewood made an entry in his copy of Ritson\u2019s Scotish Song\nof a MS. Lute-Book (presented to Dr C. Burney by Dr Skene, of Marischal\nCollege, in 1781), which contained airs \u201cnoted and collected by Robert\nGordon, at Aberdeen, in the year of our Lord 1627.\u201d Among some ninety\ntitles of tunes mentioned, there occur \u2018Ther wer three ravens,\u2019 and \u2018God\nbe with the, Geordie.\u2019 (W. Macmath.)\n\n\u201cThe song of \u2018The Twa Corbies\u2019 was given to me by Miss Erskine of Alva\n(now Mrs Kerr), who, I think, said that she had written it down from the\nrecitation of an old woman at Alva.\u201d C. K. Sharpe to Scott, August 8,\n1802, Letters, I, 70, Abbotsford; printed in Sharpe\u2019s Letters, ed.\nAllardyce, I, 136.\n\n\n 29. The Boy and the Mantle.\n\nP. 268 a. #Flowers.# 2. A garland, Kath\u00e1 Sarit S\u00e1gara, Tawney\u2019s\ntranslation, II, 601.\n\n269 b. The chaste S\u00edt\u00e1 clears herself of unjust suspicion by passing\nsafely over a certain lake: Kath\u00e1 Sarit S\u00e1gara, Tawney\u2019s translation, I,\n486 f.\n\nA chessboard that can be \u201cmated\u201d only by one that has never been false\nin love: English Prose Merlin, ed. Wheatley, ch. 21, vol. i, part II, p.\n363. (G. L. K.)\n\n\n 31. The Marriage of Sir Gawain.\n\nP. 289, II, 502 b. On the loathly damsel in the Perceval of Chrestien de\nTroyes, see The Academy, October 19, 1889, p. 255. (G. L. K.)\n\n290, note \u2020. One shape by day, another by night: Curtin, Myths and\nFolk-Lore of Ireland, 1890, pp. 51, 68, 69, 71, 136.\n\n\n 32. King Henry.\n\nP. 298 b. Second paragraph. Prince as lindworm restored by maid\u2019s lying\nin bed with him one night: \u2018Lindormen,\u2019 Kristensen, Jyske Folkeminder,\nX, 20, No 9, Lagus, Nyl\u00e4ndske Folkvisor, I, 97, No 29, _a, b_. (Lindworm\nasks for a kiss in _a_ 4, _b_ 2.)\n\n\n 34. Kemp Owyne.\n\nP. 307 b. Second paragraph. \u2018Jomfruen i Linden,\u2019 Kristensen, Jyske\nFolkeminder, X, 22, No 10.\n\n\n 37. Thomas Rymer.\n\nP. 323 ff. \u201cThomas the Rhymer. Variations. J. Ormiston, Kelso.\u201d \u201cScotch\nBallads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 96, Abbotsford; in the\nhandwriting of John Leyden.\n\n Her horse was o the dapple-gray,\n And in her hands she held bells nine:\n \u2018Harp and carp, Thomas,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018For a\u2019 thae bonny bells shall be thine.\u2019\n\n It was a night without delight,\n\n And they rade on and on, I wiss, (amiss)\n Till they came to a garden green;\n He reached his hand to pu an apple,\n For lack o fruit he was like to tyne.\n\n \u2018Now had your hand, Thomas,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018Had your hand, and go wi me;\n That is the evil fruit o hell,\n Beguiled man and women in your countrie.\n\n \u2018O see you not that road, Thomas,\n That lies down by that little hill?\n Curst is the man has that road to gang,\n For it takes him to the lowest hell.\n\n \u2018O see you not that road, Thomas,\n That lies across yon lily lea?\n Blest is the man has that road to gang,\n For it takes him to the heavens hie.\n\n \u2018When ye come to my father\u2019s ha,\n To see what a learned man you be\n They will you question, one and a\u2019,\n But you must answer none but me,\n And I will answer them again\n I gat you at the Eildon tree.\u2019\n\n And when, etc.\n He answered none but that gay ladie.\n\n \u2018Harp and carp, gin ye gang wi me,\n It shall be seven year and day\n Or ye return to your countrie.\n\n \u2018Wherever ye gang, or wherever ye be,\n Ye\u2019se bear the tongue that can never lie.\n\n \u2018Gin ere ye want to see me again,\n Gang to the bonny banks o Farnalie.\u2019\n\n \u2018Thomas the Rhymer,\u2019 \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border\n Minstrelsy,\u201d No 97, Abbotsford; communicated to Sir Walter Scott by\n Mrs Christiana Greenwood, London, May 27, 1806 (Letters, I, 189),\n from the recitation of her mother and of her aunt, both then above\n sixty, who learned it in their childhood from Kirstan Scot, a very\n old woman, at Longnewton, near Jedburgh.\n\n 1\n Thomas lay on the Huntlie bank,\n A spying ferlies wi his eee,\n And he did spy a lady gay,\n Come riding down by the lang lee.\n\n 2\n Her steed was o the dapple grey,\n And at its mane there hung bells nine;\n He thought he heard that lady say,\n \u2018They gowden bells sall a\u2019 be thine.\u2019\n\n 3\n Her mantle was o velvet green,\n And a\u2019 set round wi jewels fine;\n Her hawk and hounds were at her side,\n And her bugle-horn in gowd did shine.\n\n 4\n Thomas took aff baith cloak and cap,\n For to salute this gay lady:\n \u2018O save ye, save ye, fair Queen o Heavn,\n And ay weel met ye save and see!\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018I\u2019m no the Queen o Heavn, Thomas;\n I never carried my head sae hee;\n For I am but a lady gay,\n Come out to hunt in my follee.\n\n 6\n \u2018Now gin ye kiss my mouth, Thomas,\n Ye mauna miss my fair bodee;\n Then ye may een gang hame and tell\n That ye\u2019ve lain wi a gay ladee.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018O gin I loe a lady fair,\n Nae ill tales o her wad I tell,\n And it\u2019s wi thee I fain wad gae,\n Tho it were een to heavn or hell.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018Then harp and carp, Thomas,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018Then harp and carp alang wi me;\n But it will be seven years and a day\n Till ye win back to yere ain countrie.\u2019\n\n 9\n The lady rade, True Thomas ran,\n Untill they cam to a water wan;\n O it was night, and nae delight,\n And Thomas wade aboon the knee.\n\n 10\n It was dark night, and nae starn-light,\n And on they waded lang days three,\n And they heard the roaring o a flood,\n And Thomas a waefou man was he.\n\n 11\n Then they rade on, and farther on,\n Untill they came to a garden green;\n To pu an apple he put up his hand,\n For the lack o food he was like to tyne.\n\n 12\n \u2018O haud yere hand, Thomas,\u2019 she cried,\n \u2018And let that green flourishing be;\n For it\u2019s the very fruit o hell,\n Beguiles baith man and woman o yere countrie.\n\n 13\n \u2018But look afore ye, True Thomas,\n And I shall show ye ferlies three;\n Yon is the gate leads to our land,\n Where thou and I sae soon shall be.\n\n 14\n \u2018And dinna ye see yon road, Thomas,\n That lies out-owr yon lilly lee?\n Weel is the man yon gate may gang,\n For it leads him straight to the heavens hie.\n\n 15\n \u2018But do you see yon road, Thomas,\n That lies out-owr yon frosty fell?\n Ill is the man yon gate may gang,\n For it leads him straight to the pit o hell.\n\n 16\n \u2018Now when ye come to our court, Thomas,\n See that a weel-learnd man ye be;\n For they will ask ye, one and all,\n But ye maun answer nane but me.\n\n 17\n \u2018And when nae answer they obtain,\n Then will they come and question me,\n And I will answer them again\n That I gat yere aith at the Eildon tree.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 18\n \u2018Ilka seven years, Thomas,\n We pay our teindings unto hell,\n And ye\u2019re sae leesome and sae strang\n That I fear, Thomas, it will be yeresell.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1^4. the Lang-lee.\n\n 12^2. flour is hing.\n\n\n 39. Tam Lin.\n\nP. 335. #D a#, excepting the title and the first stanza, is in a hand\nnot Motherwell\u2019s.\n\n#I a# first appeared in the second edition of the Minstrelsy, 1803, II,\n245. The \u201cgentleman residing near Langholm,\u201d from whom Scott derived the\nstanzas of a modern cast, was a Mr Beattie, of Meikledale, and Scott\nsuspected that they might be the work of some poetical clergyman or\nschoolmaster: letter to W. Laidlaw, January 21, 1803, cited by\nCarruthers, Abbotsford Notanda, appended to R. Chambers\u2019s Life of Scott,\n1871, p. 121 f.\n\n336 b. \u2018Den f\u00f6rtrollade prinsessan,\u2019 Lagus, Nyl\u00e4ndska Folkvisor, I, 67,\nNo 17.\n\n356 b. Add: #D c#, 12^2. aft.\n\n340 a, II, 505 b, III, 505 b. Sleeping under an apple-tree. See also st.\n14 of the version immediately following.\n\nSo Lancelot goes to sleep about noon under an apple-tree, and is\nenchanted by Morgan the Fay. Malory\u2019s Morte Darthur, bk. vi, ch. 1, ch.\n3, ed. Sommer, I, 183, 186. (G. L. K.)\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n K\n\nCommunicated to Scott November 11, 1812, by Hugh Irvine, Drum,\nAberdeenshire, as procured from the recitation of an old woman in\nBuchan: Letters, V, No 137, Abbotsford. (Not in Irvine\u2019s hand.)\n\n 1\n Leady Margat stands in her boor-door,\n Clead in the robs of green;\n She longed to go to Charters Woods,\n To pull the flowers her lean.\n\n 2\n She had not puld a rose, a rose,\n O not a rose but one,\n Till up it starts True Thomas,\n Said, Leady, let alone.\n\n 3\n \u2018Why pull ye the rose, Marget?\n Or why break ye the tree?\n Or why come ye to Charters Woods\n Without the leave of me?\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018I will pull the rose,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018And I will break the tree,\n For Charters Woods is all my own,\n And I\u2019l ask no leave of the.\u2019\n\n 5\n He\u2019s tean her by the milk-white hand,\n And by the grass-green sleeve,\n And laid her lo at the foot of the tree,\n At her he askt no leave.\n\n 6\n It fell once upon a day\n They wer a pleaying at the ba,\n And every one was reed and whyte,\n Leady Marget\u2019s culler was all awa.\n\n 7\n Out it speaks an elder man,\n As he stood in the gate,\n \u2018Our king\u2019s daughter she gos we bern,\n And we will get the wait.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018If I be we bern,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018My own self beer the blame!\n There is not a man in my father\u2019s court\n Will get my bern\u2019s name.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018There grows a flower in Charters Woods,\n It grows on gravel greay,\n It ould destroy the boney young bern\n That ye got in your pley.\u2019\n\n 10\n She\u2019s tean her mantle her about,\n Her green glove on her hand,\n And she\u2019s awa to Charters Woods,\n As fest as she could gang.\n\n 11\n She had no puld a pile, a pile,\n O not a pile but one,\n Up it startid True Thomas,\n Said, Leady, lat alean.\n\n 12\n \u2018Why pull ye the pile, Marget,\n That grows on gravel green,\n For to destroy the boney young bern\n That we got us between?\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018If it were to an earthly man,\n As [it is] to an elphan knight,\n I ould walk for my true-love\u2019s sake\n All the long winter\u2019s night.\u2019\n\n 14\n \u2018When I was a boy of eleven years old,\n And much was made of me,\n I went out to my father\u2019s garden,\n Fell asleep at yon aple tree:\n The queen of Elphan [she] came by,\n And laid on her hands on me.\n\n 15\n \u2018Elphan it\u2019s a boney place,\n In it fain wid I dwall;\n But ey at every seven years end\n We pay the teene to hell:\n I\u2019m so full of flesh and blood\n I\u2019m sear feart for mysel.\n\n 16\n \u2018The morn\u2019s Hallow Even\u2019s night,\n When a\u2019 our courts do ride,\n Through England and through Irland,\n Through a\u2019 the world wide:\n And she that would her true-love borrow\n At Miles Corse she may bide.\n\n 17\n \u2018The first an court that ye come till,\n Ye let them a\u2019 pass by;\n The next an court that ye come till,\n Ye hile them reverendly.\n\n 18\n \u2018The next an court that ye come till,\n An therein rides the queen,\n Me upon a milk-whyte steed,\n And a gold star in my croun;\n Because I am a erle\u2019s soon,\n I get that for my renoun.\n\n 19\n \u2018Ye take me in your armes,\n Give me a right sear fa;\n The queen of Elphan she\u2019l cry out,\n True Thomas is awa!\n\n 20\n \u2018First I\u2019l be in your armes\n The fire burning so bold;\n Ye hold me fast, let me no pass\n Till I be like iron cold.\n\n 21\n \u2018Next I\u2019l be in your armes\n The fire burning so wild;\n Ye hold me fast, let me no pass,\n I\u2019m the father of your child.\u2019\n\n 22\n The first court that came her till,\n She let them a\u2019 pass by;\n The nex an court that came her till,\n She helt them reverendly.\n\n 23\n The nex an court that came her till,\n And therein read the queen,\n True Thomas on a milk-whyte steed,\n A gold star in his croun;\n Because he was a earl\u2019s soon,\n He got that for his renoun.\n\n 24\n She\u2019s tean him in her arms,\n Geen him a right sore fa;\n The queen of Elphan she cried out,\n True Thomas is awa!\n\n 25\n He was into her arms\n The fire burning so bold;\n She held him fast, let him no pass\n Till he was like iron cold.\n\n 26\n He was into her arms\n The fire burning so wild;\n She held him fast, let him no pass,\n He was the father of her child.\n\n 27\n The queen of Elphan she cried out,\n An angry woman was she,\n \u2018Let Leady Marget an her true-love be,\n She\u2019s bought him dearer than me.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n 3^2. breat.\n\n 15^4. tune (?).\n\n 16^1. Thee.\n\n 27^2. woman _is struck out_.\n\nThe following fragment does not appear to have been among the \u201cseveral\nrecitals from tradition\u201d used by Scott in making up his ballad. Some\nlines which it might be supposed to have furnished occur in the edition\nof 1802, issued before Scott\u2019s acquaintance with Laidlaw began.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n L\n\n \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 27,\n Abbotsford; in the handwriting of William Laidlaw.\n\n 1\n I charge ye, a\u2019 ye ladies fair,\n That wear goud in your hair,\n To come an gang bye Carterhaugh,\n For young Tam Lien is there.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 2\n Then Janet kiltit her green cleadin\n A wee aboon her knee,\n An she\u2019s gane away to Carterhaugh,\n As fast as she can dree.\n\n 3\n When Janet cam to Carterhaugh,\n Tam Lien was at the wall,\n An there he left his steed stannin,\n But away he gaed his sell.\n\n 4\n She had na pu\u2019d a red, red rose,\n A rose but only thre,\n Till up then startit young Tam Lien,\n Just at young Jenet\u2019s knee.\n\n 5\n \u2018What gars ye pu the rose, Janet,\n Briek branches frae the tree,\n An come an gang by Carterhaugh,\n An speir nae leave of me?\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018What need I speir leave o thee, Tam?\n What need I speir leave o thee,\n When Carterhaugh is a\u2019 mine ain,\n My father gae it me?\u2019\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 7\n She\u2019s kiltit up her green cleadin\n A wee aboon her knee,\n An she\u2019s away to her ain bower-door,\n As fast as she can dree.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 8\n There war four-an-twentie fair ladies\n A\u2019 dancin in a chess,\n An some war blue an some war green,\n But Janet was like the gress.\n\n 9\n There war four-an-twentie fair ladies\n A\u2019 playin at the ba,\n An some war red an som wer white,\n But Jennet was like the snaw.\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1^3. To _is doubtful_; _almost bound in_.\n\n 6^4. gae _written over_ left _struck out._\n\n 8^2, 9^2. A\u2019 _in the MS._\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n M\n\n\u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 15. Communicated\nto Scott by Major Henry Hutton, Royal Artillery, 24th December, 1802, as\nrecollected by his father \u201cand the family:\u201d Letters I, No 77. Major\nHutton intimates that stanzas 46\u201349 of the first edition of \u2018Tamlane\u2019\n(\u2018Roxburgh was my grandfather,\u2019 ff., corresponding to #I# 28\u201332) should\nbe struck out, and his verses inserted. But 4\u201312 of Hutton\u2019s stanzas\nbelong to \u2018Thomas Rymer.\u2019\n\n 1\n My father was a noble knight,\n And was much gi\u2019n to play,\n And I myself a bonny boy,\n And followed him away.\n\n 2\n He rowd me in his hunting-coat\n And layd me down to sleep,\n And by the queen of fairies came,\n And took me up to keep.\n\n 3\n She set me on a milk-white steed;\n \u2019Twas o the elfin kind;\n His feet were shot wi beaten goud,\n And fleeter than the wind.\n\n 4\n Then we raid on and on\u2019ard mair,\n Oer mountain, hill and lee,\n Till we came to a hie, hie wa,\n Upon a mountain\u2019s bree.\n\n 5\n The apples hung like stars of goud\n Out-our that wa sa fine;\n I put my hand to pu down ane,\n For want of food I thought to tine.\n\n 6\n \u2018O had your hand, Tamas!\u2019 she said,\n \u2018O let that evil fruit now be!\n It was that apple ye see there\n Beguil\u2019d man and woman in your country.\n\n 7\n \u2018O dinna ye see yon road, Tamas,\n Down by yon lilie lee?\n Blessd is the man who yon gate gaes,\n It leads him to the heavens hie.\n\n 8\n \u2018And dinna ye see yon road, Tamas,\n Down by yon frosty fell?\n Curst is the man that yon gate gaes,\n For it leads to the gates of hell.\n\n 9\n \u2018O dinna ye see yon castle, Tamas,\n That\u2019s biggit between the twa,\n And theekit wi the beaten goud?\n O that\u2019s the fairies\u2019 ha.\n\n 10\n \u2018O when ye come to the ha, Tamas,\n See that a weel-learnd boy ye be;\n They\u2019ll ask ye questions ane and a\u2019,\n But see ye answer nane but me.\n\n 11\n \u2018If ye speak to ain but me, Tamas,\n A fairie ye maun ever bide;\n But if ye speak to nane but me, Tamas,\n Ye may come to be your country\u2019s pride.\u2019\n\n 12\n And when he came to Fairie Ha,\n I wot a weel-learnd boy was he;\n They askd him questions ane and a\u2019,\n But he answerd nane but his ladie.\n\n 13\n There was four-and-twenty gude knights\u2019-sons\n In fairie land obliged to bide,\n And of a\u2019 the pages that were there\n Fair Tamas was his ladie\u2019s pride.\n\n 14\n There was four-and-twenty earthly boys,\n Wha all played at the ba,\n But Tamas was the bonniest boy,\n And playd the best amang them a\u2019.\n\n 15\n There was four-and-twenty earthly maids,\n Wha a\u2019 playd at the chess,\n Their colour rosy-red and white,\n Their gowns were green as grass.\n\n 16\n \u2018And pleasant are our fairie sports,\n We flie o\u2019er hill and dale;\n But at the end of seven years\n They pay the teen to hell.\n\n 17\n \u2018And now\u2019s the time, at Hallowmess,\n Late on the morrow\u2019s even,\n And if ye miss me then, Janet,\n I\u2019m lost for yearis seven.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n N\n\n \u2018Tamlane,\u2019 \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 96\n a; in the handwriting of John Leyden.\n\n \u2018Gowd rings I can buy, Thomas,\n Green mantles I can spin,\n But gin ye take my maidenheid\n I\u2019ll neer get that again.\u2019\n\n Out and spak the queen o fairies,\n Out o a shot o wheat,\n \u2018She that has gotten young Tamlane\n Has gotten my heart\u2019s delight.\u2019\n\n\n 40. The Queen of Elfan\u2019s Nourice.\n\nP. 358, II, 505 b, III, 505 b. More cases in \u2018Fairy Births and Human\nMidwives,\u2019 E. S. Hartland, The Arch\u00e6ological Review, IV, 328 ff.\n\nThe elf-woman\u2019s daughter has lain on the floor nineteen days in travail,\nfor she cannot be delivered unless a mortal man lay hands upon her.\nHr\u00f3lfr is lured to the elf-woman\u2019s hall for this purpose. G\u00f6ngu-Hr\u00f3lfs\nSaga, c. 15, Rafn, Fornaldar S\u00f6gur, III, 276, \u00c1smundarson,\nFornaldars\u00f6gur Nor\u00f0rlanda, III, 174, 175. (G. L. K.)\n\n\n 41. Hind Etin.\n\nP. 361 b, III, 506 a. #Danish.# #X#, \u2018Agnete i Bj\u00e6rget,\u2019 Kristensen,\nJyske Folkeminder, X, 3, No 2.\n\n364 a, III, 506 a. #Danish.# #M-O#, \u2018Agnete i Havet,\u2019 Kristensen, Jyske\nFolkeminder, X, 6, No 3, #A-C#.\n\n365 a, II, 506 a. #German.# #J.# \u2018Die sch\u00f6ne Dorothea,\u2019 Gadde-Gloddow,\nV. 1. aus Hinterpommern, Zeitschrift f\u00fcr Volkskunde, III, 227.\n\n\n 42. Clerk Colvill.\n\nP. 374 b. #Danish.# \u2018Elvedansen,\u2019 Kristensen, Jyske Folkeminder, X, 10,\n372, No 5, A, B, C.\n\n380, II, 506 a, III, 506 a. #PP#, #QQ#, \u2018Arnaud,\u2019 Quercy, Daymard, p.\n167 f., 34 verses, 26 verses. #RR#, \u2018Lou Counte Arnaud,\u2019 Bas-Quercy,\nSoleville, Chants p. du Bas-Quercy, 1889, p. 13, 10 stanzas. #SS,#\nversion limousine, La Tradition, V, 184.\n\n384, III, 506 a. #Spanish.# \u2018Don Pedro,\u2019 El Folk-Lore Frexnense y\nB\u00e9tico-Extreme\u00f1o, Fregenal, 1883\u201384; (1) p. 129 (and 180), Zafra,\nBadajoz, D. Sergio Hernandez; (2) p. 182, Badajoz; (3) p. 183,\nMontanchez, provincia de C\u00e1cares; (4) Constantina, provincia de Sevilla,\nD. Antonio Machado y Alvarez.\n\n386 a. #Bohemian.# #A a# also==Wenzig, Slawische V. 1., 1830, p. 47.\n\n\n 43. The Broomfield Hill.\n\nP. 392 b, III, 506. Sleep-thorn, sleep-pin. Add: Curtin, Myths and\nFolk-Lore of Ireland, 1890, pp. 40, 130 ff., 200; Hyde, Beside the Fire,\nIrish-Gaelic Folk-Stories, p. 43; MacInnes, Folk and Hero Tales, 1890,\np. 141 (cf. p. 459).\n\nSleep-pin, Wlis\u0142ocki, M. u. S. der transylvanischen Zigeuner, p. 46.\nCompare the wand in J. H. Knowles\u2019s Folk-Tales of Kashmir, p. 199. (G.\nL. K.)\n\n393, III, 506 b. #Italian.# \u2018La bella Brunetta,\u2019 Ferrari, C. p. in San\nPietro Capofiume; \u2018La Bevanda sonnifera,\u2019 Giannini, Canzoni del Contado\ndi Massa Lunense, Archivio, VII, 109, No 11, 279, No 7.\n\n\n 44. The Twa Magicians.\n\nP. 400 a, II, 506 b, III, 506 b. #French.# #W#, \u2018J\u2019ai fait une\nma\u00eetresse,\u2019 Daymard, p. 51, Quercy. #X#, \u2018Margarideto,\u2019 Soleville,\nChants p. du Bas-Quercy, p. 94.\n\n#Italian.# Add to Tigri\u2019s _rispetto_: Vigo, Canti p. siciliani, 1870\u201374,\nNo 1711, Pitr\u00e8, Studj di Poesia pop., p. 76; Casetti e Imbriani, C. p.\ndelle Provincie meridionali, p. 187: all cited by d\u2019Ancona, Poesia pop.,\np. 341.\n\n400 b. #Bohemian.# Waldau, B\u00f6hmische Granaten, II, 75, No 107, dove,\ngun; fish, hook; hare, dog.\n\n401 b. Tale in Curtin\u2019s Myths and Folk-Lore of Ireland, pp. 152\u20136.\n\nCf. also Notes and Queries, 7th Series, IX, 101, 295; Clouston, Popular\nTales and Fictions, I, 413 ff. (G. L. K.)\n\n\n 45. King John and the Bishop.\n\nP. 403 f. Roxburghe, III, 883, is #B#. Roxburghe, III, 494 was printed\nand sold by John White, Newcastle-upon-Tyne, \u201ccirca 1777:\u201d Ebsworth,\nRoxburghe Ballads, VI, 749. \u2018The King and the Bishop,\u2019 Roxburghe, III,\n170, is printed in the same volume, p. 751, and \u2018The Old Abbot and King\nOlfrey,\u2019 Pepys, II, 127, at p. 753.\n\n405 b, II, 507. An Armenian, a Slovak, and a Hungarian version, by H. v.\nWlis\u0142ocki, Zs. f. vergleichende Litteraturgeschichte, u. s. w., N. F.,\nIV, 106 ff., 1891.\n\n404 b, 2d paragraph. Of this kind is the Russian tale, How Fraud made\nentrance into Russia. Ivan the Terrible demands tribute of neighboring\nprinces. They propose to him three riddles: if he guesses them, they are\nto pay twelve casks of gold and tribute; if he fails, they take his\nkingdom. A marvellous old man helps the Tsar out. He has been promised a\ncask of gold, but the Tsar fills one of the casks two thirds with sand,\nand offers that. The old man tells him that he, the Tsar, has brought\nFraud into the land, never to be eradicated. Ivan begs him to take one\nof the other casks, but in vain. The old man vanishes; it was God.\nRybnikof, II, 232, No 39. (W. W.)\n\n\n 46. Captain Wedderburn\u2019s Courtship.\n\nP. 417 a, II, 507 b, III, 507 a. Heads on spikes; only one spike without\na head: Curtin, Myths and Folk-Lore of Ireland, 1890, pp. 37, 114 f,\n193; Mac Innes, Folk and Hero Tales, Folk-Lore Society, 1890, pp. 79,\n453.\n\n\n 47. Proud Lady Margaret.\n\nP. 426. #A.# Two stanzas (6, 9) and a line were wanting in the copy\nsupplied by Hamilton. March 23, 1803, Hamilton sent to Scott the\nfollowing verses, \u201cto come in at the first break.\u201d There were still four\nlines, which should come before these, that Hamilton could not\nrecollect. \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 117.\nSee #B# 17, #C# 11, where also there is defect, and #D# 6, 7.\n\n \u2018O wherein leems the beer?\u2019 she said,\n \u2018Or wherein leems the wine?\n O wherein leems the gold?\u2019 she said,\n \u2018Or wherein leems the twine?\u2019\n\n \u2018The beer is put in a drinking-horn,\n The wine in glasses fine,\n There\u2019s gold in store between two kings,\n When they are fighting keen,\n And the twine is between a lady\u2019s two hands\n When they are washen clean.\u2019\n\n\n 49. The Twa Brothers.\n\nP. 436, II, 14, III, 381 b. \u2018Tell my mother I am married,\u2019 etc.: so in\nthe beautiful Roumanian \u2018Miorita,\u2019 Alecsandri, p. 3.\n\n438. #A b.# \u2018The Two Brothers,\u2019 Walks near Edinburgh, by Margaret\nWarrender, 1890, p. 60. Given to Lady John Scott many years ago by\nCampbell Riddell, brother of Sir James Riddell of Ardnamurchan.\n\n 1\n There were two brothers in the north,\n Lord William and Lord John,\n And they would try a wrestling match,\n So to the fields they\u2019ve gone, gone, gone,\n So to the fields they\u2019ve gone.\n\n 2\n They wrestled up, they wrestled down,\n Till Lord John fell on the ground.\n And a knife into Lord William\u2019s pocket\n Gave him a deadly wound.\n\n 3\n \u2018Oh take me on your back, dear William,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018And carry me to the burnie clear,\n And wash my wound sae deep and dark,\n Maybe\u2019t will bleed nae mair.\u2019\n\n 4\n He took him up upon his back,\n An carried him to the burnie clear,\n But aye the mair he washed his wound\n It aye did bleed the mair.\n\n 5\n \u2018Oh take me on your back, dear William,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018And carry me to the kirkyard fair,\n And dig a grave sae deep and dark,\n And lay my body there.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018But what shall I say to my father dear\n When he says, Willie, what\u2019s become of John?\u2019\n \u2018Oh tell him I am gone to Greenock town,\n To buy him a puncheon of rum.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018And what shall I say to my sister dear\n When she says, Willie, what\u2019s become of John?\u2019\n \u2018Oh tell her I\u2019ve gone to London town\n To buy her a marriage-gown.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018But what shall I say to my grandmother dear\n When she says, Willie, what\u2019s become of John?\u2019\n \u2018Oh tell her I\u2019m in the kirkyard dark,\n And that I\u2019m dead and gone.\u2019\n\n\n 53. Young Beichan.\n\nP. 459 a. #Danish.# \u2018Ellen henter sin F\u00e6stemand,\u2019 Kristensen, Jyske\nFolkeminder, X, 125, No 34, #A#, #B#.\n\n462 a, III, 507 b. \u2018Gerineldo,\u2019 again, in Munthe, Folkpoesie fr\u00e5n\nAsturien, No 2, second part, p. 112 b (Upsala Universitets \u00c5rsskrift);\nbut imperfect.\n\n462 b, 463 a, II, 508 a. Another version of the French ballad (\u2018Tout au\nmilieu de Paris\u2019) in Meyrac, Traditions, etc., des Ardennes, p. 238.\n\n463 ff. \u2018Earl Bichet,\u2019 \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border\nMinstrelsy,\u201d No 83, Abbotsford. Communicated to Scott by Mrs Christiana\nGreenwood, London, May 27, 1806 (Letters, I, No 189), as heard by her in\nher youth at Longnewton, near Jedburgh, \u201cwhere most of the old women\ncould sing it.\u201d\n\n 1\n Earl Bichet\u2019s sworn a mighty aith,\n And a solemn vow made he,\n That he wad to the Holy Land,\n To the Holy Land wad he gae.\n\n 2\n When he came to the Holy Land,\n Amang the Infidels sae black,\n They hae consulted them amang\n The Earl Bichet for to take.\n\n 3\n And when they basely him betrayd\n They put him into fetters strang,\n And threw him in a dungeon dark,\n To spend the weary night sae lang.\n\n 4\n Then in ilka shoulder they bored a hole,\n In his right shoulder they bored three,\n And they gard him draw the coops o wine,\n Till he was sick and like to dee.\n\n 5\n Then they took him out o their carts and wains,\n And put him in a castle of stone;\n When the stars shone bright, and the moon gave light,\n The sad Earl Bichet he saw none.\n\n 6\n The king had only ae daughter,\n And it was orderd sae to be\n That, as she walked up and down,\n By the strong-prison-door cam she.\n\n 7\n Then she heard Earl Bichet sad\n Making his pityful mane,\n In doolfu sounds and moving sighs\n Wad melt a heart o stane.\n\n 8\n \u2018When I was in my ain countrie,\n I drank the wine sae clear;\n But now I canna get bare bread;\n O I wis I had neer come here!\n\n 9\n \u2018When I was in my ain countrie,\n I drank the wine sae red;\n But now I canna get a bite o bare bread;\n O I wis that I were dead!\u2019\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 10\n \u2018Gae bring to me the good leaven [bread],\n To eat when I do need;\n Gae bring to me the good red wine,\n To drink when I do dread.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018Gae ask my father for his leave\n To bring them unto me,\n And for the keys o the prison-door,\n To set Earl Bichet free.\u2019\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 12\n Then she went into her ain chamber\n And prayd most heartilie,\n And when that she rose up again\n The keys fell at her knee.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 13\n Then they hae made a solemn vow\n Between themselves alone,\n That he was to marry no other woman,\n And she no other man.\n\n 14\n And Earl Bichet\u2019s to sail to fair Scotland,\n Far oer the roaring faem,\n And till seven years were past and gone\n This vow was to remain.\n\n 15\n Then she built him a stately ship,\n And set it on the sea,\n Wi four-and-twenty mariners,\n To bear him companie.\n\n 16\n \u2018My blessing gae wi ye, Earl Bichet,\n My blessing gae wi thee;\n My blessing be wi a\u2019 the mariners\n That are to sail wi thee.\u2019\n\n 17\n Then they saild east, and they saild wast,\n Till they saild to Earl Bichet\u2019s yett,\n When nane was sae ready as his mother dear\n To welcome her ain son back.\n\n 18\n \u2018Ye\u2019re welcome, welcome, Earl Bichet,\n Ye\u2019re dearly welcome hame to me!\n And ye\u2019re as welcome to Lady Jean,\n For she has lang looked for thee.\u2019\n\n 19\n \u2018What haste, what haste, O mother dear,\n To wale a wife for me?\n For what will I do wi the bonny bride\n That I hae left ayont the sea?\u2019\n\n 20\n When seven years were past and gone,\n Seven years but and a day,\n The Saracen lady took a crying in her sleep,\n And she has cried sair till day.\n\n 21\n \u2018O daughter, is it for a man o might?\n Or is it for a man o mine?\u2019\n \u2018It\u2019s neither for a man o might,\n Nor is it for a man o thine.\n\n 22\n \u2018Bat if ye\u2019ll build me a ship, father,\n And set it on the sea,\n I will away to some other land,\n To seek a true-love free.\u2019\n\n 23\n Then he built her a gallant ship,\n And set it on the sea,\n Wi a hunder and fifty mariners,\n To bear her companie.\n\n 24\n At every corner o the ship\n A siller bell did hing,\n And at ilka jawing o the faem\n The siller bells did ring.\n\n 25\n Then they saild east, and they saild wast,\n Till they cam to Earl Bichet\u2019s yett;\n Nane was sae ready as the porter\n To open and let her in thereat.\n\n 26\n \u2018O is this Earl Bichet\u2019s castle-yett?\n Or is that noble knight within?\n For I am weary, sad and wet,\n And far I\u2019ve come ayont the faem.\u2019\n\n 27\n \u2018He\u2019s up the stair at supper set,\n And mony a noble knight wi him;\n He\u2019s up the stair wi his bonny bride,\n And mony a lady gay wi them.\u2019\n\n 28\n She\u2019s put her hand into her purse\n And taen out fifty merks and three:\n \u2018If this be the Earl Bichet\u2019s castle,\n Tell him to speak three words wi me.\n\n 29\n \u2018Tell him to send me a bit o his bread\n But an a bottle o his wine,\n And no forget the lady\u2019s love\n That freed him out o prison strong.\u2019\n\n 30\n The porter he gaed up the stair,\n And mony bow and binge gae he;\n \u2018What means, what means,\u2019 cried Earl Bichet,\n \u2018O what means a\u2019 this courtesie?\u2019\n\n 31\n \u2018O I hae been porter at yere yett\n These four-and-twenty years and three;\n But the fairest lady now stands thereat\n That ever my two eyes did see.\n\n 32\n \u2018She has a ring on her foremost finger,\n And on her middle-finger three;\n She has as much gowd about her waist\n As wad buy earldoms o land for thee.\n\n 33\n \u2018She wants to speak three words wi thee,\n And a little o yere bread and wine,\n And not to forget the lady\u2019s love\n That freed ye out o prison strong.\u2019\n\n 34\n \u2018I\u2019ll lay my life,\u2019 cried Earl Bichet,\n \u2018It\u2019s my true love come oer the sea!\u2019\n Then up and spake the bride\u2019s mother,\n \u2018It\u2019s a bonny time to speak wi thee!\u2019\n\n 35\n \u2018O your doughter came here on a horse\u2019s back,\n But I\u2019ll set her hame in a chariot free;\n For, except a kiss o her bonny mouth,\n Of her fair body I am free.\u2019\n\n 36\n There war thirty cups on the table set,\n He gard them a\u2019 in flinders flee;\n There war thirty steps into the stair,\n And he has louped them a\u2019 but three.\n\n 37\n Then he took her saftly in his arms,\n And kissed her right tenderlie:\n \u2018Ye\u2019re welcome here, my ain true love,\n Sae dearly welcome ye\u2019re to me!\u2019\n\n * * * * * *\n\n * * * * *\n\n 7^3. doolfu: l _struck out_.\n\n _At the end_: \u201cSome verses are wanting at the conclusion.\u201d\n\n\nThe following stanza, entered by Scott in the quarto volume \u201cScottish\nSongs,\u201d 1795, fol. 29 back, Abbotsford library, N. 3, is much too good\nto be lost:\n\n Young Bechin was in Scotland born,\n He longed far countries for to see,\n And he bound himself to a savage Moor,\n Who used him but indifferently.\n\n\n VOL. II.\n\n\n 55. The Carnal and the Crane.\n\nP. 7, 509 b, III, 507 b. The Sower. Add: Legeay, No\u00ebls Anciens, Premi\u00e8re\nS\u00e9rie, 1875, \u2018Saint Joseph avec Marie,\u2019 No 34, p. 68; Daymard, Vieux\nChants p. rec. en Quercy, \u2018La Fuite en Egypte,\u2019 p. 333; Soleville, Ch.\np. du Bas-Quercy, \u2018Lou Bouiaje,\u2019 p. 126; La Tradition, IV, 139.\n\n\n 56. Dives and Lazarus.\n\nP. 10, III, 507 b. \u2018Le mauvais riche,\u2019 Daymard, Vieux Chants p. rec. en\nQuercy, p. 282.\n\n\n 57. Brown Robyn\u2019s Confession.\n\nP. 13. #Swedish.# \u2018Herr P\u00e4ders Sj\u00f6resa,\u2019 Lagus, Nyl\u00e4ndska Folkvisor, I,\n56, No 14, _a_, _b_.\n\n#Danish.# \u2018Jon Rimaardsens Sejlads,\u2019 Kristensen, Jyske Folkeminder, X,\n296, No 73, #A-D#.\n\n13 ff., II, 510, also No 20, I, 244. While Prince Lundarasena is on a\nvoyage, a great hurricane arises. An offering of jewels is made to the\nsea, but does not quiet it. Lundarasena says: \u201cIt is through my demerits\nin former births that this day of doom has suddenly come upon you.\u201d He\nflings himself into the water; the wind falls immediately and the sea\nbecomes calm. (He is not drowned.) Kath\u00e1 Sarit S\u00e1gara, Tawney\u2019s\ntranslation, II, 375.\n\nA ship stopped. Cf. the story told by Henry of Huntingdon, viii, 22, of\none Reiner, a follower of Geoffrey Mandeville (Gaufridus de Magna\nVilla).\n\n\u201cPrinceps autem peditum suorum, Reinerus nomine, cujus officium fuerat\necclesias frangere vel incendere, dum mare cum uxore sua transiret, ut\nmulti perhibuerunt, navis immobilis facta est. Quod monstrum nautis\nstupentibus, sorte data rei causam inquirentibus, sors cecidit super\nReinerum. Quod cum ille nimirum totis contradiceret nisibus, secundo et\ntertio sors jacta in eum devenit. Positus igitur in scapha est, et uxor\nejus, et pecunia scelestissime adquisita, et statim navis cursu\nvelocissimo ut prius fecerat pelagus sulcat, scapha vero cum nequissimis\nsubita voragine circumducta in \u00e6ternum absorpta est.\u201d This was in the\nyear 1144. Henrici Archidiaconi Huntendunensis Historia Anglorum, ed.\nArnold, Rolls Series, 1879, p. 278. (G. L. K.)\n\n\u201cAudivi a fratre Galtero de Leus quod, cum quedam mulier, mare\ntransiens, pulcritudine sua omnes qui erant in navi ita attraxisset ut\nomnes qui erant ibi fere cum ea peccassent vel per actum aut consensum,\net non evitaret patrem aut filium, sed indifferenter omnibus, licet\nocculte, se exponeret, facta in mari tempestate et navi periclitante,\ncepit clamare coram omnibus omnia peccata sua et confiteri ea, credens\nquod alii propter ea deberent periclitari. Tunc, aliis confitentibus,\ncessavit mare a furore suo. Facta tranquillitate, nullus potuit scire\nque esset illa mulier aut cognoscere eam.\u201d Anecdotes historiques,\nL\u00e9gendes et Apologues tir\u00e9s du Recueil in\u00e9dit d\u2019\u00c9tienne de Bourbon, ed.\nLecoy de la Marche, 1877, p. 160. (G. L. K.)\n\nA merchant is making a voyage to Mount Athos with a cargo of wax and\nincense. St Nicolas freezes the ship in, and will not thaw it out until\nthe master makes a vow to present the cargo to the monastery there.\n#Bulgarian#, Miladinof, p. 56, No 50. A ship in which Milica is captive\nis stopped by her tears and plaints until she and her brother are\nreleased. #Servian#, Karad\u017ei\u0107, I, 556, No 729. (W. W.)\n\n16. \u2018Captain Glen.\u2019 Christie\u2019s Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 241, from\nrecitation. As Christie remarks, some verses of the ballad are\nintroduced into Scott\u2019s Pirate, ch. 36.\n\n\n 59. Sir Aldingar.\n\nP. 33 f. The child champion in #A#. (Compare also the notes to No 90,\nII, 513 b, III, 515 b.) Children who distinguish themselves by valorous\nexploits, and even get the better of heroes, are especially common in\nBulgarian epos. A child of three days kills a monster that stops the way\nof a marriage-train, and then requires the guests to come to its\nbaptism: Miladinof, p. 79, No 59. Marko Kraljevi\u0107 is vanquished by one\nof these, seven years old: Miladinof, p. 173, No 121; Ka\u010danofskij, pp.\n341\u201355, Nos 151\u201355. In Ka\u010danofskij, p. 355, No 156, the child is but\nseven months old. More of this extravagance in Miladinof, p. 266, No\n173; Sbornik of the Ministry of Instruction, I, 59, No 4. (W. W.)\n\n35, note. In The Order of Combats for Life in Scotland, Spalding Club\nMisc., II, 387 (of uncertain date), the second oath to be proposed to\nthe parties is, that they have not brought into the lists other armor or\nweapons than was allowed, neither any engine, charm, herb, or\nenchantment, etc.\n\n\n 60. King Estmere.\n\nP. 50 b, the last paragraph. It might have been remarked that \u2018King\nEstmere\u2019 resembles in a general way a series of German poems of\nadventure, in which a young king (or his guardians) is nice about a\nwife, and the princess proposed to him is won only with great\ndifficulty: K\u00f6nig Rother (ed. R\u00fcckert, v. 13 ff.); Ortnit (Ortnit und\ndie Wolfdietriche, ed. Amelung und J\u00e4nicke, I, 4, st. 8 ff.);\nHugdietrich (the same, p. 168, st. 9 ff.); Oswald (Sant Oswaldes Leben,\ned. Ettm\u00fcller, p. 6, v. 140 ff); Orendel (ed. Berger, p. 8, v. 192 ff.);\nDietwart (Dietrichs Flucht, ed. Martin, Heldenbuch, II^r Teil, p. 68, v.\n785 ff.). To which may be added Fore, in Salman und Marolf (ed. Vogt, p.\n5, str. 24 ff.), and Tsar Vasily, in Russian _byliny_ (see Vogt, p.\nXLII).\n\n\n 61. Sir Cawline.\n\nP. 60, III, 508 b. Cuc\u00falin pulls liver and lights out of the throats of\ntwo lions: Curtin, Myths and Folk-Lore of Ireland, p. 317.\n\n\n 62. Fair Annie.\n\nP. 65 a. #Swedish.# \u2018Sk\u00f6n Anna,\u2019 \u2018Sk\u00f6n Anna och Herr Peder,\u2019 Lagus,\nNyl\u00e4ndska Folkvisor, I, 13, No 4, _a, b_. The bride throws down one half\nof a gold ring, Fair Annie the other; the parts run together: _a_ 23,\n_b_ 16.\n\n67. The romance of Galerent follows the story of Marie\u2019s _lai_, and is\nthought to be founded on it: Le Roman de Galerent, Comte de Bretagne,\npar le trouv\u00e8re Renaut, A. Boucherie, 1888. (G. L. K.)\n\n68, note. The story is in Coryat\u2019s Crudities, 1611, p. 646 f.; III, 81\nf., of the ed. of 1776. (G. L. K.)\n\n\n 63. Child Waters.\n\nP. 84 b, III, 508 b. Add: Skattegraveren, 1888, II, 135, Nos 408\u201311.\n\n\n 64. Fair Janet.\n\nP. 101 b. #Danish.# \u2018Kong Valdemar og hans S\u00f8ster,\u2019 Kristensen, Jyske\nFolkeminder, X, 75, 378, No 23.\n\n102 b. #Breton# ballad. After Luzel, II, 6\u201315, add 558, the page of the\nthird ballad.\n\nQuellien, Chansons et Danses des Bretons, p. 73, is a fourth version.\nThis ballad, says Quellien, is widely spread, and has various titles,\none of which is \u2018Le Comte de Poitou.\u2019\n\n103 ff. \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d Abbotsford,\nNo 25. In the handwriting of William Laidlaw; \u201cfrom Jean Scott.\u201d\n\n 1\n Young Janet sits in her garden,\n Makin a heavie maen,\n Whan by cam her father dear,\n Walkin himself alane.\n\n 2\n \u2018It\u2019s telld me in my bower, Janet,\n It\u2019s telld me in my bed,\n That ye\u2019re in love wi Sweet Willie;\n But a French lord ye maun wed.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018In it be telld ye in yer bower, father,\n In it be telld ye in your bed,\n That me an Willie bears a love,\n Yet a French lord I maun wed,\n But here I mak a leel, leel vow\n He\u2019s neer come in my bed.\n\n 4\n \u2018An for to please my father dear\n A French lord I will wed;\n But I hae sworn a solemn oth\n He\u2019s neer come in my bed.\u2019\n\n 5\n Y_oung_ Janet\u2019s away to her bower-door,\n As fast as she can hie,\n An Willie he has followd her,\n He\u2019s followd speedilie.\n\n 6\n An whan he cam to her bowr-door\n He tirlt at the pin:\n \u2018O open, open, Janet love,\n Open an let me in.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018It was never my mother\u2019s custm, Willie,\n It never sal be mine,\n For a man to come the bower within\n When a woman\u2019s travelin.\n\n 8\n \u2018Gae yer ways to my sisters\u2019 bower,\n Crie, Meg, Marion an Jean,\n Ye maun come to yer sister Janet,\n For fear that she be gane.\u2019\n\n 9\n Sae he gaed to her sisters\u2019 bower,\n Cry\u2019d, Meg, Marion an Jean,\n Ye maun come to yer sister Janet,\n For fear that she be gane.\n\n 10\n Some drew to their silk stokins,\n An some drew to their shoon,\n An some drew to their silk cleadin,\n For fear she had been gane.\n\n 11\n When they cam to her bower-door\n They tirlt at the pin;\n For as sick a woman as she was,\n She raise an loot them in.\n\n 12\n They had na the babie weel buskit,\n Nor her laid in her bed,\n Untill her cruel father cam,\n Cried, Fye, gar busk the bride!\n\n 13\n \u2018There a sair pain in my back, father,\n There a sair pain in my head,\n An sair, sair is my sidies to;\n This day I downa ride.\u2019\n\n 14\n \u2018But I hae sorn a solemn oath,\n Afore a companie,\n That ye sal ride this day, Janet,\n This day an ye soud die.\n\n 15\n \u2018Whae\u2019ll horse ye to the kirk, Janet?\n An whae will horse ye best?\u2019\n \u2018Whae but Willie, my true-love?\n He kens my mister best.\u2019\n\n 16\n \u2018Whae\u2019ll horse ye to the kirk, Janet?\n An whae will horse ye there?\u2019\n \u2018Whae but Willie, my true-love?\n He neer will doo \u2018d nae maer.\n\n 17\n \u2018Ye may saddle a steed, Willie,\n An see that ye saddle \u2018t soft;\n Ye may saddle a steed, Willie,\n For ye winna saddle \u2018t oft.\n\n 18\n \u2018Ye may saddle a steed, Willie,\n An see that ye saddle \u2018t side;\n Ye may saddle a steed, Willie;\n But I thought to have been yer bride.\u2019\n\n 19\n When they war a\u2019 on horse-back set,\n On horse-back set sae hie,\n Then up spak the bold bridegroom,\n An he spak boustresslie.\n\n 20\n Up then spak the bold bridegroom,\n An he spak loud an thrawn;\n \u2018I think the bride she be wi bairn,\n She looks sae pale an wan.\u2019\n\n 21\n Then she took out her bible-book,\n Swoor by her fingers five\n That she was neither wi lad nor lass\n To no man was alive.\n\n 22\n Then she took out her bible-book,\n Swoor by her fingers ten\n An ever she had born a bairn in her days\n She had born \u2018d sin yestreen:\n Then a\u2019 the ladies round about\n Said, That\u2019s a loud leesin.\n\n 23\n Atween the kitchin an the kirk\n It was a weel-met mile;\n It was a stra\u2019d i the red roses,\n But than the camomile.\n\n 24\n When the war a\u2019 at dener set,\n Drinkin at the wine,\n Janet could neither eat nor drink\n But the water that ran so fine.\n\n 25\n Up spak the bride\u2019s father,\n Said, Bride, will ye dance wi me?\n \u2018Away, away, my cruel father!\n There nae dancin wi me.\u2019\n\n 26\n Up then spak the bride\u2019s mother,\n Said, Bride, will ye dance wi me?\n \u2018Away, away, my mother dear!\n There nae dancin wi me.\u2019\n\n 27\n Up then spak the bride\u2019s sisters, etc.\n\n 28\n Up then spak the bride\u2019s brother, etc.\n\n 29\n Then up spak the bold bridegroom, [etc.]\n\n 30\n Up then spak the Sweet Willie,\n An he spak wi a vance;\n \u2018An ye\u2019ll draw of my boots, Janet,\n I\u2019ll gie a\u2019 yer lassies a dance.\u2019\n\n 31\n \u2018I seen \u2018t other ways, Willie,\n An sae has mae than me,\n When ye wad hae danced wi my fair body,\n An leten a\u2019 my maidens be.\u2019\n\n 32\n He took her by the milk-white hand,\n An led her wi mickle care,\n But she drapit down just at his feet,\n And word spak little mair.\n\n 33\n \u2018Ye may gae hire a nurse, Willie,\n An take yer young son hame;\n Ye may gae hire a nurse, Willie,\n For bairn\u2019s nurse I\u2019ll be nane.\u2019\n\n 34\n She\u2019s pu\u2019d out the keys o her coffer,\n Hung leugh down by her gair;\n She said, Gie thae to my young son,\n Thrae me he\u2019ll neer get mair.\u2019\n\n 35\n Up then spak the bold bridegroom,\n An he spak bousterouslie;\n \u2018I\u2019ve gien you the skaeth, Willie,\n But ye\u2019ve gien me the scorn;\n Sae there\u2019s no a bell i St Mary\u2019s kirk\n Sall ring for her the morn.\u2019\n\n 36\n \u2018Ye\u2019ve gien me the skaeth, bridegroom,\n But I\u2019ll gee you the scorn;\n For there\u2019s no a bell i St Marie\u2019s kirk\n But sal ring for her the morn.\n\n 37\n \u2018Gar deal, gar deal at my love\u2019s burial\n The wheat-bread an the wine,\n For or the morn at ten o clock\n Ye\u2019ll deal \u2018d as fast at mine.\u2019\n\n 38\n Then he\u2019s drawn out a nut-brown sword,\n Hang leugh down by his gair,\n He\u2019s thrust it in just at his heart,\n An word spak never mair.\n\n 39\n The taen was buried i St Mary\u2019s kirk,\n The tother i St Mary\u2019s queer,\n An throw the taen there sprang a birk,\n Throw the tother a bonnie brier.\n\n 40\n Thae twae met, an thae twae plaet,\n An ay they knitit near,\n An ilka ane that cam thereby\n Said, There lies twa lovers dear.\n\n 41\n Till by there came an ill French lord,\n An ill death may he die!\n For he pu\u2019d up the bonnie brier,\n . . . . . . . .\n\n 5^1. Away _struck out, and_ on _written over._\n\n 9^1. An _at the beginning struck out._\n\n 10^{1,2,3}. drew to them their? Cf. #A# 10.\n\n 11^4. _The fourth verse is written as the second_ (it _for_ in),\n _but struck out_.\n\n 12^1. bukit.\n\n 13^3. _Changed, by striking out, to_ An sair, sair my side. An\n sair, sair is my side _should probably be the second line._\n\n _Cf._ #A# 17, #C# 12.\n\n 15^2. An whae I will.\n\n 16^4. He\u2019ll neer will.\n\n 18^4. But _struck out._\n\n 23^4. But an?\n\n 30^1. he Sweet Willie?\n\n 34^2. Hang? Cf. 38^2.\n\n 39^2. _MS._ queer Choir.\n\n 40^4. twa _struck out._\n\n\n 65. Lady Maisry.\n\nP. 112 b. #I.# \u201cMrs Baird says that this ballad was printed in the\nSaltmarket [Glasgow] by the Robertsons about seventy years ago.\u201d Note by\nMotherwell in a copy of his Minstrelsy.\n\n113, note \u00a7. \u2018Galancina\u2019 also in Munthe, Folkpoesi fr\u00e5n Asturien, No 3,\nUpsala Universitets \u00c5rsskrift, 1887.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n J\n\n\u2018Lady Margery,\u2019 \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No\n71, MS. of Thomas Wilkie, p. 71, Abbotsford. \u201cFrom the recitation of\nJanet Scott, Bowden, who sung a dysmal air, as she called it, to the\nwords.\u201d\n\nThis version resembles #D#. 12, 13, may be caught from \u2018Lord\nDerwentwater:\u2019 see No 208, #E# 8, 9, #F# 9, 10. Omens are not in place\nafter the positive information given in 11.\n\n 1\n Lady Margery was the king\u2019s ae daughter,\n But an the prince\u2019s heir; O\n She\u2019s away to Strawberry Castle,\n To learn some English lair. O\n\n 2\n She had not been in Strawberry Castle\n A twelvemonth and a day\n Till she\u2019s even as big wi child\n As ever a lady could gae.\n\n 3\n Her father\u2019s to the cutting o the birks,\n Her mother to the broom,\n And a\u2019 for to get a bundle o sticks\n To burn that fair lady in.\n\n 4\n \u2018O hold your hand now, father dear,\n O hold a little while,\n For if my true-love be yet alive\n I\u2019ll hear his bridle ring.\n\n 5\n \u2018Where will I get a bonny boy,\n That will win hoes and shoon,\n That will run to Strawberry Castle\n And tell my love to come?\u2019\n\n 6\n She\u2019s called on her waiting-maid\n To bring out bread and wine:\n \u2018Now eat and drink, my bonny boy,\n Ye\u2019ll neer eat mair o mine.\u2019\n\n 7\n Away that bonny boy he\u2019s gaen,\n As fast as he could rin;\n When he cam where grass grew green\n Set down his feet and ran.\n\n 8\n And when he cam where brigs were broken\n He bent his bow and swam;\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n 9\n When he came to Strawberry Castle,\n He lighted on the green;\n Who was so ready as the noble lord\n To rise and let the boy in!\n\n 10\n \u2018What news? what news, my pretty page?\n What tydings do ye bring?\n Is my lady lighter yet\n Of a daughter or a son?\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018Bad news, bad news, my noble lord,\n Bad tydings have I brung;\n The fairest lady in a\u2019 Scotland\n This day for you does burn.\u2019\n\n 12\n He has mounted a stately steed\n And he was bound to ride;\n The silver buttons flew off his coat\n And his nose began to bleed.\n\n 13\n The second steed that lord mounted\n Stumbled at a stone;\n \u2018Alass! alass!\u2019 he cried with grief,\n \u2018My lady will be gone.\u2019\n\n 14\n When he came from Strawberry Castle\n He lighted boots and a\u2019;\n He thought to have goten a kiss from her,\n But her body fell in twa.\n\n 15\n For the sake o Lady Margery\n He\u2019s cursed her father and mother,\n For the sake o Lady Margery\n He\u2019s cursed her sister and brother.\n\n 16\n And for the sake o Lady Margery\n He\u2019s cursed all her kin;\n He cried, Scotland is the ae warst place\n That ever my fit was in!\n\n O, _added in singing to the second and fourth lines of each\n stanza, is sometimes not written in the MS._\n\n 9 _is written as the third and fourth lines of_ 8.\n\n 15 _and_ 16 _are written as one stanza of four long lines_.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n K\n\n \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 22 f; in the\n handwriting of William Laidlaw. \u201cFrom Jean Scott.\u201d This version\n resembles #E#.\n\n 1\n Marjorie was her father\u2019s dear,\n Her mother\u2019s only heir,\n An she\u2019s away to Strawberry Castle,\n To learn some unco lear.\n\n 2\n She had na been i Strawberry Castle\n A year but barely three\n Till Marjorie turnd big wi child,\n As big as big could be.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 3\n \u2018Will ye hae that old, old man\n To be yer daily mate,\n Or will ye burn in fire strong\n For your true lover\u2019s sake?\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018I winna marry that old, old man\n To be my daily mate;\n I\u2019ll rather burn i fire strong\n For my true lover\u2019s sake.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 5\n \u2018O where will I get a bonnie boy\n That will win hose an shoon\n An will gae rin to Strawberry Castle,\n To gar my good lord come soon?\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018Here am I, a bonnie boy\n That will win hose an shoon,\n An I\u2019ll gae rin to Strawberry Castle,\n And gar your lord come soon.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018Should ye come to a brocken brig,\n Than bend your bow an swim;\n An whan ye com to garse growin\n Set down yer feet an rin.\u2019\n\n 8\n When eer he came to brigs broken,\n He bent his bow an swam,\n And whan he cam to grass growin\n He set down his feet an ran.\n\n 7\n When eer he cam to Strawberry Castle\n He tirlt at the pin;\n There was nane sae ready as that young lord\n To open an let him in.\n\n 8\n \u2018Is there ony o my brigs broken?\n Or ony o my castles win?\n Or is my lady brought to bed\n Of a daughter or a son?\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018There\u2019s nane o a\u2019 yer brigs broken,\n Ther\u2019s nane of your castles win;\n But the fairest lady in a\u2019 your land\n This day for you will burn.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018Gar saddle me the black, black horse,\n Gar saddle me the brown,\n Gar saddle me the swiftest stead\n That eer carried man to town.\u2019\n\n 11\n He\u2019s burstit the black unto the slack,\n The grey unto the brae,\n An ay the page that ran afore\n Cried, Ride, sir, an ye may.\n\n 12\n Her father kindlet the bale-fire,\n Her brother set the stake,\n Her mother sat an saw her burn,\n An never cried Alack!\n\n 13\n \u2018Beet on, beet [on], my cruel father,\n For you I cound nae friend;\n But for fifteen well mete mile\n I\u2019ll hear my love\u2019s bridle ring.\u2019\n\n 14\n When he cam to the bonnie Dundee,\n He lightit wi a glent;\n Wi jet-black boots an glittrin spurs\n Through that bale-fire he went.\n\n 15\n He thought his love wad hae datit him,\n But she was dead an gane;\n He was na sae wae for that lady\n As he was for her yong son.\n\n 16\n \u2018But I\u2019ll gar burn for you, Marjorie,\n Yer father an yer mother,\n An I\u2019ll gar burn for you, Marjorie,\n Your sister an your brother.\n\n 17\n \u2018An I will burn for you, Marjorie,\n The town that ye\u2019r brunt in,\n An monie ane\u2019s be fatherless\n That has but little sin.\u2019\n\n 4^3. But _at the beginning struck out._\n\n 10. grey _is written over brown in the second line (perhaps\n because of_ grey _in 11^2), and_ to town _is struck out in the\n fourth line, but nothing supplied._\n\n\n 67. Glasgerion.\n\nP. 136. \u201cGlen Kindy, or rather Glen Skeeny, I have heard, and there is a\nballad in Percy\u2019s collection that is very much the same.\u201d Mrs Brown, in\na letter to Jamieson, June 18, 1801, Jamieson-Brown MS., Appendix, p. x.\n\n137 a, second paragraph. \u2018Riddaren och torpar-dr\u00e4ngen,\u2019 Lagus, Nyl\u00e4ndska\nFolkvisor, I, 133, No 43.\n\n\n 68. Young Hunting.\n\nP. 142 b. The four additional stanzas in #J# first appeared in the\nsecond edition of the Minstrelsy, 1803, II, 44.\n\n143 b, 512 a, III, 509 a. Discovery of drowned bodies. Add: La\nTradition, IV, 236.\n\n143 b, second paragraph. Many cases in Pitcairn\u2019s Criminal Trials, III,\n182\u201399.\n\n\n 69. Clerk Saunders.\n\nP. 157 f. Scandinavian ballads. See Danmarks gamle Folkeviser, now\nedited by Axel Olrik, V, II, 210, No 304, \u2018De hurtige Svar.\u2019 There are\ntwo F\u00e4r\u00f6e versions, #A a#, #A b#, #B#, now No 124 of the MS.\nF\u00f8royjakv\u00e6\u00f0i. Hammershaimb\u2019s ballad is a compound of #A a#, #B#. There\nis a Norwegian copy, which I failed to note, in Danske Viser, IV, 363 f,\nand there are others in the hands of Professor Bugge. There are two\nSwedish unprinted copies in Arwidsson\u2019s collection, and others are\nreferred to by Afzelius. #Danish#, #A-D# : #A a# and #B c# are the\ncopies referred to at p. 158, #C, D# were published in 1889, in\nKristensen\u2019s Jyske Folkeminder, X, 210 ff., No 51. For the Icelandic\nballads see Olrik, No 294, p. 69 ff. A tendency to the comic is to be\nremarked in the Swedish and Danish group, in which (with one exception)\na brother takes the place of the father.\n\n158 a, III, 509 a. #Spanish#, add: \u2018Ma\u00f1anita, ma\u00f1anita,\u2019 El Folk-Lore\nFrexnense y B\u00e9tico-Extreme\u00f1o, Fregenal, 1883\u201384, p. 171.\n\n158 ff. \u2018Clerk Sandy,\u2019 \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border\nMinstrelsy,\u201d No 22 c; in the handwriting of Richard Heber.\n\n 1\n Clerk Sandy an his true-love\n Came oer the bent so brown,\n There was never sic a word between them tua\n Till the bells rang in the toun.\n\n 2\n \u2018Ye maun take out your pocket-napkin\n An put it on my een,\n That safely I may say the morn\n I saw na yow yestreen.\n\n 3\n \u2018Take me on your back, lady,\n An carry me to your bed,\n That safely I may say the morn\n Yere bouer\u2019s floor I never tread.\u2019\n\n 4\n She\u2019s taen him in her armeys tua,\n An carried him to her bed,\n That safely he may say the morn\n Her bouer\u2019s floor he never tread.\n\n 5\n \u2018I have seven brethren,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018An bold young men they be;\n If they see me an you thegether,\n Yere butcher they will be.\u2019\n\n 6\n They had na sutten as lang, as lang\n As other lovers when they meet,\n Till Clerk Sandy an his true-love\n They fell baith sound asleep.\n\n 7\n In an came her seven brethren,\n An bold young men they\u2019ve been:\n \u2018We have only ae sister in a\u2019 the world,\n An wi Clerk Sandy she\u2019s lein.\u2019\n\n 8\n Out an spake her second brother:\n \u2018I\u2019m sure it\u2019s nae injury;\n If there was na another man in a\u2019 the world.\n His butcher I will be.\u2019\n\n 9\n He\u2019s taen out a little pen-knife,\n Hang low doun by his gaer,\n An thro an thro Clerk Sandy\u2019s middle;\n A word spake he never mair.\n\n 10\n They lay lang, an lang they lay,\n Till the bird in its cage did sing;\n She softly unto him did say,\n I wonder ye sleep sae soun.\n\n 11\n They lay lang, an lang they lay,\n Till the sun shane on their feet;\n She softly unto him did say,\n Ye ly too sound asleep.\n\n 12\n She softly turnd her round about,\n An wondred he slept sae soun;\n An she lookd ovr her left shoulder,\n An the blood about them ran.\n\n 1^2. bents o Broun.\n\n\n 71. The Bent Sae Brown.\n\nP. 170 a, III, 509 a, IV, 164 b. #Danish.# \u2018Jomfruens Br\u00f8dre,\u2019 \u2018Hr.\nHj\u00e6lm,\u2019 Kristensen, Jyske Folkeminder, X, 266, 269, No 65, #A, B#, No\n66.\n\n\n 72. The Clerk\u2019s Twa Sons o Owsenford.\n\nP. 174, 512 a, III, 509 a. M. Gaston Paris has made it strongly probable\nthat Pontoise, and not Toulouse, was originally the scene of the\nFrench-Catalan-Italian ballad. Three students had inadvertently\ntrespassed on the hunting-grounds of Enguerrand de Couci; the baron had\nthem arrested by his foresters and hanged from the battlements of his\ncastle; for which St Louis made him pay a heavy fine, and with the money\nfounded a hospital at Pontoise. Journal des Savants, Sept.-Nov., 1889,\np. 614.\n\n\n 73. Lord Thomas and Fair Annet.\n\nP. 180. Norse (1). \u2018Peder och liten Stina,\u2019 Lagus, Nyl\u00e4ndska Folkvisor,\nI, 18, No 5. Stina hangs herself in the orchard. Peder runs on his\nspear.\n\n181, III, 510 b. French ballads. \u2018La D\u00e9laiss\u00e9e,\u2019 Daymard, Vieux Chants\np. rec. en Quercy, p. 50. \u2018Le Rossignolet,\u2019 Revue des Traditions pop.,\nV, 144, 205.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n I\n\nP. 182 f. \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 22 h; in\nthe handwriting of William Laidlaw. From Jean Scott.\n\n 1\n Fair Annie an Sweet Willie\n Sat a\u2019 day on yon hill;\n Whan day was gane an night was comd,\n They hadna said their fill.\n\n 2\n Willie spak but ae wrang word,\n An Annie took it ill:\n \u2018I\u2019ll never marry a fair woman\n Against my friends\u2019s will.\u2019\n\n 3\n Annie spak but ae wrang word,\n An Willy lookit down:\n \u2018If I binna gude eneugh for yer wife,\n I\u2019m our-gude for yer loun.\u2019\n\n 4\n Willie\u2019s turnd his horse\u2019s head about,\n He\u2019s turnd it to the broom,\n An he\u2019s away to his father\u2019s bower,\n I the ae light o the moon.\n\n 5\n Whan he cam to his father\u2019s bower,\n [He tirlt at the pin;\n Nane was sae ready as his father\n To rise an let him in.]\n\n 6\n \u2018An askin, an askin, dear father,\n An askin I\u2019ll ask thee;\u2019\n \u2018Say on, say on, my son Willie,\n Whatever your askin be.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018O sall I marry the nit-brown bride,\n Has corn, caitle an kye,\n Or sall I marry Fair Annie,\n Has nought but fair beauty?\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018Ye ma sit a gude sate, Willy,\n Wi corn, caitle an kye;\n But ye\u2019ll but sit a silly sate\n Wi nought but fair beauty.\u2019\n\n 9\n Up than spak his sister\u2019s son,\n Sat on the nurse\u2019s knee,\n Sun-bruist in his mother\u2019s wame,\n Sun-brunt on his nurse\u2019s knee:\n\n 10\n \u2018O yer hogs will die out i the field,\n Yer kye ill die i the byre;\n An than, whan a\u2019 yer gear is gane,\n A fusom fag by yer fire!\n But a\u2019 will thrive at is wi you\n An ye get yer heart\u2019s desire.\u2019\n\n 11\n Willie\u2019s turnd his horse\u2019s head about,\n He\u2019s away to his mother\u2019s bour, etc.\n\n 12\n \u2018O my hogs ill die out i the field,\n My kye die i the byre,\n An than, whan a\u2019 my gear is gane,\n A fusom fag bi my fire!\n But a\u2019 will thrive at is wi me\n Gin I get my heart\u2019s desire.\u2019\n\n 13\n Willie\u2019s, etc.,\n He\u2019s awae to his brother\u2019s bower, etc.\n\n 14\n \u201c \u201d \u201c \u201d sister\u2019s bower, etc.@\n\n 15\n Than Willie has set his wadin-day\n Within thirty days an three,\n An he has sent to Fair Annie\n His waddin to come an see.\n\n 16\n The man that gade to Fair Annie\n Sae weel his errant coud tell:\n \u2018The morn it\u2019s Willie\u2019s wadin-day,\n Ye maun be there yer sell.\u2019\n\n 17\n \u2019Twas up an spak her aged father,\n He spak wi muckle care;\n \u2018An the morn be Willie\u2019s wadin-day,\n I wate she maun be there.\n\n 18\n \u2018Gar take a steed to the smiddie,\n Caw on o it four shoon;\n Gar take her to a merchant\u2019s shop,\n Cut off for her a gown.\u2019\n\n 19\n She wadna ha\u2019t o the red sae red,\n Nor yet o the grey sae grey,\n But she wad ha\u2019t o the sky couler\n That she woor ilka day.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 20\n There war four-an-twontie gray goss-hawks\n A flaffin their wings sae wide,\n To flaff the stour thra off the road\n That Fair Annie did ride.\n\n 21\n The[re] war four-a-twontie milk-white dows\n A fleein aboon her head,\n An four-an-twontie milk-white swans\n Her out the gate to lead.\n\n 22\n Whan she cam to St Marie\u2019s kirk,\n She lightit on a stane;\n The beauty o that fair creature\n Shone oer mony ane.\n\n 23\n \u2019Twas than out cam the nit-brown bride,\n She spak wi muckle spite;\n \u2018O where gat ye the water, Annie,\n That washes you sae white?\u2019\n\n 24\n \u2018I gat my beauty\n Where ye was no to see;\n I gat it i my father\u2019s garden,\n Aneath an apple tree.\n\n 25\n \u2018Ye ma wash i dubs,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018An ye ma wash i syke,\n But an ye wad wash till doomsday\n Ye neer will be as white.\n\n 26\n \u2018Ye ma wash i dubs,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018An ye ma wash i the sea,\n But an ye soud wash till doomsday\n Ye\u2019ll neer be as white as me.\n\n 27\n \u2018For I gat a\u2019 this fair beauty\n Where ye gat never none,\n For I gat a\u2019 this fair beauty\n Or ever I was born.\u2019\n\n 28\n It was than out cam Willie,\n Wi hats o silks and flowers;\n He said, Keep ye thae, my Fair Annie,\n An brook them weel for yours.\u2019\n\n 29\n \u2018Na, keep ye thae, Willie,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018Gie them to yer nit-brown bride;\n Bid her wear them wi mukle care,\n For woman has na born a son\n Sal mak my heart as sair.\u2019\n\n 30\n Annie\u2019s luppen on her steed\n An she has ridden hame,\n Than Annie\u2019s luppen of her steed\n An her bed she has taen.\n\n 31\n When mass was sung, an bells war rung,\n An a\u2019 man bound to bed,\n An Willie an his nit-brown bride\n I their chamber war laid.\n\n 32\n They war na weel laid in their bed,\n Nor yet weel faen asleep,\n Till up an startit Fair Annie,\n Just up at Willie\u2019s feet.\n\n 33\n \u2018How like ye yer bed, Willie?\n An how like ye yer sheets?\n An how like ye yer nut-brown bride,\n Lies in yer arms an sleeps?\u2019\n\n 34\n \u2018Weel eneugh I like my bed, Annie,\n Weel eneugh I like my sheets;\n But wae be to the nit-brown bride\n Lies in my arms an sleeps!\u2019\n\n 35\n Willie\u2019s ca\u2019d on his merry men a\u2019\n To rise an pit on their shoon;\n \u2018An we\u2019ll awae to Annie\u2019s bower,\n Wi the ae light o the moon.\u2019\n\n 36\n An whan he cam to Annie\u2019s bower,\n He tirlt at the pin;\n Nane was sae ready as her father\n To rise an let him in.\n\n 37\n There was her father a[n] her se\u2019en brethren\n A makin to her a bier,\n Wi ae stamp o the melten goud,\n Another o siller clear.\n\n 38\n When he cam to the chamber-door\n Where that the dead lay in,\n There was her mother an six sisters\n A makin to her a sheet,\n Wi ae drap o . . . .\n Another o silk sae white.\n\n 39\n \u2018Stand by, stand by now, ladies a\u2019,\n Let me look on the dead;\n The last time that I kiss[t] her lips\n They war mair bonny red.\u2019\n\n 40\n \u2018Stand by, stand by now, Willie,\u2019 they said,\n \u2018An let ye her alane;\n Gin ye had done as ye soud done,\n She wad na there ha lien.\u2019\n\n 41\n \u2018Gar deal, gar deal at Annie\u2019s burrial\n The wheat bread an the wine,\n For or the morn at ten o clock\n Ye\u2019s deal\u2019d as fast at mine.\u2019\n\n 5. Whan he cam to his father\u2019s bower, etc. _Completed from 36._\n\n 7^2. caitle _written under_ cattle.\n\n 8^4. Annie _written over_ nought.\n\n 11. _4\u20138 are intended to be repeated, with mother substituted for_\n father.\n\n 13, 14. 4\u20138, 12, _are intended to be repeated, with the proper\n substitutions for_ brother, sister.\n\n _After 19_: Something about her sadle and steed.\n\n 20^2, 37^2, 38^4. A\u2019; _which may be intended_.\n\n 29. _Compare #E# 30: but I am unable to suggest a satisfactory\n restoration of the stanza._\n\n _After 41_: etc. See Sweet Willie an Janet. _What should follow is\n probably_, Sweet Willie was buried, _etc._\n\nThere are six stanzas of \u2018Lord Thomas and Fair Elenor,\u2019 from Mrs\nGammell\u2019s recitation, in Pitcairn\u2019s MSS, III, 35. They are of no value.\n\n\n 75. Lord Lovel.\n\nP. 204 f., note \u2020, 512 b. Add: Hruschka u. Toischer, Deutsche V. l. aus\nB\u00f6hmen, p. 108, No 20, #a-f#.\n\n205 a, note, III, 510 b. For \u2018Stolten Hellelille, see Danmarks gamle\nFolkeviser, V, II, 352, No 312, \u2018G\u00f8de og Hillelille.\u2019 Add: \u2018Greven og\nlille Lise,\u2019 Kristensen, Jyske Folkeminder, X, 319, No 79, #A-E#.\n\n205 b, III, 510 b. \u2018Den elskedes D\u00f8d:\u2019 the same volume of Kristensen,\n\u2018Herr Peders Kj\u00e6reste,\u2019 p. 327, No 80.\n\n206, 512 b, III, 510 b. \u2018Lou Fil del Rey et sa Mio morto,\u2019 Daymard,\nVieux Chants p. rec. en Quercy, p. 82.\n\nThere is a similar ballad, ending with admonition from the dead\nmistress, in Luzel, Soniou, I, 324, 25, \u2018Cloaregic ar Stanc.\u2019\n\n\n 76. The Lass of Roch Royal.\n\n213 a. Title of #B#. Not Lochroyan in Herd, I, 144, but, both in title\nand text, Lochvoyan. In Herd, II, 60, the title has Lochroyan; the word\ndoes not occur in so much of the text as remains. Printed Lochroyan by\nHerd, and probably Lochroyan was intended in I, 144, as the alternative,\nthough the last letter but one is indistinctly written, and may be read\n_e_. #B# came to Herd \u201cby post from a lady in Ayrshire (?), name\nunknown.\u201d Also, No 38, #A a#, No 51, #A a#; No 161, #B a#; No 220, #A#.\nNote (in pencil, and indistinct as to the place), Herd\u2019s MSS, I, 143.\n\n215 a. A part of this ballad is introduced into two versions of \u2018The\nMother\u2019s Malison,\u2019 No 216; see IV, 186. See also \u2018Fair Janet,\u2019 No 64,\n#A# 13, #D# 5, #G# 5.\n\n217. #B.# Lochvoyan everywhere, not Lochroyan.\n\n221. #E# 2^2. Finlay, in a letter to Scott, March 27, 1803 (Letters, I,\nNo 87), says, \u201cin a copy which I have seen, with the music, it is a\nbirchen, instead of a silver, kame.\u201d\n\n \u2018The Lass of Lochroyan,\u2019 \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border\n Minstrelsy,\u201d No 82, Abbotsford. Communicated to Scott by Major Henry\n Hutton, Royal Artillery, 24th December, 1802 (Letters I, No 77), as\n recollected by his father and the family.\n\n Some ten stanzas of this version (16\u201319, 25\u201327, 30, 32, 34) appear\n to have been used by Scott in compiling the copy printed in his\n Minstrelsy, #E b#. (The note on #E b#, p. 226, requires correction.)\n There is much in common with #B#, #E a#, #F#.\n\n 1\n \u2018O wha will shoe my bonny foot?\n And wha will glove my hand?\n And wha will bind my middle jimp\n Wi a lang, lang linen band?\n\n 2\n \u2018O wha will kame my yellow hair,\n With a haw bayberry kame?\n And wha will be my babe\u2019s father\n Till Gregory come hame?\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018Thy father, he will shoe thy foot,\n Thy brother will glove thy hand,\n Thy mither will bind thy middle jimp\n Wi a lang, lang linen band.\n\n 4\n \u2018Thy sister will kame thy yellow hair,\n Wi a haw bayberry kame;\n The Almighty will be thy babe\u2019s father\n Till Gregory come hame.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018And wha will build a bonny ship,\n And set it on the sea?\n For I will go to seek my love,\n My ain love Gregory.\u2019\n\n 6\n Up then spak her father dear,\n A wafu man was he;\n \u2018And I will build a bonny ship,\n And set her on the sea.\n\n 7\n \u2018And I will build a bonny ship,\n And set her on the sea,\n And ye sal gae and seek your love,\n Your ain love Gregory.\u2019\n\n 8\n Then he\u2019s gard build a bonny ship,\n And set it on the sea,\n Wi four-and-twenty mariners,\n To bear her company.\n\n 9\n O he\u2019s gart build a bonny ship,\n To sail on the salt sea;\n The mast was o the beaten gold,\n The sails [o] cramoisie.\n\n 10\n The sides were o the gude stout aik,\n The deck o mountain pine,\n The anchor o the silver shene,\n The ropes o silken twine.\n\n 11\n She had na saild but twenty leagues,\n But twenty leagues and three,\n When she met wi a rank rever,\n And a\u2019 his companie.\n\n 12\n \u2018Now are ye queen of heaven hie,\n Come to pardon a\u2019 our sin?\n Or are ye Mary Magdalane,\n Was born at Bethlam?\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018I\u2019m no the queen of heaven hie,\n Come to pardon ye your sin,\n Nor am I Mary Magdalane,\n Was born in Bethlam.\n\n 14\n \u2018But I\u2019m the lass of Lochroyan,\n That\u2019s sailing on the sea\n To see if I can find my love,\n My ain love Gregory.\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018O see na ye yon bonny bower?\n It\u2019s a\u2019 covered oer wi tin;\n When thou hast saild it round about,\n Lord Gregory is within.\u2019\n\n 16\n And when she saw the stately tower,\n Shining both clear and bright,\n Whilk stood aboon the jawing wave,\n Built on a rock of height,\n\n 17\n Says, Row the boat, my mariners,\n And bring me to the land,\n For yonder I see my love\u2019s castle,\n Close by the salt sea strand.\n\n 18\n She saild it round, and saild it round,\n And loud and loud cried she\n \u2018Now break, now break your fairy charms,\n And set my true-love free.\u2019\n\n 19\n She\u2019s taen her young son in her arms\n And to the door she\u2019s gane,\n And long she knockd, and sair she ca\u2019d,\n But answer got she nane.\n\n 20\n \u2018O open, open, Gregory!\n O open! if ye be within;\n For here\u2019s the lass of Lochroyan,\n Come far fra kith and kin.\n\n 21\n \u2018O open the door, Lord Gregory!\n O open and let me in!\n The wind blows loud and cauld, Gregory,\n The rain drops fra my chin.\n\n 22\n \u2018The shoe is frozen to my foot,\n The glove unto my hand,\n The wet drops fra my yellow hair,\n Na langer dow I stand.\u2019\n\n 23\n O up then spak his ill mither,\n An ill death may she die!\n \u2018Y\u2019re no the lass of Lochroyan,\n She\u2019s far out-our the sea.\n\n 24\n \u2018Awa, awa, ye ill woman,\n Ye\u2019re no come here for gude;\n Ye\u2019re but some witch or wil warlock,\n Or mermaid o the flood.\u2019\n\n 25\n \u2018I am neither witch nor wil warlock,\n Nor mermaid o the sea,\n But I am Annie of Lochroyan,\n O open the door to me!\u2019\n\n 26\n \u2018Gin ye be Annie of Lochroyan,\n As I trow thou binna she,\n Now tell me of some love-tokens\n That past tween thee and me.\u2019\n\n 27\n \u2018O dinna ye mind, love Gregory,\n As we sat at the wine,\n We chang\u2019d the rings frae our fingers?\n And I can shew thee thine.\n\n 28\n \u2018O yours was gude, and gude enough,\n But ay the best was mine,\n For yours was o the gude red gowd,\n But mine o the diamond fine.\n\n 29\n \u2018Yours was o the gude red gowd,\n Mine o the diamond fine;\n Mine was o the purest troth,\n But thine was false within.\u2019\n\n 30\n \u2018If ye be the lass of Lochroyan,\n As I kenna thou be,\n Tell me some mair o the love-tokens\n Past between thee and me.\u2019\n\n 31\n \u2018And dinna ye mind, love Gregory,\n As we sat on the hill,\n Thou twin\u2019d me o my maidenheid,\n Right sair against my will?\n\n 32\n \u2018Now open the door, love Gregory!\n Open the door! I pray;\n For thy young son is in my arms,\n And will be dead ere day.\u2019\n\n 33\n \u2018Ye lie, ye lie, ye ill woman,\n So loud I hear ye lie;\n For Annie of the Lochroyan\n Is far out-our the sea.\u2019\n\n 34\n Fair Annie turnd her round about:\n \u2018Weel, sine that it be sae,\n May neer woman that has borne a son\n Hae a heart sae fu o wae!\n\n 35\n \u2018Take down, take down that mast o gowd,\n Set up a mast of tree;\n It disna become a forsaken lady\n To sail sae royallie.\u2019\n\n 36\n When the cock had crawn, and the day did dawn,\n And the sun began to peep,\n Up then raise Lord Gregory,\n And sair, sair did he weep.\n\n 37\n \u2018O I hae dreamd a dream, mither,\n I wish it may bring good!\n That the bonny lass of Lochroyan\n At my bower-window stood.\n\n 38\n \u2018O I hae dreamd a dream, mither,\n The thought o\u2019t gars me greet!\n That fair Annie of Lochroyan\n Lay dead at my bed-feet.\u2019\n\n 39\n \u2018Gin it be for Annie of Lochroyan\n That ye make a\u2019 this main,\n She stood last night at your bower-door,\n But I hae sent her hame.\u2019\n\n 40\n \u2018O wae betide ye, ill woman,\n An ill death may ye die!\n That wadna open the door yoursell\n Nor yet wad waken me.\u2019\n\n 41\n O he\u2019s gane down to yon shore-side,\n As fast as he coud dree,\n And there he saw fair Annie\u2019s bark\n A rowing our the sea.\n\n 42\n \u2018O Annie, Annie,\u2019 loud he cried,\n \u2018O Annie, O Annie, bide!\u2019\n But ay the mair he cried Annie\n The braider grew the tide.\n\n 43\n \u2018O Annie, Annie, dear Annie,\n Dear Annie, speak to me!\u2019\n But ay the louder he gan call\n The louder roard the sea.\n\n 44\n The wind blew loud, the waves rose hie\n And dashd the boat on shore;\n Fair Annie\u2019s corpse was in the feume,\n The babe rose never more.\n\n 45\n Lord Gregory tore his gowden locks\n And made a wafu moan;\n Fair Annie\u2019s corpse lay at his feet,\n His bonny son was gone.\n\n 46\n \u2018O cherry, cherry was her cheek,\n And gowden was her hair,\n And coral, coral was her lips,\n Nane might with her compare.\u2019\n\n 47\n Then first he kissd her pale, pale cheek,\n And syne he kissd her chin,\n And syne he kissd her wane, wane lips,\n There was na breath within.\n\n 48\n \u2018O wae betide my ill mither,\n An ill death may she die!\n She turnd my true-love frae my door,\n Who came so far to me.\n\n 49\n \u2018O wae betide my ill mither,\n An ill death may she die!\n She has no been the deid o ane,\n But she\u2019s been the deid of three.\u2019\n\n 50\n Then he\u2019s taen out a little dart,\n Hung low down by his gore,\n He thrust it through and through his heart,\n And words spak never more.\n\n 1^1, 43^1. Oh.\n\n\n 77. Sweet William\u2019s Ghost.\n\nP. 233. #G.# These three stanzas, which Scott annexed to \u2018Clerk\nSaunders\u2019 in the second edition of the Minstrelsy, 1803, II, 41, were\ncontributed by the Ettrick Shepherd, who writes, not quite lucidly:\n\u201cAltho this ballad [Clerk Saunders] is mixed with another, according to\nmy mother\u2019s edition, in favour of whose originality I am strongly\nprepossessed, yet, as the one does in no sense disgrace the other in\ntheir present form, according to her it ends thus.\u201d\n\n\n\u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 141, Abbotsford;\nin the handwriting of James Hogg.\n\n 1\n \u2018But plett a wand o bonnie birk\n An lay it on my breast,\n An drap a tear upon my grave,\n An wiss my saul gude rest.\n\n 2\n \u2018But fair Marget, an rare Marget,\n An Marget, o verity,\n If eer ye loe another man,\n Neer loe him as ye did me.\u2019\n\n 3\n But up then crew the milk-white cock,\n An up then crew the grey;\n Her lover vanishd in the air,\n An she gaed weepin away.\n\n\n 78. The Unquiet Grave.\n\nP. 236 b. Add: Waldau\u2019s B\u00f6hmische Granaten, II, 121, No 176.\n\n236 f., III, 512 f. The Rev. S. Baring-Gould has recovered several\ncopies of \u2018The Unquiet Grave\u2019 in the West Country. It will be observed\nthat the variations in this ballad do not take a wide range. The verses\nare not always sung in the same order; there is not story enough to keep\nthem in place. Mr Baring-Gould informs me that there is a Devon popular\ntale which is very similar (possibly a prose version of the ballad). In\nthis, a bramble-leaf comes between the lips of the maiden and her dead\nlover, and her life is saved thereby. This tale is utilized in the\nballad as printed in Songs of the West, No 6, \u2018Cold blows the wind,\nsweetheart!\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n H\n\n#a.# Sent Rev. S. Baring-Gould by Mrs Gibbons, daughter of the late Sir\nW. L. Trelawney, as she remembered it sung by her nurse, Elizabeth\nDoidge, a woman of the neighborhood of Brentor, about 1828. #b.#\nObtained by the same from John Woodrich, blacksmith, parish of\nThrustleton, as heard from his grandmother about 1848. #c.# By the same,\nfrom Anne Roberts, Scobbeter.\n\n 1\n \u2018Cold blows the wind tonight, sweet-heart,\n Cold are the drops of rain;\n The very first love that ever I had\n In greenwood he was slain.\n\n 2\n \u2018I\u2019ll do as much for my sweet-heart\n As any young woman may;\n I\u2019ll sit and mourn on his grave-side\n A twelve-month and a day.\u2019\n\n 3\n A twelve-month and a day being up,\n The ghost began to speak:\n \u2018Why sit you here by my grave-side\n And will not let me sleep?\n\n 4\n \u2018What is it that you want of me,\n Or what of me would have?\u2019\n \u2018A kiss from off your lily-white lips,\n And that is all I crave!\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018Cold are my lips in death, sweet-heart,\n My breath is earthy strong;\n To gain a kiss of my cold lips,\n Your time would not be long.\n\n 6\n \u2018If you were not my own sweet-heart,\n As now I know you be,\n I\u2019d tear you as the withered leaves\n That grew on yonder tree.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018O don\u2019t you mind the garden, love,\n Where you and I did walk?\n The fairest flower that blossomd there\n Is withered on the stalk.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 8\n \u2018And now I\u2019ve mourned upon his grave\n A twelvemonth and a day,\n We\u2019ll set our sails before the wind\n And so we\u2019ll sail away.\u2019\n\n\nb.\n\n 1\n Cold blows the wind to-night, my love,\n Cold are the drops of rain;\n The very first love that ever I had\n In greenwood he was slain.\n\n 2\n \u2018I\u2019ll do as much for my true-love\n As any young woman may;\n I\u2019ll sit and mourn upon his grave\n A twelve-month and a day.\u2019\n\n 3\n When a twelve-month and a day were up,\n His body straight arose:\n \u2018What brings you weeping oer my grave\n That I get no repose?\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018O think upon the garden, love,\n Where you and I did walk;\n The fairest flower that blossomd there\n Is withered on the stalk.\n\n 5\n \u2018The stalk will bear no leaves, sweet-heart.\n The flower will neer return,\n And my true-love is dead, is dead,\n And I do naught but mourn.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018What is it that you want of me\n And will not let me sleep?\n Your salten tears they trickle down\n And wet my winding-sheet.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018What is it that I want of thee,\n O what of thee in grave?\n A kiss from off your lily-white lips,\n And that is all I crave.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018Cold are my lips in death, sweet-heart,\n My breath is earthy strong;\n If you do touch my clay-cold lips,\n Your time will not be long.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018Cold though your lips in death, sweet-heart,\n One kiss is all I crave;\n I care not, if I kiss but thee,\n That I should share thy grave.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018Go fetch me a light from dungeon deep,\n Wring water from a stone,\n And likewise milk from a maiden\u2019s breast\n That never maid hath none. (_Read_ babe had.)\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 11\n \u2018Now if you were not true in word,\n As now I know you be,\n I\u2019d tear you as the withered leaves\n Are torn from off the tree.\u2019\n\n\nc.\n\n 1\n \u2018It\u2019s for to meet the falling drops,\n Cold fall the drops of rain;\n The last true-love, _etc._\n\n 2\n \u2018I\u2019ll do as much for my fair love\n As any,\u2019 _etc._\n\n_The rest \u201calmost exactly\u201d as #b#._\n\n\u2018Charles Graeme,\u2019 Buchan\u2019s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 89,\nMotherwell\u2019s MS., p. 624, begins with stanzas which belong to this\nballad. What follows after the third, or just possibly the sixth, stanza\nreads as if some contributor had been diverting himself with an\nimposition on the editor\u2019s simplicity. Buchan himself remarks in a note,\np. 299: \u201cThere seems to be a very great inconsistency manifested\nthroughout the whole of this ballad in the lady\u2019s behavior towards the\nghost of her departed lover. Perhaps she wished to sit and sigh alone,\nundisturbed with visits from the inhabitants of the grave.\u201d (Translated\nby Gerhard, p. 63.)\n\n 1\n \u2018Cauld, cauld blaws the winter night,\n Sair beats the heavy rain;\n Young Charles Graeme\u2019s the lad I love,\n In greenwood he lies slain.\n\n 2\n \u2018But I will do for Charles Graeme\n What other maidens may;\n I\u2019ll sit and harp upon his grave\n A twelvemonth and a day.\u2019\n\n 3\n She harped a\u2019 the live-lang night,\n The saut tears she did weep,\n Till at the hour o one o\u2019clock\n His ghost began to peep.\n\n 4\n Pale and deadly was his cheek,\n And pale, pale was his chin;\n And how and hollow were his een,\n No light appeard therein.\n\n 5\n \u2018Why sit ye here, ye maiden fair,\n To mourn sae sair for me?\u2019\n \u2018I am sae sick, and very love-sick,\n Aye foot I cannot jee.\n\n 6\n \u2018Sae well\u2019s I loved young Charles Graeme,\n I kent he loved me;\n My very heart\u2019s now like to break\n For his sweet companie.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018Will ye hae an apple, lady,\n And I will sheave it sma?\u2019\n \u2018I am sae sick, and very love-sick,\n I cannot eat at a\u2019.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018Will ye hae the wine, lady,\n And I will drain it sma?\u2019\n \u2018I am sae sick, and very love-sick,\n I cannot drink at a\u2019.\n\n 9\n \u2018See ye not my father\u2019s castle,\n Well covered ower wi tin?\n There\u2019s nane has sic an anxious wish\n As I hae to be in.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018O hame, fair maid, ye\u2019se quickly won,\n But this request grant me;\n When ye are safe in downbed laid,\n That I may sleep wi thee.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018If hame again, sir, I could win,\n I\u2019ll this request grant thee;\n When I am safe in downbed laid,\n This night ye\u2019se sleep wi me.\u2019\n\n 12\n Then he poud up a birken bow,\n Pat it in her right han,\n And they are to yon castle fair,\n As fast as they coud gang.\n\n 13\n When they came to yon castle fair,\n It was piled round about;\n She slipped in and bolted the yetts,\n Says, Ghaists may stand thereout.\n\n 14\n Then he vanishd frae her sight\n In the twinkling o an ee;\n Says, Let never ane a woman trust\n Sae much as I\u2019ve done thee.\n\n\n 80. Old Robin of Portingale.\n\nP. 240, 513 a, III, 514. Mabillon cites Balderic\u2019s history of the first\ncrusade, whose words are: \u201cMulti etiam de gente plebeia crucem sibi\ndivinitus innatam jactando ostentabant, quod et idem qu\u00e6dam ex\nmulierculis pr\u00e6sumpserunt; hoc enim falsum deprehensum est omnino. Multi\nvero ferrum callidum instar crucis sibi adhibuerunt, vel peste\njactanti\u00e6, vel bon\u00e6 su\u00e6 voluntatis ostentatione.\u201d Migne, Patrologi\u00e6\nCurs. Compl., tom. clxvi, col. 1070.\n\nA man who is looking forward to a pilgrimage to the Holy Land wishes to\nhave the cross burned into his right shoulder, since then, though he\nshould be stript of his clothes, the cross would remain: Miracula S.\nThom\u00e6, Auctore Benedicto, Robertson, Materials for the History of Thomas\nBecket, II, 175. The branding of the cross in the flesh must have become\ncommon, since it was forbidden by the canon law. In some editions of the\nSarum Missal, a warning is inserted in the Servitium Peregrinorum:\n\u201cCombustio crucis in carne peregrinis euntibus Hierusalem prohibitum est\nin lege, secundum jura canonica, sub p\u0153na excommunicationis majoris.\u201d\nSarum Missal, Burntisland, 1867, col. 856*. (Cited by Cutts, Scenes and\nCharacters of the Middle Ages, p. 167.)\n\n\n 81. Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard.\n\nP. 242 ff. #F#, which Jamieson says he received from Scotland, happens\nto have been preserved at Abbotsford. Since Jamieson made a considerable\nnumber of small changes, the original text is now given here.\n\n\u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 133 c, Abbotsford;\nin the handwriting of James Hogg.\n\n 1\n \u2018I have a towr in Dalesberry,\n Whilk now is dearly dight,\n And I will gie it to young Musgrave,\n To lodge wi me a night.\u2019\n\n 2\n \u2018To lodge wi thee a night, fair lady,\n Wad breed baith sorrow and strife;\n For I see by the rings on your fingers\n Ye\u2019re good Lord Barnaby\u2019s wife.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018Lord Barnaby\u2019s wife although I be,\n Yet what is that to thee?\n For we\u2019l beguile him for this ae night;\n He\u2019s on to fair Dundee.\n\n 4\n \u2018Come here, come here, my little foot-page,\n This guinea I will give thee,\n If ye will keep thir secrets closs\n Tween young Musgrave an me.\n\n 5\n \u2018But here hae I a little pen-knife,\n Hings low down by my gare;\n If ye dinna keep thir secrets closs,\n Ye\u2019l find it wonder sair.\u2019\n\n 6\n Then she\u2019s taen him to her chamber,\n An down in her arms lay he;\n The boy koost off his hose an shoon\n An ran for fair Dundee.\n\n 7\n When he came to the wan water,\n He slackd his bow an swam,\n An when he wan to growan gress\n Set down his feet an ran.\n\n 8\n And whan he came to fair Dundee,\n Could nouther rap nor ca,\n But set his braid bow to his breast\n An merrily jumpd the wa.\n\n 9\n \u2018O waken ye, waken ye, my good lord,\n Waken, an come away!\u2019\n \u2018What ails, what ails my wee foot-page\n He cry\u2019s sae lang or day?\n\n 10\n \u2018O is my towers burnt, my boy?\n Or is my castle won?\n Or has the lady that I loe best\n Brought me a daughter or son?\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018Your halls are safe, your towers are safe\n An free frae all alarms;\n But oh, the lady that ye loe best\n Lyes sound i Musgrave\u2019s arms.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018Gae saddle me the black,\u2019 he cry\u2019d,\n \u2018Gae saddle me the gray;\n Gae saddle me the milk-white steed,\n To hie me out the way.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018O lady, I heard a wee horn tout,\n An it blew wonder clear,\n An ay the turnin o the note\n Was, Barnaby will be here!\n\n 14\n \u2018I thought I heard a wee horn blaw,\n An it blew loud an hie,\n An ay at ilka turn it said,\n Away, Musgrave, away!\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018Lye still, my dear, lye still, my dear,\n Ye keep me frae the cold!\n For it is but my father\u2019s shepherds,\n Drivin there flocks to the fold.\u2019\n\n 16\n Up they lookit, an down they lay,\n An they\u2019re fa\u2019n sound asleep;\n Till up start good Lord Barnaby,\n Just closs at their bed-feet.\n\n 17\n \u2018How do ye like my bed, Musgrave?\n An how like ye my sheets?\n An how like ye my fair lady,\n Lyes in your arms an sleeps?\u2019\n\n 18\n \u2018Weel I like your bed, my lord,\n An weel I like your sheets;\n But ill like I your fair lady,\n Lyes in my arms an sleeps.\n\n 19\n \u2018You got your wale o se\u2019en sisters,\n An I got mine o five;\n So take ye mine, an I\u2019s take thine,\n An we nae mair shall strive.\u2019\n\n 20\n \u2018O my woman\u2019s the best woman\n That ever brake world\u2019s bread,\n But your woman\u2019s the worst woman\n That ever drew coat oer head.\n\n 21\n \u2018I have two swords in my scabbart,\n They are baith sharp an clear;\n Take ye the best, and I the worst,\n An we\u2019l end the matter here.\n\n 22\n \u2018But up an arm thee, young Musgrave,\n We\u2019l try it hand to hand;\n It\u2019s neer be said o Lord Barnaby\n He struck at a naked man.\u2019\n\n 23\n The first stroke that young Musgrave got,\n It was baith deep an sair,\n An down he fell at Barnaby\u2019s feet,\n An word spak never mair.\n\n 24\n \u2018A grave! a grave!\u2019 Lord Barnaby cry\u2019d,\n \u2018A grave to lay them in!\n My lady shall lye on the sunny side,\n Because of her noble kin.\u2019\n\n 25\n But O how sorry was that good lord,\n For a\u2019 his angry mood,\n When he espy\u2019d his ain young son\n All weltering in his blood!\n\nThe following copy was kindly communicated to me by Mr David MacRitchie,\nHonorary Secretary of the Gypsy Lore Society, in advance of its\npublication in the Journal of the society. While it preserves the\nframework of the story, it differs very considerably in details from all\nthe printed copies. It is evidently of the same origin as some of the\nScottish versions (all of which seem to derive from print), though it\nhas no marked resemblance to the actual form of any particular one of\nthese. Some peculiarities are plausibly attributable to dim or imperfect\nrecollection. Thus, the ball-play of #D#, #E#, etc., is turned into a\nball. Lord Barnard is made a king, and the page the king\u2019s brother\n(neither of which changes is an improvement). We may observe that in #J#\nLord Barnabas is at the king\u2019s court, and in #I# Sir Grove is Lord\nBengwill\u2019s brother; but these points are not decisive, and the changes\nmay be purely arbitrary. 4 shows traces of #E# 5 and #F# 3; 8 may have\nbeen suggested by something like #G# 4; and the last line of 14 looks\nlike a corruption of #G# 29. This involves the supposition that the\nsource of the ballad was a version somewhat different from any hitherto\nrecovered; but \u2018Little Musgrave\u2019 is one of the best known of all\nballads, and the variants must have been innumerable. On the whole, 1\u20138,\n14, present a free treatment of ill-remembered matter; 9\u201313 are fairly\nwell preserved; compare #E# 13\u201317.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n O\n\n\u2018Moss Groves,\u2019 taken down in 1891 by Mr John Sampson, Liverpool, from\nPhilip Murray, an old tinker, who learned the ballad in his boyhood from\nan old gypsy named Amos Rice.\n\n 1\n There was four-and-twenty ladies\n Assembled at a ball,\n And who being there but the king\u2019s wife,\n The fairest of them all.\n\n 2\n She put her eye on the Moss Groves,\n Moss Groves put his eye upon she:\n \u2018How would you like, my little Moss Groves,\n One night to tarry with me?\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018To sleep one night with you, fair lady,\n It would cause a wonderful sight;\n For I know by the ring upon your hand\n You are the king\u2019s wife.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018If I am the king\u2019s wife,\n I mean him to beguile;\n For he has gone on a long distance,\n And won\u2019t be back for a while.\u2019\n\n 5\n Up spoke his brother,\n An angry man was he;\n \u2018Another night I\u2019ll not stop in the castle\n Till my brother I\u2019ll go see.\u2019\n\n 6\n When he come to his brother,\n He was in a hell of a fright:\n \u2018Get up, get up, brother dear!\n There\u2019s a man in bed with your wife.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018If it\u2019s true you tell unto me,\n A man I\u2019ll make of thee;\n If it\u2019s a lie you tell unto me,\n It\u2019s slain thou shalt be.\u2019\n\n 8\n When he came to his hall,\n The bells begun to ring,\n And all the birds upon the bush\n They begun to sing.\n\n 9\n \u2018How do you like my covering-cloths?\n And how do you like my sheets?\n How do you like my lady fair,\n All night in her arms to sleep?\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018Your covering-cloths I like right well,\n Far better than your sheets;\n Far better than all your lady fair,\n All night in her arms to sleep.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018Get up, get up now, little Moss Groves,\n Your clothing do put on;\n It shall never be said in all England\n That I drew on a naked man.\n\n 12\n \u2018There is two swords all in the castle\n That cost me very dear;\n You take the best, and I the worst,\n And let\u2019s decide it here.\u2019\n\n 13\n The very first blow Moss Groves he gave,\n He wounded the king most sore;\n The very first blow the king gave him,\n Moss Groves he struck no more.\n\n 14\n She lifted up his dying head\n And kissed his cheek and chin:\n \u2018I\u2019d sooner have you now, little Moss Groves,\n Than all their castles or kings.\u2019\n\n259 a. Insert under #C#: #d.# Printed and sold in Aldermary Church-yard,\nBow Lane, London.\n\n\n 83. Child Maurice.\n\nP. 266. #B.# Motherwell sent \u2018Child Noryce\u2019 to Sir Walter Scott in a\nletter dated 28 April, 1825 (Letters, XIV, No 94, Abbotsford). He\nchanged several readings (as, orders to errand, in 6^4), and in three\ncases went back to original readings which he has altered in his\nmanuscript. I am now convinced that the alterations made in the\nmanuscript are not in general, if ever, corrections derived from the\nreciters, but Motherwell\u2019s own improvements, and that the original\nreadings should be adhered to.\n\n\n 86. Young Benjie.\n\nP. 281. \u201cFrom Jean Scott.\u201d In the handwriting of William Laidlaw.\n\u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 29, Abbotsford.\n\nExcepting the first stanza, the whole of this fragment (with slight\nchanges) is found in the ballad in Scott\u2019s Minstrelsy. That ballad has\nabout twice as many verses, and the other half might easily have been\nsupplied by the editor.\n\n 1\n Fair Marjorie sat i her bower-door,\n Sewin her silken seam,\n When by then cam her false true-love,\n Gard a\u2019 his bridles ring.\n\n 2\n \u2018Open, open, my true-love,\n Open an let me in;\u2019\n \u2018I dare na, I dare na, my true-love,\n My brethren are within.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018Ye lee, ye lee, my ain true-love,\n Sae loud I hear ye lee!\n For or I cam thrae Lothian banks\n They took fare-weel o me.\u2019\n\n 4\n The wind was loud, that maid was proud,\n An leath, leath to be dung,\n But or she wan the Lothian banks\n Her fair coulour was gane.\n\n 5\n He took her up in his armis,\n An threw her in the lynn.\n\n 6\n Up then spak her eldest brother,\n Said, What is yon I see?\n Sure, youn is either a drowned ladie\n Or my sister Marjorie.\n\n 7\n Up then spak her second brother,\n Said, How will wi her ken?\n Up then spak her . . . brother,\n There a hinnie-mark on her chin.\n\n 8\n About the midle o the night\n The cock began to craw;\n About the middle o the night\n The corpse began to thraw.\n\n 9\n \u2018O whae has doon ye wrang, sister?\n O whae has doon ye wrang?\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018Young Boonjie was the ae first man\n I laid my love upon;\n He was sae proud an hardie\n He threw me oer the lynne.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018O shall we Boonjie head, sister?\n Or shall we Boonjie hang?\n Or shall we pyke out his twa grey eyes,\n An punish him or he gang?\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018O ye sanna Boonjie head, brother,\n Ye sana Boonjie hang;\n But ye maun pyke out his twa grey eyes,\n An punish him or he gang.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018The ae best man about your house\n Maun wait young Boonjie on.\u2019\n\n 3^3. _thare._\n\n 4 _should probably follow 5._\n\n 6^3. either a _substituted for_ some.\n\n 7^3. her second: second _struck out_. youngest?\n\n 8^2. The corpse: corpse _struck out_.\n\n\n 89. Fause Foodrage.\n\nP. 297. #Danish.# Now printed as No 298 of Danmarks gamle Folkeviser, by\nAxel Olrik, the continuator of that noble collection, with the title\n\u2018Svend af Vollersl\u00f8v.\u2019 There are fifteen old versions besides Tragica 18\n(which is a compounded and partly ungenuine text) and the one recently\nprinted by Kristensen, the basis of which is the copy in Tragica. \u2018Ung\nVillum\u2019 is Tragica 18 with two stanzas omitted.\n\n298, III, 515 b. \u2018Liden Engel\u2019 is No 297 of Danmarks gamle Folkeviser.\nThere are eight old copies, and Kristensen has added five from recent\ntradition: the two here noted and three in Jyske Folkeminder, No 49,\n#A-C#, 201 ff. There is also a Swedish copy of 1693, printed in Dybeck\u2019s\nRuna, 1844, p. 98, which I had not observed.\n\n\n 90. Jellon Grame.\n\nP. 303 b, 513 b, III, 515 b. Robert le Diable in Luzel\u2019s ballad, II, 24\nf, when one year old, was as big as a child of five.\n\nAt the age of five, Cuchulinn sets out for his uncle\u2019s court, where he\nperforms prodigies of strength. In his seventh year he is received among\nthe heroes, etc.: Zimmer, G\u00f6ttingische Gelehrte Anzeigen, 1890, pp.\n519\u201320. Merlin, when two years old, \u201cspeaks and goes,\u201d and defends his\nmother before the justice: Arthour and Merlin, vv. 1069\u201370, ed. Turnbull\nfor the Abbotsford Club, p. 41. \u00d6gmundr when seven years old was as\nstrong as a full-grown man: \u00d6rvar-Odds Saga, c. 19, Rafn, Fornaldar\nS\u00f6gur, II, 241. The three-nights-old son of Th\u00f3rr and J\u00e1rnsaxa removes\nthe foot of Hrungnir from the neck of his father when all the gods have\ntried in vain. He also speaks. Sk\u00e1ldskaparm\u00e1l, c. 17. \u201cThe Shee an\nGannon was born in the morning, named at noon, and went in the evening\nto ask his daughter of the king of Erin:\u201d Curtin, Myths and Folk-Lore of\nIreland, p. 114. Cf. p. 223, where a champion jumps out of the cradle.\n(G. L. K.)\n\n\n 91. Fair Mary of Wallington.\n\nP. 309. #B.# \u201cThe ballad about Lady Livingston appears to be founded on\na truth; her fate is mentioned by Sir R. Gordon. Only her mother, Lady\nHuntley, is made a queen; which it was natural enough in a Highland poet\nto do.\u201d Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe to Sir Walter Scott, Letters, XV, No\n231, Abbotsford, 1825 or 26.\n\nWhat Sir Robert Gordon says is: \u201cIn July 1616 yeirs, Elizabeth Gordoun,\nLadie of Livingstoun (wyff to the Lord Livingstoun, now Earle of\nLithgow), daughter to the Marquis of Huntly, died in chyld-bed, at\nEdinburgh, of a son called George, who is now Lord Livingstoun.\u201d\n(Genealogy of the Earls of Sutherland, p. 335.) The characteristic\nparticulars are wanting.\n\n#D# is also in Kinloch MSS, V, 363, in the youthful handwriting of J. H.\nBurton, and is probably the original copy. The differences from the text\nof #D#, p. 314, except spellings, are these:\n\n 1^1, it was. 1^3, and me.\n\n\n 93. Lamkin.\n\nP. 321, note *. See further in Notes and Queries, First Series, II, 519;\nV, 32, 112, 184, 355.\n\n321 ff., 513.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n X\n\n\u2018Lamkin,\u2019 \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 133,\nAbbotsford; in the handwriting of James Hogg.\n\n 1\n Lamkin was as good a mason\n As ever liftit stane;\n He built to the laird o Lariston,\n But payment gat he nane.\n\n 2\n Oft he came, an ay he came,\n To that good lord\u2019s yett,\n But neither at dor nor window\n Ony entrance could get.\n\n 3\n Till ae wae an weary day\n Early he came,\n An it fell out on that day\n That good lord was frae hame.\n\n 4\n He bade steek dor an window,\n An prick them to the gin,\n Nor leave a little wee hole,\n Else Lamkin wad be in.\n\n 5\n Noorice steekit dor an window,\n She steekit them to the gin;\n But she left a little wee hole\n That Lamkin might win in.\n\n 6\n \u2018O where\u2019s the lady o this house?\u2019\n Said cruel Lamkin;\n \u2018She\u2019s up the stair sleepin,\u2019\n Said fause noorice then.\n\n 7\n \u2018How will we get her down the stair?\u2019\n Said cruel Lamkin;\n \u2018We\u2019l stogg the baby i the cradle,\u2019\n Said fause noorice then.\n\n 8\n He stoggit, and she rockit,\n Till a\u2019 the floor swam,\n An a\u2019 the tors o the cradle\n Red wi blude ran.\n\n 9\n \u2018O still my son, noorise,\n O still him wi the kane;\u2019\n \u2018He winna still, madam,\n Till Lariston come hame.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018O still my son, noorice,\n O still him wi the knife;\u2019\n \u2018I canna still him, madam,\n If ye sude tak my life.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018O still my soon, noorice,\n O still him wi the bell;\u2019\n \u2018He winna still, madam,\n Come see him yoursel.\u2019\n\n 12\n Wae an weary rase she up,\n Slowly pat her on\n Her green claethin o the silk,\n An slowly came she down.\n\n 13\n The first step she steppit,\n It was on a stone;\n The first body she saw\n Was cruel Lamkin.\n\n 14\n \u2018O pity, pity, Lamkin,\n Hae pity on me!\u2019\n \u2018Just as meikle pity, madam,\n As ye paid me o my fee.\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018I\u2019ll g\u2019ye a peck o good red goud,\n Streekit wi the wand;\n An if that winna please ye,\n I\u2019ll heap it wi my hand.\n\n 16\n \u2018An if that winna please ye,\n O goud an o fee,\n I\u2019ll g\u2019ye my eldest daughter,\n Your wedded wife to be.\u2019\n\n 17\n \u2018Gae wash the bason, lady,\n Gae wash\u2019t an mak it clean,\n To kep your mother\u2019s heart\u2019s-blude,\n For she\u2019s of noble kin.\u2019\n\n 18\n \u2018To kep my mother\u2019s heart\u2019s-blude\n I wad be right wae;\n O tak mysel, Lamkin,\n An let my mother gae.\u2019\n\n 19\n \u2018Gae wash the bason, noorice,\n Gae wash\u2019t an mak it clean,\n To kep your lady\u2019s heart\u2019s-blude,\n For she\u2019s o noble kin.\u2019\n\n 20\n \u2018To wash the bason, Lamkin,\n I will be right glad,\n For mony, mony bursen day\n About her house I\u2019ve had.\u2019\n\n 21\n But oh, what dule an sorrow\n Was about that lord\u2019s ha,\n When he fand his lady lyin\n As white as driven snaw!\n\n 22\n O what dule an sorrow\n Whan that good lord cam in,\n An fand his young son murderd,\n I the chimley lyin!\n\n 9^2. kane. kame, #B# 13^2. But _cf._ wand, #A# 16^2 #J# 10^2, #M#\n 3^2.\n\n\n 95. The Maid freed from the Gallows.\n\nP. 346, III, 516 a. Add \u2018Leggenda Napitina\u2019 (still sung by the sailors\nof Pizzo); communicated to La Calabria, June 15, 1889, p. 74, by\nSalvatore Mele; Canto Marinaresco di Nicotera, the same, September 15,\n1890. A wife is rescued by her husband.\n\n347 b. #Swedish.# \u2018Den borts\u00e5lda,\u2019 Lagus, Nyl\u00e4ndska Folkvisor, I, 22, No\n6, _a_, _b_, _c_.\n\n349 b, 514 a, III, 516 b, and especially 517 a. A wounded soldier calls\nto mother, sister, father, brother for a drink of water, and gets none;\ncalls to his love, and she brings it: Waldau, B\u00f6hmische Granaten, II,\n57, No 81.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n I\n\n\u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 127, Abbotsford.\nSent to John Leyden, by whom and when does not appear.\n\n 1\n \u2018Hold your tongue, Lord Judge,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018Yet hold it a little while;\n Methinks I see my ain dear father\n Coming wandering many a mile.\n\n 2\n \u2018O have you brought me gold, father?\n Or have you brought me fee?\n Or are you come to save my life\n From off this gallows-tree?\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018I have not brought you gold, daughter,\n Nor have I brought you fee,\n But I am come to see you hangd,\n As you this day shall be.\u2019\n\n[\u201cThe verses run thus untill she has seen her mother, her brother, and\nher sister likewise arrive, and then\n\n Methinks I see my ain dear lover, etc.\u201d]\n\n 4\n \u2018I have not brought you gold, true-love,\n Nor yet have I brought fee,\n But I am come to save thy life\n From off this gallows-tree.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018Gae hame, gae hame, father,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018Gae hame and saw yer seed;\n And I wish not a pickle of it may grow up,\n But the thistle and the weed.\n\n 6\n \u2018Gae hame, gae hame, gae hame, mother,\n Gae hame and brew yer yill;\n And I wish the girds may a\u2019 loup off,\n And the Deil spill a\u2019 yer yill.\n\n 7\n \u2018Gae hame, gae hame, gae hame, brother,\n Gae hame and lie with yer wife;\n And I wish that the first news I may hear\n That she has tane your life.\n\n 8\n \u2018Gae hame, gae hame, sister,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018Gae hame and sew yer seam;\n I wish that the needle-point may break,\n And the craws pyke out yer een.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n J\n\nCommunicated by Dr George Birkbeck Hill, May 10, 1890, as learned forty\nyears before from a schoolfellow, who came from the north of\nSomersetshire and sang it in the dialect of that region. Given from\nmemory.\n\n 1\n \u2018Hold up, hold up your hands so high!\n Hold up your hands so high!\n For I think I see my own father\n Coming over yonder stile to me.\n\n 2\n \u2018Oh father, have you got any gold for me?\n Any money for to pay me free?\n To keep my body from the cold clay ground,\n And my neck from the gallows-tree?\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018Oh no, I\u2019ve got no gold for thee,\n No money for to pay thee free,\n For I\u2019ve come to see thee hangd this day,\n And hang\u00ebd thou shalt be.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018Oh the briers, prickly briers,\n Come prick my heart so sore;\n If ever I get from the gallows-tree,\n I\u2019ll never get there any more.\u2019\n\n[\u201cThe same verses are repeated, with mother, brother, and sister\nsubstituted for father. At last the sweetheart comes. The two first\nverses are the same, and the third and fourth as follows.\u201d]\n\n 5\n \u2018Oh yes, I\u2019ve got some gold for thee,\n Some money for to pay thee free;\n I\u2019ll save thy body from the cold clay ground,\n And thy neck from the gallows-tree.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018Oh the briers, prickly briers,\n Don\u2019t prick my heart any more;\n For now I\u2019ve got from the gallows-tree\n I\u2019ll never get there any more.\u2019\n\n[\u201cI do not know any title to this song except \u2018Hold up, hold up your\nhands so high!\u2019 It was by that title that we called for it.\u201d]\n\nJulius Krohn has lately made an important contribution to our knowledge\nof this ballad in an article in Viritt\u00e4j\u00e4, II, 36\u201350, translated into\nGerman under the title \u2018Das Lied vom M\u00e4dchen welches erl\u00f6st werden\nsoll,\u2019 Helsingfors, 1891. Professor Estlander had previously discussed\nthe ballad in Finsk Tidskrift, X, 1881 (which I have not yet seen), and\nhad sought to show that it was of Finnish origin, a view which Krohn\ndisputes and refutes. There are nearly fifty Finnish versions. The curse\nwith which #I# ends, and which is noted as occurring in Swedish #C#\n(compare also the Sicilian ballad), is never wanting in the Finnish, and\nis found also in the Esthonian copies.\n\n\n 96. The Gay Goshawk.\n\nP. 356 a, III, 517 a. Add: (18) \u2018La Fille dans la Tour,\u2019 Daymard, Vieux\nChants p. rec. en Quercy, p. 174 ; (19) \u2018La belle dans la Tour,\u2019 Pas de\nCalais, communicated by M. G. Doncieux to Revue des Traditions\npopulaires, VI, 603 ; (20) \u2018Belle Idoine,\u2019 Questionnaire de Folklore,\npubli\u00e9 par la Soci\u00e9t\u00e9 du Folklore Wallon, p. 79.\n\nM. Doucieux has attempted a reconstruction of the text in M\u00e9lusine, V,\n265 ff. He cites M. Gaston Paris as having lately pointed out a striking\nsimilitude between the first half of the French popular ballad and that\nof a little romance of Bele Ydoine composed in the twelfth century by\nAudefrois le Bastars (Bartsch, Altfranz\u00f6sische Romanzen und\nPastourellen, p. 59, No 57). This resemblance has, I suppose, occasioned\nthe title of \u2018Belle Idoine\u2019 to be given editorially to No 20 above, for\nthe name does not occur in the ballad.\n\n356 b, III, 517 a. Add: \u2018Au Jardin des Olives,\u2019 Guillon, p. 83, \u2018Dessous\nle Rosier blanc,\u2019 Daymard, p. 171 (Les trois Capitaines). A girl feigns\ndeath to avoid becoming a king\u2019s mistress, \u2018Hertig Henrik och Konungen,\u2019\nLagus, Nyl\u00e4ndska Folkvisor, I, 117, No 37.\n\n363. #E.# The following is the MS. copy, \u201cof some antiquity,\u201d from which\n#E# was in part constructed. (Whether it be the original or a transcript\ncannot be determined, but Mr Macmath informs me that the paper on which\nit is written \u201cseems about the oldest sheet in the volume.\u201d) The text\nwas freely handled. \u2018Lord William\u2019 does not occur in it, but the name is\nfound in another version which follows this.\n\n\n\u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 146 a, Abbotsford.\n\n 1\n \u2018O waly, waly, my gay goss-hawk,\n Gin your feathering be sheen!\u2019\n \u2018O waly, waly, my master dear,\n Gin ye look pale and lean!\n\n 2\n \u2018Whether is it for the gold sae rid,\n Or is it for the silver clear?\n Or is it for the lass in southen land,\n That she cannot win here.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018It is not for the gold sae rid,\n Nor is it for the silver clear,\n But it is for the lass in southen land,\n That she cannot win her[e].\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018Sit down, sit down, my master dear,\n Write a love-letter hastily,\n And put it in under my feathern gray,\n And I\u2019ll away to southen land as fast as I can flee.\n\n 5\n \u2018But how shall I your true-love ken?\n Or how shall I her know?\n I bear the tongue never wi her spake,\n The eye that never her saw.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018The red that is in my love\u2019s cheek\n Is like blood spilt amang the snaw;\n The white that is on her breast-bone\n Is like the down on the white sea-maw.\n\n 7\n \u2018There\u2019s one that stands at my love\u2019s gate\n And opens the silver pin,\n And there ye may safely set ye on\n And sing a lovely song.\n\n 8\n \u2018First ye may sing it loud, loud, loud,\n And then ye may sing it clear,\n And ay the oerword of the tune\n Is, Your love cannot win here.\u2019\n\n 9\n He has written a love-letter,\n Put it under his feathern gray,\n And he\u2019s awa to southen land,\n As fast as ever he may.\n\n 10\n When he came to the lady\u2019s gate,\n There he lighted down,\n And there he sat him on the pin\n And sang a lovely song.\n\n 11\n First he sang it loud, loud, loud,\n And then he sang it clear,\n And ay the oerword of the tune\n Was, Your love cannot win here.\n\n 12\n \u2018Hold your tongues, my merry maids all,\n And hold them a little while;\n I hear some word from my true-love,\n That lives in Scotland\u2019s isle.\u2019\n\n 13\n Up she rose, to the door she goes,\n To hear what the bird woud say,\n And he\u2019s let the love-letter fall\n From under his feathern gray.\n\n 14\n When she looked the letter on,\n The tear blinded her eye,\n And when she read it oer and oer\n A loud laughter took she.\n\n 15\n \u2018Go hame, go hame, my bonny bird,\n And to your master tell,\n If I be nae wi him at Martinmass,\n I shall be wi him at Yule.\u2019\n\n 16\n The lady\u2019s to her chamber gane,\n And a sick woman grew she;\n The lady\u2019s taen a sudden brash,\n And nathing she\u2019ll do but die.\n\n 17\n \u2018An asking, an asking, my father dear,\n An asking grant to me!\n If that I die in southen land,\n In Scotland bury me.\u2019\n\n 18\n \u2018Ask on, ask on, my daughter dear,\n That asking is granted thee;\n If that you die in southen land,\n In Scotland I\u2019ll bury thee.\u2019\n\n 19\n \u2018Gar call to me my seven bretheren,\n To hew to me my bier,\n The one half of the beaten gold,\n The other of the silver clear.\n\n 20\n \u2018Go call to me my seven sisters,\n To sew to me my caul;\n Every needle-steik that they put in\n Put by a silver bell.\u2019\n\n 21\n The first Scots kirk that they came to,\n They heard the mavis sing;\n The next Scots kirk that they came to,\n They heard the dead-bell ring.\n\n 22\n The next Scots kirk that they came to,\n They were playing at the foot-ball,\n And her true-love was them among,\n The chieftian amangst them all.\n\n 23\n \u2018Set down, set down these corps,\u2019 said he,\n \u2018Let me look them upon;\u2019\n As soon as he lookd the lady on,\n The blood sprang in her chin.\n\n 24\n \u2018One bite of your bread, my love,\n And one glass of your wine!\n For I have fasted these five long days,\n All for your sake and mine.\n\n 25\n \u2018Go hame, go hame, my seven brothers,\n Go hame and blaw your horn,\n And ye may tell thro southen land\n How I playd you the scorn.\u2019\n\n 26\n \u2018Woe to you, my sister dear,\n And ane ill death may you die!\n For we left father and mother at hame\n Breaking their heart for thee.\u2019\n\nThe Ettrick Shepherd sent Scott the following stanzas to be inserted in\nthe first edition at places indicated. Most of them are either\nabsolutely base metal or very much worn by circulation. The clever\ncontrivance for breathing (found also in #G# 39, #H# 19) and the bribing\nof the surgeon provoke scorn and resentment.\n\n\n\u2018Gay Gos Hawk,\u2019 \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No\n143, No 133 a, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of James Hogg.\n\n After 12 of ed. 1802 (E 13):\n\n He happit off the flowry birk,\n Sat down on the yett-pin,\n And sang sae sweet the notes o love\n Till a\u2019 was coush within.\n\n After 15 (E 16):\n \u2018O ye maun send your love a kiss,\n For he has sent you three;\n O ye maun send your love a kiss,\n And ye maun send it wi me.\u2019\n\n \u2018He has the rings off my fingers,\n The garland off my hair;\n He has the heart out o my bouk,\n What can I send him mair?\u2019\n\n After 22:\n \u2018The third Scotts kirk that ye gang to\n Ye\u2019s gar them blaw the horn,\n That a\u2019 the lords o fair Scotland\n May hear afore the morn.\u2019\n\n After 23:\n She wyld a wright to bore her chest,\n For caller air she\u2019d need;\n She brib\u2019d her surgeon wi the goud\n To say that she was dead.\n\n After 25:\n \u2018What ails, what ails my daughter dear\n Her colour bides sae fine?\u2019\n The surgeon-lad reply\u2019d again,\n She\u2019s nouther pin\u2019d nor lien.\n\n After 30:\n The third Scotts kirk that they cam to,\n Sae loud they blew the horn,\n An a\u2019 the lads on yon water\n Was warnd afore the morn.\n\n After 31:\n \u2018Set down, set down the bier,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018These comely corps I\u2019ll see;\u2019\n \u2018Away, away,\u2019 her brothers said,\n \u2018For nae sick thing shall be.\n\n \u2018Her een are sunk, her lips are cold,\n Her rosy colour gane;\n \u2018T is nine lang nights an nine lang days\n Sin she deceasd at hame.\u2019\n\n \u2018Wer\u2019t nine times nine an nine times nine,\n My true-love\u2019s face I\u2019ll see;\n Set down the bier, or here I swear\n My prisners you shall be.\u2019\n\n He drew the nails frae the coffin,\n An liftit up the cone,\n An for a\u2019 sae lang as she\u2019d been dead\n She smil\u2019d her love upon.\n\n After 35:\n \u2018And tell my father he sent me\n To rot in Scotland\u2019s clay;\n But he sent me to my Willie,\n To be his lady gay.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n H\n\n\u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 28 b, Abbotsford;\nin the handwriting of William Laidlaw.\n\n 1\n Lord William was walkin i the garden green,\n Viewin the roses red,\n An there he spyed his bonnie spier-hawk,\n Was fleein aboon his head.\n\n 2\n \u2018O could ye speak, my bonnie spier-hawk,\n As ye hae wings to flee,\n Then ye wad carry a luve-letter\n Atween my love an me.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018But how can I your true-love ken?\n Or how can I her know?\n Or how can I your true-love ken,\n The face I never saw?\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018Ye may esily my love ken\n Amang them ye never saw;\n The red that\u2019s on o my love\u2019s cheek\n Is like bluid drapt on the snaw.\u2019\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 5\n \u2018O what will be my meat, master?\n An what\u2019ll be my fee?\n An what will be the love-tokens\n That ye will send wi me?\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018Ye may tell my love I\u2019ll send her a kiss,\n A kiss, aye, will I three;\n If ever she come [to] fair Scotland,\n My wedded wife she\u2019s be.\n\n 7\n \u2018Ye may tell my love I\u2019ll send her a kiss,\n A kiss, aye, will I twae;\n An ever she come to fair Scotland,\n I the red gold she sall gae.\u2019\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 8\n The hawk flew high, an she flew leugh,\n An south aneath the sun,\n Untill it cam, etc.\n\n 9\n \u2018Sit still, sit still, my six sisters,\n An sew your silken seam,\n Till I gae to my bower-window\n An hear yon Scottish bird sing.\u2019\n\n 10\n Than she flew high, an she flew leugh,\n An\u2019 far aboon the wa;\n She drapit to that ladie\u2019s side,\n An loot the letter fa.\n\n 11\n \u2018What news, what news, my bonnie burd?\n An what word carry ye?\n An what are a\u2019 the love-tokens\n My love has sent to me?\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018O ye may send your love a kiss,\n For he has sent ye three;\n Ye hae the heart within his buik,\n What mair can he send thee?\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018O I will send my love a kiss,\n A kiss, I, will I three;\n If I can win to fair Scotland,\n His wedded wife I\u2019ll be.\n\n 14\n \u2018O I will send my love a kiss,\n An the caim out o my hair;\n He has the heart that\u2019s in my buik,\n What can I send him mair?\n\n 15\n \u2018An gae yer ways, my bonnie burd,\n An tell my love frae me,\n If [I] be na there gin Martinmas,\n Gin Yool I there will be.\u2019\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 16\n \u2019Twas up an spak her ill step-minnie,\n An ill deed may she die!\n \u2018Yer daughter Janet\u2019s taen her bed,\n An she\u2019ll do nought but die.\u2019\n\n 17\n \u2018An askin, an askin, dear father,\n An askin I crave o thee;\n If I should die just at this time,\n In Scotland burry me.\u2019\n\n 18\n \u2018There\u2019s room enough in wide England\n To burry thee an me;\n But sould ye die, my dear daughter,\n I Scotland I\u2019ll burry thee.\u2019\n\n 19\n She\u2019s warnd the wrights in lilly Londeen,\n She\u2019s warnd them ane an a\u2019,\n To mak a kist wi three windows,\n The cauler air to blaw.\n\n 20\n \u2018O will ye gae, my six sisters,\n An sew to me a sheet,\n The tae half o the silk sae fine,\n The tother o cambric white.\u2019\n\n 21\n Then they hae askit the surgeon at, etc.\n\n 22\n Then said her cruel step-minnie,\n Take ye the boilin lead\n An some o \u2018t drap on her bosom;\n We\u2019ll see gif she be dead.\n\n 23\n Then boilin lead than they hae taen\n An drappit on her breast;\n \u2018Alas! alas!\u2019 than her father he cried,\n \u2018For she\u2019s dead without the priest!\u2019\n\n 24\n She neither chatterd in her teeth\n Nor shivert wi her chin;\n \u2018Alas! alas!\u2019 her father cried,\n \u2018For there nae life within!\u2019\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 25\n \u2018It\u2019s nine lang days, an nine lang nights,\n She\u2019s wantit meat for me;\n But for nine days, nine langer nights,\n Her face ye salna see.\u2019\n\n 26\n He\u2019s taen the coffin wi his fit,\n Gard it in flinders flie, etc.\n\n 27\n \u2018Fetch me,\u2019 she said, \u2018a cake o yer bread\n An a wi drap o your wine,\n For luve o you an for your sake\n I\u2019ve fastit lang nights nine.\u2019\n\n 28\n \u2019Twas up then spak an eldrin knight,\n A grey-haird knight was he;\n \u2018Now ye hae left yer auld father,\n For you he\u2019s like to die.\n\n 29\n \u2018An ye hae left yer sax sisters\n Lamentin a\u2019 for you;\n I wiss that this, my dear ladie,\n Ye near may hae to rue.\u2019\n\n 30\n \u2018Commend me to my auld father,\n If eer ye come him niest;\n But nought say to my ill step-minnie.\n Gard burn me on the breist.\n\n 31\n \u2018Commend me to my six sisters,\n If ye gang bak again;\n But nought say to my ill step-minnie,\n Gard burn me on the chin.\n\n 32\n \u2018Commend me to my brethren bald,\n An ever ye them see;\n If ever they come to fair Scotland\n They\u2019s fare nae war than me.\n\n 33\n \u2018For I cam na to fair Scotland\n To lie amang the dead,\n But I cam down to fair Scotland\n To wear goud on my head.\n\n 34\n \u2018Nor did I come to fair Scotland\n To rot amang the clay,\n But I cam to fair Scotland\n To wear goud ilka day.\u2019\n\n 10^2. _Var._ aboon them a\u2019.\n\n367 b. The second edition of the Minstrelsy, 1803, II, 6, inserted 13,\nfrom Hogg\u2019s communication, substituted 22, 23, 24 of Laidlaw\u2019s (#H#) for\n27, 28, introduced 30 of Laidlaw after 36 (all with changes), and made\nthe consequently necessary alteration in 37.\n\n\n 99. Johnie Scot.\n\nP. 378 b. Another copy of the Breton ballad, \u2018L\u00e9zobr\u00e9,\u2019 in Quellien,\nChansons et Danses des Bretons, 1889, p. 65.\n\n379 ff.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n Q\n\n\u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 4 a, Abbotsford;\nin the handwriting of William Laidlaw.\n\n 1\n Young Johnie\u2019s up to England gane\n Three quarters of a year;\n Young Johnie\u2019s up to England gane,\n The king\u2019s banner for to bear.\n\n 2\n But he had not in England been\n The one half of the time\n Till the fairest laidy in all the court\n Was going with child to him.\n\n 3\n Word unto the kitchen\u2019s gane,\n And word\u2019s to the hall,\n And word unto the court has gane,\n Among the nobles all.\n\n 4\n And word unto the chamber\u2019s gane,\n The place where the king sat,\n That his only daughter is with child\n To Johnie, the little Scott.\n\n 5\n \u2018If this be true,\u2019 then sais the king,\n \u2018As I true well it be,\n I\u2019ll put hir in a strong castle,\n And hungre hir till she dee.\u2019\n\n 6\n Hir breast-plate was made of iron,\n In place of the beaten gold,\n A belt of steel about hir waist,\n And O but she was cold!\n\n 7\n \u2018O where will I get a pritty little boy,\n That will win hoes and shoon,\n That will go doun to yonder lee\n And tell my Johnie to come?\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018Here am I, a pritty little boy,\n That will win hoes and shoon,\n And I\u2019ll go doun to yonder lee\n And tell young Johnie to come.\u2019\n\n 9\n She has wrote a brod letter,\n And seald it tenderly,\n And she has sent it to Johnie the Scott,\n That lay on yonder lee.\n\n 10\n When Johnie first the letter got,\n A blith, blith man was he;\n But or he read the half of it\n The salt teer blind Johnie\u2019s ee.\n\n 11\n \u2018I will go to fair England,\u2019 says he,\n \u2018What ever may betide,\n For to releave that gay laidy\n Who last lay by my side.\u2019\n\n 12\n Up then spoke his old mother,\n A sorrifull woman was she;\n \u2018If you go to England, John,\n I\u2019ll never see you mare.\u2019\n\n 13\n Up then spoke Johnie\u2019s father,\n His head was growing gray;\n \u2018If you go to England, John,\n O fair you well for me!\u2019\n\n 14\n Up then spoke Johnie\u2019s uncle,\n Our Scottish king was he;\n \u2018Five hundred of my merry men\n Shall bear you company.\u2019\n\n 15\n When Johnie was mounted on his steed\n He looked wondorous bold,\n The hair that oer his shouldiers hang\n Like threeds of yellow gold.\n\n 16\n \u2018Now come along with me, my men,\n O come along with me,\n We\u2019l blow thier castles in the air,\n And set free my gay laidy.\u2019\n\n 17\n The first gay town that they came to,\n Made mass for to be sung;\n The nixt gay town that they came to,\n Made bells for to be rung.\n\n 18\n But when they came to London town,\n They made the drums beat round,\n Who made the king and all his court\n To wonder at the sound.\n\n 19\n \u2018Is this the Duke of Mulberry,\n Or James the Scottish king?\n Or is it a young gentleman\n To England new come home?\u2019\n\n 20\n \u2018It is not the Duke of Mulberry,\n Nor James the Scottish [king];\n But it is a young gentleman,\n MacNaughten is his name.\u2019\n\n 21\n \u2018If MacNaughten be your name,\u2019 says the king,\n \u2018As I true well it be,\n Before the morn at eight o clock\n Dead hanged you shall be.\u2019\n\n 22\n Up bespoke one of Johnie\u2019s little boys,\n And a well-spoke boy was he;\n \u2018Before we see our master hangd,\n We\u2019l all fight till we dee.\u2019\n\n 23\n \u2018Well spoke, well spoke, my little boy,\n That is well spoke of thee;\n But I have a champian in my bower\n That will fight you three by three.\u2019\n\n 24\n Up then spoke Johnie himself,\n And he spoke manfully;\n \u2018If it please your Majesty,\n May I this champian see?\u2019\n\n 25\n The king and all his nobles then\n Rode down unto the plain,\n The queen and all [her] gay marries,\n To see young Johnie slain.\n\n 26\n When the champian came out of the bower,\n He looked at Johnie with disdain;\n But upon the tope of Johnie\u2019s brodsword\n This champian soon was slain.\n\n 27\n He fought on, and Johnie fought on,\n With swords of tempered steel,\n And ay the blood like dropes of rain\n Came trinkling down thier hiel.\n\n 28\n The very nixt stroke that Johnie gave,\n He brought him till his knee;\n The nixt stroke that Johnie gave,\n He clove his head in twa.\n\n 29\n He swapt his sword on every side,\n And turned him on the plain:\n \u2018Have you any more of your English dogs\n That wants for to be slain?\u2019\n\n 30\n \u2018A clerk, a clerk!\u2019 the king he crys,\n \u2018I\u2019ll seal her taucher free;\u2019\n \u2018A priest, a priest!\u2019 the queen she crys,\n \u2018For weded they shall be.\u2019\n\n 31\n \u2018I\u2019ll have none of your [gold],\u2019 say[s] he,\n \u2018Nor any of your white money;\n But I will have my ain true-love;\n This day she has cost me dear.\u2019\n\n 27^4. hill.\n\n 29^4. two.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n R\n\n\u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 37, Abbotsford,\nMS. of Thomas Wilkie, p. 11; from Miss Nancy Brockie, Bemerside. Another\ncopy, \u201cScotch Ballads,\u201d etc., No 139, in the handwriting of T. Wilkie,\nand somewhat retouched by him.\n\n 1\n Lord Jonnie\u2019s up to England gone\n Three quarters of an year;\n Lord Jonnie\u2019s up to England gone,\n The king\u2019s banner to bear.\n\n 2\n He had not been in fair England,\n Three quarters he was not,\n Till the king\u2019s eldest daughter\n Goes with child to Lord Jonnie Scott.\n\n 3\n Word is to the kitchen gone,\n And word\u2019s gone to the hall,\n And word\u2019s gone to the high, high room,\n Among the nobles all.\n\n 4\n Word\u2019s gone to the king himsel,\n In the chamber where he sat,\n That his eldest daughter goes with child\n To Lord Jonnie Scott.\n\n 5\n \u2018If that be true,\u2019 the king replied,\n \u2018As I suppose it be,\n I\u2019ll put her in a prison strong,\n And starve her till she die.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018O where will I get a little boy,\n That has baith hose and shoon,\n That will run into fair Scotland,\n And tell my love to come?\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018O here is a shirt, little boy,\n Her own hand sewed the sleeve;\n Tell her to come to good greenwood,\n Not ask her father\u2019s leave.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018What news, what news, my little boy?\n What news have ye brought to me?\u2019\n \u2018No news, no news, my master dear,\n But what I will tell thee.\n\n 9\n \u2018O here is a shirt, madam,\n Your awn hand sewed the sleeve;\n You must gang to good greenwood,\n Not ask your parents\u2019 leave.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018My doors they are all shut, little boy,\n My windows round about;\n My feet is in the fetters strong,\n And I cannot get out.\n\n 11\n \u2018My garters are of the black, black iron,\n And O but they are cold!\n My breast-plate\u2019s o the strong, strong steel,\n Instead of beaten gold.\n\n 12\n \u2018But tell him for to bide away,\n And not come near to me,\n For there\u2019s a champion in my father\u2019s ha\n Will fight him till he dee.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018What news, what news, my little boy?\n What news have ye to me?\u2019\n \u2018No news, no news, my master dear,\n But what I will tell thee.\n\n 14\n \u2018Her doors they are all shut, kind sir,\n Her windows round about;\n Her feet are in the fetters strong,\n And she cannot get out.\n\n 15\n \u2018Her garters are of the black, black iron,\n And O but they are cold!\n Her breast-plate\u2019s of the strong, strong steel,\n Instead of beaten gold.\n\n 16\n \u2018She bids you for to bide away,\n And not go near to see,\n For there\u2019s a champion in her father\u2019s house\n Will fight you till you die.\u2019\n\n 17\n Then up and spoke Lord Jonnie\u2019s mother,\n But she spoke out of time;\n \u2018O if you go to fair England\n I fear you will be slain.\u2019\n\n 18\n But up and spoke a little boy,\n Just at Lord Jonnie\u2019s knee,\n \u2018Before you lose your ain true-love,\n We\u2019ll a\u2019 fight till we die.\u2019\n\n 19\n The first church-town that they came to,\n They made the bells be rung;\n The next church-town that they came to,\n The[y] gard the mass be sung.\n\n 20\n The next church-town that they came to,\n They made the drums go through;\n The king and all his nobles stood\n Amazing for to view.\n\n 21\n \u2018Is this any English gentleman,\n Or James our Scottish king?\n Or is it a Scottish gentleman,\n To England new come in?\u2019\n\n 22\n \u2018No, \u2018t is no English gentleman,\n Nor James the Scottish king;\n But it is a Scottish gentleman,\n Lord Jonnie is my name.\u2019\n\n 23\n \u2018If Lord Jonnie be your name,\n As I suppose it be,\n I have a champion in my hall\n Will fight you till you die.\u2019\n\n 24\n \u2018O go fetch out that gurrley fellow,\n Go fetch him out to me;\n Before I lose my ain true-love,\n We\u2019ll all fight till we die.\u2019\n\n 25\n Then out and came that gurrly fellow,\n A gurrly fellow was he,\n With twa lang sclasps between his eyes,\n His shoulders there were three.\n\n 26\n The king and all his nobles stood\n To see the battle gained;\n The queen and all her maries stood\n To see Lord Jonnie slain.\n\n 27\n The first stroke that Lord Jonnie gave,\n He wounded very sore;\n The next stroke that Lord Jonnie gave,\n The champion could fight no more.\n\n 28\n He\u2019s taen a whistle out from his side,\n He\u2019s blawn a blast loud and shill:\n \u2018Is there any more of your English dogs\n To come here and be killed?\u2019\n\n 29\n \u2018A clerk, a clerk!\u2019 the king did say,\n \u2018To cry her toucher free;\u2019\n \u2018A priest, a priest!\u2019 Lord Jonnie [did] cry\n \u2018To wed my love and me.\n\n 30\n \u2018\u2019Twas for none of your monnie I fought,\n Nor for none of your world\u2019s gear;\n But it was for my own true-love;\n I think I\u2019ve bought her dear.\u2019\n\n\u201cThis song (L. Jonnie) I took down from the same girl who sung Hughie\nGraeme.\u201d\n\n 5^2. supose.\n\n 8^3. no news _thrice:_ master _wrongly, in anticipation of 13^3._\n\n _In No 139._\n\n 4^{3,4}. That the king\u2019s eldest daughter Goes with child to.\n\n 7^1. There is a shift, little boy.\n\n 7^4. parents leave.\n\n 8^2. ye to.\n\n 16^1. But she.\n\n 16^3. father\u2019s hall.\n\n 19^2. They gard.\n\n 19^4. They made.\n\n 22^2. James our.\n\n 23^1. name, kind sir.\n\n 25^1. out soon.\n\n 28^2. blown it baith loud.\n\n 29^1. did cry.\n\n 29^2. tocher fee.\n\n 29^3. Jonnie cri\u2019s.\n\n 30^1. our.\n\n 30^2. Nor none.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n S\n\n\u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 140, Abbotsford;\nin the handwriting of James Hogg, who remarks at the end: \u201cThe repeater\nof the above song called the hero once or twice Johny Scott, which I\nommitted in the MS., seeing it contradicted in the 22 verse. I thought\nit best to apprise you of this, in case you might find any tract of its\nbeing founded on fact, because, if it is not, it hath little else to\nreccomend it.\u201d\n\n 1\n O Johny\u2019s up thro England gane\n Three quarters of a year,\n An Johny\u2019s up thro England gane,\n The king\u2019s banner to bear.\n\n 2\n He had not been in London town\n But a very little while\n Till the fairest lady in the court\n By Johny gaes wi child.\n\n 3\n But word is to the kitchin gane,\n An word\u2019s gane to the ha,\n An word\u2019s gane to yon high, high court,\n Amang our nobles a\u2019.\n\n 4\n An when the king got wit o that\n An angry man was he:\n \u2018On the highest tree in a\u2019 the wood\n High hangit shall he be!\n\n 5\n \u2018An for the lady, if it\u2019s true,\n As I do fear it be,\n I\u2019ll put her in yon castle strong,\n An starve her till she die.\u2019\n\n 6\n But Johny had a clever boy,\n A clever boy was he,\n O Johny had a clever boy,\n His name was Gregory.\n\n 7\n \u2018O run, my boy, to yon castle,\n All windows round about,\n An there you\u2019l see a fair lady,\n At a window looking out.\n\n 8\n \u2018Ye maun bid her take this silken sark\u2014\n Her ain hand sewd the gare\u2014\n An bid her come to the green wood,\n For Johny waits her there.\u2019\n\n 9\n Away he ran to yon castle,\n All windows round about,\n Where he espy\u2019d a lady fair,\n At a window looking out.\n\n 10\n \u2018O madam, there\u2019s a silken sark\u2014\n Your ain hand sewd the gare\u2014\n An haste ye to the good green wood,\n For Johny waits you there.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018O I\u2019m confin\u2019d in this castle,\n Though lighted round about;\n My feet are bound with fetters strong,\n That I cannot win out.\n\n 12\n \u2018My gartens are of stubborn ern,\n Alas! baith stiff and cold;\n My breastplate of the sturdy steel,\n Instead of beaten gold.\n\n 13\n \u2018Instead of silken stays, my boy,\n With steel I\u2019m lac\u2019d about;\n My feet are bound with fetters strong,\n And how can I get out?\n\n 14\n \u2018But tell him he must stay at home,\n Nor venture here for me;\n Else an Italian in our court\n Must fight him till he die.\u2019\n\n 15\n When Johny he got wit o that,\n An angry man was he:\n \u2018But I will gae wi a\u2019 my men\n My dearest dear to see.\u2019\n\n 16\n But up then spake a noble lord,\n A noble lord was he;\n \u2018The best of a\u2019 my merry men\n Shall bear you company.\u2019\n\n 17\n But up then spake his auld mother,\n I wat wi meikle pain;\n \u2018If ye will gae to London, son,\n Ye\u2019l neer come back again.\u2019\n\n 18\n But Johny turnd him round about,\n I wat wi meikle pride:\n \u2018But I will gae to London town,\n Whatever may betide.\u2019\n\n 19\n When they were a\u2019 on horseback set,\n How comely to behold!\n For a\u2019 the hairs o Johny\u2019s head\n Did shine like threads o gold.\n\n 20\n The first ae town that they gaed through,\n They gart the bells be rung,\n But the neist town that they gaed through\n They gart the mass be sung.\n\n 21\n But when they gaed to London town\n The trumpets loud were blown,\n Which made the king and a\u2019 his court\n To marvel at the sound.\n\n 22\n \u2018Is this the Duke of Morebattle?\n Or James the Scottish king?\u2019\n \u2018No, sire, I\u2019m a Scottish lord,\n McNaughten is my name.\u2019\n\n 23\n \u2018If you be that young Scottish lord,\n As I believe you be,\n The fairest lady in my court\n She gaes wi child by thee.\u2019\n\n 24\n \u2018And if she be with child by me,\n As I think sae may be,\n It shall be heir of a\u2019 my land,\n And she my gay lady.\u2019\n\n 25\n \u2018O no, O no,\u2019 the king reply\u2019d,\n \u2018That thing can never be,\n For ere the morn at ten o clock\n I\u2019ll slay thy men an thee.\n\n 26\n \u2018A bold Italian in my court\n Has vanquishd Scotchmen three,\n And ere the morn at ten o clock\n I\u2019m sure he will slay thee.\u2019\n\n 27\n But up then spake young Johny\u2019s boy,\n A clever boy was he;\n \u2018O master, ere that you be slain,\n There\u2019s mae be slain than thee.\u2019\n\n 28\n The king and all his court appeard\n Neist morning on the plain,\n The queen and all her ladies came\n To see youn[g] Johny slain.\n\n 29\n Out then stepd the Italian bold,\n And they met on the green;\n Between his shoulders was an ell,\n A span between his een.\n\n 30\n When Johny in the list appeard,\n Sae young and fair to see,\n A prayer staw frae ilka heart,\n A tear frae ilka ee.\n\n 31\n And lang they fought, and sair they fought,\n Wi swords o temperd steel,\n Until the blood like draps o rain\n Came trickling to their heal.\n\n 32\n But Johny was a wannle youth,\n And that he weel did show;\n For wi a stroke o his broad sword\n He clove his head in two.\n\n 33\n \u2018A priest, a priest!\u2019 then Johny cry\u2019d,\n \u2018To wed my love and me;\u2019\n \u2018A clerk, a clerk!\u2019 the king reply\u2019d,\n \u2018To write her tocher free.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n T\n\n\u2018John, the little Scot;\u2019 in the youthful handwriting of Sir Walter\nScott, inserted, as No 4, at the beginning of a MS. volume, in small\nfolio, containing a number of prose pieces, etc., Abbotsford Library, L.\n2.\n\n 1\n Johnny\u2019s gane up to fair England\n Three quarters of a year,\n And Johny\u2019s gane up to fair England,\n The king\u2019s broad banner to bear.\n\n 2\n He had not been in fair England,\n Even but a little while,\n When that the king\u2019s ae dochter\n To Johnny gaes wi child.\n\n 3\n And word is gane to the kitchen,\n And word\u2019s gane to the ha,\n And word\u2019s gane to the high, high court,\n Amang the nobles a\u2019.\n\n 4\n And word is gane unto the king,\n In the chair where he sat,\n That his ae dochter\u2019s wi bairn\n To John the little Scott.\n\n 5\n \u2018If that I thought she is wi bairn,\n As I true weell she be,\n I\u2019ll put her up in high prison,\n And hunger her till she die.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018There is a silken sark, Johnny,\n My ain sell sewed the gare,\n And if ye come to tak me hence\n Ye need nae taken mare.\n\n 7\n \u2018For I am up in high prison,\n And O but it is cold!\n My garters are o the cold, cold iron,\n In place o the beaten gold.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018Is this the Duke o York?\u2019 they said,\n \u2018Or James the Scottish king?\n Or is it John the little Scott,\n Frae Scotland new come hame?\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018I have an Italian in my bower,\n This day he has eaten three;\n Before I either eat or sleep\n The fourth man ye shall be.\u2019\n\n 10\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n Between his een there was two spans,\n His shoulders ells were three.\n\n 11\n Johnny drew forth his good braid glaive\n And slate it on the plain:\n \u2018Is there any more of your Italian dogs\n That wanteth to be slain?\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018A clerk, a clerk!\u2019 her father cry\u2019d\n \u2018To register this deed;\u2019\n \u2018A priest, a priest!\u2019 her mother cry\u2019d,\n \u2018To marry them wi speed.\u2019\n\n 1^1. gane _struck out_.\n\n 1^4. broad _struck out_.\n\n 8^1. king o Scots, _originally_, _for_ Duke o York.\n\n 9^1. n Italian _struck out, and_ Lion _written above_.\n\n\n 100. Willie o Winsbury.\n\nP. 399 ff. MS. of Thomas Wilkie, p. 5, in \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for\nBorder Minstrelsy,\u201d No 34. From Mrs Hislope, Gattonside. 1813.\n\n 1\n The king calld on his merry men all,\n By one, by two, and by three;\n Lord Thomas should been the foremost man,\n But the hindmost man was he.\n\n 2\n As he came tripping down the stairs,\n His stockings were of the silk,\n His face was like the morning sun,\n And his hand as white as milk.\n\n 3\n \u2018No wonder, no wonder, Lord Thomas,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018Then my daughter she loved thee;\n For, if I had been a woman as I am a man,\n Tom, I would hae loved thee.\u2019\n\n\n 106. The Famous Flower of Serving-Men.\n\nP. 429. The fragment printed by Scott was given him by the Ettrick\nShepherd. It was printed with no important change except in the last\nstanza, all of which is the editor\u2019s but the second line. The two lines\nof stanza 7 are scored through in the MS.\n\n\n\u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 133 b, Abbotsford;\nin the handwriting of James Hogg.\n\n 1\n My love he built me a bonny bowr,\n An cled it a\u2019 wi lily-flowr;\n A brawer bowr ye neer did see\n Than my true-love he built to me.\n\n 2\n There came a man by middle day,\n He spy\u2019d his sport an went away,\n An brought the king that very night,\n Who brak my bowr, an slew my knight.\n\n 3\n He slew my knight, to me sae dear;\n He slew my knight, an poind his gear;\n My servants all for life did flee,\n An left me in extremity.\n\n 4\n I sewd his sheet, making my moan;\n I watchd the corpse, mysel alone;\n I watchd his body night and day;\n No living creature came that way.\n\n 5\n I took the corpse then on my back,\n And whiles I gaed, and whiles I sat;\n I digd a grave, and laid him in,\n And hapd him wi the sod sae green.\n\n 6\n But thinkna ye my heart was sair\n When I laid the mool on his yellow hair?\n O thinkna ye my heart was wae\n When I turnd about, away to gae?\n\n 7\n Nae langer there I could remain\n Since that my lovely knight was slain;\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n\n 110. The Knight and the Shepherd\u2019s\n\nDaughter.\n\nP. 457 a, 476 f. #A. b# is printed in the Ballad Society\u2019s ed. of the\nRoxburghe Ballads, III, 449. It is in the Crawford collection, No 1142.\nThere are four copies in the Douce collection: I, 11 b, 14, 21 b, IV,\n33, two of Charles II.\u2019s time, two of no account (Chappell).\n\n458 b. The Danish ballad is now No 314 of Danmarks gamle Folkeviser,\ncontinued by Axel Olrik, V, II, 377, \u2018Ebbe Galt\u2014Hr. Tidemand.\u2019 There are\nfour Danish versions, #A-D#, some of the sixteenth century; a F\u00e4r\u00f6e\nversion in five copies, \u2018Ebbin kall,\u2019 F\u00f8royjakv\u00e6\u00f0i, as elaborated by\nGrundtvig and Bloch, No 123, D. g. F., #E#; an Icelandic version,\n\u2018S\u00edmonar kv\u00e6\u00f0i,\u2019 \u00cdslenzk Fornkv\u00e6\u00f0i, I, 224, No 26. Danish #C#, Vedel,\nIII, No 17, is compounded of #B# and a lost version which must have\nresembled #A#. The copy in Danske Viser, Abrahamson, No 63, is\nrecompounded from C and one of the varieties of #D#. Herr Tidemand is\nthe offending knight in #A#, #C#; Ebbe Galt in #B#, #D# and the F\u00e4r\u00f6e\n#E#; K\u00f3ng S\u00edmon in the Icelandic version. #A# has fifteen stanzas, #B#\nonly eleven; the story is extended to sixty-seven in #D#. A begins\ndirectly with a complaint on the part of the injured husband before the\nKing\u2019s Bench; the husband in this version is of a higher class than in\nthe others,\u2014Herr Peder, and not a peasant. The forcing is done at the\nwoman\u2019s house in A and the Icelandic version; in #B-E# in a wood. In\nall, the ravisher is capitally punished.\n\nHr. Olrik is disposed to think \u2018The Knight and the Shepherd\u2019s Daughter\u2019\na not very happy patching together of \u2018Ebbe Galt,\u2019 a lost ballad, and\n\u2018T\u00e6rning-spillet,\u2019 D. g. F., No 248, by a minstrel who may perhaps have\nhad Chaucer\u2019s story in mind. I am not prepared to go further than to\nadmit that there is a gross inconsistency, even absurdity, in the\nEnglish ballad; the shepherd\u2019s daughter of the beginning could not\npossibly turn out a duke\u2019s, an earl\u2019s, or a king\u2019s daughter in the\nconclusion.\n\n\u2018Malfred og Sallemand,\u2019 p. 458, note \u00a7, which has many verses in common\nwith \u2018Ebbe Galt,\u2019 is now No 313 of Danmarks gamle Folkeviser, V, II,\n367.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n M\n\n\u2018Earl Richmond,\u2019 \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No\n81, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of James Skene of Rubislaw.\n\n 1\n There was a shepherd\u2019s daughter\n Kept hogs upo yon hill,\n By cam her a gentle knight,\n And he would hae his will.\n\n 2\n Whan his will o her he had,\n [His will] as he had taen,\n \u2018Kind sir, for yer courtesy,\n Will ye tell me yer name?\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018Some they ca me Jock,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018And some they ca me John;\n But whan \u2018m in our king\u2019s court\n Hitchcock is my name.\u2019\n\n 4\n The lady being well book-read,\n She spelt it oer again:\n \u2018Hitchcock in our king\u2019s court\n Is Earl Richard at hame.\u2019\n\n 5\n He pat his leg out-oer his steed\n And to the get he\u2019s gane;\n She keltit up her green clothing,\n And fast, fast followed him.\n\n 6\n \u2018Turn back, turn back, ye carl\u2019s daughter,\n And dinna follow me;\n It sets na carl\u2019s daughters\n Kings\u2019 courts for to see.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018Perhaps I am a cerl\u2019s daughter,\n Perhaps I am nane,\n But whan ye gat me in free forest\n Ye might ha latten\u2019s alane.\u2019\n\n 8\n Whan they cam to yon wan water\n That a\u2019 man does call Clyde,\n He looket oer his left shuder,\n Says, Fair may, will ye ride?\n\n 9\n \u2018I learnt it in my mother\u2019s bowr,\n I wis I had learnt it better,\n Whan I cam to wan water\n To soom as does the otter.\u2019\n\n 10\n Or the knight was i the middle o the water,\n The lady she was oer;\n She took out a came o gold,\n To came down her yellow hair.\n\n 11\n \u2018Whar gat ye that, ye cerl\u2019s daughter?\n I pray ye tell to me:\u2019\n \u2018I got it fra my mither,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018To beguil sick chaps as thee.\u2019\n\n 12\n Whan they cam to our king\u2019s court,\n He rade it round about,\n And he gade in at a shot-window,\n And left the lady without.\n\n 13\n She gade to our king hersel,\n She fell low down upon her knee:\n \u2018There is a knight into your court\n This day has robbed me.\u2019\n\n 14\n \u2018Has he robbd ye o your goud?\n Or o yer well-won fee?\n Or o yer maidenhead,\n The flower o yer body?\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018He has na robbd me o my goud,\n For I ha nane to gee;\n But he has robbd me o my maidenhead,\n The flower o my body.\u2019\n\n 16\n \u2018O wud ye ken the knight,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018If that ye did him see?\u2019\n \u2018I wud him ken by his well-fared face\n And the blyth blink o his ee.\u2019\n\n 17\n \u2018An he be a married man,\n High hanged sall he be,\n And an he be a free man,\n Well wedded to him ye\u2019s be,\n Altho it be my brother Richie,\n And I wiss it be no he.\u2019\n\n 18\n The king called on his merry young men,\n By ane, by twa, by three;\n Earl Richmond had used to be the first,\n But the hindmost was he.\n\n 19\n By that ye mith ha well kent\n That the guilty man was he;\n She took him by the milk-white hand,\n Says, This same ane is he.\n\n 20\n There was a brand laid down to her,\n A brand but an a ring,\n Three times she minted to the brand,\n But she took up the ring;\n A\u2019 that was in our king\u2019s court\n Countet her a wise woman.\n\n 21\n \u2018I\u2019ll gi ye five hundred pounds,\n To mak yer marriage we,\n An ye\u2019l turn back, ye cerl\u2019s daughter,\n And fash nae mere wi me.\u2019\n\n 22\n \u2018Gae keep yer five hundred pounds\n To mak yer merriage we,\n For I\u2019ll hae nathing but yersel\n The king he promised me.\u2019\n\n 23\n \u2018I\u2019ll gae ye one thousand pounds\n To mak yer marriage we,\n An ye\u2019l turn back, ye cerl\u2019s daughter,\n And fash nae mere wi me.\u2019\n\n 24\n \u2018Gae keep yer one thousand pounds,\n To mak yer merriage we,\n For I\u2019ll hae nathing but yersel\n The king he promised me.\u2019\n\n 25\n He took her down to yon garden,\n And clothed her in the green;\n Whan she cam up again,\n Sh[e] was fairer than the queen.\n\n 26\n They gad on to Mary kirk, and on to Mary quire,\n The nettles they grew by the dyke:\n \u2018O, an my mither wer her[e],\n So clean as she wud them pick!\u2019\n\n 27\n \u2018I wiss I had druken water,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018Whan I drank the ale,\n That ony cerl\u2019s daughter\n Sud tell me sick a tale.\u2019\n\n 28\n \u2018Perhaps I am a cerl\u2019s daughter,\n Perhaps I am nane;\n But whan ye gat me in free forest\n Ye might ha latten\u2019s alane.\n\n 29\n \u2018Well mat this mill be,\n And well mat the gae!\n Mony a day they ha filled me pock\n O the white meal and the gray.\u2019\n\n 30\n \u2018I wiss I had druken water,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018When I drank the ale,\n That ony cerl\u2019s daughter\n Sud tell me sick a tale.\u2019\n\n 31\n \u2018Perhaps I am a cerl\u2019s daughter,\n Perhaps I am nane;\n But whan ye gat me in free forest\n Ye might ha latten\u2019s alane.\n\n 32\n \u2018Tak awa yer siller spoons,\n Tak awa fra me,\n An gae me the gude horn spoons,\n It\u2019s what I\u2019m used tee.\n\n 33\n \u2018O an my mukle dish wer here,\n And sine we hit were fu,\n I wud sup file I am saerd,\n And sine lay down me head and sleep wi ony sow.\u2019\n\n 34\n \u2018I wiss I had druken water,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018Whan I drank the ale,\n That any cerl\u2019s daughter\n Sud tell me sick a tale.\u2019\n\n 35\n \u2018Perhaps I am a cerl\u2019s daughter,\n Perhaps I am nane,\n But whan ye gat me in free forest,\n Ye might ha latten\u2019s alane.\u2019\n\n 36\n He took his hat in oer his face,\n The tear blindit his ee;\n She threw back her yellow locks,\n And a light laughter leugh she.\n\n 37\n \u2018Bot an ye be a beggar geet,\n As I trust well ye be,\n Whar gat ye their fine clothing\n Yer body was covered we?\u2019\n\n 38\n \u2018My mother was an ill woman,\n And an ill woman was she;\n She gat them . . . .\n Fra sic chaps as thee.\u2019\n\n 39\n Whan bells were rung, and mess was sung,\n And aa man bound to bed,\n Earl Richard and the carl\u2019s daughter\n In a chamer were laid.\n\n 40\n \u2018Lie yont, lie yont, ye carl\u2019s daughter,\n Yer hot skin burns me;\n It sets na carl\u2019s daughters\n In earls\u2019 beds to be.\u2019\n\n 41\n \u2018Perhaps I am a carl\u2019s daughter,\n Perhaps I am nane;\n But whan ye gat me in free forest\n Ye might ha latten\u2019s alane.\u2019\n\n 42\n Up it starts the Belly Blin,\n Just at their bed-feet.\n\n 43\n \u2018I think it is a meet marrige\n Atween the taen and the tither,\n The Earl of Hertford\u2019s ae daughter\n And the Queen of England\u2019s brither.\u2019\n\n 44\n \u2018An this be the Earl of Hertford\u2019s ae daughter,\n As I trust well it be,\n Mony a gude horse ha I ridden\n For the love o thee.\u2019\n\n 1\u201334. _Written as far as 36 in long lines, two to a stanza: there\n is no division of stanzas._.\n\n 23, 24, 28, 30, 31, 34, 35, 41, _are not fully written out_.\n\n 29^2. _Possibly_ mat she gae, _but observe the plural in the next\n line._\n\n\n 112. The Baffled Knight.\n\nP. 480 a. There is another variety of #D# in The Calleen Fuine, to which\nare added The Shepherd\u2019s Boy, etc. Limerick, Printed by W. Goggin,\ncorner of Bridge-Street. British Museum, 11621. e. 14 (16). Dated 1810?\nin the catalogue.\n\nThis begins:\n\n There was a shepherd\u2019s boy,\n He kept sheep upon a hill,\n And he went out upon a morning\n To see what he could kill.\n It\u2019s blow away the morning dew,\n It\u2019s blow, you winds, hi ho!\n You stole away my morning blush,\n And blow a little, blow.\n\n481 a. \u2018Lou Cabalier discret\u2019 (\u2018Je vous passerai le bois\u2019), Daymard,\nVieux Chants p. rec. en Quercy, p. 126.\n\n481 b, III, 518 a. Dans le bois elle s\u2019est mise \u00e0 pleurer: Revue des\nTraditions Populaires, IV, 514; \u2018J\u2019ai fini ma journ\u00e9e,\u2019 Gothier, Recueil\nde Cr\u00e2mignons, p. 5, \u2018Youp ta deritou la la,\u2019 Terry et Chaumont, Recueil\nd\u2019Airs de Cr\u00e2mignons, etc., p. 66, No 34; \u2018Apr\u00e8s ma journ\u00e9e faite,\u2019\nMeyrac, Traditions, etc., des Ardennes, pp. 277, 279.\n\nVarieties: \u2018Lou Pastour br\u00e9gountsous (trop discret),\u2019 Daymard, p. 124;\n\u2018A la ronde, mesdames,\u2019 Terry et Chaumont, p. 22, No 13; \u2018La belle et\nl\u2019ermite,\u2019 \u2018La jeune couturi\u00e8re,\u2019 La Tradition, IV, 346, 348, Chansons\npopulaires de la Picardie (half-popular).\n\n482 a. A #Breton# song gives the essence of the story in seven couplets:\nQuellien, Chansons et Danses des Bretons, p. 156.\n\n#Danish.# \u2018Den dyre Kaabe,\u2019 Kristensen, Jyske Folkeminder, X, 142, No\n38.\n\n482 b, third paragraph. The incident of the boots in Hazlitt,\nJest-Books, II, 241 (Tarlton\u2019s Jests, 1611, but printed before 1600).\n\n\n 113. The Great Silkie of Sule Skerry.\n\nP. 494, III, 518. See David MacRitchie, The Finn-Men of Britain, in The\nArch\u00e6ological Review, IV, 1\u201326, 107\u2013129, 190 ff., and Alfred Nutt, p.\n232.\n\nA husband who is a man by day, but at night a seal: Curtin, Myths and\nFolk-Lore of Ireland, p. 51. (G. L. K.)\n\n\n VOL. III.\n\n\n 114. Johnie Cock.\n\nP. 1. There is a ballad of \u2018Bertram, the Bauld Archer\u2019 in Pitcairn\u2019s\nMSS, III, 51; printed in Maidment\u2019s Scotish Ballads and Songs, 1859, p.\n46. Pitcairn derived it from Mrs McCorquodale, Stirling, a farmer\u2019s\nwife, who remembered it \u201cto have been sung by her grandmother, a woman\nabove eighty years old, who stated that she had it from an old woman,\nher aunt.\u201d The reciter herself was above sixty-five, and had \u201cfirst\nheard it when a little girl.\u201d Nevertheless, Bertram is fustian, of a\nsort all too familiar in the last century. The story, excepting perhaps\nthe first stanza, is put into the mouth of Bertram\u2019s mistress, _\u00e0 la_\nGilderoy. The bauld archer has gone to the forest for to mak a robberie.\nThe king has made proclamation that he will give five hunder merk for\nBertram\u2019s life. John o Shoumacnair (Stronmaknair, Maidment) proposes to\nhis billies to kill Bertram and get the money. They busk themselves in\nhodden gray, \u2018like to friers o low degree,\u2019 present themselves to\nBertram and ask a boon of him, which Bertram grants without inquiry.\nWhile they are parleying, Shoumacnair drives his dirk into Bertram\u2019s\nback. But, though he swirls wi the straik, Bertram draws his awsome\nbran, kills ane, wounds twa, and then his stalwart, gallant soul takes\nits flight to heaven.\n\n2b. Braid. \u201cThis version [\u2018Johnie of Braidisbank,\u2019 I] was taken down by\nMotherwell and me from the recitation of Mr James Knox, land-surveyor at\nTipperlinne, near Edinburgh, in the month of May, 1824, when we met him\nin the good town of Paisley. At 17 a tradition is mentioned which\nassigns Braid to have been the scene of this woeful hunting. Mr Knox is\nthe authority for this tradition. Braid is in the neighborhood of\nTipperlinne.\u201d Note by Mr P. A. Ramsay in a copy of the Minstrelsy which\nhad belonged to Motherwell. (W. Macmath.)\n\nWolves in Scotland. \u201cIt is usually said that the species was extirpated\nabout 1680 by Sir Ewen Cameron of Lochiel, but the tradition to that\neffect appears to be true only of Sir Ewen\u2019s own district of western\nInvernessshire.\u201d The _very_ last wolf may have been killed in 1743. R.\nChambers, Domestic Annals of Scotland, III, 690.\n\n7. #F# was made up from several copies, one of which was the following,\n\u2018John o Cockielaw,\u2019 in Scott\u2019s youthful handwriting, inserted, as No 3,\nat the beginning of a MS. volume, in small folio, containing a number of\nprose pieces, and beginning with excerpts from Law\u2019s Memorials.\nAbbotsford Library, L. 2.\n\n 1\n Johnny got up in a May morning,\n Calld for water to wash his hands:\n \u2018Gar louse to me my good gray dogs\n That are tied with iron bands.\u2019\n\n 2\n When Johnny\u2019s mother got word o that,\n For grief she has lain down:\n \u2018O Johnny, for my benison,\n I red you bide at hame!\u2019\n\n 3\n He\u2019s putten on his black velvet,\n Likewise his London brown,\n And he\u2019s awa to Durrisdeer,\n To hunt the dun deer down.\n\n 4\n Johnny shot, and the dun deer lap,\n And he wounded her on the side;\n Between the water and the brae,\n There he laid her pride.\n\n 5\n He\u2019s taken out the liver o her,\n And likewise sae the lungs,\n And he has made a\u2019 his dogs to feast\n As they had been earl\u2019s sons.\n\n 6\n They eat sae much o the venison,\n And drank sae much of the blood,\n That they a\u2019 then lay down and slept,\n And slept as they had been dead.\n\n 7\n And bye there cam a silly ald man,\n And an ill death might he die!\n And he\u2019s awa to the seven forresters,\n As fast as he can drie.\n\n 8\n \u2018As I cam down by Merriemas,\n And down aboon the scroggs,\n The bonniest boy that ever I saw\n Lay sleeping amang his doggs.\n\n 9\n \u2018The shirt that was upon his back\n Was of the holland fine,\n The cravat that was about his neck\n Was of the cambrick lawn.\n\n 10\n \u2018The coat that was upon his back\n Was of the London brown,\n The doublet . . . .\n Was of the Lincome twine.\u2019\n\n 11\n Out and spak the first forrester,\n That was a forrester our them a\u2019;\n If this be John o Cockielaw,\n Nae nearer him we\u2019ll draw.\n\n 12\n Then out and spak the sixth,\n That was . forrester amang them a\u2019;\n If this is John o Cockielaw,\n Nearer to him we\u2019ll draw.\n\n 13\n Johnny shot six of the forresters,\n And wounded the seventh, we say,\n And set him on a milk-white steed\n To carry tidings away.\n\n 4^4. Wi He there he (he _written in place of another word_). Wi He\n _struck out_.\n\n 6^3. _Originally_, That they lay a\u2019 them down.\n\n 7^2. _Originally_, And a silly ald man was he.\n\n 11^2. was hed. hed _struck out_.\n\n\n 116. Adam Bell, etc.\n\nP. 18. The Tell story in The Braemar Highlands, by Elizabeth Taylor,\nEdinburgh, 1869, pp. 99\u2013103, is a transparent plagiarism, as indeed the\nauthor of the book seems to be aware.\n\n\n 117. A Gest of Robyn Hode.\n\nP. 40 ff. Thomas Robinhood is one of six witnesses to a grant in the 4th\nof Richard II. (June 22, 1380\u2013June 21, 1381). See Historical MSS\nCommission, Fifth Report, Appendix, p. 511, col. 2. The pronunciation,\nRobinhood (p. 41 a, note \u2020), is clearly seen in the jingle quoted by\nNash, Strange Newes, 1593, Works, ed. Grosart, II, 230: \u201cAh,\nneighbourhood, neighbourhood, Dead and buried art thou with Robinhood.\u201d\n\nAmong the disbursements of John Lord Howard, afterwards Duke of Norfolk,\noccurs the following: \u201cAnd the same day, my Lord paide to Robard Hoode\nfor viij. shafftys xvj. d.\u201d (This is Friday, Sept. 26, 1483.) Household\nBooks of John Duke of Norfolk and Thomas Earl of Surrey, temp.\n1481\u20131490, ed. by J. P. Collier, 1844, Roxburghe Club, p. 464. Collier,\np. 525, remarks that \u201cthe coincidence that the duke bought them of a\nperson of the name of Robin Hood is singular.\u201d\n\nThe Crosscombe Church-Wardens\u2019 Accounts (in Church-Wardens\u2019 Accounts of\nCroscombe, Pilton, Yatton, etc., ranging from 1349 to 1560, ed. by Right\nRev. Bishop Hobhouse, Somerset Record Soc. Publications, IV, 1890):\n\n\u201cComes Thomas Blower and John Hille, and presents in xl _s._ of Roben\nHod\u2019s recones.\u201d 147[6 7] (accounts for 147\u215a), p. 4.\n\n\u201cComys Robin Hode and presents in xxxiij _s._ iv _d_.\u201d 148\u2154 (for 148\u00bd),\np. 10.\n\n \u201cRic. Willes was Roben Hode, and presents in for yere past xxiij _s._\u201d\n148\u00be (for 148\u2154), p. 11.\n\n\u201cComys Robyn Hode, Wyllyam Wyndylsor, and presents in for the yere paste\niij _l._ vj _s._ viij _d._ ob.\u201d 148[6 7] (for 148\u215a), p. 14.\n\n\u201cRobyn Hode presents in xlvj _s._ viij. _d._\u201d 149\u2158 (for 149\u00be), p. 20.\n\nAnd so of later years.\n\nA pasture called Robynhode Closse is mentioned in the Chamberlains\u2019\nAccounts of the town of Nottingham in 1485, 1486, and 1500: Records of\nthe Borough of Nottingham, III, 64, 230, 254. A Robynhode Well near the\nsame town is mentioned in a presentment at the sessions of July 20, 1500\n(III, 74), and again in 1548 as Robyn\u2019s Wood Well (IV, 441). Robin\nHood\u2019s Acre is mentioned in 162\u2158 (IV, 441). Robbin-hoodes Wele is\nmentioned in Jack of Dover, his Quest of Inquirie, 1604, Hazlitt,\nJest-Books, II, 315. (The above by G. L. K.)\n\n49 b. Italian robber-songs. \u201cSulle piazze romane e napoletane ognuno ha\npotuto sentire ripetere i canti epici che celebrano le imprese di famosi\nbanditi o prepotenti, Meo Pataca, Mastrilli, Fr\u00e0 Diavolo:\u201d Cant\u00f9,\nDocumenti alla Storia universale (1858), V, 891.\n\n53 a. Note on 243\u201347. The same incident in The Jests of Scogin,\nHazlitt\u2019s Jest-Books, II, 151. (G. L. K.)\n\n53 f., 519 a. See also the traditional story how Bishop Forbes, of\nCorse, lent his brother a thousand marks on the security of God\nAlmighty, in The Scotsman\u2019s Library, by James Mitchell, 1825, p. 576.\n(W. Macmath.)\n\n\n 121. Robin Hood and the Potter.\n\nP. 108 a. Compare the Great-Russian bylinas about Il\u2019ja of Murom and his\nson (daughter). Il\u2019ja is captain of the march-keepers, Dobrynja second\nin command. No man, on foot or on horse, no bird or beast, undertakes to\npass. But one day a young hero crosses, neither greeting nor paying\ntoll. One of the guards, commonly Dobrynja, is sent after him, but comes\nback in a fright. Il\u2019ja takes the matter in hand, has a fight with the\nyoung man, is worsted at first, but afterwards gets the better of him.\nWollner, Volksepik der Grossrussen, p. 115. (W. W.)\n\n\n 141. Robin Hood rescuing Will Stutly.\n\nP. 186. Stanzas 19, 20. The boon of being allowed to fight at odds,\nrather than be judicially executed, is of very common occurrence in\nSouth-Slavic songs, generally with the nuance that the hero asks to have\nthe worst horse and the worst weapon. A well-known instance is the\nServian song of Juri\u0161i\u0107 Janko, Karad\u017ei\u0107, II, 319, No 52, and the older\nCroat song of Svilojevi\u0107 (treating the same matter), Bogi\u0161i\u0107, p. 120 No\n46. (W. W.)\n\n\n 155. Sir Hugh, or, The Jew\u2019s Daughter.\n\nP. 241. For the subject in general, and particularly \u2018el santo ni\u00f1o de\nla Guardia,\u2019 see further H. C. Lea, in The English Historical Review,\nIV, 229, 1889.\n\n242 b, fourth paragraph. See J. Loeb, Un m\u00e9moire de Laurent Ganganelli\nsur la calomnie du meurtre rituel, in Revue des Etudes juives, XVIII,\n179 ff., 1889. (G. L. K.) For the other side: Il sangue cristiano nei\nriti ebraici della moderna sinagoga. Versione dal greco del Professore\nN. F. S. Prato, 1883. Henri Desportes, Le myst\u00e8re du sang chez les Juifs\nde tous les temps. Paris, 1889.\n\n246 b. #E# 5. The following stanza was inserted by Motherwell as a\nvariation in a copy of his Minstrelsy afterwards acquired by Mr P. A.\nRamsay:\n\n She went down to the Jew\u2019s garden,\n Where the grass grows lang and green,\n She pulled an apple aff the tree,\n Wi a red cheek and a green,\n She hung it on a gouden chain,\n To wile that bonnie babe in.\n\n249 ff. A version resembling #H-M#, #O# has been kindly communicated by\nMr P. Z. Round.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n S\n\nWritten down April, 1891, by Mrs W. H. Gill, of Sidcup, Kent, as recited\nto her in childhood by a maid-servant in London.\n\n 1\n It rained so high, it rained so low,\n . . . . . . .\n In the Jew\u2019s garden all below.\n\n 2\n Out came a Jew,\n All cloth\u00ebd in green,\n Saying, Come hither, come hither, my sweet little boy,\n And fetch your ball again.\n\n 3\n \u2018I won\u2019t come hither, I shan\u2019t come hither,\n Without my school-fellows all;\n My mother would beat me, my father would kill me,\n And cause my blood to pour.\n\n 4\n \u2018He showed me an apple as green as grass,\n He showed me a gay gold ring,\n He showed me a cherry as red as blood,\n And that enticed me in.\n\n 5\n \u2018He enticed me into the parlour,\n He enticed me into the kitchen,\n And there I saw my own dear sister,\n A picking of a chicken.\n\n 6\n \u2018He set me in a golden chair\n And gave me sugar sweet;\n He laid me on a dresser-board,\n And stabbed me like a sheep.\n\n 7\n \u2018With a Bible at my head,\n A Testament at my feet,\n A prayer-book at the side of me,\n And a penknife in so deep.\n\n 8\n \u2018If my mother should enquire for me,\n Tell her I\u2019m asleep;\n Tell her I\u2019m at heaven\u2019s gate,\n Where her and I shall meet.\u2019\n\n\n 156. Queen Eleanor\u2019s Confession.\n\n Pp. 258 ff.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n G\n\n \u2018Earl Marshall,\u2019 \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d\n No 4 b, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of William Laidlaw.\n\n 1\n The queen of England she is seek,\n And seek and like to dee;\n She has sent for friers out of France,\n To bespeek hir speed[i]ly.\n\n 2\n The king has cald on his merrymen,\n By thirtys and by threes;\n Earl Marshall should have been the formest man,\n But the very last man was he.\n\n 3\n \u2018The queen of England s[h]e is seek,\n And seek and like to dee,\n And she has sent for friers out of France,\n To bespeek hir speedyly.\n\n 4\n \u2018But I will put on a frier\u2019s weeg,\n And ye\u2019l put on another,\n And we\u2019ll away to Queen Helen gaits,\n Like friers both together.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018O no, no,\u2019 says Earl Marshall,\n \u2018For this it must not be;\n For if the queen get word of that,\n High hanged I will be.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018But I will swear by my septer and crown,\n And by the seas so free,\n I will swear by my septer and crown,\n Earl Marshall, thow\u2019s no dee.\u2019\n\n 7\n So he has put on a frier\u2019s wig,\n And the king has put on another,\n And they are away to Queen Helen gaits,\n Like friers both together.\n\n 8\n When they came to Queen Helen gaits,\n They tirled at the pin;\n There was non so ready as the queene herself\n To open and let them in.\n\n 9\n \u2018O are you two Scottish dogs?\u2014\n And hanged you shall be\u2014\n Or are [you] friers come out of France,\n To bespeek me speedily?\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018We are not two Scottish dogs,\n Nor hanged we shall be;\n For we have not spoken a wrong word\n Since we came over the sea.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018Well then, the very first that ever I sind\n I freely confess to thee;\n Earl Marshall took my maidenhead\n Below yon greenwood tree.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018That is a sin, and very great sin,\n But the Pope will pardon thee;\u2019\n \u2018Amene, Amene,\u2019 says Earl Marshall,\n But a feert, feert heart had he.\n\n 13\n \u2018The very next sin that ever I sind\n I freely confess to thee;\n I had [poisen] seven years in my breast\n To poisen King Hendry.\u2019\n\n 14\n \u2018That is a sin, and very great sin,\n But the Pope forgiveth thee;\u2019\n \u2018Amene, Amene,\u2019 says Earl Marshall,\n But a feert, feert heart had he.\n\n 15\n \u2018The very next sin that ever I sind\n I freely confess to thee;\n I poisened one of my court\u2019s ladies,\n Was far more fairer than me.\u2019\n\n 16\n \u2018That is a sin, and a very great sin,\n But the Pope forgiveth thee;\u2019\n \u2018Amene, Amene,\u2019 says Earl Marshall,\n But a feert, feert heart had he.\n\n 17\n \u2018Do you see yon bony boys,\n Playing at the baw?\n The oldest of them is Earl Marshall\u2019s,\n And I like him best of all.\u2019\n\n 18\n \u2018That is a sin, and very great sin,\n But the Pope forgiveth thee;\u2019\n \u2018Amene, Amene,\u2019 says Earl Marshall,\n But a feert, feert heart had he.\n\n 19\n \u2018Do ye see two bony [boys],\n Playing at the baw?\n The youngest of them is King Hendry\u2019s,\n And I like him worst of all.\n\n 20\n \u2018Because he is headed like a bull,\n And his nose is like a boar;\u2019\n \u2018What is the matter?\u2019 says King Henry,\n \u2018For he shall be my heir.\u2019\n\n 21\n Now he put off his frier\u2019s wig\n And drest himself [in] red;\n She wrung hir hands, and tore hir hair,\n And s[w]ore she was betraid.\n\n 22\n \u2018Had I not sworn by my septer and crown,\n And by the seas so free,\n Had I not sworn by my septer and crown,\n Earl Marshall, thowst have died.\u2019\n\n 4^2. yet.\n\n 4^3. will.\n\n 14^2. they.\n\n 19^2. is Earl Marshall\u2019s.\n\n\n 158. Hugh Spencer\u2019s Feats in France.\n\nIII, 276, note \u2020. I had remarked that this ballad was after the fashion\nof Russian bylinas. Professor Wollner indicates especially the bylina of\nDobrynja and Vasilij Kazimirovi\u0107, which in a general way is singularly\nlike \u2018Hugh Spencer.\u2019 In this very fine ballad, Vladimir is in arrears\nwith his tribute to a Saracen king, and appoints Vasilij his envoy, to\nmake payment. Vasilij asks that he may have Dobrynja go with him, and\nDobrynja asks for Ivanuka\u2019s company. (Compare #B#.) Dobrynja beats the\nking at chess and at the bow (which corresponds to the justing in the\nEnglish ballad); then follows a great fight, the result of which is that\nthe Saracen king is fain to pay tribute himself. Wollner, Volksepik der\nGrossrussen, pp. 123\u2013125.\n\nOther examples of difficult feats done in foreign lands, commonly by\ncomrades of the hero, in Karadi\u0107, II, 445, 465, Nos 75, 79; also II,\n132, No 29; and the Bulgarian Sbornik, II, 130, 1, 132, 3. (W. W.)\n\n\n 161. The Battle of Otterburn.\n\nPp. 294, 520. St George Our Lady\u2019s Knight. \u2018Swete Sainct George, our\nladies knyght,\u2019 Skelton, \u2018Against the Scottes,\u2019 v. 141, Dyce, I, 186;\n\u2018Thankyd be Saynte Gorge our ladyes knythe,\u2019 in the \u2018Ballade of the\nScottysche Kynge,\u2019 p. 95 of the fac-simile edition by J. Ashton, 1882\n(where the passage is somewhat different). In his note, II, 220, to the\npoem \u2018Against the Scottes,\u2019 Dyce remarks that St George is called Our\nLady\u2019s Knight \u201cin a song written about the same time as the present\npoem, Cott. MS. Domit. A. xviii. fol. 248.\u201d This appears to be the song\nquoted from the same MS. by Sir H. Ellis, Original Letters, First\nSeries, I, 79:\n\n \u2018Swet Sent Jorge, our Ladyes knyte,\n Save Kyng Hary bothe be day and ny\u021dth.\u2019\n\nIn his Chorus de Dis, super triumphali victoria contra Gallos, etc.,\nSkelton speaks of St George as Gloria Cappadocis div\u00e6 milesque Mari\u00e6, v.\n13; Dyce, I, 191. See also John Anstis, The Register of the Most Noble\nOrder of the Garter, London, 1724, I, 122; II, 27, 48 f. (G. L. K.)\n\n299. #C.# First published in the second edition of the Minstrelsy, 1803,\nI, 27. 1^{3,4} there read The doughty earl of Douglas rode Into England,\nto catch a prey; 31^1, Yield thee, O yield thee, etc., and 31^3, Whom to\nshall I yield, said, etc.\n\nFor his later edition of \u2018The Battle of Otterburn,\u2019 Scott says he used\n\u201ctwo copies ... obtained from the recitation of old persons residing at\nthe head of Ettrick Forest.\u201d James Hogg sent Scott, in a letter dated\nSeptember 10 (1802?), twenty-nine stanzas \u201ccollected from two different\npeople, a crazy old man and a woman deranged in her mind,\u201d and\nsubsequently recovered, by \u201cpumping\u201d his \u201cold friends\u2019 memory,\u201d other\nlines and half lines out of which (using the necessary cement, and not a\nlittle) he built up eleven stanzas more, and these he seems to have\nforwarded in the same letter. These two communications are what is\ndescribed by Scott as two copies. They will be combined here according\nto Hogg\u2019s directions, and the second set of verses bracketed for\ndistinction.\n\nThe materials out of which #C# was constructed can now easily be\nseparated. We must bear in mind that Scott allowed himself a liberty of\nalteration; this he did not, however, carry very far in the present\ninstance. 1\u201313, 15\u201319, 23 are taken, with slight change or none, from\nHogg\u2019s first \u201ccopy\u201d of verses; 24, 26\u201329 from the second; 30\u201335 are\nrepeated from Scott\u2019s first edition. 14 is altered from #A# 16; 20=Hogg\n21^{1,2} + Scott; 21=Hogg 22^1 + Hogg 35^{2\u20134}; 22=Hogg 23^{1,3} +\nScott; 25=Hogg 28^1 + #B# 8^{2\u20134}. Scott did well to drop Hogg 9, and\nought to have dropped Hogg 8.\n\n\n\u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 132, Abbotsford,\nstanzas 1\u201324, 35\u201338, 40; the same, No 5, stanzas 25\u201334, 39. Communicated\nto Scott, in a letter, by James Hogg.\n\n 1\n It fell about the Lammas time,\n When the muir-men won their hay,\n That the doughty Earl Douglas went\n Into England to catch a prey.\n\n 2\n He chose the Gordons and the Graemes,\n With the Lindsays light and gay;\n But the Jardines wadna wi him ride,\n And they rued it to this day.\n\n 3\n And he has burnt the dales o Tine\n And part of Almonshire,\n And three good towers on Roxburgh fells\n He left them all on fire.\n\n 4\n Then he marchd up to Newcastle,\n And rode it round about:\n \u2018O whae\u2019s the lord of this castle,\n Or whae\u2019s the lady o \u2018t?\u2019\n\n 5\n But up spake proud Lord Piercy then,\n And O but he spak hie!\n I am the lord of this castle,\n And my wife\u2019s the lady gaye.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018If you are lord of this castle,\n Sae weel it pleases me;\n For ere I cross the border again\n The ane of us shall die.\u2019\n\n 7\n He took a lang speir in his hand,\n Was made of the metal free,\n And for to meet the Douglas then\n He rode most furiously.\n\n 8\n But O how pale his lady lookd,\n Frae off the castle wa,\n When down before the Scottish spear\n She saw brave Piercy fa!\n\n 9\n How pale and wan his lady lookd,\n Frae off the castle hieght,\n When she beheld her Piercy yield\n To doughty Douglas\u2019 might!\n\n 10\n \u2018Had we twa been upon the green,\n And never an eye to see,\n I should have had ye flesh and fell;\n But your sword shall gae wi me.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018But gae you up to Otterburn,\n And there wait dayes three,\n And if I come not ere three days\u2019 end\n A fause lord ca ye me.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018The Otterburn\u2019s a bonny burn,\n \u2019Tis pleasant there to be,\n But there is naught at Otterburn\n To feed my men and me.\n\n 13\n \u2018The deer rins wild owr hill and dale,\n The birds fly wild frae tree to tree,\n And there is neither bread nor kale\n To fend my men and me.\n\n 14\n \u2018But I will stay at Otterburn,\n Where you shall welcome be;\n And if ye come not ere three days\u2019 end\n A coward I\u2019ll ca thee.\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018Then gae your ways to Otterburn,\n And there wait dayes three;\n And if I come not ere three days\u2019 end\n A coward ye\u2019s ca me.\u2019\n\n 16\n They lighted high on Otterburn,\n Upon the bent so brown,\n They lighted high on Otterburn,\n And threw their pallions down.\n\n 17\n And he that had a bonny boy\n Sent his horses to grass,\n And he that had not a bonny boy\n His ain servant he was.\n\n 18\n But up then spak a little page,\n Before the peep of the dawn;\n \u2018O waken ye, waken ye, my good lord,\n For Piercy\u2019s hard at hand!\u2019\n\n 19\n \u2018Ye lie, ye lie, ye loud liar,\n Sae loud I hear ye lie!\n The Piercy hadna men yestreen\n To dight my men and me.\n\n 20\n \u2018But I have seen a dreary dream,\n Beyond the isle o Sky;\n I saw a dead man won the fight,\n And I think that man was I.\u2019\n\n 21\n He belted on his good broad-sword\n And to the field he ran,\n Where he met wi the proud Piercy,\n And a\u2019 his goodly train.\n\n 22\n When Piercy wi the Douglas met,\n I wat he was right keen;\n They swakked their swords till sair they swat,\n And the blood ran them between.\n\n 23\n But Piercy wi his good broad-sword,\n Was made o the metal free,\n Has wounded Douglas on the brow\n Till backward he did flee.\n\n 24\n Then he calld on his little page,\n And said, Run speedily,\n And bring my ain dear sister\u2019s son,\n Sir Hugh Montgomery.\n\n 25\n [Who, when he saw the Douglas bleed,\n His heart was wonder wae:\n \u2018Now, by my sword, that haughty lord\n Shall rue before he gae.\u2019\n\n 26\n \u2018My nephew bauld,\u2019 the Douglas said,\n \u2018What boots the death of ane?\n Last night I dreamd a dreary dream,\n And I ken the day\u2019s thy ain.\n\n 27\n \u2018I dreamd I saw a battle fought\n Beyond the isle o Sky,\n When lo, a dead man wan the field,\n And I thought that man was I.\n\n 28\n \u2018My wound is deep, I fain wad sleep,\n Nae mair I\u2019ll fighting see;\n Gae lay me in the breaken bush\n That grows on yonder lee.\n\n 29\n \u2018But tell na ane of my brave men\n That I lye bleeding wan,\n But let the name of Douglas still\n Be shouted in the van.\n\n 30\n \u2018And bury me here on this lee,\n Beneath the blooming brier,\n And never let a mortal ken\n A kindly Scot lyes here.\u2019\n\n 31\n He liftit up that noble lord,\n Wi the saut tear in his ee,\n And hid him in the breaken bush,\n On yonder lily lee.\n\n 32\n The moon was clear, the day drew near,\n The spears in flinters flew,\n But mony gallant Englishman\n Ere day the Scotsmen slew.\n\n 33\n Sir Hugh Montgomery he rode\n Thro all the field in sight,\n And loud the name of Douglas still\n He urgd wi a\u2019 his might.\n\n 34\n The Gordons good, in English blood\n They steepd their hose and shoon,\n The Lindsays flew like fire about,\n Till a\u2019 the fray was doon.]\n\n 35\n When stout Sir Hugh wi Piercy met,\n I wat he was right fain;\n They swakked their swords till sair they swat,\n And the blood ran down like rain.\n\n 36\n \u2018O yield thee, Piercy,\u2019 said Sir Hugh,\n \u2018O yield, or ye shall die!\u2019\n \u2018Fain wad I yield,\u2019 proud Piercy said,\n \u2018But neer to loun like thee.\u2019\n\n 37\n \u2018Thou shalt not yield to knave nor loun,\n Nor shalt thou yield to me;\n But yield thee to the breaken bush\n That grows on yonder lee.\u2019\n\n 38\n \u2018I will not yield to bush or brier,\n Nor will I yield to thee;\n But I will yield to Lord Douglas,\n Or Sir Hugh Montgomery.\u2019\n\n 39\n [When Piercy knew it was Sir Hugh,\n He fell low on his knee,\n But soon he raisd him up again,\n Wi mickle courtesy.]\n\n 40\n He left not an Englishman on the field\n . . . . . . .\n That he hadna either killd or taen\n Ere his heart\u2019s blood was cauld.\n\n 35^3. swords still.\n\nHogg writes:\n\n\u201cAs for the scraps of Otterburn which I have got, they seem to have been\nsome confused jumble, made by some person who had learned both the songs\nwhich you have, and in time had been straitened to make one out of them\nboth. But you shall have it as I had it, saving that, as usual, I have\nsometimes helped the measure, without altering one original word.\u201d\n\nAfter 24: \u201cThis ballad, which I have collected from two different\npeople, a crazy old man and a woman deranged in her mind, seems hitherto\nconsiderably entire; but now, when it becomes most interesting, they\nhave both failed me, and I have been obliged to take much of it in plain\nprose. However, as none of them seemed to know anything of the history\nsave what they had learned from the song, I took it the more kindly. Any\nfew verses which follow are to me unintelligible.\n\n\u201cHe told Sir Hugh that he was dying, and ordered him to conceal his\nbody, and neither let his own men nor Piercy\u2019s know; which he did, and\nthe battle went on headed by Sir Hugh Montgomery, and at length\u201d (35,\netc.).\n\nAfter 38: \u201cPiercy seems to have been fighting devilishly in the dark;\nindeed, my relaters added no more, but told me that Sir Hugh died on the\nfield, but that\u201d (40).\n\nIn the postscript, Hogg writes:\n\n\u201cNot being able to get the letter away to the post, I have taken the\nopportunity of again pumping my old friends\u2019 memory, and have recovered\nsome more lines and half lines of Otterburn, of which I am become\nsomewhat enamourd. These I have been obliged to arrange somewhat myself,\nas you will see below; but so mixed are they with original lines and\nsentences that I think, if you pleased, they might pass without any\nacknowledgment. Sure no man will like an old song the worse of being\nsomewhat harmonious. After [24] you may read [25\u201334]. Then after [38]\nread [39].\u201d\n\nOf Almonshire [3^2] Hogg writes: \u201cAlmon shire may probably be a\ncorruption of Banburgh shire, but as both my relaters called it so, I\nthought proper to preserve it.\u201d\n\nAndrew Livingston writes to Scott, Airds by Castle Douglas, 28th April,\n1806, Letters, I, No 183: \u201cMy mother recollects seven or eight verses of\nthe ballad of \u2018The Battle of Otterburn\u2019 different from any I have seen\neither in the first and second editions of the Minstrelsy or in Percy\u2019s\nReliques.... In several parts they bear a great resemblance to the copy\nin the first edition of the Minstrelsy.\u201d\n\n\n 162. The Hunting of the Cheviot.\n\nP. 306. Fighting on or with stumps, etc.\n\nKetilbj\u00f6rn\u2019s foot is cut off at the ankle-joint. He does not fall, but\nhobbles against his enemies and kills two of them before his strength\ngives out: Gull-\u00fe\u00f3ris Saga, c. 18, ed. Maurer, p. 75. Gn\u00fapr fought on\nhis knees after his foot was off: Vemundar Saga ok V\u00edgask\u00fatu, c. 13,\nRafn, \u00cdslendinga S\u00f6gur, II, 266. S\u00f6rli kills eleven men with his club,\nhobbling round on one foot and one stump (apparently, though S\u00f6rli and\nH\u00e1rr are perhaps confused in the narrative): G\u00f6ngu-Hr\u00f3lfs Saga, c. 31,\nRafn, Fornaldar S\u00f6gur, III, 329, \u00c1smundarson, III, 214 (wrongly, 114).\nM\u00e1r fights when both his hands are off: Gull-\u00fe\u00f3ris Saga, c. 10, Maurer,\np. 59. Compare the exploits of S\u00f6lvi after both his hands have been cut\noff: G\u00f6ngu-Hr\u00f3lfs Saga, c. 31, Rafn, F. S., III, 331, \u00c1smundarson, III,\n215 (wrongly 115); and R\u00f6nd\u00f3lfr\u2019s performances after one of his hands\nhas been cut off and all the toes of one foot, in the same saga, c. 30,\nRafn, p. 324 f., \u00c1smundarson, p. 211 (111); and G\u00f6ngu-Hr\u00f3lfr\u2019s, who has\nhad both feet cut off while he slept, the same saga, c. 25, Rafn, pp.\n307\u20139, \u00c1smundarson, 197 f. The Highlander at the battle of Gasklune had\nhis predecessor in Ali, in the same saga, c. 30, Rafn, p. 324,\n\u00c1smundarson, p. 210 (110). (G. L. K.)\n\n\n 167. Sir Andrew Barton.\n\nP. 338 b. Gold to bury body. So in the story of Buridan and the Queen of\nFrance, Haupt\u2019s Zeitschrift II, 364. (G. L. K.)\n\nIn Apollonius of Tyre: puellam in loculo conposuit . . . et uiginti\nsestertios ad caput ipsius posuit, et scripturam sic continentem:\nQuicumque corpus istud inuenerit et humo tradiderit medios sibi teneat,\nmedios pro funere expendat; et misit in mare. C. 25, ed. Riese, p. 29.\nCf. Jourdains de Blaivies, 2222\u201333, K. Hofmann, Amis et Amiles und\nJourdains de Blaivies, 1882, p. 168 f. (P. Z. Round.)\n\n\u2018The Sonnge of Sir Andraye Barton, Knight,\u2019 English Miscellanies, edited\nby James Raine, Surtees Society, vol. lxxxv, p. 64, 1890; from a MS. in\na hand of the sixteenth century now in York Minster Library.\n\nThis very interesting version of Sir Andrew Barton, the editor informs\nus, was originally No 25 of a ballad-book in small quarto. It came\nrecently \u201cinto the possession of the Dean and Chapter of York with a\nnumber of papers which belonged in the seventeenth century to the\nepiscopal families of Lamplugh and Davenant.\u201d If, as is altogether\nprobable, there were copies of other ballads in the same book in quality\nas good as this, and if, as is equally probable, no more of the book can\nbe recovered, our only comfort is the cold one of having had losses. In\nseveral details this copy differs from that of the Percy MS., but not\nmore than would be expected. The English sail out of the Thames on the\nmorrow after midsummer month, July 1, and come back the night before St\nMaudlen\u2019s eve, or the night of July 20, stanzas 17, 74. In stanza 42\nBarton boasts that he had once sent thirty Portingail heads home salted\u2014\n\u2018to eat with bread\u2019! We read in Lesley\u2019s History that the Hollanders had\ntaken and spoiled divers Scots ships, and had cruelly murdered and cast\noverboard the merchants and passengers; in revenge for which Andrew\nBarton took many ships of that country, and filled certain pipes with\nthe heads of the Hollanders and sent them to the Scottish king. (Ed.\n1830, p. 74; ed. 1578, p. 329.) The eating is a ferocious addition of\nthe ballad. Several passages of this copy are corrupted. A throws light\nupon some of these places, but others remain to me unamendable.\n\n 1\n It fell against a midsomer moneth,\n When birds soonge well in every tree,\n Our worth\u00eb prence, Kinge Henrye,\n He roode untoe a chelvellrye.\n\n 2\n And allsoe toe a forrest soe faire,\n Wher his Grace wente toe tak the ayre;\n And twentye marchantes of London citie\n Then on there knees they kneelled there.\n\n 3\n \u2018Ye are welcome home, my rich merchantes,\n The best salers in Christentie!\u2019\n \u2018We thanke yowe; by the rood, we are salers good,\n But rich merchantes we cannot be.\n\n 4\n \u2018To France nor Flanders we der not goe,\n Nor a Burgesse voy[a]ge we der not fare,\n For a robber that lyes abrod on the sea,\n And robs us of oure merchantes-ware.\u2019\n\n 5\n King Henry was stout, and turnd hime about;\n He sware by the lord that was mickell of might,\n \u2018Is ther any rober in the world soe stoute\n Der worke toe England that unrighte?\u2019\n\n 6\n The merchantes answered, soore they sight,\n With a woefull harte to the kinge againe,\n \u2018He is one that robes us of our right,\n Were we twentie shippes and he but one.\u2019\n\n 7\n King Henrye lookte over his shoulder agayne,\n Amongst his lordes of hye degree:\n \u2018Have I not a lord in all my land soe stoute\n Der take yon robber upon the sea?\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018Yes,\u2019 then did answeer my lord Charls Howwarde,\n Neare the kinge\u2019s grace that he did stande;\n He saide, If your Grace will give me leave,\n My selfe will be the onlie man,\n\n 9\n \u2018That will goe beat Sir Andrewe Barton\n Upon the seas, if he be there;\n I\u2019le ether bringe hime and his shippe toe this lande,\n Ore I\u2019le come in England never more.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018Yow shall have five hundrethe men,\u2019 saide Kinge Henrye,\n \u2018Chuse them within my realme soe free,\n Beside all other merriners and boys,\n Toe gide the great shippe on the sea.\u2019\n\n 11\n The first of all the lord up cald,\n A noble gunner he was one;\n This man was thre score yeares and ten,\n And Petter Symond height his name.\n\n 12\n \u2018Petter,\u2019 quoeth he, \u2018I must saill the sea,\n Toe looke an enemye, God be my speede!\n As thowe arte ould, I have chossen the\n Of a hundreth gunners to be the headde.\u2019\n\n 13\n He said, If your Honor have chossen me\n Of a hundreth gunners to be the headd,\n On your mayn-mast-tre let me be hangd,\n If I miss thre mille a pennye breed.\n\n 14\n Then next of all my lord up cald,\n A noble boweman he was ane;\n In Yorkeshier was this gentleman borne,\n And William Horsley height his name.\n\n 15\n \u2018Horsley,\u2019 saide he, \u2018I must saill the sea,\n To meete an enemee, thow must knowe;\n I have oft [been] told of thy artillorye,\n But of thy shootinge I never sawe.\n\n 16\n \u2018Yet fore thye drawght that thowe dost drawe,\n Of a hundreth bowemen to be the heade;\u2019\n Said Horsley then, Let me be hang[d]e,\n If I mis twelve score a twelt penc[e] breed.\n\n 17\n Yea, pickmen more, and bowmen both,\n This worth\u00eb Howward tooke to the sea;\n On the morowe after midsomer moneth\n Out of Temes mouth saill\u00ebd he.\n\n 18\n Hee had not sailled one daie but three,\n After his Honor tooke to the sea,\n When he mette with one Harrie Huntte,\n In Newcastell ther dwelte hee.\n\n 19\n When he sawe the lion of England out blaisse,\n The streemers and the roose about his eye,\n Full soonne he let his toppe-saill fall;\n That was a tooken of curtissie.\n\n 20\n My lord he cald of Henry Huntte,\n Bad Harry Hunt both stay and stande;\n Saies, Tell me where thy dwellinge is,\n And whome unto thye shippe belonnges.\n\n 21\n Henrye Hunt he answered, sore he sight,\n With a woefull hart and a sorrowefull minde,\n \u2018I and this shippe doth both belonge\n Unto the Newe Castell that stands upon Tyne.\u2019\n\n 22\n \u2018But haist thowe harde,\u2019 said my lord Charles Hawward,\n \u2018Wher thowe haist travelled, by daie or by night,\n Of a robber that lies abroode on the sea,\n They call him Sir Andrewe Barton, knight?\u2019\n\n 23\n \u2018Yes,\u2019 Harye answered, sore he sight,\n With a woefull hart thus did he saye;\n \u2018Mary, overwell I knowe that wight,\n I was his pressoner yesterdaie.\n\n 24\n \u2018Toe frome home, my lord, that I was boune,\n A Burgess voyage was boune so faire,\n Sir Andrewe Barton met with me,\n And robd me of mye merchantes-waire.\n\n 25\n \u2018And I ame a man in mickle debte,\n And everye one craves his owne of mee;\n And I am boune to London, my lorde,\n Fore toe comepleanne to good King Henrye.\u2019\n\n 26\n \u2018But even I pray the,\u2019 saies Lord Charlles Howeerd,\n \u2018Henrye, let me that robber see,\n Where that Scoott hath teyne from the a grootte,\n I\u2019le paye the back a shillinge,\u2019 said hee.\n\n 27\n \u2018Nay, God forbid! yea, noble lord,\n I heare your Honor speake amisse;\n Christ keepe yowe out of his companye!\n Ye wott not what kine a man he is.\n\n 28\n \u2018He is brase within and steelle without,\n He beares beames in his topcastle hye,\n He hath threscore peece on ether side,\n Besides, my lorde, well mande is he.\n\n 29\n \u2018He hath a pennis is dearelye deighte,\n She is dearelye deighte and of mickell pried;\n His pennis hath ninescorre men and more,\n And thirtene peece on ethere side.\n\n 30\n \u2018Were yowe twentie shippes, my lorde,\n As your Honor is but one,\n Ethere bye lerbord or by lowe\n That Scootte would overcome yowe, everye one.\u2019\n\n 31\n \u2018Marye, that\u2019s ill hartinge,\u2019 saies my lord Charlls Howeward,\n \u2018Harye, to welcome a stranger to the sea;\n I\u2019le ether bringe thatt Scootte and his shippe toe England,\n Or into Scootteland hee [\u2019s] carrye me.\u2019\n\n 32\n \u2018Well, since the matter is soe flatte,\n Take heed, I\u2019le tell yowe this before;\n If yowe Sir Andrewe chance toe borde,\n Let noe man toe his topcastle goe.\n\n 33\n \u2018Excepte yowe have a gunner goode\n That can well marke with his eye;\n First seeke to gette his pennis sunk,\n The soonner overcome his selfe may bee.\n\n 34\n \u2018Yesterdaie I was Sir Andrewe\u2019s pressonner,\n And ther he tooke me sworne,\u2019 saide hee;\n \u2018Before I\u2019le leave off my serving God,\n My wild-maide oeth may brooken be.\n\n 35\n \u2018Will yowe lend me sexe peece of ordenance, my lord,\n To carye into my shippe with mee?\n Toe morrowe by seven a clocke, and souner,\n In the morne yowe shall Sir Andrewe see.\n\n 36\n \u2018Fore I will set yowe a glasse, my lord,\n That yowe shall saille forth all this night;\n Toe morrowe be seven a clocke, and souner,\n Yow\u2019s se Sir Andrewe Barton, knight.\u2019\n\n 37\n Nowe will we leave talkinge of Harry Hunt;\n The worthye Howwarde tooke to the sea;\n By the morne, by seven a clocke, and souner,\n My lord hee did Sir Andrewe see.\n\n 38\n A larborde, wher Sir Andrewe laye,\n They saide he tould his gold in the light;\n \u2018Nowe, by my faith,\u2019 saide my lord Charlles Howwarde,\n \u2018I se yonne Scootte, a worth\u00eb wight!\n\n 39\n \u2018All our greatt ordienance wee\u2019ll take in;\n Fetch downe my streemers,\u2019 then saide hee,\n \u2018And hange me forth a white willowe-wande,\n As a marchante-man that sailles by the sea.\u2019\n\n 40\n By Sir Andrewe then mye lord he past,\n And noe topsaille let fall would hee:\n \u2018What meanes yonne English dogg?\u2019 he saies,\n \u2018Dogs doe knowe noe curtissie.\n\n 41\n \u2018For I have staid heare in this place\n Admirall more then year\u00ebs three;\n Yet was not ther Englisheman or Portingaill\n Could passe by me with his liffe,\u2019 saide he.\n\n 42\n \u2018Once I met with the Portingaills,\n Yea, I met with them, ye, I indeed;\n I salted thirtie of ther heades,\n And sent them home to eate with breade.\n\n 43\n \u2018Nowe by me is yoen pedler past;\n It greves me at the hart,\u2019 said hee;\n \u2018Fetch me yoen English dogs,\u2019 he saide,\n \u2018I\u2019le hange them al on my mayn-mast-tree.\u2019\n\n 44\n Then his pennis shotte of a peec[e] of ordenance;\n The shootte my lord might verye well ken,\n Fore he shootte downe his missonne-mast,\n And kild fifteen of my lord\u00eb\u2019s men.\n\n 45\n \u2018Come hether, Peter Simond,\u2019 said my lord Charles Howward,\n \u2018Letes se thi word standis in steede;\n On my mayn-mast-tre thowe must be hunge,\n If thowe misse three mill a penney breed.\u2019\n\n 46\n Petter was ould, his hart was bould;\n He tooke a peece frome hie and laid hir beloue;\n He put in a chean of yeard[\u00eb]s nine,\n Besides all other greate shoote and smalle.\n\n 47\n And as he maide that gune to goe,\n And verye well he marke[d] with his eie,\n The first sight that Sir Andrewe sawe,\n He sawe his penis sunke in the sea.\n\n 48\n When Sir Andrewe sawe his pennis sunke,\n That man in his hart was no thinge well:\n \u2018Cut me my cabells! let me be lousse!\n I\u2019le fetch yoen English dogges me selne.\u2019\n\n 49\n When my lord sawe Sir Andrewe from his anker loouse,\n Nay, Lord! a mighty man was hee:\n \u2018Let my drumes strike up and my trumpetes sound,\n And blaise my banners vailliantlie.\u2019\n\n 50\n Peter Simon\u2019s sonne shoote of a gune;\n That Sir Andrewe might very well ken;\n Fore he shoott throughe his over-decke,\n And kild fifttie of Sir Andrewe\u2019s men.\n\n 51\n \u2018Ever alack!\u2019 said Sir Andrewe Barton,\n \u2018I like not of this geare,\u2019 saide hee;\n \u2018I doubt this is some English lorde\n That\u2019s comed to taik me on the sea.\u2019\n\n 52\n Harrye Hunt came in on the other side;\n The shoote Sir Andrewe might very well ken;\n Fore he shoote downe his misson-mast,\n And kild other fortye of his men.\n\n 53\n \u2018Ever alacke!\u2019 said Sir Andrewe Barton,\n \u2018What maye a trewe man thinke or saye?\n He is becomed my greatest enymye\n That was my pressonner yesterdaie.\n\n 54\n \u2018Yet feare no English dogges,\u2019 said Sir Andrew Barton,\n \u2018Nor fore ther forse stand ye [in] no awe;\n My hands shall hange them all my selfe,\n Froe once I let my beames downe fawe.\n\n 55\n \u2018Come hether quick, thou Girdon goode,\n And come thou hether at my call,\n Fore heare I may noe longer staye;\n Goe up and let my beames down fall.\u2019\n\n 56\n Then he swarmd up the maine-mast-tree,\n With mickell might and all his maine;\n Then Horsley with a broode-headed arrowe\n Stroke then Girdon throughe the weame.\n\n 57\n And he fell backe to the hatches againe,\n And in that wound full sore did bleed;\n The blood that ran soe fast from hime,\n They said it was the Girdon\u2019s deed.\n\n 58\n \u2018Come hether, thow James Hamelton,\n Thowe my sister\u2019s sonne, I have noe moe;\n I\u2019le give the five hundreth pound,\u2019 he saide,\n \u2018Ife thowe wilt toe the top[ca]saille goe.\u2019\n\n 59\n Then he swarmd up the mayn-mast-tree.\n With mickell might and all his mayne;\n Then Horsley with a broode-arrowe-head\n Tooke hime in at the buttuke of the utuer beame.\n\n 60\n Yet frome the tre he would not parte,\n But up in haist he did prossed;\n Then Horsley with anotheir arrowe\n Strooke then Hamelton throughe the heade.\n\n 61\n When Sir Andrewe sawe his sister\u2019s sonne slayne,\n That man in his heart was nothinge well:\n \u2018Fight, maisters!\u2019 said Sir Andrewe Barton,\n \u2018It\u2019s time I\u2019le to the top myselne.\u2019\n\n 62\n Then he put on the armere of prooffe,\n And it was guilt with gold full cleare:\n \u2018My brother John of Barton,\u2019 he saide,\n \u2018Full longe against Portingaill he it weare.\u2019\n\n 63\n When he had on that armore of prooffe,\n Yea, on his bodye he had that on,\n Marry, they that sawe Sir Andrewe Barton\n Said arrowes nor guns he feared none.\n\n 64\n Yet Horsley drewe a broode-headed arrowe,\n With mickell might and all his mayne;\n That shaft against Sir Andrewe\u2019s brest\n Came back to my lord Howwarde\u2019s shippe agayne.\n\n 65\n When my lord he sawe that arrowe comme,\n My lord he was a woefull wight;\n \u2018Marke well thine ame, Horsley,\u2019 he saide,\n \u2018Fore that same shoote I\u2019le make the knight.\u2019\n\n 66\n \u2018Ever alacke!\u2019 said Horsley then,\n \u2019 For howe soe ever this geare doth goe,\n If I for my service louse my heade,\n I have in this shippe but arrowe[s] towe.\u2019\n\n 67\n Yet he mar[k]t hime with the one of them,\n In a previe place and a secrete pert;\n He shoote hime in at the left oxtere,\n The arrowe quiett throughe [the] harte.\n\n 68\n \u2018Feight, maisters!\u2019 said Sir Andrewe Barton,\n \u2018I\u2019se a lettle hurt, but I ame not slayne;\n I\u2019le lie me downe and bleede a whill,\n I\u2019le risse and feight with yowe agayne.\n\n 69\n \u2018Yet feare noe English dogges,\u2019 said Sir Andrewe Barton,\n \u2018Nore fore there force stand ye [in] noe awe;\n Stick stifeley to Sir Andrewe Barton,\n Feight till ye heare my whisstill blowe.\u2019\n\n 70\n The could noe skill of the whisstill heare;\n Quoeth Hary Hunt, I der lay my heade,\n My lord, yowe maye take the shippe when yowe will,\n I se Sir Andrewe Barton [\u2019s] deade.\n\n 71\n And then they borded that noble shippe,\n On both the sides, with all ther men;\n Ther was eighten [score] Scootes a live,\n Besides all other was hurte and slayne.\n\n 72\n Then up my lord tooke Sir Andrewe Barton,\n And of he cutt the dead man\u2019s head:\n \u2018I would forsweare England for twenty years,\n Toe have the quicke as thowe art deade.\n\n 73\n But of he cut the dead man\u2019s heade,\n And bounde his bodye toe borden tre,\n And tiede five hundreth angels about his midle,\n That was toe cause hime buried toe bee.\n\n 74\n Then they sailled toe Ingland agayne,\n With mickle merienes, as I weane;\n They entred Englishe land agayn\n On the night before S^{te} Maudlen even.\n\n 75\n Toe mete my lord came the kinge an quen,\n And many nobles of hie degree;\n They came fore noe kind of thinge\n But Sir Andrewe Barton they would see.\n\n 76\n Quoth my lord, Yowe may thanke Allmighty God,\n And foure men in the shippe with mee,\n That ever we scaipt Sir Andrewe [\u2019s] hands;\n England had never such an enniemie.\n\n 77\n \u2018That\u2019s Henrye Hunt and Petter Symon,\n William Horsley and Petter Symon [\u2019s] sonne;\n Reward all thoesse fore there paynes,\n They did good service att that time.\u2019\n\n 78\n \u2018Henry Hunt shall have his whistle and chean,\n A noble a daie I\u2019le give him,\u2019 quoeth hee,\n \u2018And his coustome betwexte Trent tid and Tyne,\n Soe longe as he doth use the sea.\n\n 79\n \u2018Petter Symon shall have a crowne a daie,\n Halfe a crowne I\u2019le give his sonne;\n That was fore a shoott he sente\n Sir Andrew Barton with his gune.\n\n 80\n \u2018Horsley, right I\u2019le make the a knight,\n In Yorkshiere shall thy dwellinge be;\n My lord Charlles Howwarde shall be an earle,\n And soe was never Howward before,\u2019 quoth he.\n\n 81\n \u2018Everye Englishe man shall have eightten pens a daie\n That did mainetayne [t]his feight soe free,\n And everye Scotchman a shillinge a daie\n Till they come atte my brother Jamie.\u2019\n\n _In eight-line stanzas._\n\n 1^4. chelvellrye. chevachie? _or some sort of_ vallie?\n\n 3^1. Yea.\n\n 4^2. farre.\n\n 10^3. and blause.\n\n 10^4. give the the.\n\n 14^4. height: was _interlined_.\n\n 16^2. thou\u2019s be?\n\n 19^2. sterne. _For_ streemers, _see_ 39^2, _and_ B 33^2.\n\n 23^3. weight.\n\n 28^3. threscoree.\n\n 29^4. sidde.\n\n 30^1. Were yare. _Perhaps_ thare.\n\n 30^3. by lowe. _Cf._ #A# 29^2:==hull?\n\n 32^3. you and.\n\n 38^4, 65^2. weight.\n\n 44^4. xv^{th}.\n\n 45^2. the word.\n\n 46^3. ninee.\n\n 47^3. sawee.\n\n 52^1. sidde.\n\n 54^2. yea no.\n\n 55^1. hether, drinke.\n\n 58^2. noe more.\n\n 58^4, 66^2. goee.\n\n 59^3. _Probably_ broode-headed arrowe, _as in_ 56^3, 64^1.\n\n 59^4. utuer==outer? bane? _But I do not understand._\n\n 62^4. Portingaill they weare: _cf._ #A# 59^4.\n\n 72^3. xx^{th}.\n\n 73^3. 5: angles.\n\n 75^1. Toe might.\n\n 78^2. An noble.\n\n 79^4. gunee.\n\n 81^4. Jamie, Jamiee.\n\n\n 168. Flodden Field.\n\nP, 351 b, 12. See an account of the exhumation of a corpse wrapped in a\nhide without a covering of lead, in Arch\u00e6ologia, I, 34. (G. L. K.)\n\n\n 169. Johnie Armstrong.\n\nP. 367, note \u2020. A new-born child thrown into the water by its mother\ntells her that she has lost Paradise: \u2018L\u2019Enfant noy\u00e9,\u2019 La Tradition, V,\n116.\n\n\n 172. Musselburgh Field.\n\nP. 378. Is this the song quoted by Sir Toby in Twelfth Night, II, 3 (and\nhitherto unidentified), \u201cO, the twelfth day of December\u201d? (G. L. K.)\n\n\n 173. Mary Hamilton.\n\nPp. 379\u201397. #I# a was first printed in the second edition of the\nMinstrelsy, 1803, II, 163. (Read in 1^2, on her; in 3^2, hand.) The copy\nprincipally used was one furnished by Sharpe, which was not #A a#, and\nhas not so far been recovered. Besides this, \u201ccopies from various\nquarters\u201d were resorted to. (Half a dozen stanzas are found in #G#, but\n#G# itself is very likely a compilation). Eight copies from Abbotsford\nare now printed for the first time. Two of these may have been in\nScott\u2019s hands in time to be used, two were certainly not, and for the\nothers we have no date.\n\nThere is only one novel feature in all these copies: in #U# 13 Mary\u2019s\nparamour is a pottinger. The remark that there is no trace of an\nadmixture of the Russian story with that of the apothecary, page 383,\nmust therefore be withdrawn.[151] Mary in this version, as in #E#, #F#,\n#Q#, #T#, #U#, #V#, #Y#, is daughter of the Duke of York.\n\n#X#, like #E#, #F#, has borrowed from No 95: see 13\u201315.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n S\n\nFinlay sent Scott, March 27, 1803, the following copy of \u2018The Queen\u2019s\nMarie,\u2019 as he \u201chad written it down from memory:\u201d Letters addressed to\nSir Walter Scott, I, No 87, Abbotsford. Stanzas 10, 9, 12 appear in the\nsecond volume of the Minstrelsy, 1802, p. 154, with the variation of a\ncouple of words, as \u2018The Lament of the Queen\u2019s Marie\u2019 (here #I b#).\nPerhaps Finlay adopted these three stanzas into his copy. Stanzas 1, 3,\n6, 8, with very slight variations, were printed by Finlay in the preface\nto his Scottish Ballads, 1808 (#O#).\n\n 1\n There lived a lord into the South,\n An he had daughters three;\n The youngest o them\u2019s gaen to the king\u2019s court,\n To learn some courtesie.\n\n 2\n She had na been in the king\u2019s court\n A twelvemonth an a day,\n When word is thro the kitchen gaen,\n An likewise thro the ha,\n That Mary Moil was gane wi child\n To the highest steward of a\u2019.\n\n 3\n She rowd it into a basket\n An flang\u2019t into the sea,\n Saying, Sink ye soon, my bonny babe,\n Ye\u2019se neer get mair o me.\n\n 4\n She rowd it into a basket\n An flang\u2019t into the faem,\n Saying, Sink ye soon, my bonny babe,\n I\u2019se gang a maiden hame.\n\n 5\n O whan the news cam to the king\n An angry man was he;\n He has taen the table wi his foot,\n An in flinders gart it flie.\n\n 6\n \u2018O woe be to you, ye ill woman,\n An ill death may ye die!\n Gin ye had spared the sweet baby\u2019s life,\n It might have been an honour to thee.\n\n 7\n \u2018O busk ye, busk ye, Mary Moil,\n O busk, an gang wi me,\n For agen the morn at ten o clock\n A rare sight ye sall see.\u2019\n\n 8\n She wadna put on her gown o black,\n Nor yet wad she o brown,\n But she wad put on her gown o gowd,\n To glance thro Embro town.\n\n 9\n O whan she cam to the Netherbow Port\n She gied loud laughters three,\n But whan she cam to the gallows-foot\n The tear blinded her ee.\n\n 10\n Saying, O ye mariners, mariners,\n That sail upon the sea,\n Let not my father nor mother to wit\n The death that I maun die.\n\n 11\n \u2018For little did father or mother wit,\n The day they cradled me,\n What foreign lands I should travel in,\n Or what death I should die.\n\n 12\n \u2018Yestreen the Queen had four Maries,\n The night she\u2019ll hae but three;\n There was Mary Seton, an Mary Beaton,\n An Mary Carmichael, an me.\u2019\n\n 3^3, 4^3. _We should read_ Sink ye, soom ye, _as in A 3^3, U 14^3,\n X 4^3, and other copies._\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n T\n\nCommunicated to Sir Walter Scott by Mrs Christiana Greenwood, London,\n21st February and 27th May, 1806, from the recitation of her mother and\nher aunt, who learned the ballad above fifty years before from Kirstan\nScot, then an old woman, at Longnewton, near Jedburgh: Letters at\nAbbotsford, I, Nos 173, 189.\n\n 1\n There was a duke, and he dwelt in York,\n And he had daughters three;\n One of them was an hostler-wife,\n And two were gay ladies.\n\n 2\n O word\u2019s gane to Queen Mary\u2019s court,\n As fast as it coud gee,\n That Mary Hamilton\u2019s born a bairn,\n And the baby they coud na see.\n\n 3\n Then came the queen and a\u2019 her maids,\n Swift tripping down the stair:\n \u2018Where is the baby, Mary,\n That we heard weep sae sair?\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018O say not so, Queen Mary,\n Nor bear ill tales o me,\n For this is but a sore sickness\n That oft times troubles me.\u2019\n\n 5\n They sought it up, they sought it down,\n They sought it below the bed,\n And there the[y] saw the bonny wee babe,\n Lying wallowing in its bluid.\n\n 6\n \u2018Now busk ye, busk ye, Mary Hamilton,\n Busk ye and gang wi me,\n For I maun away to Edinbro town,\n A rich wedding to see.\u2019\n\n 7\n Mary wad na put on the black velvet,\n Nor yet wad put on the brown,\n But she\u2019s put on the red velvet,\n To shine thro Edinbro town.\n\n 8\n When she came unto the town,\n And near the Tolbooth stair,\n There stood many a lady gay,\n Weeping for Mary fair.\n\n 9\n \u2018O haud yeer tongue[s], ye ladys a\u2019,\n And weep na mair for me!\n O haud yeer tongues, ye ladys a\u2019,\n For it\u2019s for my fault I dee.\n\n 10\n \u2018The king he took me on his knee\n And he gae three drinks to me,\n And a\u2019 to put the babie back,\n But it wad na gang back for me.\n\n 11\n \u2018O ye mariners, ye mariners a\u2019,\n That sail out-owr the sea,\n Let neither my father nor mother get wit\n What has become o me!\n\n 12\n \u2018Let neither my father nor mother ken,\n Nor my bauld brethren three,\n For muckle wad be the gude red bluid\n That wad be shed for me.\n\n 13\n \u2018Aft hae I laced Queen Mary\u2019s back,\n Aft hae I kaimed her hair,\n And a\u2019 the reward she\u2019s gein to me\u2019s\n The gallows to be my heir.\n\n 14\n \u2018Yestreen the queen had four Marys,\n The night she\u2019l hae but three;\n There was Mary Seatoun, and Mary Beatoun,\n An Mary Carmichal, an me.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n U\n\n\u2018Lament of the Queen\u2019s Marie,\u2019 \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border\nMinstrelsy,\u201d No 92, Abbotsford. Communicated to Scott, 7th January,\n1804, by Rev. George Paxton, Kilmaurs, near Kilmarnock, Ayrshire\n(afterwards professor of divinity at Edinburgh); from the mouth of Jean\nMilne, his \u201caged mother, formerly an unwearied singer of Scotish songs.\u201d\n\n 1\n \u2018My father was the Duke of York,\n My mother a gay ladye,\n And I myself a daintie dame;\n The queen she sent for me.\n\n 2\n \u2018But the queen\u2019s meat it was sae sweet,\n And her clothing was sae rare,\n It made me long for a young man\u2019s bed,\n And I rued it evermair.\u2019\n\n 3\n But word is up, and word is down,\n Amang the ladyes a\u2019,\n That Marie\u2019s born a babe sin yestreen,\n That babe it is awa.\n\n 4\n But the queen she gat wit of this,\n She calld for a berry-brown gown,\n And she\u2019s awa to Marie\u2019s bower,\n The bower that Marie lay in.\n\n 5\n \u2018Open your door, my Marie,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018My bonny and fair Marie;\n They say you have born a babe sin yestreen,\n That babe I fain wad see.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018It is not sae wi me, madam,\n It is not sae wi me;\n It is but a fit of my sair sickness,\n That oft times troubles me.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018Get up, get up, my Marie,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018My bonny and fair Marie,\n And we\u2019ll away to Edinburgh town,\n And try the verity.\u2019\n\n 8\n Slowly, slowly, gat she up,\n And slowly pat she on,\n And slowly went she to that milk-steed,\n To ride to Edinburgh town.\n\n 9\n But when they cam to Edinburgh,\n And in by the Towbooth stair,\n There was mony a virtuous ladye\n Letting the tears fa there.\n\n 10\n \u2018Why weep ye sae for me, madams?\n Why weep ye sae for me?\n For sin ye brought me to this town\n This death ye gar me die.\u2019\n\n 11\n When she cam to the Netherbow Port,\n She gae loud laughters three;\n But when she cam to the gallows-foot\n The tear blinded her ee.\n\n 12\n \u2018Yestreen the queen had four Maries,\n The night she\u2019ll hae but three;\n There was Marie Seton, and Marie Beatoun,\n And Marie Carmichael, and me.\n\n 13\n \u2018My love he was a pottinger,\n Mony drink he gae me,\n And a\u2019 to put back that bonnie babe,\n But alas! it wad na do.\n\n 14\n \u2018I pat that bonny babe in a box,\n And set it on the sea;\n O sink ye, swim ye, bonny babe!\n Ye\u2019s neer get mair o me.\n\n 15\n \u2018O all ye jolly sailors,\n That sail upon the sea,\n Let neither my father nor mother ken\n The death that I maun die.\n\n 16\n \u2018But if my father and mother kend\n The death that I maun die,\n O mony wad be the good red guineas\n That wad be gien for me.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n V\n\n\u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 9, Abbotsford; in\nthe handwriting of William Laidlaw.\n\n 1\n \u2018My father was the Duke of York,\n My mother the gay ladie,\n An I myself a maiden bright,\n An the queen desired me.\u2019\n\n 2\n But there word gane to the kitchen,\n There\u2019s word gane to the ha,\n That Mary mild she gangs wi child\n To the uppermost stewart of a\u2019.\n\n 3\n Than they sought but, and they sou[ght] ben,\n They sought aneath the bed,\n An there the fand the bonnie lad-bairn,\n Lyin lappin in his blood.\n\n 4\n \u2018Gae buss ye, Marie Hamilton,\n Gae buss ye, buss ye bra,\n For ye maun away to Edin[brough] town,\n The queen\u2019s birthday ...\u2019\n\n 5\n She wadna put on her black, bla[ck] silk,\n Nor wad she put on the brown,\n But she pat on the glisterin stufs,\n To glister in Edinbrough town.\n\n 6\n An whan she cam to the water-gate\n Loud laughters gae she three,\n But whan she cam to the Netherbow Port\n The tear blinded Marie\u2019s ee.\n\n 7\n \u2019Twas up than spak Queen Marie\u2019s nurse,\n An a sorry woman was she:\n \u2018Whae sae clever o fit and ready o wit\n Has telld sic news o thee!\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018Oft have I Queen Marie\u2019s head\n Oft have I caimd her hair,\n An a\u2019 the thanks I\u2019ve gotten for that\n Is the gallows to be my heir!\n\n 9\n \u2018Oft have I dressd Queen Marie\u2019s head,\n An laid her in her bed,\n An a\u2019 the thanks I\u2019ve gotten for that\n Is the green gallows-tree to tread!\n\n 10\n \u2018O spare, O spare, O judge,\u2019 she cried,\n \u2018O spair a day for me!\u2019\n \u2018There is nae law in our land, ladie,\n To let a murderer be.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018Yestreen the queen had four Maries,\n The night she\u2019ll hae but three;\n There was Marie Seaton, and Ma[rie] Bea[ton],\n An Marie Carmichael, an me.\n\n 12\n \u2018O if my father now but kend\n The death that I\u2019m to die,\n O muckle, muckle wad be the red gowd\n That he wad gie for me.\n\n 13\n \u2018An if my brothers kend the death\n That I am now to die,\n O muckle, muckle wad be the red blood\n That wad be shed for me.\u2019\n\n 2^{3,4}. Or:\n\n That Mary Hamilton\u2019s born a bairn\n An murderd it at the wa.\n\n 3^1, 11^3. _Edge bound in._\n\n 8^1. caimd _written_, _but struck out_.\n\n 8^3. & I the.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n W\n\n\u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 85, Abbotsford.\n\n 1\n There lived a man in the North Countree\n And he had doghters three;\n The youngest o them\u2019s to Edinbourgh gaen,\n Ane o the queen\u2019s Marys to be.\n\n 2\n Queen Mary\u2019s bread it was sae white,\n And her wine it ran sae clear,\n It shewed her the way to the butler\u2019s bed,\n And I wait she\u2019s bought dear.\n\n 3\n For Mary\u2019s to the garden gaen,\n To eat o the saven tree,\n And a\u2019 \u2018s to pit her young son back,\n But back he wad na be.\n\n 4\n So Mary\u2019s to her chamber gaen,\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n 5\n Queen Mary she came down the stair,\n And a\u2019 her maids afore her:\n \u2018Oh, Mary Miles, where is the child\n That I have heard greet sae sore O?\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018There is no child with me, madam,\n There is no child with me;\n It was only a bit of a cholick I took,\n And I thought I was gawen to dee.\u2019\n\n 7\n So they looked up, and they looked down,\n And they looked beneath the bed-foot,\n And there they saw a bonnie boy,\n Lying weltering in his blood.\n\n 8\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n \u2018Since that you have killed your own dear child,\n The same death you shall dee.\u2019\n\n 9\n When Mary came afore the court,\n A loud laugh laughed she;\n But when she came to the [gallows-]fit\n The tear blinded her ee.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 10\n \u2018O wha will comb Queen Mary\u2019s heed?\n Or wha will brade her hair?\n And wha will lace her middle sae jimp\n Whan [I] am nae langer there?\n\n 11\n \u2018Yestreen the queen [had] four Maries,\n The night she\u2019ll hae but three;\n There was Mary Seaten, and Mary Beaten,\n And Mary Carmichal, and me.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 12\n \u2018I\u2019ll not put on my robes of black,\n Nor yet my robes of brown,\n But I\u2019ll put on a shining braw garb,\n That will shine thro Edinbourgh town.\u2019\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 13\n Oh, whan she came to the Cannongate,\n The Cannongate sae hee,\n There mony a lord and belted knight\n Was grieved for her beautee.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 14\n And whan she came to [the] Hee Town,\n The Hee Town sae hee,\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 10^1. Oh.\n\n 11^{1,2}. _Added in a different hand._\n\n 12^3. shinning.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n X\n\n\u2018The Queen\u2019s Maries,\u2019 \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d\nNo 91, Abbotsford.\n\n 1\n There livd a lord in the West Country,\n And he had daughters three;\n The youngest o them\u2019s to the queen\u2019s court,\n To learn some courtesy.\n\n 2\n She hadna been at the queen\u2019s court\n A year but and a day\n Till she has fa\u2019n as big wi child,\n As big as she coud gae.\n\n 3\n She\u2019s gane into the garden\n To pu the sycamore tree,\n And taen the bony bairn in her arms\n And thrown it in the sea.\n\n 4\n She rowd it in her apron\n And threw it in the sea:\n \u2018Gae sink or soom, my bony sweet babe,\n Ye\u2019ll never get mair o me.\u2019\n\n 5\n Then in an came Queen Mary,\n Wi gowd rings on her hair:\n \u2018O Mary mild, where is the child\n That I heard greet sae sair?\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018It wasna a babe, my royal liege,\n Last night that troubled me,\n But it was a fit o sair sickness,\n And I was lyken to dee.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018O hold yere tongue, Mary Hamilton,\n Sae loud as I hear ye lee!\n For I\u2019ll send you to Enbro town,\n The verity to see.\u2019\n\n 8\n She wadna put on the ribbons o black,\n Nor yet wad she the brown,\n But she wad put on the ribbons o gowd,\n To gae glittring through Enbro town.\n\n 9\n As she rade up the Sands o Leith,\n Riding on a white horse,\n O little did she think that day\n To die at Enbro Corss!\n\n 10\n As she rade up the Cannongate,\n She leugh loud laughters three,\n And mony a lord and lady said,\n \u2018Alas for that lady!\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018Ye needna say Oh, ye needna cry Eh,\n Alas for that lady!\n Ye\u2019ll neer see grace in a graceless face,\n As little ye\u2019ll see in me.\u2019\n\n 12\n When she came to the Netherbow Port,\n She leugh loud laughters three,\n But ere she came to the gallows-foot\n The tear blinded her eie;\n Saying, Tye a white napkin owr my face,\n For that gibbet I downa see.\n\n 13\n \u2018O hold yere hand, Lord Justice!\n O hold it a little while!\n I think I see my ain true-love\n Come wandring mony a mile.\n\n 14\n \u2018O have ye brought me ony o my gowd?\n Or ony o my weel-won fee?\n Or are ye come to see me hangd,\n Upon this gallows-tree?\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018O I hae brought ye nane o yere gowd,\n Nor nane o yere weel-won fee,\n But I am come to see ye hangd,\n And hangit ye shall be.\u2019\n\n 16\n \u2018O all ye men and mariners,\n That sail for wealth or fame,\n Let never my father or mother get wit\n But what I\u2019m coming hame.\n\n 17\n \u2018O all ye men and mariners,\n That sail upon the sea,\n Let never my father or mother get wit\n The death that I maun dee.\n\n 18\n \u2018Yestreen the queen had four Maries,\n The night she\u2019ll hae but three;\n There was Mary Seaton, and Mary Beaton,\n And Mary Carmichael, and me.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n Y\n\n\u2018The Queen\u2019s Marys,\u2019 \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d\nNo 144, Abbotsford.\n\n 1\n \u2018Yestreen the queen had four Marys,\n The night she\u2019ll hae but three;\n She had Mary Beaton, and Mary Seaton,\n And Mary Carmichael, and me.\n\n 2\n \u2018My feather was the Duke of York,\n My mother a gay lady,\n And I mysell a bonnie young may,\n And the king fell in love we me.\n\n 3\n \u2018The king\u2019s kisses they were so sweet,\n And his wine it was so strong,\n That I became a mother\n Before fifteen years old.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018O tell the truth now, Mary,\n And sett this matter right;\n What hae ye made o the babey\n Was greeting yesternight?\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018O I will tell you, madam the queen,\n I winna tell a lie;\n I put it in a bottomless boat\n And bad it sail the sea.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018Ye lie, ye lie now, Mary,\n Sae loud\u2019s I hear you lie!\n You wasnae out o the palace,\n So that coud never be.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018Weel I will tell you, madam,\n Though it should gar me weep;\n I stabbd it we my little pen-knife,\n And bad it take a sleep.\u2019\n\n 8\n When she came up the Netherbow,\n She geed loud laughters three;\n But when she came out o the Parliament Close\n The tear blinded her ee.\n\n 9\n \u2018O little does my feather ken\n The death I am to die,\n Or muckel wad be the red, red gould\n Wad be payed doun for me.\n\n 10\n \u2018O little does my mother think\n The death that I am to die,\n Or monie wad be the saut, saut tears\n That she wad shed for me.\n\n 11\n \u2018O never lett my brothers ken\n The death that I am to die,\n For muckel wad be the red, red blood\n That wad be shed for me.\n\n 12\n \u2018Aft hae I washd the king\u2019s bonnie face,\n Kaimd doun his yellow hair,\n And this is a\u2019 the reward he\u2019s geen me,\n The gallows to be my share.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n Z\n\n\u2018The Queen\u2019s Marie,\u2019 \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d\nNo 90 a, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of John Leyden.\n\n 1\n \u2018Buss ye, bonny Marie Hamilton,\n Buss and gae wi me,\n For ye maun gae to Edinborough,\n A great wedding to see.\u2019\n\n 2\n \u2018Ride hooly, hooly, gentlemen,\n Ride hooly now wi me,\n For never, I\u2019m sure, a wearier bride\n Rode in your cumpany.\u2019\n\n 3\n Little wist Marie Hamilton,\n When she rode on the brown,\n That she was gawn to Edinborough,\n And a\u2019 to be put down.\n\n 4\n When she came to the Council stairs,\n She ga loud laughters three;\n But or that she came down again\n She was condemmd to dee.\n\n 5\n \u2018O ye mariners, mariners, mariners,\n When ye sail oer the faem,\n Let never my father nor mother to wit\n But I\u2019m just coming hame.\n\n 6\n \u2018Let never my father nor mother to wit,\n Nor my bauld brether[en] three,\n Or meckle wad be the red, red gowd\n This day be gien for me.\n\n 7\n \u2018Let never my father or mother to wit,\n Nor my bauld brethren three,\n Or meckle war the red, red blude\n This day wad fa for me.\u2019\n\n\n AA\n\n\u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 142, Abbotsford;\nin the handwriting of James Hogg.\n\n \u2018Oft hae I kaimd Queen Mary\u2019s head,\n An oft hae I curld her hair,\n An now I hae gotten for my reward\n A gallows to be heir.\u2019\n\n\n 178. Captain Car, or, Edom o Gordon.\n\nP. 426, note *. This history borrows from Sir Robert Gordon. See what he\nsays, p. 166 f., and also previously, p. 164 ff.\n\n428 a. #F#, #G#. \u201cI have a manuscript where the whole scene is\ntransferred to Ayrshire, and the incendiary is called Johnnie Faa.\u201d Note\nof Sir W. Scott in Sharpe\u2019s Ballad Book, ed. 1880, p. 142.\n\nThis copy has not as yet been recovered, but there is another at\nAbbotsford, a fine fragment, in which Lady Campbell is the heroine. As\nto Adam McGordon, the c of Mac is often dropped, so that Adam MaGordon\nand Adam o Gordon are of pretty much the same sound (a remark of Mr\nMacmath). The Andrew Watty of 13^3 is noted on the last page of the MS.\nto be \u201ca riding man.\u201d\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n H\n\n\u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 75, Abbotsford.\nCommunicated to Scott November 6, 1803, by Brace Campbell, Sornbeg,\nGalston, Ayrshire, through David Boyle, Advocate, afterwards Lord\nJustice General of Scotland.\n\n 1\n It fell about the Martinmass time,\n When the wind blew shill and cald,\n That Adam McGordon said to his men,\n Where will we get a hall?\n\n 2\n \u2018There is a hall here near by,\n Well built with lime and stone;\n There is a lady there within\n As white as the . . bone.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018Seven year and more this lord and I\n Has had a deadly feud,\n And now, since her good lord\u2019s frae hame,\n His place to me she\u2019ll yield.\u2019\n\n 4\n She looked oer her castle-wall,\n And so she looked down,\n And saw Adam McGordon and his men\n Approaching the wood-end.\n\n 5\n \u2018Steik up, steik up my yett,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018And let my draw-bridge fall;\n There is meickle treachery\n Walking about my wall.\u2019\n\n 6\n She had not the sentence past,\n Nor yet the word well said,\n When Adam McGordon and his men\n About the walls were laid.\n\n 7\n She looked out at her window,\n And then she looked down,\n And then she saw Jack, her own man,\n Lifting the pavement-stane.\n\n 8\n \u2018Awa, awa, Jack my man!\n Seven year I paid you meat and fee,\n And now you lift the pavement-stane\n To let in the low to me.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018I yield, I yield, O lady fair,\n Seven year ye paid me meat and fee;\n But now I am Adam McGordon\u2019s man,\n I must either do or die.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018If ye be Adam McGordon\u2019s man,\n As I true well ye be,\n Prove true unto your own master,\n And work your will to me.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018Come down, come down, my lady Campbell,\n Come down into my hand;\n Ye shall lye all night by my side,\n And the morn at my command.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018I winna come down,\u2019 this lady says,\n \u2018For neither laird nor lown,\n Nor to no bloody butcher\u2019s son,\n The Laird of Auchindown.\n\n 13\n \u2018I wald give all my kine,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018So wald I fifty pound,\n That Andrew Watty he were here;\n He would charge me my gun.\n\n 14\n \u2018He would charge me my gun,\n And put in bullets three,\n That I might shoot that cruel traitor\n That works his wills on me.\u2019\n\n 15\n He shot in, and [s]he shot out,\n The value of an hour,\n Until the hall Craigie North\n Was like to be blawn in the air.\n\n 16\n He fired in, and she fired out,\n The value of houris three,\n Until the hall Craigie North\n The reik went to the sea.\n\n 17\n \u2018O the frost, and ae the frost,\n The frost that freezes fell!\n I cannot stay within my bower,\n The powder it blaws sae bald.\u2019\n\n 18\n But then spake her oldest son,\n He was both white and red;\n \u2018O mither dear, yield up your house!\n We\u2019ll all be burnt to deed.\u2019\n\n 19\n Out then spake the second son,\n He was both red and fair;\n \u2018O brother dear, would you yield up your house,\n And you your father\u2019s heir!\u2019\n\n 20\n Out then spake the little babe,\n Stood at the nurse\u2019s knee;\n \u2018O mither dear, yield up your house!\n The reik will worry me.\u2019\n\n 21\n Out then speaks the little nurse,\n The babe upon her knee;\n \u2018O lady, take from me your child!\n I\u2019ll never crave my fee.\u2019\n\n 22\n \u2018Hold thy tongue, thou little nurse,\n Of thy prating let me bee;\n For be it death or be it life,\n Thou shall take share with me.\n\n 23\n \u2018I wald give a\u2019 my sheep,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018T[hat] . . yon . . s[ha],\n I had a drink of that wan water\n That runs down by my wa.\u2019\n\n 2^1. hall there.\n\n 2^4. _An illegible word ending seemingly in_ hie.\n\n 3^1. this lord and I _begins the second line_.\n\n 3^3. has good: has _caught from the line above_.\n\n 3^4. shall _altered to_ she\u2019ll; _but_ she shall _is clearly\n meant_.\n\n 7^4, 11^4, 15^4, 16^3, 21^1. y^e.\n\n 14^1. would: wald, _perhaps_.\n\n 16^2. valuue, _or_, valaue, _or_, valuae.\n\n 16^3. _A preposition seems to be wanting._ Hall _here and in_ 15^3\n _is troublesome. Perhaps the reading should be in_ 15^3 _that\n all, in_ 16^3 that through all.\n\n 23^2. _The paper is folded here, and the line has been so much\n rubbed as to be illegible._\n\n\u201cAn old ballad upon the burning of an old castle of Loudoun by the\nKennedys of Auchruglan.\u201d Bruce Campbell.\n\n\n 181. The Bonny Earl of Murray.\n\nP. 447. Add to the citation from Spottiswood: History of the Church of\nScotland, 1655, p. 387.\n\n\n 182. The Laird o Logie.\n\nP. 449. #A# was first published in the second edition of Scott\u2019s\nMinstrelsy, 1803, I, 243.\n\n#B# was repeated in the first edition of Scott\u2019s Minstrelsy, I, 220,\n1802, \u2018The Laird of Ochiltree.\u2019\n\n452. The following is the original, unimproved copy of #A#. There is a\ntranscript of this, in William Laidlaw\u2019s hand, \u201cScotch Ballads,\u201d etc.,\nNo 23, which is somewhat retouched, but by no means with the freedom\nexercised by the editor of the Minstrelsy. Some of Laidlaw\u2019s changes\nwere adopted by Scott.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n A\n\n\u2018The Laird of Logie,\u2019 \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d\nNo 3 a, Abbotsford. Sent Scott September 11, 1802, by William Laidlaw;\nreceived by him from Mr Bartram of Biggar.\n\n 1\n I will sing, if ye will harken,\n An ye wad listen unto me;\n I\u2019ll tell ye of a merry passage\n Of the wanton laird of Young Logie.\n\n 2\n Young Logie\u2019s laid in Edin_borough_ chapel,\n Carmichaell\u2019s keeper of the key;\n I heard a may lamenting sair,\n All for the laird of Young Logie.\n\n 3\n \u2018Lament, lament na, May Margret,\n And o your weeping let me be;\n For ye maun to the king y_ou_r sell,\n And ask the life of Young Logie.\u2019\n\n 4\n May Margaret has kilted her green cleeding,\n And she\u2019s currld back her yellow hair,\n And she\u2019s away to the king hersell,\n And adieu to Scotland for ever mair!\n\n 5\n When she came before the king,\n She fell low down on her knee:\n \u2018It\u2019s what\u2019s your will wi me, May Margret,\n And what makes all this courtesey?\u2019\n \u2018Naething, naething, my sovreign liege,\n But grant me the life of Young Logie.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2018O no, O no, May Margret,\n No, in sooth it maun na be;\n For the morn, or I taste meat or drink,\n Hee hanged shall Young Logie be.\u2019\n\n 7\n She has stolen the king\u2019s reeding-comb,\n But an the queen her wedding-knife,\n And she has sent it to Carmichaell,\n To cause Young Logie come by life.\n\n 8\n She sent him a purse of the red gold,\n Another of the white money,\n And sent him a pistol into each hand,\n And bade him shoot when he got fra.\n\n 9\n When he came to the Tolbooth stair,\n There he loot his volley flee,\n Wh_ich_ made the king in his chamber start,\n Even in the chamber where he lay.\n\n 10\n \u2018Gae out, gae out, my merrie men,\n And gar Carmichael come speake wi me,\n For I\u2019ll lay my life the pledge of that,\n That yon\u2019s the volley of Young Logie.\u2019\n\n 11\n When Carmichael came before the king,\n He fell low down on his knee;\n The very first word that the king spake,\n \u2018How dois the laird o Young Logie?\u2019\n\n 12\n Carmichael turnd him round about,\n A wait the salt tear blint his eye:\n \u2018There came a tacken frae the king\n Has tean the laird awa frae me.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018Hast thou playd me that, Carmichael?\n Hast thou playd me that?\u2019 quo he;\n \u2018The morn the Justice Court\u2019s to stand,\n And Logie\u2019s place ye maun supply.\u2019\n\n 14\n Carmichal\u2019s awa to May Margr[e]t\u2019s bower,\n Een as fast as he may dree:\n \u2018It\u2019s if Young Logie be within,\n Tell him to come speak to me.\u2019\n\n 15\n May Margret\u2019s turnd her round about,\n A wait a loud laughter gae she:\n \u2018The egg is cheeped and the bird is flown,\n And seek ye the laird of Young Logie.\u2019\n\n 16\n The one is sheppd at the pier o Leith,\n The other at the Queen\u2019s Ferry,\n And she has gotten a father to her bairn,\n The wanton laird of Young [Logie].\n\n 4^2. yer _for_ her.\n\n 6^4. Yea _for_ Hee. Hie _in Laidlaw\u2019s transcript. Taking into\n account the apparent_ yer _for_ her _in 4^2, it looks as if_\n hea, _her were intended._\n\n 8^4. free?\n\n 12^2. blint _may be_ blent.\n\n453. #B.# \u2018The Winsome Laird of Young Logie,\u2019 \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials\nfor Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 137 a, \u201csung by Lady A. Lindsay,\u201d closely\nresembles Herd\u2019s version, but in one passage approaches #C#, and Young\nLogie displaces Ochiltrie. This copy will be treated as #B b#.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#b.#\n\n 1^1. O _wanting_.\n\n 1^2. To the tale I tell.\n\n 1^8. How the.\n\n 1^4. The winsom laird of Young Logie.\n\n 2^1. Whan the queen did hear the same.\n\n 2^8. Alas for poor Lady Margaret.\n\n 3^2, 8^2. as _wanting_.\n\n 3^4. Or never kend.\n\n 4^1. Fye, oh no, said: that maunna be _wanting_.\n\n 4^2. Fy, O no, thus (_partly altered to_ this).\n\n 4^3. find out some cunning way.\n\n 4^4. To loose and let Young Logie free.\n\n _Between 5^2 and 5^3_:\n The king he\u2019s risen and taen her up,\n Says, What means a\u2019 this curtesy. (_As_ 5^{3,4}.)\n\n When you took me to be your queen,\n You promisd me favours twa or three. (_As_ 6^{1,2}.)[152]\n\n 5^{3,4}:\n The first ane that I ask of yow\n Is to loose and let Young Logie free. (_As_ 6^{3,4}.)\n\n 6^1. O _wanting_: of me.\n\n 6^2. would hae granted.\n\n 6^4, 7^4. Winna save.\n\n 7^1. queen than she came.\n\n 7^2. And she came down.\n\n 8^{3\u20134}:\n I wish that I had neer been born,\n Or never kend Young Logie\u2019s name. (_As in_ 3.)\n\n 9^1. Fye, oh no, said.\n\n 9^2. Fye, O no, this maun ne.\n\n 9^3. I \u2018ll find out some other.\n\n 9^4. To save the life o.\n\n 10^1. she triped.\n\n 11^1. She gae to.\n\n 11^3. And twa.\n\n 11^4. And bade him shoot as he gaed by.\n\n 12^1. And _wanting_.\n\n 12^3. O peace: our gudely.\n\n 13^1. O _wanting_.\n\n 14^1. Gae bring to.\n\n 14^2. Gae bring them.\n\n 14^3. Before the: by ten.\n\n 14^4. they each ane.\n\n 15. _Wanting._\n\n 16^1. Fye, O no, said.\n\n 16^2. Fye, O no, this maun ne.\n\n 16^3. hang at a\u2019.\n\n 17^1. Lady Marg took shiping.\n\n 17^2. Young Logie at.\n\n 17^8. the lass: her lad. Tune of Logan Water.\n\n\n 183. Willie Macintosh.\n\nP. 456. The account in \u2018The History of the Feuds\u2019 is taken from Sir\nRobert Gordon\u2019s History of Sutherland, p. 217.\n\nJamieson, writing to Scott, in November, 1804, says: \u201cI have heard a\nscrap of the rude ballad on the burning of Achindoun, \u2018Bonny Willie\nMackintosh\u2014You\u2019ve tint a feather frae your cap\u2014By the day dawing,\u2019 etc.,\nor something of this kind, from the Rev^d John Grant of Elgin. The\nDuchess of Gordon applied to him about it some years ago, but he could\nnever recover it.\u201d (Letters addressed to Sir W. Scott, I, No 117,\nAbbotsford.)\n\n\n 186. Kinmont Willie.\n\nP. 470 b, at the end of the first paragraph. Strike out 1639.\nSpottiswood\u2019s account begins at the same page, 413, in the edition of\n1655.\n\n\n 188. Archie o Cawfield.\n\nP. 484. #B b# was first printed in the second edition of the Minstrelsy,\n1803, I, 195.\n\nThe following is the copy from which Scott derived the stanzas\nintroduced into this later edition of the ballad. It will be observed\nthat \u2018luve of Teviotdale\u2019 is the reading of 4^2, and not a correction of\nScott\u2019s, as suggested at 486 b.\n\n\n\u2018Archie o Ca\u2019field, Variations,\u2019 \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border\nMinstrelsy,\u201d No 90, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of John Leyden.\n\n 1\n The one unto the other did say,\n \u2018Blythe and merry how can we be,\n When the night is billie Archie\u2019s lyke-wake,\n The morn the day that he maun die?\u2019\n\n 2\n \u2018An ye wad be blythe an ye wad be sad,\n What better wad billie Archie be,\n Unless I had thirty men to mysell,\n And a\u2019 to ride in our companie?\n\n 3\n \u2018Ten to had the horses\u2019 heads,\n And other ten to walk alee,\n And ten to break up the strang prisoun\n Where billie Archie he does lie.\u2019\n\n 4\n Up bespak him mettled John Hall,\n The luve o Teviotdale ay was he;\n \u2018An I had eleven men to mysell,\n It\u2019s ay the twalt man I wad be.\u2019\n\n 5\n Up bespak him coarse Ca\u2019field,\n I wat and little gude worth was he;\n \u2018Thirty men is few enow,\n And a\u2019 to ride in our cumpanie.\u2019\n\n 6\n Then a\u2019 the night thae twal men rade,\n And ay untill they were a\u2019 wearie,\n Till they came to the strang prisoun\n Where billie Archie he did lie.\n\n 7\n \u2018Sleeps thou, wakes thou, billie?\u2019 he said,\n \u2018Or did ye hear whan I did cry?\n The night it is your lyke-wake night,\n The morn it is your day to die.\u2019\n\n 8\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n \u2018Work ye within and I without,\n And soon a loose man shall you be.\u2019\n\n 9\n Dickie pu\u2019d the prisoner on o his back,\n And down the stair cam merrilie;\n \u2018Now by my sooth,\u2019 quo mettled John Hall,\n \u2018Ye may let a leg o him lean to me.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018I have my billie upon my back,\n I count him lighter than a flee;\n Gin I were at my little black mare,\n At Ca\u2019field soon I trust to be.\u2019\n\n 11\n Then a\u2019 the night these twelve men rade,\n And aye untill they were a\u2019 wearie,\n Untill they came to the wan water,\n And it was gawn like ony see.\n\n 12\n \u2018There lives a smith on the water-side,\n Sae has he done thirty years and three:\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n 13\n \u2018O I have a crown in my pocket,\n And I\u2019ll give it every groat to thee\n . . . . . . .\n Gin thou shoe my little black mare for me.\u2019\n\n 14\n \u2018The night is mirk, and vera pit-mirk,\n And wi candle-light I canna weel see;\n The night it is mirk, and vera pit-mirk,\n And there\u2019ll never a nail ca right for me.\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018Shame fa you and your trade baith,\n Canna beet a gude fallow by your mysterie!\n But lees me on thee, my little black mare,\n Thou\u2019s worth thy weight o gowd to me.\u2019\n\n 16\n Then thay lay down to take a sleep,\n But ay\u2019 on fit stood noble Dickie,\n And he\u2019s looked oer his left shoulder,\n And a\u2019 to see what he could see.\n\n 17\n \u2018Get up, get up, ye drowsy sleepers!\n Ye dinna see what I do see;\n For yonder comes the land-lieutenant,\n Two hunder men in his cumpanie.\n\n 18\n \u2018This night an they lay hands on us,\n This night, as I think weel it will be,\n This night sall be our lyke-wake night,\n The morn like as mony dogs we\u2019ll die.\u2019\n\n 19\n \u2018My mare is young, and vera young,\n And in o the weel she will drown me;\u2019\n \u2018But ye\u2019ll take mine, and I\u2019ll take thine,\n And soon thro the water we sall be.\u2019\n\n 20\n Then up bespak him coarse Ca\u2019field,\n I wate and little gude worth was he;\n \u2018We had better lose ane than lose a\u2019 the lave,\n We\u2019ll leave the prisoner, we\u2019ll gae free.\u2019\n\n 21\n \u2018Shame fa you and your lands baith,\n Wad ye een your lands to your born billie?\n But hey! bear up, my little black mare,\n And yet thro the water we sall be.\u2019\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 22\n \u2018Come thro, come thro now,\u2019 Dickie he said,\n \u2018Come thro, come thro and drink wi me;\n There\u2019s no be a Saturday in a\u2019 the year\n But changed sall your garments be.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 23\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n While a bit o your iron hads thegether,\n Barefit sall she never be.\u2019\n\n 12^1. _Var._ other side o the water.\n\n 12, 13 _are written as one stanza_.\n\n\n VOL. IV.\n\n\n 190. Jamie Telfer of the Fair Dodhead.\n\nP. 4 a. James Hogg, writing to Scott, June 30, [1802?] says: \u201cI am\nsurprised to find that the songs in your collection differ so widely\nfrom my mother\u2019s.... \u2018Jamie Telfer\u2019 differs in many particulars.\u201d\n(Letters, I, No. 44.) Scott\u2019s remarks should have been cited from the\nedition of 1802, I, 91.\n\n5. Mr Andrew Lang has obligingly called my attention to difficulties\nwhich attend the assumption that the Dodhead of the ballad is the place\nof that name in Selkirkshire. Jamie Telfer, st. 7, runs ten miles\nbetween Dodhead and Stobs, and this is far enough if help is to be\ntimely; but he would have to run thirty if his Dodhead were in\nSelkirkshire. With succor not nearer than that, Telfer would soon have\nbeen harried out of existence. The distances are too great both for the\nEnglish and the Scots. But there is a Dod south of the Teviot, not far\nfrom Skelfhill, which is some seven miles only from Stobs. (Dodhead is\nnot entered here on the Ordnance map, \u201cbut Dodburn is just under Dodrig,\nand where there is a Dodburn there is \u2018tied\u2019 to be a Dodhead in this\ncountry.\u201d) Turning from Stobs to Teviot, Telfer would come in due order\nto Coltherdscleugh, Branxholm, and Borthwick Water, without the loss of\ntime which he would, on the other supposition, incur in passing and\nreturning. (See a note, by Mr Lang, in Mrs G. R. Tomson\u2019s Ballads of the\nNorth Countrie, 1888, p. 435.)\n\nSeveral other matters are not quite clear. Catslockhill, for instance,\nseems to be misplaced. Mr Lang, a native of Ettrick valley, knows of no\nCatslack but that in Yarrow. Of this, Mr T. Craig-Brown (Selkirkshire,\nI, 21), who accepts Scott\u2019s Dodhead, says, \u201cA long ride, if Catslack is\nin Yarrow.\u201d\n\n\n 191. Hughie Grame.\n\nP. 8. #C.# Substitute for Scott\u2019s Minstrelsy, etc., \u201cScotch Ballads,\nMaterials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 87, Abbotsford. Add: #H.# \u2018Hughie\nGrame,\u2019 \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 4. #I#.\n\u2018Hughie Graeme,\u2019 Wilkie\u2019s MS., in \u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border\nMinstrelsy,\u201d No 36.\n\nP. 10 ff. For #C# substitute this, the original copy, as procured for\nScott by William Laidlaw.\n\n\n\u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 87, Abbotsford; in\nthe handwriting of William Laidlaw. \u201cFrom Robert Laidlaw.\u201d\n\n 1\n Gude Lord Scroop\u2019s to the huntin gane;\n He\u2019s ridden oer monie a moss an muir,\n An he has grippit Hughie the Gr\u00e6me,\n For stealin o the bishop\u2019s mare.\n\n 2\n An they hae grippit Hughie the Gr\u00e6me,\n An brought him up thro Carlisle town;\n The lasses an lads they stood by the wa\u2019s,\n Cryin, Hughie the Gr\u00e6me, thou\u2019s no gae\n down!\n\n 3\n They ha chosen a jury o men,\n The best that were i Coventry,\n An fifteen o them out a\u2019 at anse,\n \u2018Hughie the Gr\u00e6me, thou art guiltie.\u2019\n\n 4\n Than up bespak him gude Lord Hume,\n As he sat at the judge\u2019s knee;\n \u2018Twentie white ousen, my gude lord,\n If ye\u2019ll grant Hughie the Gr\u00e6me to me.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018O no, no, no, my gude Lord Hume,\n For sooth an so it mauna be;\n For war there but twae Gr\u00e6ms o the name,\n They sould be hangit a\u2019 for me.\u2019\n\n 6\n \u2019Twas up than spak her gude Lady Hume,\n As she sat by the judge\u2019s knee;\n \u2018A peck o white pennies, my gude lord,\n If ye\u2019ll grant Hughie the Gr\u00e6me to me.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018O no, O no, my gude Lady Hume,\n For sooth an so it sal na be;\n For war there but twae Greames of the name,\n They soud be hangit a\u2019 for me.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018If I be guilty,\u2019 said Hughie the Graeme,\n \u2018Of me my friends sal hae nae lack;\u2019\n An he has luppen fifteen feet an three,\n An his hands they war tyed ahint his back.\n\n 9\n He\u2019s lookit oer his left shouther,\n To see what he coud see,\n An there he saw his auld father commin,\n An he was weepin bitterlie.\n\n 10\n \u2018O had yer tongue, my father,\u2019 he says,\n \u2018An see that ye dinna weep for me,\n For they may ravish me o my life,\n But they canna banish me thrae the heavens\n hie.\n\n 11\n \u2018Fare ye weel, Maggie, my wife;\n The last time I came oer the muir,\n It was you berievt me o my life,\n An wi the bishop playd the w[hore].\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n H\n\n\u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 4, Abbotsford; in\nthe handwriting of William Laidlaw.\n\n 1\n Lairds and lords a hounting gane,\n Out-over hills and valleys clear,\n And there they met Hughie Grame,\n Was riding on the bishop\u2019s mare.\n\n 2\n And they have tied him hand and foot,\n And they have carried him to Stirling\n town;\n The lads and lasses there about\n Crys, Hughie Grame, you are a lown!\n\n 3\n \u2018If I be a lown,\u2019 says he,\n \u2018I am sure my friends has had bad luck;\u2019\n We that he jumpted fifteen foot,\n With his hands tied behind his back.\n\n 4\n Out and spoke Laidy Whiteford,\n As she sat by the bishop\u2019s knee;\n \u2018Four-and-twenty milk-kie I\u2019ll give to thee,\n If Hughie Grame you will let free.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018Hold your tongue, my laidy Whiteford,\n And of your pleading now lay by;\n If fifty Grames were in his coat,\n Upon my honour he shall die.\u2019\n\n 6\n Out and spoke Lord Whiteford,\n As he sat by the bishop\u2019s knee;\n \u2018Four-and-twenty stots I\u2019ll give thee,\n If Hughie Grame you will let free.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018Hold your tongue, my lord Whiteford,\n And of your pleading now lay by;\n If twenty Grames were in his coat,\n Upon my honour he shall die.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018You may tell to Meg, my wife,\n The first time she comes through the mu[ir],\n She was the causer of my death,\n For with the bishop [she] plaid the whore.\n\n 9\n \u2018You may tell to Meg, my wife,\n The first time she comes through the town,\n She was the causer of my death,\n For with the bishop [she] plaid the lown.\u2019\n\n 10\n He looked oer his left shoulder,\n To see what he could spy or see,\n And there he spied his old father,\n Was weeping bitterly.\n\n 11\n \u2018Hold your tongue, my dear father,\n And of your weeping now lay by;\n They may rub me of my sweet life,\n But not from me the heavence high.\n\n 12\n \u2018You may give my brother John\n The sword that\u2019s of the mettle clear,\n That he may come the morn at four o clock\n To see me pay the bishop\u2019s mare.\n\n 13\n \u2018You may give my brother James\n The sword that\u2019s of the mettle brown;\n Tell him to come the morn at four o clock\n To see his brother Hugh cut down.\u2019\n\n 14\n Up and spoke his oldest son,\n As he sat by his nurse\u2019s knee;\n \u2018If ere I come to be a man,\n Revenged for my father [\u2019s] death I\u2019ll be.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n I\n\n\u201cScotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,\u201d No 36, Abbotsford,\nMS. of Thomas Wilkie, 1813\u201315, p. 9; \u201cfrom a young girl, a Miss Nancy\nBrockie, Bemerside, who learned it from an old woman called Maron\nMiller, Threepwood.\u201d Another copy, in Wilkie\u2019s hand, No 86 of the same.\n\n 1\n Ye dukes and lords that hunt and go\n Out-over moors and mountains clear,\n And they have taen up poor Hughie Gr\u00e6me.\n For stealing of the bishope\u2019s mare.\n Fall all the day, fall all the daudy,\n Fall all the day, fall the daudy O.\n\n 2\n They hae tied him hand and foot,\n They hae led him thro the town;\n The lads and lassies they all met,\n Cried, Hughie Gr\u00e6me, ye\u2019ve playd the\n loon!\n\n 3\n \u2018O if that I had playd the loon,\n My friends of me they hae bad luck;\u2019\n With that he jumped fifteen feet,\n Wi his hands tied fast behind his back.\n\n 4\n Up then spoke my lady Whiteford,\n As she sat by the bishope\u2019s knee;\n \u2018Five hundred white pence I\u2019ll give thee,\n If you let Hughie Gr\u00e6me go free.\u2019\n\n 5\n \u2018I\u2019ll hae nane of your hundred pense,\n And your presents you may lay by;\n For if Gr\u00e6me was ten times in his coat,\n By my honour, Hugh shall die.\u2019\n\n 6\n Up then spoke my lord Whiteford,\n As he sat by the bishope\u2019s knee;\n \u2018Five score of good stotts I\u2019ll thee give,\n If you\u2019ll sett Hughie Gr\u00e6me but free.\u2019\n\n 7\n \u2018I\u2019ll have none of your hundred stotts,\n And all your presents you may keep to yoursell;\n \u2018For if Gr\u00e6me was ten times in his coat\n Hugh shall die, and die he shall.\u2019\n\n 8\n Then they hae tied him hand and foot,\n And they hae led [him] to the gallows high;\n The lads and lassies they all met,\n Cried, Hughie Gr\u00e6me, thou art to die!\n\n 9\n Now\u2019s he looked oer his left shoulder,\n All for to see what he could spy,\n And there he saw his father dear,\n Stood weeping there most bitterlie.\n\n 10\n \u2018O hold your tongue now, father,\u2019 he said,\n \u2018And of your weeping lai\u2019d now by;\n For they can rob me of my life,\n But they cannot rob me of the heavens high.\n\n 11\n \u2018But you must give to my brother John\n The sword that\u2019s bent in the middle clear,\n And tell him to come at twelve o clock\n And see me pay the bishope\u2019s mare.\n\n 12\n \u2018And you may give to my brother James\n The sword that\u2019s bent in the middle brown,\n And tell him to come at four o clock\n And see his brother Hugh cut down.\n\n 13\n \u2018And you may tell to Meg, my wife,\n The first time she comes thro the town,\n She was the occasion of my death\n And wi the bishope playd the loon.\n\n 14\n \u2018And you may tell to Meg, my wife,\n The first time she comes thro the fair,\n She was the occasion of my death,\n And from the bishope stole the mare.\u2019\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A.#\n\n _A copy in_ The Northern Garland, Newcastle Garlands, No 1, Bell\n Ballads, Abbotsford Library, P. 5, _has these readings, some of\n which appear to be editorial_:\n\n 2^2. after him for some time.\n\n 4^4. shall soon.\n\n 11^3. my fault.\n\n 16^2. down low.\n\n 22^3. cause and the loss.\n\n#H.#\n\n 8^3, 9^3. the casurer, the casure. _Perhaps we should read_\n occasion: _cf._ #I# 13^3, 14^3.\n\n 9^4. plaid the whore; _but cf._ #E# 13^4, #I# 13^4.\n\n#I.#\n\n 2^3. they (all met) ran in flocks: _cf._ 8^3.\n\n 3^1. Of that: _see No_ 86, _below_.\n\n 5^3. in==his coat==ocent (_sic_).\n\n 10^2. (laid==lay it.)\n\n _No 86, the other copy of #I#, has variations which seem to be\n mostly, if not wholly, editorial._\n\n 1^3. taken Hughie Gr\u00e6me.\n\n 2^3. lassies ran in flocks.\n\n 3^1. O if. 3^2. has had.\n\n 3^4. And his.\n\n 4^3. I will give.\n\n 4^4. ye\u2019ll let.\n\n 5^2. And of your.\n\n 6^2. at the.\n\n 6^4. ye\u2019ll let: go free.\n\n 7^1. _Above_ hundred _is written_ five score.\n\n 7^2. And of your presents ye may lay by.\n\n 7^4. By my honour, Hugh shall die, _bracketed with the reading in\n the text_.\n\n 8^2. And led him to.\n\n 9^1. Now he\u2019s.\n\n 9^3. he spied.\n\n 10^1. now, father dear: he said _wanting_.\n\n 10^2. laid.\n\n 11^1. may give my.\n\n 12^1. give my.\n\n 13^3, 14^3. That she\u2019s.\n\n\n 193. The Death of Parcy Reed.\n\nP. 24 a. #B.# Telfer sent \u201cthe real verses\u201d to Sir Walter Scott. It\nappears, as might be surmised, that one half of #B# is of his own\nmaking. 1\u20133==#B# 4, 5, 7; 4, 5==#A# 4, 18; 6==#B# 14; 7==#B# 15, #A# 6;\n8==#A# 7, #B# 16; 9\u201314==#B# 18\u201323; 15==#A# 15; 16==#B# 25; 17\u201320==#B#\n38, 39, 33, 41.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n B\n\nLetters addressed to Sir Walter Scott, XIII, No 73, Abbotsford. \u201cParcy\nReed, exactly as it is sung by an old woman of the name of Cathrine\nHall, living at Fairloans, in the remotest corner of Oxnam parish:\u201d\nJames Telfer, Browndeanlaws, May 18, 1824.\n\n 1\n O Parcy Reed has Crozer taen,\n And has deliverd him to the law;\n But Crozer says he\u2019ll do warse than that,\n For he\u2019ll gar the tower of the Troughend fa.\n\n 2\n And Crozer says he will do warse,\n He will do warse, if warse can be;\n For he\u2019ll make the bairns a\u2019 fatherless,\n And then the land it may lie lea.\n\n 3\n O Parcy Reed has ridden a raid,\n But he had better have staid at hame;\n For the three fause Ha\u2019s of Girsenfield\n Alang with him he has them taen.\n\n 4\n He\u2019s hunted up, and he\u2019s hunted down,\n He\u2019s hunted a\u2019 the water of Reed,\n Till wearydness has on him taen,\n I the Baitinghope he\u2019s faen asleep.\n\n 5\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n And the fause, fause Ha\u2019s o Girsenfield,\n They\u2019ll never be trowed nor trusted again.\n\n 6\n They\u2019ve taen frae him his powther-bag,\n And they\u2019ve put water i his lang gun;\n They\u2019ve put the sword into the sheathe\n That out again it\u2019ll never come.\n\n 7\n \u2018Awaken ye, awaken ye, Parcy Reed,\n For I do fear ye\u2019ve slept owre lang;\n For yonder are the five Crozers,\n A coming owre by the hinging-stane.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018If they be five and we be four,\n If that ye will stand true to me,\n If every man ye will take one,\n Ye surely will leave two to me.\n\n 9\n \u2018O turn, O turn, O Johny Ha,\n O turn now, man, and fight wi me;\n If ever ye come to Troughend again,\n A good black nag I will gie to thee;\n He cost me twenty pounds o gowd\n Atween my brother John and me.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018I winna turn, I canna turn;\n I darena turn and fight wi thee;\n For they will find out Parcy Reed,\n And then they\u2019ll kill baith thee and me.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018O turn, O turn now, Willie Ha,\n O turn, O man, and fight wi me,\n And if ever ye come to the Troughend again\n A yoke of owsen I will gie thee.\u2019\n\n 12\n \u2018I winna turn, I canna turn;\n I darena turn and fight wi thee;\n For they will find out Parcy Reed,\n And they will kill baith thee and me.\u2019\n\n 13\n \u2018O turn, O turn, O Thommy Ha,\n O turn now, man, and fight wi me;\n If ever ye come to the Troughend again,\n My daughter Jean I\u2019ll gie to thee.\u2019\n\n 14\n \u2018I winna turn, I darena turn;\n I winna turn and fight with thee;\n For they will find out Parcy Reed,\n And then they\u2019ll kill baith thee and me.\u2019\n\n 15\n \u2018O woe be to ye, traitors a\u2019!\n I wish England ye may never win;\n Ye\u2019ve left me in the field to stand,\n And in my hand an uncharged gun.\n\n 16\n \u2018Ye\u2019ve taen frae me my powther-bag,\n And ye\u2019ve put water i my lang gun;\n Ye\u2019ve put the sword into the sheath\n That out again it\u2019ll never come.\n\n 17\n \u2018O fare ye weel, my married wife!\n And fare ye weel, my brother John!\n That sits into the Troughend ha\n With heart as black as any stone.\n\n 18\n \u2018O fare ye weel, my married wife!\n And fare ye weel now, my sons five!\n For had ye been wi me this day\n I surely had been man alive.\n\n 19\n \u2018O fare ye weel, my married wife!\n And fare ye weel now, my sons five!\n And fare ye weel, my daughter Jean!\n I loved ye best ye were born alive.\n\n 20\n \u2018O some do ca me Parcy Reed,\n And some do ca me Laird Troughend,\n But it\u2019s nae matter what they ca me,\n My faes have made me ill to ken.\n\n 21\n \u2018The laird o Clennel wears my bow,\n The laird o Brandon wears my brand;\n Whae ever rides i the Border side\n Will mind the laird o the Troughend.\u2019\n\n 9^2. wi me. along with _in the margin_.\n\n 13^3. ever I.\n\n \u201cThere is,\u201d says Telfer in his letter, \u201ca place in Reed water\n called Deadwood Haughs, where the country-people still point out\n a stone where the unshriven soul of Parcy used to frequent in\n the shape of a blue hawk, and it is only a few years since he\n disappeared.... The ballad of Parcy Reed has a tune of its\n own.... It is a very mournfull air.\u201d\n\n\n 196. The Fire of Frendraught.\n\nP. 39. Miscellanea Curiosa, MS., vol. vi, Abbotsford Library, #A.# 3,\nhas for its last piece \u201cThe Burning of the Tower of Frendraught, an\nHistorical Ballad,\u201d in forty-eight stanzas. It begins:\n\n O passd ye by the Bog of Gicht?\n Heard ye the cry of grief and care?\n Or in the bowers of Rothymay\n Saw ye the lady tear her hair?\n\n\u201cA Satyre against Frendraught, in which ware burned the Vicount of\nMelgum, Laird of Rothiemay, and sundrie other gentlemen, in anno 1630,\u201d\n218 lines, MS. in a seventeenth-century hand, is No 1 in a volume with\nthe title Scottish Tracts, Abbotsford Library, B. 7. Mr. Macmath\nsuggests that this may be the \u201cflyte\u201d which Sharpe and Sir W. Scott\nthought of printing.\n\n\n 200. The Gypsy Laddie.\n\nIV, 61 b. \u2018Johnnie Faa\u2019 in [Wm Chambers\u2019s] Exploits . . . of the most\nremarkable Scottish Gypsies or Tinklers, 3d ed., 1823, p. 17, is #B a#.\nThe ballad is not in the second edition, 1821, reprinted in 1886. (W.\nMacmath.)\n\n\n 201. Bessy Bell and Mary Gray.\n\nP. 75 b., first line. Say: #c.# Scott\u2019s Minstrelsy, 1830, XI, 39, 1833,\netc.\n\n\n 203. The Baron of Brackley.\n\nP. 83, note \u2020.\n\nI prefer to say, two or more events. The citations already given in this\nwork may possibly cover four distinct tragedies, and William Anderson,\nin his Genealogy and Surnames, 1865, p. 104, tells us (but without\nstating his authority) there was \u201ca line of nine barons, all of whom, in\nthe unruly times in which they lived, died violent deaths.\u201d The ballad\nmay have commenced originally: \u201cInverawe (==Inner-Aw) cam doun Deeside.\u201d\n(W. Macmath.)\n\n\n 208. Lord Derwentwater.\n\nP. 117 b. The omen of nose-bleed occurs in the Breton ballad \u2018Ervoan\nCamus,\u2019 Luzel, Soniou, I, 216.\n\n\n 211. Bewick and Graham.\n\nP. 144 a. Scott\u2019s improved copy first appeared in the third edition of\nthe Minstrelsy, 1806, II, 277.\n\n\n 214. The Braes o Yarrow.\n\nQ\n\nP. 164 ff. \u2018The Dowie Dens of Yarrow,\u2019 Kidson\u2019s Traditional Tunes, etc.,\n1891, p. 21. From Mrs Calvert, of Gilnockie, Eskdale; obtained by her on\nthe braes of Yarrow from her grandmother, Tibbie Stuel. (Compare,\nespecially, #J-L#.)\n\n 1\n There lived a lady in the West,\n I neer could find her marrow;\n She was courted by nine gentlemen,\n And a ploughboy-lad in Yarrow.\n\n 2\n These nine sat drinking at the wine,\n Sat drinking wine in Yarrow;\n They made a vow among themselves\n To fight for her in Yarrow.\n\n 3\n She washed his face, she kaimed his hair,\n As oft she \u2018d done before, O,\n She made him like a knight sae bright,\n To fight for her in Yarrow.\n\n 4\n As he walked up yon high, high hill,\n And down by the holmes of Yarrow,\n There he saw nine arm\u00ebd men,\n Come to fight with him in Yarrow.\n\n 5\n \u2018There \u2018s nine of you, there \u2018s one of me,\n It\u2019s an unequal marrow;\n But I\u2019ll fight you all one by one,\n On the dowie dens of Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 6\n Three he slew, and three they flew,\n And three he wounded sorely,\n Till her brother John he came in beyond,\n And pierced his heart most foully.\n\n 7\n \u2018Go home, go home, thou false young man,\n And tell thy sister Sarah\n That her true-love John lies dead and gone\n On the dowie dens of Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 8\n \u2018O father dear, I dreamed a dream,\n I\u2019m afraid it will bring sorrow;\n I dreamed I was pulling the heather-bell\n In the dowie dens of Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 9\n \u2018O daughter dear, I read your dream,\n I doubt it will prove sorrow;\n For your true-love John lies dead and gone\n On the dowie dens of Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 10\n As she walked up yon high, high hill,\n And down by the holmes of Yarrow,\n There she saw her true-love John,\n Lying pale and dead on Yarrow.\n\n 11\n Her hair it being three quarters long\u2014\n The colour it was yellow\u2014\n She wrapped it round his middle sma,\n And carried him hame to Yarrow.\n\n 12\n \u2018O father dear, you\u2019ve seven sons,\n You may wed them a\u2019 tomorrow,\n But a fairer flower I never saw\n Than the lad I loved in Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 13\n The fair maid being great with child,\n It filled her heart with sorrow;\n She died within her lover\u2019s arms,\n Between that day and morrow.\n\n 6^{1,2}. Three _misprinted_ there.\n\n 8^1, 9^1, 12^1. Oh.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n R\n\nMacmath MS. p. 91. Inserted in a copy of The Scottish Ballads . . . by\nRobert Chambers, 1829, p. 145, latterly belonging to Rev. Dr James C.\nBurns, Free Church, Kirkliston.\n\n 1\n There were three lords drinking at the wine\n In the Leader Haughs of Yarrow:\n \u2018Shall we go play at cards and dice,\n As we have done before, O?\n Or shall we go play at the single sword,\n In the Leader Haughs of Yarrow?\u2019\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 2\n Three he wounded, and five he slew,\n As he had [done] before, O,\n But an English lord lap from a bush,\n And he proved all the sorrow;\n He had a spear three quarters long,\n And he thrust his body thorogh.\n\n * * * * * *\n\n 3\n \u2018I dreamed . . . .\n I wis it prove nae sorrow!\n I dreamed I was puing the apples green\n In the dowie howms o Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 4\n \u2018O sister, sister, I\u2019ll read your dream,\n And I\u2019ll read it in sorrow;\n Ye may gae bring hame your ain true-love,\n For he\u2019s sleepin sound in Yarrow.\u2019\n\n 5\n She sought him east, she sought him west,\n She sought him all the forest thorogh;\n She found him asleep at the middle yett,\n In the dowie howms o Yarrow.\n\n 6\n Her hair it was three quarters lang,\n And the colour of it was yellow;\n She\u2019s bound it round his middle waist,\n And borne him hame from Yarrow.\n\n 1^{2,6}. Leader Haughs. \u201cObviously nonsense, but so my minstreless\n sung it.\u201d\n\n 3^1. _The rest torn away._\n\n 3^3. apples _substituted for_ heather _struck out_.\n\n\n 217. The Broom of Cowdenknows.\n\nP. 192. Mrs Greenwood, of London, had heard (presumably at Longnewton,\nnear Jedburgh) \u201cthe old Cowdenknows, where, instead of the Laird of the\nOakland hills, it is the Laird of the Hawthorn-wide.\u201d Letters addressed\nto Sir W. Scott, I, No 189, May 27, [1806.]\n\n\n 221. Katharine Jaffray.\n\nP. 216 a. Scott\u2019s \u2018Katherine Janfarie\u2019 was printed in the second edition\nof the Minstrelsy, 1803, I, 238.\n\n\n 222. Bonny Baby Livingston.\n\nP. 231 f. \u201cI can get a copy of a ballad the repeating verse of which is:\n\n The Highlands are no for me,\n The Highlands are no for me;\n But gin ye wad my favour win\n Than carry me to Dundee.\n\nHis name is sometimes called Glendinnin, and his residence the same:\nhowever, I think it is a Highland ballad, from other circumstances.\u201d W.\nLaidlaw to Sir W. Scott, September 11, 1802: Letters, I, No 73. Compare\n#D#.\n\n\n 225. Rob Roy.\n\nP. 243. The Harris MS. has one stanza, fol. 27 b, from Mrs Isdale, Dron,\n\u2018Robin Oigg\u2019s Elopement.\u2019\n\n An they hae brocht her to a bed,\n An they hae laid her doun,\n An they\u2019ve taen aff her petticoat,\n An stript her o her goun.\n\n\n 226. Lizie Lindsay.\n\nP. 255. Communicated by Mr Walker, of Aberdeen, as procured October 5,\n1891, from George Nutchell, Ground Officer at Edzell Castle, who derived\nit from his step-grandmother Mrs Lamond (Nelly Low), fifty-eight years\nago, she being at the time eighty years old.\n\n 1\n \u2018Will ye gang to the Highlands, Lizzie Lindsay?\n Will ye gang to the Highlands wi me?\n Will ye gang to the Highlands, Lizzie Lindsay,\n My bride an my darling to be?\u2019\n\n 2\n She turned her round on her heel,\n And a very loud laugh gaed she:\n \u2018I\u2019d like to ken whaur I\u2019m ganging,\n An wha I am gaun to gang wi.\u2019\n\n 3\n \u2018My name is Donald Macdonald,\n I\u2019ll never think shame nor deny;\n My father he is an old shepherd,\n My mither she is an old dey.\n\n 4\n \u2018Will ye gang to the Highlands, bonnie Lizzie?\n Will ye gang to the Highlands wi me?\n For ye shall get a bed o green rashes,\n A pillow an a covering o grey.\u2019\n\n 5\n Upraise then the bonny young lady,\n An drew till her stockings an sheen,\n An packd up her claise in fine bundles,\n An away wi young Donald she\u2019s gaen.\n\n 6\n When they cam near the end o their journey,\n To the house o his father\u2019s milk-dey,\n He said, Stay still there, Lizzie Lindsay,\n Till I tell my mither o thee.\n\n 7\n \u2018Now mak us a supper, dear mither,\n The best o yer curds an green whey,\n An mak up a bed o green rashes,\n A pillow an covering o grey.\n\n 8\n \u2018Rise up, rise up, Lizzie Lindsay,\n Ye have lain oer lang i the day;\n Ye should hae been helping my mither\n To milk her ewes an her kye.\u2019\n\n 9\n Out then spak the bonnie young lady,\n As the saut tears drapt frae her ee,\n \u2018I wish I had bidden at hame;\n I can neither milk ewes or kye.\u2019\n\n 10\n \u2018Rise up, rise up, Lizzie Lindsay,\n There is mair ferlies to spy;\n For yonder\u2019s the castle o Kingussie,\n An it stands high an dry.\u2019\n\n 11\n \u2018Ye are welcome here, Lizzie Lindsay,\n The flower o all your kin,\n For ye shall be lady o Kingussie,\n An ye shall get Donald my son.\u2019\n\n\n 243. James Harris.\n\nP. 360 a. #B.# There is another, and perhaps slightly earlier, copy of\nThe Rambler\u2019s Garland, British Museum, 11621, c. 2 (64), with a few\ntrifling differences, for better or worse.\n\n\n 251. Lang Johnny More.\n\nP. 396. \u2018Bennachie,\u2019 by Alex. Inkson McConnochie, Aberdeen, 1890, has a\ncopy of this ballad, p. 66, longer by a few verses and with some verbal\ndifferences. But as this copy has been edited, though \u201cwithout violence\nhaving been done,\u201d the variations, in themselves quite immaterial, do\nnot demand registration.\n\n\n To be Corrected in the Print.\n\n#I,#\n\n 135 b, #P# 13^2. _Read_ There\u2019s.\n\n 188 b, line 15. _Read_ 207.\n\n 200 b, line 6. _Read_ Vidy\u00e1dhar\u00ed.\n\n 401 b, fourth paragraph, line 3 f. _Read_ No 68, III, 117.\n\n#II,#\n\n 10 a, eighth line from below. _Read_ #B# _for_ #C#.\n\n 26 b 13^1. _Read_ moon.\n\n 84 b, last line of third paragraph. _Read_ #G# 21.\n\n 266, #B# 5^3. _Read_ you.\n\n 428 b, #e#. _Read 3^4 for 3^1._\n\n 482 b, third paragraph, last line. _Read_ V, 101.\n\n 507 a, Josefs Gedicht. Eighth line, _read_ Den . . . in queme.\n First line of answer, _read_ De; third, deme; seventh, konde.\n\n#III,#\n\n 41 b, third paragraph, second line. _Read_ MS. _for_ Mr.\n\n 264 a, 17^4. _Read_ hee.\n b, 23^2. _Read_ soe.\n\n 276 a, line 7. _Read_ queen\u2019s own son.\n\n 281 a, 5^2. _Read_ new.\n\n 288 a, line 4 of the first paragraph. _Read_ William Lord Douglas.\n b, line 16. _Read_ wail.\n\n 306 a, note *, fourth line. _Read_ Minstrelsy, II, 325, ed. 1802.\n\n 348 b, [#A# 12^1]. _Read_ sais. 15^2. _Read_ mirrie.\n\n 376 b, #G# 2^1. _Read_ g_rea_t.\n\n 379 a, 173, #A a#, first line. _Read_ Sharpe\u2019s.\n\n 383 a, line 32. _Read_ pavlovsk.\n\n 384 a, 5^1. _Read_ was never.\n\n 397, #P# 1^1. _Read_ father is.\n\n 435 a, #E# 5^2. _Read_ loon.\n\n 448 a, #A#, heading. _Read_ 1750.\n\n 459 a, 7^1. _Read_ Buss. 10^2. _Read_ o the Dun.\n\n 463 a, first line of citation from Maitland. _Read_ spuilzie.\n\n 473 b, 24^4. _Read_ never.\n\n 475 b, citation from Maitland, line 5. _Read_ ane guyd.\n\n 477 b, third paragraph, line 2. _Read_ moss-trooper.\n\n 485 b, first paragraph, line 9 from the end. _Read_ would.\n\n 489 b, #B# 9^1. _Read_, There (==There are) six.\n\n 499 a, #9#, line 8 f. _Read_ Vuk, II, 376, No 64.\n\n 504 a, third line from the bottom. _Read #O# for #J#._\n\n 504 b, third line. _Read_ Rae.\n\n 505 a, 13^4. _Read_ And aye. 18^1. _Read_ o the.\n\n 510 b. The note to p. 215 belongs under No 76.\n\n#IV#,\n\n 6 a, 8^1. _Read_ whan. (10^1. Gar seek in the early editions, Gae\n in ed. 1833.)\n\n 7 b, 41^1. _Read_ thy kye.\n\n 8 a, 46^3. _Read_ dare.\n\n 18 a, 10^3. _Read_ Then. 12^4. _Read_ [to].\n b, 19^2. _Read_ Whan.\n\n 21 b, 17^3. _Read_ grey.\n\n 23 a, #A a#, fourth line. _Read_ former [#B#].\n\n 28 a. Title of 194 #B#, Laird o Waristoun, in the MS. copy; Laird\n of Wariestoun, in the printed.\n\n 34 b, #B#. Lord Maxwell\u2019s Goodnight is the title in Scott\u2019s\n Minstrelsy. It is Lord Maxwell\u2019s Farewell in the Table of\n Contents of Glenriddell.\n\n 36 a, preface, last line but two, and b, line 3. _Read_ Lord\n Maxwell _for_ Lord John.\n\n 38 a, 11^2. _Read, perhaps,_ fathers\u2019: cf. their, in line 3.\n\n 45 b, #B# 7^1. _Read_ he\u2019s.\n\n 47 b, 18^1. _Read_ Lady.\n\n 54 a, No 199, #B#. _Insert the title_: \u2018Bonny House of Airly.\u2019\n\n 66 a, #B# 5^1. _Read_ Gar . . . manteel.\n\n 68 a, #D#, third line. _Read_ Corse _for_ Cragievar.\n\n 69 a, 6^3. _Read_ Stincher. 8^3. _Read_ kill.\n\n 75 a, ninth line of preface. _Read_ in his Poems.\n\n 76 a, fifth line. _Read_ Beauchie.\n\n 81 b, seventeenth and twenty-fourth lines. _Read_ Abergeldy.\n\n 82 b, note, first line. _Read_ Brachally in Dee Water Side.\n\n 90 a, #E#. _Insert_ \u2018Laird of Blackwood,\u2019 as the title of the\n printed copy.\n\n 91 a, tenth line of the second paragraph. _Read_ after the birth\n of his son _for_ after that event. note *. _Read_ IV, 277 f, II,\n 449 f.\n\n 92 a, second line. _Read_ #A#, #C#.\n\n 93 b, #A# 2^1. _Read_ cam.\n\n 94 a, #B# 1^4. _Read_ wont.\n\n 95 b, #B# 12^3. _Read_ I\u2019me. #C# 6^4. _Read_ country. 8^{1,2}.\n _Read_ well.\n\n 96 a, #D# 3^3. _Read_ fire-boams.\n\n 105 a, sixth line of Appendix. _Read_ Broadside.\n\n 110 b, No 207, #D#, third line. _Read_ p. 135.\n\n 123 b, #I b#. _Strike out_ (Lord?) #K.# _Read_ p. 370.\n\n 124 b, fifth paragraph, last line but four. _Read_ Pitbagnet\u2019s.\n\n 129 a, 23^3. _Read_ feght. b, 28^3. _Read_ burd. #C b.# _Read_ in\n Wilkie\u2019s hand, _dropping what follows_.\n\n 138 b, #C b# 12^{1,2}. _Read Wanting, for_ A man spoke loud.\n\n 139 a, #I b# 3^4, 4^1. _Read_ Pitbagnet\u2019s.\n\n 152 b, 10^3. _Read_ showd.\n\n 153 b, 9^2. _Read_ was.\n\n 155 a, second line after title. _After_ library, _insert_ P. 6.\n\n 157 a, 2^2. _Read_ nourice.\n\n 168 a, 7^2. _Read_ doon.\n\n 201 b, 26^3. _Read_ kye.\n\n 202 a, #K# 2^2. _Read_ It is.\n\n 207 a, 20^2. _Read_ them a\u2019 out.\n\n 212 a, 4^3. _Read_ sallads.\n\n 221 b, 13^2. _Read_ grey.\n\n 224 b, 22^1. _Read_ hes he.\n\n 226 a, 6^3. _Read_ Lammington.\n\n 248 a, 2^2. _Read_ ladie.\n\n-----\n\nFootnote 1:\n\n The brother is Peter o Whitfield. \u2018Jock o the Side,\u2019 #A#, begins,\n \u2018Peeter a Whifeild _he_ hath slaine, and John a Side he is tane.\u2019 \u2018The\n great Earl of Whitfield,\u2019 10^3, seemed to Scott a corruption, and he\n suggested \u2018the great Ralph\u2019 Whitfield; but Surtees gave him\n information (which has not transpired) that led him to think that the\n reading \u2018Earl\u2019 might be right. Whitfield, in Northumberland, is a few\n miles southwest of Hexham, and about twenty-five, in a straight line,\n from Kershope, or the border.\n\nFootnote 2:\n\n Nicolson and Burn, History of Westmorland and Cumberland, p. xxxi.\n\nFootnote 3:\n\n [I have received, too late for present use, three traditional copies\n of \u2018Hughie Grame\u2019 from Abbotsford, two of which are varieties of #B#,\n the third the original of #C#. #C# 2\u20135, 16, were taken from Ritson,\n not without changes. One of the varieties of #B# has #E# 15 in a form\n very near to No 169, #B b#, #c#.]\n\nFootnote 4:\n\n I do not know whether the document cited is extant or accessible, or\n whether it was examined by Mr T. J. Carlyle for his paper on the\n Debateable Land; he mentions no Hugh Grame, p. 13 f.\n\n Though Grames are numerous (in 1592 they were considered the greatest\n surname on the west border of England, R. B. Armstrong), I have found\n only one Hugh out of the ballad. Hugh\u2019s Francie, that is Hugh\u2019s son\n Francie, is in the list of the Grames transported to Ireland in 1607.\n Nicolson and Burn, History of Westmorland and Cumberland, I, cxx.\n\nFootnote 5:\n\n Nicolson and Burn, I, lxxxi, II, 279 f. As for Bishop Aldridge\u2019s\n character, his being a trimmer does not make him a \u201climmer.\u201d\n Ecclesiastics are not infrequently accused in ballads, but no man is\n to lose his reputation without better evidence than that.\n\nFootnote 6:\n\n Nicolson and Burn, I, x, xiii, xcii.\n\nFootnote 7:\n\n Ballads and Songs of Ayrshire, 1st Series, p. 50.\n\nFootnote 8:\n\n See also a paper by Dr Arthur Mitchell in the Proceedings of the\n Society of Antiquaries of Scotland, XII, 260, June 11, 1877. Dr\n Mitchell was with Mr Murray when he visited Sarah Rae, and he supplies\n the date 1866. The last stanza of the ballad and the burden are cited\n in this paper.\n\nFootnote 9:\n\n The innocent comments of certain editors must not be lost. \u201cThe whole\n incident surely implies a very early and primitive system of manners,\n not to speak of the circumstance of the court being held at Carlisle,\n which never was the case in any late period of English history.\u201d\n (Chambers\u2019s Scottish Ballads, p. 306.) \u201cIn our version [#E#] the scene\n of the theft is laid at London, but Carlisle, we are inclined to\n think, is the true reading. The great distance between Scotland and\n London, and the nature of the roads in times of old, would render the\n event an improbable, if not altogether an impossible, one to have\n occurred; and we can easily imagine, when the court was at Carlisle,\n that such a good practical joke was planned and carried into execution\n by some waggish courtiers.\u201d (Dixon, p. 93 f.)\n\nFootnote 10:\n\n So the Memorial referred to in the next note, p. VI. Sharpe, in his\n preface, p. iv, says nineteen. #B# 9 is of course quite wrong as to\n the duration of her married life.\n\nFootnote 11:\n\n A Memorial of the Conversion of Jean Livingston, Lady Waristoun, etc.,\n printed from the manuscript by C. K. Sharpe, Edinburgh, 1827. An\n Epitaphium Janet\u00e6 Livingstoune is subjoined. The record of Weir\u2019s\n trial is given in the preface: see also Pitcairn\u2019s Criminal Trials,\n II, 445 ff. The Memorial is powerfully interesting, but, in Sharpe\u2019s\n words, would have been a mischievous present to the world, whatever\n one may think of the change of heart in this \u201cdear saint of God,\u201d as\n she is therein repeatedly called. It may be noted that Jean\n Livingston, when it was supposed her last hour had come, called for a\n drink and drank to all her friends. Memorial, p. XIII: cf. \u201cMary\n Hamilton.\u201d\n\nFootnote 12:\n\n Rolling in a spiked barrel is well known as a popular form of\n punishment. For some examples later than Regulus, see Grundtvig, II,\n 174, No 58; Grundtvig, II, 547, No 101, A-D, Prior, I, 349, Afzelius,\n No 3 (two copies), Wolff, Halle der V\u00f6lker, II, 161; Grundtvig, III,\n 700, No 178, A-D, Prior, II, 160, Arwidsson, II, 62, No 80, and\n Grundtvig, _ib._ p. 698; Hoffmann, Niederl\u00e4ndische Volkslieder, 1856,\n p. 19, No 3, Le Jeune, p. 87, No 3, Prior, II, 238; Pidal, Asturian\n Romances, p. 163, No 36; Grimms, K.-u. H. m\u00e4rchen, Nos 13, 89, 135;\n Asbj\u00f8rnsen og Moe, p. 464. Sharpe, in his preface to the Memorial, p.\n v, gives #B# 8 in this form, \u201cpartly from tradition:\u201d\n\n Up spak the laird o Dunypace,\n Sat at the king\u2019s right knee;\n \u2018Gar nail her in a tar-barrel\n And hurl her in the sea.\u2019\n\nFootnote 13:\n\n The day before the execution Lady Wariston desired to see her infant\n son. The minister feared lest the sight of him should make her wae to\n leave him, but she assured that the contrair should be seen, took the\n child in her arms, kissed him, blessed him, and recommended him to the\n Lord\u2019s care, and sent him away again without taking of any sorrow.\n Memorial, p. IX.\n\nFootnote 14:\n\n Fraser, The Book of Carlaverock, I, 300. \u201cJohn, ninth Lord Maxwell,\n was born about the year 1586.\u201d He was married in 1601, and imprisoned\n for his papistical propensity in the same year. Either the date is too\n late, or Maxwell was one of those avenging children who mature so very\n fast: see \u2018Jellon Grame,\u2019 II, 303, 513.\n\nFootnote 15:\n\n Some sort of \u201cagreement\u201d had been made in 1605, as we see by the\n \u201cSummons\u201d referred to further on, and Lord Maxwell mentions this\n agreement in a conversation with Sir Robert Maxwell. Pitcairn\u2019s\n Trials, III, 36, 44.\n\nFootnote 16:\n\n In the indictment (\u201cSummons, etc., against John, Lord Maxwell\u201d), it is\n said that Johnstone was shot through the shoulder with two poisoned\n bullets. If there was evidence as to this aggravating circumstance, it\n has not been made accessible. In his \u201cOffers of Submission,\u201d etc., by\n which Lord Maxwell hoped to avoid the extreme penalty of the law, he\n makes oath on his salvation and damnation that the unhappy slaughter\n was nowise committed upon forethought felony or set purpose; and on\n the scaffold, while declaring that he had justly deserved his death\n and asking forgiveness of the Johnstone family, he protested that his\n act had been without dishonor or infamy; meaning, of course, perfidy.\n\nFootnote 17:\n\n Spotiswood\u2019s History, ed. 1655, pp. 338 f., 400 f., 504 f.; Historie\n of King James the Sext, pp. 209 f., 297\u201399; Moysie\u2019s Memoirs, p. 109\n f.; Pitcairn\u2019s Criminal Trials, III, 31\u201340, 43\u201347, 51\u201353; Fraser, The\n Book of Carlaverock, 1873, pp. 300 f., 314, 321; Taylor, The Great\n Historic Families of Scotland, 1887, II, 10, 14\u201325.\n\nFootnote 18:\n\n In a petition presented to the Privy Council by Robert Maxwell in\n behalf of his brother, the \u2018sometime\u2019 Lord Maxwell, by his attorney,\n craves \u201cforgiveness of his offence done to the Marqu\u00eds of Hamilton\n [his wife\u2019s brother] and his friends.\u201d Pitcairn, III, 52. Whether this\n was penitence or policy, it shows that great offence had been taken.\n Some verses inserted by Scott in his edition of the ballad, in which\n his lady urges Maxwell to go with her to her brother\u2019s stately tower,\n where \u201cHamiltons and Douglas baith shall rise to succour thee,\u201d are\n quite misplaced.\n\nFootnote 19:\n\n Frendraught is in the parish of Forgue, Aberdeenshire, Rothiemay in\n Banffshire; they lie on opposite sides of the Deveron.\n\nFootnote 20:\n\n A Genealogical History of the Earldom of Sutherland, 1813, pp. 412,\n 416 ff. Sir Robert Gordon\u2019s book stops before the (inconclusive) legal\n and judicial proceedings were finished. He seems to share the\n suspicion of the \u201cmost part,\u201d that the Leslies and Meldrum set the\n fire.\n\nFootnote 21:\n\n See Spalding, Memorialls of the Trubles in Scotland and in England,\n 1624\u20131645, Spalding Club, I, 45\u201351, 420\u201323, 430\u201335, and the\n continuator of Sir Robert Gordon, p. 474 f. Frendraught is generally\n represented to have been utterly ruined in his estate, but that is\n probably an exaggeration. His sufferings are thus depicted in the\n Charges against the Marquis of Huntly and others anent the disorders\n in the North (Spalding, I, 420): \u201cForasmuch as the Lords of Secret\n Council are informed that great numbers of sorners and broken men of\n the clan Gregor, clan Lachlan (etc.), as also divers of the name of\n Gordon ... have this long time, and now lately very grievously,\n infested his Majesty\u2019s loyal subjects in the north parts, especially\n the laird of Frendraught and his tenants, by frequent slaughters,\n herships, and barbarous cruelties committed upon them, and by a late\n treasonable fireraising within the said laird of Frendraught his\n bounds, whereby not only is all the gentleman\u2019s lands laid waste, his\n whole goods and bestial spoiled, slain and maigled, some of his\n servants killed and cruelly demeaned, but also the whole tenants of\n his lands and domestics of his house have left his service, and\n himself, with the hazard of his life, has been forced to steal away\n under night and have his refuge to his Majesty\u2019s Council, etc.\u201d It was\n reported that Frendraught obtained a decree against the marquis for\n 200,000 merks (Scots) for scathe, and another for 100,000 pounds (or\n merks) for spoliation of tithes, but that he recovered the money does\n not appear. (Spalding, I, 71, 115.) In 1636, through the exertions of\n Sir Robert Gordon, Huntly and Frendraught were brought to submit all\n differences on either side, \u201cand particularly a great action of law\n prosecuted by Frendraught against the marquis,\u201d to the arbitrament of\n friends. Huntly died before a decision was reached, but \u201cthe Laird of\n Frendraught retired himself home to his own lands, and there lived\n peaceably.\u201d (Genealogical History of Sutherland, p. 479.)\n\nFootnote 22:\n\n Memorials, I, 17 ff., and the Appendix, p. 381 ff.\n\nFootnote 23:\n\n So John Gordon, Viscount Melgum, the second son of the Marquis of\n Huntly, was indifferently called, though the title of Viscount Aboyne\n belonged to his elder brother, George, and was not conferred upon\n _him_ until after John\u2019s death. Sir Robert Gordon says that the\n Marquis of Huntly \u201cordained\u201d for Melgum the lands of Aboyne, and\n others. Melgum was married to Sophia Hay, daughter of the Earl of\n Errol, as appears also in the ballad.\n\nFootnote 24:\n\n What manner of helping Frendraught could have given Spalding does not\n \u201ccondescend upon.\u201d The way down stairs was barred by fire, the windows\n were barred with iron. [\u201cBut the stairs or monty being in fire, and\n the windows grated with strong bars of iron, there was no moyen to\n escape:\u201d Blakhal\u2019s Narration, Spalding Club, p. 125.] Ladders and\n crowbars occur to us, but a tower with walls ten feet thick was not\n expected to burn, the servants had not been drilled in managing fires,\n people smoked from their beds at two in the morning are not apt to\n have their wits about them, and the combustion was rapid.\n\nFootnote 25:\n\n All the documents will be found in the Appendix to Spalding. Dr John\n Hill Burton, in Narratives from Criminal Trials in Scotland, 1852, I,\n 202 ff, leans hard against Frendraught. \u201cWith pretty abundant\n materials, it is impossible, even at the present day, entirely to\n clear up the mystery, but we can see by what machinations inquiry was\n baffled.\u201d \u201cIt will be seen that no evidence against him was received,\n that it was considered an offence to accuse him.\u201d \u201cFrendraught, though\n he had with a high hand averted even the pretence of inquiry on the\n part of the government, did not go unpunished, _whether he was guilty\n or not_.\u201d Dr Burton speaks with more reserve in his History of\n Scotland, VI, 209; little more is insisted on than a wish of the Court\n to foster the Crichtons as a balance to the power of the house of\n Huntly. It is clear that Frendraught had all the consideration and\n help from the government which he could claim. Mr Charles Rampini, who\n has discussed the affair in The Scottish Review, X, 143 ff., 1887,\n concludes favorably to Frendraught\u2019s innocence of the fire.\n\nFootnote 26:\n\n \u201cMany years ago, when the well was cleared out, this tradition was\n corroborated by their finding the keys: at least, such was the report\n of the country.\u201d (Finlay, I, xxi, citing a correspondent.) Of course\n we should have had to believe everything against Lady Frendraught,\n even that she had been so simple as to throw them in, if keys had been\n found in the well; but the land-steward of the proprietor of the\n estate informed the late Mr Norval Clyne that the draw-well was\n searched, and no keys were found.\n\nFootnote 27:\n\n This is, of course, the style of the kirk. The fifty-third psalm of\n the Vulgate would not have been out of place for Lord John, who was a\n Catholic; but no doubt Lord John is taken for a Presbyterian in the\n ballad, and the \u2018three\u2019 is for rhyme. Father Blakhal maintains that\n Frendraught burnt his tower, not to rid himself of Rothiemay, but out\n of theological malice to Melgum \u201cfor his zeal in defending and\n protecting the poor Catholics against the tyranny of our puritanical\n bishops and ministers.\u201d \u201cAs he [Melgum] was dying for the defence of\n the poor Catholics, God did bestow upon him the grace to augment the\n number at the last hour of his life, persuading the Baron of Rothiemay\n to abjure the heresy of Calvin, and make the profession of the\n Catholic faith openly, to the hearing of the traitor and all who were\n with him in the court. They two being at a window, and whilst their\n legs were burning, they did sing together _Te Deum_; which ended, they\n did tell at the window that their legs being consumed even to their\n knees, etc.... And so this noble martyr finished this mortal life, at\n the age of four and twenty years.\u201d A Brief Narration, etc., p. 124 f.\n\n Blakhal, who is far from being a cautious writer, also tells us that\n \u201cthe traitor,\u201d Frendraught, \u201cwith his men,in arms, walked all the\n night in the court,\u201d to kill Gordon and Rothiemay, if they should\n escape from the fire. There is a passage of the same purport in one of\n Arthur Johnston\u2019s two poems on the burning of Frendraught, \u201cQuerela\n Sophi\u00e6 Hay\u00e6,\u201d etc.:\n\n Cur vigil insuetis noctem traduxit in armis,\n C\u00e6tera cum somno turba sepulta foret?\n\n The other piece ends with a ferocious demand for the use of torture to\n discover the guilty party. (Deliti\u00e6 Poetarum Scotorum, Amsterdam,\n 1637, pp. 585, 587; or, A. I. Poemata Omnia, Middelburg, 1642, pp.\n 329, 331.)\n\nFootnote 28:\n\n Stanza 21 recalls the verses in Hume of Godscroft:\n\n Edinburgh castle, towne, and tower,\n God grant thou sink for sinne! etc.\n\nFootnote 29:\n\n Gordon\u2019s History of Sutherland, p. 414; Spalding\u2019s Memorials, I, 11,\n 21\u201323, 29 f., 43 f.\n\nFootnote 30:\n\n Gordon\u2019s History, pp. 481, 460; Spalding, with details, I, 70.\n\nFootnote 31:\n\n Spalding, I, 141, 188, 244.\n\nFootnote 32:\n\n Gordon, History of Scots Affairs, II, 276\u201380; Spalding, Memorials, I,\n 209\u201311. Seton is called a bold, or brave, _baron_, in #A# 2, #B# 3,\n not in the medi\u00e6val way, but as one of the gentlemen of the king\u2019s\n party. The Gordons and their associates \u201cat this time were called the\n Barons, and their actings, by way of derision, the Barons\u2019 Reign.\u201d\n Gordon, p. 261. \u201cNorthern,\u201d #B# 1^3, should be southern, as in #A#.\n\nFootnote 33:\n\n Gordon, II, 274; Spalding, I, 208; Napier\u2019s Montrose and the\n Covenanters, I, 284 f. The Hieland men, says Baillie, \u201cavowed that\n they could not abide _the musket\u2019s mother_, and so fled in troops at\n the first volley.\u201d Letters, ed. Laing, I, 221.\n\nFootnote 34:\n\n History of Scots Affairs, II, 281, note: see also what is added to\n that note.\n\nFootnote 35:\n\n \u201c\u2018The deep, deep den\u2019 referred to in the ballad is the Den of Airlie,\n celebrated for its fine scenery and romantic beauty. It extends about\n a mile below the junction of the Isla and the Melgum.\u201d Christie,\n Traditional Ballad Airs, II, 296.\n\nFootnote 36:\n\n Spalding\u2019s Memorials, ed. 1850, I, 290\u20132; Gordon\u2019s History of Scots\n Affairs, III, 164 f.; also, II, 234; Gardiner, History of England,\n 1603\u20131642, ed., 1884, IX, 167 f. Both Spalding and Gordon say that\n Montrose besieged Airlie but did not succeed in taking it. Argyle,\n continues Spalding, \u201craises an army of about 5,000 men and marches\n towards Airlie; but the Lord Ogilvie, hearing of his coming with such\n irresistible forces, resolves to fly and leave the house manless, and\n so for their own safety they wisely fled. But Argyle most cruelly and\n inhumanly enters the house of Airlie,\u201d etc. A letter of Argyle\u2019s to\n one Dugald Campbell (dated July, 1640) would seem to show that he was\n not there in person during the razing and burning. \u201cYou need not let\n know,\u201d says Argyle, \u201cthat ye have directions from me to fire it.\u201d\n Notes and Queries, Fifth Series, IX, 364; reprinted by Gardiner.\n\nFootnote 37:\n\n Napier, Montrose and the Covenanters, 1838, I, 129.\n\nFootnote 38:\n\n In 18\u201321 the lady makes her lord not only forgive the abettors of\n Jockie Faa, whom he was about to hang, but present ten guineas to\n Jockie, whom he was minded to burn.\n\nFootnote 39:\n\n \u201cCorse field may very possibly be Corse, the ancient seat of the\n Forbeses of Craigievar, from the close vicinity of which the reciter\n of this ballad came.\u201d Burton, in Kinloch MSS, V, 334.\n\nFootnote 40:\n\n Recalling Carrick, of which Maybole is the capital. \u201cThe family of\n Cassilis, in early times, had been so powerful that the head of it was\n generally termed the King of Carrick:\u201d Sharpe. But Garrick may have\n come in in some other way.\n\nFootnote 41:\n\n #F# 7, if it belongs to the countess, gives her an unlady-like taste\n for brandy.\n\nFootnote 42:\n\n \u201cThere is indeed a stanza of no merit, which, in some copies,\n concludes the ballad, and states that eight of the gypsies were hanged\n at Carlisle, and the rest at the Border:\u201d Finlay, II, 43.\n\nFootnote 43:\n\n Pitcairn\u2019s Criminal Trials, III, 201, 307 f., 397\u20139, 559\u201362, 592\u201394;\n Acts of the Parliament of Scotland, IV, 440.\n\nFootnote 44:\n\n Sharpe\u2019s Ballad Book, ed. Laing, 1880, pp. 142, 154. I have unluckily\n lost my voucher for Johnny Faa\u2019s figuring in \u2018The Douglas Tragedy.\u2019\n\nFootnote 45:\n\n Finlay, II, 35; The Scots Magazine, LXXX, 306, and the Musical Museum,\n 1853, IV, *217, Sharpe; Chambers, Scottish Ballads, p. 143; The New\n Statistical Account of Scotland, V, 497; Paterson, The Ballads and\n Songs of Ayrshire, I, 10; Maidment, Scotish Ballads and Songs, 1868,\n II, 179.\n\nFootnote 46:\n\n She had four children according to the Historical Account of the Noble\n Family of Kennedy, Edinburgh, 1849, p. 44.\n\nFootnote 47:\n\n \u2018We were a\u2019 put down _but ane_\u2019 first appears in Herd, 1769.\n\nFootnote 48:\n\n These eight heads would correspond very neatly to the number of\n gypsies executed in 1624. But in the circumstantial account given by\n Chambers we are told that the house belonging to the family at Maybole\n was fitted for the countess\u2019s reception \u201cby the addition of a fine\n projecting stair-case, upon which were carved heads representing those\n of her lover and his band.... The effigies of the gypsies are very\n minute, being subservient to the decoration of a fine triple window at\n the top of the stair-case, and stuck upon the tops and bottoms of a\n series of little pilasters which adorn that part of the building. The\n head of Johnie Faa himself is distinct from the rest, larger, and more\n lachrymose in the expression of the features. _Some windows in the\n upper flat of Cassilis Castle are similarly adorned; but regarding\n them tradition is silent._\u201d\n\nFootnote 49:\n\n Sharp, in Johnson\u2019s Museum, 1853, IV, 218*; Paterson, in Ballads and\n Songs of Ayrshire, I, 13. It is also clear from these letters that the\n countess was a sober and religious woman. Some minor difficulties\n which attend the supposition of this lady\u2019s absconding with Johnny\n Faa, or any gypsy, are barely worth mentioning. At the time when\n Johnny Faa was put down, in 1624, the countess was seventeen years\n old, and yet she is made the mother of two children. If we shift the\n elopement to the other end of her life, there was then (so severe had\n been the measures taken with these limmers) perhaps not a gypsy left\n in Scotland. See Aytoun, 1859, I, 186.\n\nFootnote 50:\n\n John, seventh earl of Cassilis, son of the sixth earl by a second\n wife, married for his second wife, some time before 1700, Mary Foix (a\n name also spelt Faux): Crawford\u2019s Peerage, 1716, p. 76, corrected by\n the Decreets of the Lords of Council and Session, vol. 145, div. 2.\n May this explain the Faws coming to be associated in the popular mind\n with a countess of Cassilis? (A suggestion of Mr Macmath\u2019s.) The lady\n is even called Jeanie Faw in #C# 7, 11, first by the gypsy, then by\n her husband. The seventh earl had _two_ children by Mary Foix.\n\nFootnote 51:\n\n I have seen this piece only in Elizabeth Cochrane\u2019s Song-Book, MS., p.\n 38, and in Buchan\u2019s MSS, I, 220. Its contents agree with what is\n alleged in W. Fuller\u2019s \u201cBrief Discovery of the True Mother of the\n pretended Prince of Wales, known by the name of Mary Grey,\u201d London,\n 1696, pp. 5 f, 11, 17 f, and it was probably composed not long after.\n\nFootnote 52:\n\n Afterwards inserted in the first volume of The Tea-Table Miscellany\n (p. 66 of A New Miscellany of Scots Sangs, London, 1727, p. 68 of T.\n T. M., Dublin, 1729), from which source it may have been adopted by\n Sharpe.\n\nFootnote 53:\n\n Here from the original, Communications to the Society of Antiquaries\n of Scotland, vol. i, from a copy furnished by Mr Macmath.\n\nFootnote 54:\n\n The most of this account, and in nearly the same words, was given in\n an earlier letter from Major Barry to James Cant, who printed (Perth,\n 1774) an edition of \u2018The Muses Threnodie, by Mr H. Adamson, 1638\u2019 (p.\n 19). The principal items of the story are repeated from Cant by\n Pennant, Tour in Scotland, 1772, Part II, London, 1776, p. 112.\n Pennant cites Cant\u2019s book as the Gabions of Perth. \u201cIt seems,\u201d says Mr\n Macmath, who has extracted for me the passage in Cant, \u201cthat Adamson\u2019s\n work was sometimes known as Gall\u2019s Gabions, the latter being a coined\n word.\u201d\n\nFootnote 55:\n\n An \u201cold manuscript volume\u201d cited in The New Statistical Account of\n Scotland, X, 37; Chambers, Domestic Annals of Scotland, 1858, II, 167.\n\nFootnote 56:\n\n The remark is made in The Scotsman, September 11, 1886.\n\nFootnote 57:\n\n In the manuscript cited in The New Statistical Account of Scotland, p.\n 37, we are told that, to prevent the spread of infection, \u201cit was\n thought proper to put those out of the town at some distance who were\n sick. Accordingly, they went out and builded huts for themselves in\n different places around the town, particularly in the South Inch\n [etc.] and the grounds near the river Almond, at the mouth thereof, in\n all which places there are as yet the remains of their huts which they\n lodged in.\u201d So, when this same pestilence was raging in the parish of\n Monivaird, the gentlemen \u201ccaused many huts to be built, and ordered\n all who perceived that they were infected immediately to repair into\n them:\u201d Porteous, History of the Parishes of Monivaird and Strowan,\n MS., Communications to the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland, vol. i,\n printed in the Transactions, II, 72, 1822.\n\nFootnote 58:\n\n This is Wishart\u2019s account. Another, by Covenanters, makes Montrose to\n have been more on the alert, and has nothing of the two thousand horse\n sent to take him in the rear. The royalists are admitted to have\n maintained their ground with great resolution for almost an hour. The\n numbers are as given by Gardiner, History of the Great Civil War, II,\n 335 f.\n\nFootnote 59:\n\n T. Craig-Brown, History of Selkirkshire, 1886, I, 188.\n\nFootnote 60:\n\n Not 1829, as put in the reprint of 1869. \u201cWritten hurriedly, in supply\n of the press, in April and May, 1832. J. R.\u201d: Dr J. Robertson\u2019s\n interleaved copy of the undated first edition. #A c# is reprinted\n (with some errors) in The Great North of Scotland Railway, A Guide, by\n W. Ferguson, 1881, p. 163.\n\nFootnote 61:\n\n Jamieson writes to the Scots Magazine, October, 1803, p. 699: \u201cThe\n Baron of Braikly begins,\n\n O Inverey cam down Dee-side\n Whistling and playing;\n He\u2019s landed at Braikly\u2019s yates\n At the day dawing.\n\n Of this I have got a compleat copy, and the story is very interesting;\n but I have got a fragment of it from another quarter, which, so far as\n it goes, is superior.\u201d Etc.\n\nFootnote 62:\n\n A market was established here in 1661 by an act in favor of William\n Farquharson of Inverey, his heirs, etc. This William had a brother and\n a son John. William Farquharson of Inverey younger, as \u201ca person of\n known trust and approven ability,\u201d is appointed to keep a guard \u201cthis\n summer for the sherifdom of Kincardine\u201d against cattle-driving\n Highlanders, July of the same year. Thomson\u2019s Acts, VII, 18, I, 286:\n pointed out to me by Mr Macmath.\n\nFootnote 63:\n\n Macfarlane\u2019s Genealogical Collections, MS., in the Advocates\u2019 Library,\n I, 299 f; already cited by Jamieson, Ballads, I, 108.\n\nFootnote 64:\n\n See a little further on.\n\nFootnote 65:\n\n Gilmour\u2019s Decisions, 1701, p. 43. (Macmath.)\n\nFootnote 66:\n\n Col. H. W. Lumsden\u2019s Memorials of the Families of Lumsdaine, etc., p.\n 59.\n\nFootnote 67:\n\n History of the Earldom of Sutherland, p. 217 f. To the same effect,\n Johnstone, Historia Rerum Britannicarum, Amsterdam, 1655, p. 160 f,\n under the year 1591, and Spotiswood, p. 390, of the editions of 1655,\n 1666, 1668, under the year 1592. \u201cThe History of the Feuds,\u201d etc., p.\n 67, ed. 1764, merely repeats Sir Robert Gordon. William Gordon\u2019s\n History of the Family of Gordon, cites Sir Robert Gordon and\n Johnstone, and calls Gordon of Brackley Alexander.\n\n Still another \u201cGordon, Baron of Brackley in Deeside,\u201d is said to have\n been murdered by the country people about him in or near 1540: The\n Genealogy of the Grants, in Macfarlane\u2019s Genealogical Collections, I,\n 168, and An Account of the Rise and Offspring of the Name of Grant,\n printed for Sir Archibald Grant, Bart., of Monymusk, 1876, p. 30 ff,\n where the date is put (perhaps through a misprint) before 1480. A\n horrible revenge was said to have been taken by the Earl of Huntly and\n James Grant: see the well-known story of the orphans fed at a trough,\n in Scott\u2019s Tales of a Grandfather, chap. xxxix.\n\nFootnote 68:\n\n See the Memorandum for Farquharson in \u201cFourth Report,\u201d as above, p.\n 534.\n\nFootnote 69:\n\n Pointed out to me by Mr. Macmath, who, in making this and other\n communications relating to the Gordons of Brackley, suggested and\n urged the hypothesis of a mixture of two events in this ballad.\n\nFootnote 70:\n\n Fraser, The Douglas Book, Edinburgh, 1885, II, 277 f, 449 f. The\n contract, being a mutual paper, may not express to the full the\n supposed grievances of either party.\n\nFootnote 71:\n\n The Douglas Book, II, 450 f. \u201cLawrie is mentioned by Lord Fountainhall\n as \u2018late chamberlain to the Marquis of Douglas, and repute a bad\n instrument between him and his lady in their differences.\u2019 Decisions,\n I, 196.\u201d\n\n What should prompt Lawrie to malice against the marchioness is\n unknown. Kinloch, Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 58, accepting the story\n of the old woman from whom he obtained #E#, says: \u201cThe Laird of\n Blackwood and the Marquis of \u2014\u2014 were rivals in the affection of a\n lovely and amiable young lady, who, preferring the latter, became his\n wife. Blackwood ... vowed revenge,\u201d etc. Chambers, who repeats this\n account, Scottish Ballads, p. 150, remarks that Lawrie seems to have\n been considerably advanced in life at the time. Lawrie\u2019s son made a\n \u201cretour of services\u201d in 1650, and may be supposed then to have been of\n age. The Marquis of Douglas was in his twenty-fourth year when he\n married, in 1670, and probably Lady Barbara Erskine was not older.\n Maidment is surprised that Lawrie, \u201ca man of uncertain lineage,\u201d\n should have succeeded with the widow Marion Weir. What is to be\n thought of his aspiring, at the age of sixty, or more, to \u201cthe\n affection of a lovely and amiable young lady\u201d of the family of Mar,\n one of the most ancient in Scotland?\n\nFootnote 72:\n\n Kinloch MSS, I, 95 f. For one or two points see Maidment\u2019s Scotish\n Ballads and Songs, 1868, II, 262 ff., the preface to the ballad there\n called \u2018Lady Barbara Erskine\u2019s Lament.\u2019\n\nFootnote 73:\n\n \u201cMatthew Crawford, weaver, Howwood, sings \u2018Jamie Douglas\u2019 with the\n conclusion in which the lady dies after her return and reconciliation\n with her lord.\u201d Motherwell\u2019s Note-Book, p. 56.\n\n \u201cI was informed by A. Lile that she has heard a longer set of the\n ballad in which, while Lady Douglas is continuing her lament, she\n observes a troop of gentlemen coming to her father\u2019s, and she\n expresses a wish that these should be sent by her lord to bring her\n home. They happen to be sent for that purpose, and she accompanies\n them. On her meeting, however, with her lord, and while putting a cup\n of wine to her lips, her heart breaks, and she drops down dead at his\n feet.\u201d Motherwell, note to #G#, MS., p. 347.\n\n Lawrie came near losing his head in 1683 for political reasons, but he\n survived the revolution of 1688, \u201cgot all the proceedings against him\n annulled, and a complete rehabilitation.\u201d Wodrow, II, 295; Maidment,\n 1868, II, 268.\n\nFootnote 74:\n\n All but #E# have #b# 4: #E# has #a# 4. All but #A#, #D#, #E#, #L#, #M#\n have 1. #A#, #C#, #E# have 10; #J# has 2, 3; #A# has 8; #F# has 9.\n\nFootnote 75:\n\n It must be said, however, that stanza 8, \u2018When we came in by Glasgow\n town,\u2019 etc., hardly suits the song, and would be entirely appropriate\n to the ballad (as it is in #A# 2). It may have been taken up from this\n ballad (which must date from the last quarter of the seventeenth\n century), or from some other.\n\nFootnote 76:\n\n #a# is followed in Percy\u2019s Reliques, 1765, III, 144, Herd, Ancient and\n Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 196; #b#, in the Musical Museum, p. 166,\n No 158; with slight variations in each copy.\n\nFootnote 77:\n\n Scottish Psalter, 1566, Wood\u2019s MSS, Bassus, Laing\u2019s MSS, University of\n Edinburgh, MS. Books, 483, III, p. 209. The medley is by a different\n and later hand: Laing in the Musical Museum, 1853, I, xxviii f., IV,\n 440*. It is printed in the second edition of Forbes\u2019s Cantus,\n Aberdeen, 1666.\n\n There was a much older stave, or proverb, to the same purport, as we\n see by Chaucer\u2019s Clerk\u2019s Tale, vv. 855, 57.\n\n But sooth is seyd, algate I fynde it trewe,\n Loue is noght old as whan that it is newe.\n\nFootnote 78:\n\n \u201cPublic worship was begun by Mr Douglas, when the accounts came to\n them that Claverhouse and his men were coming upon them, and had Mr\n King and others their friends prisoners. Upon this, finding evil was\n determined against them, all who had arms drew out from the rest of\n the meeting, and resolved to go and meet the soldiers and prevent\n their dismissing the meeting, and, if possible, relieve Mr King and\n the other prisoners.\u201d Wodrow\u2019s History, 1722, II, 46.\n\nFootnote 79:\n\n (_Postscript_: \u201cMy lord, I am so wearied and so sleepy that I have\n written this very confusedly.\u201d) See Russell, in the Appendix to C. K.\n Sharpe\u2019s edition of Kirkton\u2019s Secret and True History of the Church of\n Scotland, p. 438 ff.; Napier\u2019s Memorials and Letters of John Graham of\n Claverhouse, II, 219\u2013223. There is a good account of the affair in\n Mowbray Morris\u2019s \u201cClaverhouse,\u201d ch. iv.\n\nFootnote 80:\n\n Napier interprets the cornet to be Mr Crafford (Crawford), who, in the\n preceding February, was a corporal in the troop: Memorials, II, 191.\n But Creichton, in his Memoirs, mentions \u201cthe loss of Cornet Robert\n Graham\u201d at Drumclog. Russell speaks of a Graham killed at Drumclog,\n and, like Creichton, tells a story of the disfigurement of his face\n (which he attributes to the cornet\u2019s own dog). Lawrie of Blackwood,\n Lord Jamie Douglas\u2019s Jago, was indicted and tried, Nov. 24, 1682\u2013Feb.\n 7. 1683, for (among other things) countenancing John Aulston, who \u201cin\n the late rebellion\u201d murdered Cornet Graham: Wodrow, II, 293, 295.\n Guild, in his Bellum Bothuellianum, cited by Scott, has \u201csignifer,\n trajectus globulo, Gr\u00e6mus.\u201d\n\n Napier will know only of a William Graham as cornet to Claverhouse,\n \u201cand certainly not killed at Drumclog.\u201d William Graham is referred to\n in a dispatch of Claverhouse\u2019s, March (?) 1679, as commanding a small\n garrison: Napier II, 201. A Cornet Graham in Claverhouse\u2019s troop\n captured a rebel in March, 1682: R. Law\u2019s Memorials, ed. Sharpe, p.\n 222. A William Graham was \u201ccornet to Claverhouse,\u201d January 3, 1684:\n Wodrow, II, 338. (See \u201cClavers, The Despot\u2019s Champion, by a Southern,\u201d\n London, 1889, p. 48 f., a careful and impartial book, to which I owe a\n couple of points that I had not myself noticed.)\n\n C. K. Sharpe calls Robert Graham Claverhouse\u2019s cousin, Napier, I, 271,\n but probably would not wish the title to be taken strictly.\n\nFootnote 81:\n\n Wodrow\u2019s History, 1722, II, 54\u201367; Creichton\u2019s Memoirs; Russell, in\n Sharpe\u2019s ed. of Kirkton, p. 447 ff.\n\nFootnote 82:\n\n Russell, as above, p. 464; Wodrow, II, 86.\n\nFootnote 83:\n\n But see \u201cClavers, the Despot\u2019s Champion,\u201d p. 72 ff.\n\nFootnote 84:\n\n In Notes and Queries, First Series, V, 249.\n\nFootnote 85:\n\n The Works of the late L. Delamer, 1694, The Case of William, Earl of\n Devonshire, p. 563; which is the plea referred to further on.\n\nFootnote 86:\n\n Such poetical propriety as \u2018The second, more alarming still,\u2019 3^2;\n \u2018The words that passd, alas! presaged\u2019 18^3. But really the text was\n not very much altered. Some verses, here dropped, were added \u201cto give\n a finish.\u201d\n\nFootnote 87:\n\n See W. S. Gibson, Dilston Hall, etc., 1850, p. 54.\n\nFootnote 88:\n\n Buchanan, Rer. Scot. Hist., fol. 186; Lesley, History of Scotland, p.\n 251 f.\n\nFootnote 89:\n\n In #J#, which cannot be relied on for smaller points, we read that\n Charles Hay has been hanged, for reasons not given: st. 20.\n\nFootnote 90:\n\n This intimation is repeated in #G# 10, with the ludicrous variation of\n bloody \u2018breeks.\u2019 In #B#, an English lord, whose competency and\n interest in the matter are alike difficult to comprehend, declares\n that he will have Geordie hanged, will have Geordie\u2019s head, before the\n morrow. A Scottish lord rejoins that he will cast off his coat and\n fight, will fight in blood up to the knees; and the king adds, there\n will be bloody heads among us all, before that happens. Who the\n parties to the fight are to be, unless it is the English lord against\n Scotland, is not evident. #B# is inflated with superfluous verses.\n\nFootnote 91:\n\n It seems to have been familiar in Aberdeen as early as 1627. Joseph\n Haslewood made an entry in his copy of Ritson\u2019s Scotish Song of a\n manuscript Lute-Book (presented in 1781 to Dr Charles Burney by Dr\n Skene of Marischal College) which contained airs noted and collected\n by Robert Gordon, \u201cat Aberdein, in the yeare of our Lord 1627.\u201d Among\n some ninety titles of tunes mentioned, there occur \u2018Ther wer three\n ravns\u2019 and \u2018God be with the, Geordie.\u2019 (W. Macmath.)\n\nFootnote 92:\n\n Somebody, perhaps J., the editor of The Common-Place Book of Ancient\n and Modern Ballad, etc., Edinburgh, 1824, attempted an improvement of\n the later edition of Scott\u2019s ballad. The recension was used by\n Lo\u00e8ve-Veimars for his translation, and is given in his Popular Ballads\n and Songs from Tradition, Manuscripts, and Scarce Editions, Paris,\n 1825, p. 71. This copy, with variations, is found in the Campbell MSS,\n I, 348. The alterations are mostly trivial.\n\nFootnote 93:\n\n \u2018Sir James the Ross\u2019 was first printed in The Weekly Magazine, or,\n Edinburgh Amusement, IX, 371, in 1770 (Grosart, Works of Michael\n Bruce, p. 257, the ballad at p. 197), and in the same year in \u201cPoems\n on Several Occasions, by Michael Bruce\u201d (p. 30), with differences,\n which are attributed to Logan, the editor.\n\nFootnote 94:\n\n \u201cThe older ballad, entitled \u2018The Young Heir of Baleichan,\u2019 or\n Baleighan,... is claimed for this parish [Crimond, Aberdeenshire];\n while the same ballad is said to be founded on a traditionary tale of\n Baleichan in Forfarshire.\u201d Smith, A New History of Aberdeenshire,\n 1875, p. 429.\n\nFootnote 95:\n\n Pinkerton reads Loch Lagan. He also reads \u2018the Hichts of Lundie,\u2019 in\n 10^4, for \u2018the gates of London.\u2019 Lundie is in Forfarshire. I suppose\n both readings to be Pinkerton\u2019s emendations.\n\nFootnote 96:\n\n Logan has a page, and the page may have come from some previously\n corrupted version of the popular ballad which #J# may follow. The\n first half of the stanza corresponding to #L# 12 in Logan is from the\n popular ballad.\n\nFootnote 97:\n\n Sometimes also with sensible prose, as 7^2, \u2018But I find she has\n deceived me;\u2019 12^3, \u2018I dreamed my luive had lost his life.\u2019\n\n The loose, though limited, rhyme in this ballad, in \u2018The Bonnie House\n of Airlie,\u2019 etc., does not favor exact recollection, and furnishes a\n temptation to invention: hence the sparrow in #B# 6, the arrow in #D#\n 7, the narrow in #I# 12, and, I fear, the harrow in #L# 9, which of\n itself is good, while all the others are bad.\n\nFootnote 98:\n\n It must be noted, however, that in \u2018Ye think me an unmeet marrow,\u2019 #A#\n 8^2, Ye is an editorial reading. I may remark that I have included\n #M-P# in the second group simply because the hero in these is called\n love or true-love. The husband, however, has both titles in #A#.\n\nFootnote 99:\n\n \u2018Wi a _thrusty_ rapier,\u2019 #J#, which I feel compelled to understand as\n the commonplace \u2018trusty;\u2019 but, guided by \u2018a rusted rapier,\u2019 #K#, we\n ought perhaps to read \u2018rusty.\u2019 In #L# the lady kisses and combs the\n swain, and sets him on her milk-white steed.\u2014Since I suppose lover to\n have been substituted for husband in the course of tradition, I shall\n not be so precise as to distinguish the two when this would be\n inconvenient.\n\nFootnote 100:\n\n Nine is the number also in #H#, as we see from st. 5, compared with\n #E#, 5, 11.\n\nFootnote 101:\n\n It will be remembered that green is an unlucky color: see II, 181 f.\n\nFootnote 102:\n\n She tears the ribbons from her head in #D# 11, #I# 12, when she hears\n the tidings: but this belongs to the bride in the ballad which\n succeeds, No 215.\n\nFootnote 103:\n\n Ten in #F#, to include the lord with his nine foemen. But why only\n nine in #E#, #G#, #M#? Is it not because one of the brothers had not\n been mortally wounded, the brother who is said to kill the husband\n (lover) in #L#, #M#, #N#, and who may reasonably be supposed to do\n this in #E#, #F#, #G#? Such a matter would not be left in obscurity in\n the original ballad.\n\nFootnote 104:\n\n This is disagreeable, assuredly, and unnatural too. It is \u2018drank,\u2019\n probably, that is softened to \u2018wiped\u2019 in #A# 14. Scott, to avoid\n unpleasantness, reads \u2018She kissd them (his wounds) till her lips grew\n red;\u2019 which would not take long. This is all nicely arranged in #L#:\n \u2018She laid him on her milk-white steed, and bore him home from Yarrow;\n she washed his wounds in yon well-strand, and dried him wi the\n hollan.\u2019 The washing and drying are done in #J# on the spot, where\n there might have been water, but no hollan.\n\nFootnote 105:\n\n The reciters of #A# and #J#, whether they gave what they had received,\n or tried to avoid the material difficulties about the hair, graze upon\n absurdity. Her hair was three quarters long, she tied it round \u2018her\u2019\n (for his?) white hause-bane\u2014and died, #A# 15. His hair was three\n quarters long, she\u2019s wrapt it round her middle\u2014and brought it home,\n #J# 16. The hair comes in again in the next two ballads, and causes\n difficulty. Wonderful things are done with hair in ballads and tales:\n see #I#, 40 b, and the note at 486 b.\n\nFootnote 106:\n\n #L# 19 is also found only in that copy. It seems to me, but only\n because #L# does not strike me as being of an original cast\u2014rather a\n ballad improved by reciters,\u2014to be an adaptation of No 215, #A# 2.\n\nFootnote 107:\n\n James Chalmers, in Arch\u00e6ologia Scotica, III, 261, says that Hamilton\u2019s\n ballad was contributed to the second volume of the Tea Table\n Miscellany in 1724. It is not in the Dublin edition of 1729. It is at\n p. 242 of the London edition of 1733; in Thomson\u2019s Orpheus Caledonius,\n II, 34, of the same year; at p. 46 of the first edition of\n [Hamilton\u2019s] Poems on Several Occasions, Glasgow, 1748. The author\n died in 1754. The copy in the second edition of Hamilton\u2019s Poems,\n 1760, p. 67, says Chalmers, is somewhat altered.\n\n In Hamilton\u2019s ballad it is a lover, and not a husband, who is slain,\n and he is thrown into the Yarrow. It is a question whether Hamilton\u2019s\n ballad did not affect tradition in the case of #J#, #K#, #L#,\n particularly #L#. The editorial Douglas in #A# 11 is from Hamilton 24.\n \u2018Wi her tears she bathed his wounds,\u2019 #I# 13^3, looks like Hamilton\n 9^1. The \u2018dule and sorrow\u2019 of #O# 4^2 is a recurring phrase in\n Hamilton, and \u2018slain the comeliest swain,\u2019 #O# 4^3, is in Hamilton\n 6^3.\n\n In Hamilton\u2019s ballad the slayer of the lover endeavors to induce the\n lady to marry _him_, as is done in the Icelandic ballad spoken of\n under No 89, II, 297 f.\n\n A song by Ramsay, T. T. M., Dublin, 1729, p. 139, has nearly the same\n first four lines as Hamilton\u2019s ballad, and these have been thought to\n be traditional.\n\nFootnote 108:\n\n Minstrelsy, 1833, III, 144. For a criticism of Sir Walter Scott\u2019s\n remarks and a correction of some errors, with much new information,\n see Mr T. Craig-Brown\u2019s History of Selkirkshire, Edinburgh, 1886, I,\n 14\u201316, 311\u201315, of which work grateful use is here made.\n\nFootnote 109:\n\n Buchan\u2019s note to #E# is, for a wonder, to the purpose. With his usual\n simplicity, he informs us that \u201cthe unfortunate hero of this ballad\n was a factor to the laird of Kinmundy.\u201d He then goes on to say: \u201cAs\n the young woman to whom he was to be united in connubial wedlock\n resided in Gamery, a small fishing-town on the east coast of the\n Murray Frith, the marriage was to be solemnized in the church of that\n parish; to which he was on his way when overtaken by some of the\n breakers which overflow a part of the road he had to pass, and dash\n with impetuous fury against the lofty and adamantine rocks with which\n it is skirted.\u201d I, 315.\n\nFootnote 110:\n\n Professor Veitch has remarked on the incongruousness of this stanza in\n Blackwood\u2019s Magazine, June, 1890, p. 739 ff. Something like it, but\n adjusted to the circumstances of a maid, occurs in the ballad which he\n there prints as the \u201cOriginal Ballad of the Dowie Dens.\u201d See No 214,\n p. 174, #L# 19.\n\nFootnote 111:\n\n Mr Macmath informs me that in \u201cA Collection of Old Ballads, etc.,\n printed at Edinburgh between the years 1660 and 1720,\u201d No 7228 of the\n catalogue issued by John Stevenson, Edinburgh, 1827, there is this\n item: \u201cBe valiant still, etc., a new song much in request; also Logan\n Water, or, A Lover in Captivity.\u201d\n\nFootnote 112:\n\n \u201cHire a horse,\u201d in an \u201cold fragment\u201d?\u2014Cunningham gives the first two\n stanzas of the ballad, with variations in the first, in his edition of\n Burns, 1834, V, 107.\n\nFootnote 113:\n\n This volume came in 1836 into the hands of Motherwell\u2019s friend, Mr P.\n A. Ramsay. The entries have been communicated to me by Mr Macmath.\n\nFootnote 114:\n\n The cane in 18^1 of this copy is a touch of \u201crealism\u201d which we have\n had in a late copy of Tam Lin; see #J# 16, III, 505.\n\nFootnote 115:\n\n The attempt to lessen the disproportion of the match seems to me a\n decidedly modern trait. In #H# 27, 28, this goes so far that the maid\n has twenty ploughs and three against the laird\u2019s thirty and three. In\n #M# 3\u20135, the maid\u2019s father was once a landed laird, but gambles away\n his estate, and then both father and mother take to drinking!\n\nFootnote 116:\n\n Of #D#, W. Laidlaw writes as follows, September 11, 1802: \u201cI had the\n surprise of a visit from my crack-brained acquaintance Mr Bartram of\n Biggar, the other day. He brought me a copy of the \u2018Laird of\n Laminton,\u2019 which has greatly disappointed my expectations. It is\n composed of those you have and some nonsense. But it overturns the\n tradition of this country, for it makes the wedding and battle to have\n been at Lauchinwar.\u201d Letters addressed to Sir Walter Scott, I, No 73,\n Abbotsford.\n\n For the particulars of the compilation of the copies in the\n Minstrelsy, see the notes to #B#, #C#.\n\nFootnote 117:\n\n This phrase, owing to the accidents of tradition, comes in without\n much pertinency in some places; as in #A# 11, #K# 22, where _she_ gars\n the trumpet sound foul play (altered in #J# 17, 18, to \u2018a weel won\n play\u2019 and \u2018a\u2019 fair play\u2019).\n\nFootnote 118:\n\n And in #A#, as here printed; but in the MS., by misplacement of 3, 5,\n the _lover_ is absurdly made to omit telling the lass till her\n wedding-day.\n\nFootnote 119:\n\n Four-and-twenty bonnie boys of the bridegroom\u2019s party are in #C# 13\n clad in \u2018the simple gray;\u2019 for which Scott reads \u2018Johnstone grey,\u2019\n \u2018the livery of the ancient family of Johnstone.\u2019 This circumstance,\n says this editor, appears to support #J#, \u201cwhich gives Katharine the\n surname of Johnstone.\u201d But the grey is the livery of Lord\n \u2018Faughanwood\u2019 in #C#, and the Johnstone seems to be a purely\n capricious venture of Scott\u2019s.\n\nFootnote 120:\n\n \u201cCaddon bank,\u201d says W. Laidlaw in a letter to Scott, September 28,\n [1802], \u201cis a very difficult pass on Tweedside opposite Innerliethen.\n The road is now formed through the plantation of firs. The bank is\n exceedingly steep, and I would not think it difficult even yet with\n ten clever fellows to give a hundred horsemen a vast of trouble.\u201d\n Letters addressed to Sir Walter Scott, I, No 74, Abbotsford.\u2014Callien,\n etc., may be taken to be corruptions of Caden. Foudlin, in the\n northern #K#, might be Foudland, Aberdeenshire.\n\nFootnote 121:\n\n The heroine of this ballad, an historical lady of high rank, was the\n third in a regular line to be forcibly carried off by a lover. The\n date is 1287. Her mother and her grandmother were taken by the strong\n hand out of a convent in 1245 and about 1210; these much against their\n will, the other not so reluctantly, according to ballads in which they\n are celebrated, for curiously enough each has her ballad. See\n Grundtvig, vol. iii, Nos 138, 155, and No. 181, as above, and his\n remarks, p. 234, third note, and p. 738 f.\n\nFootnote 122:\n\n At the end of the account of the parish of Livingstone, in The\n Statistical Account of Scotland, XX, 17, 1798, there is this\n paragraph: \u201cIt may also be expected that something should be said of\n the Bonny Lass of Livingstone, so famed in song; but although this\n ballad and the air to which it is sung seem to have as little claim to\n antiquity as they have to merit, yet we cannot give any satisfactory\n information upon the subject. All we can say is, that we have heard\n that she kept a public house at a place called the High House of\n Livingstone, about a mile west of the church; that she was esteemed\n handsome, and knew how to turn her charms to the best account.\u201d Dr\n Robertson, at the place above cited, treats this passage as pertaining\n to the ballad before us. But the reference is certainly to a song\n known as the \u201cLass o Livingston,\u201d beginning, \u2018The bonie lass o\n Liviston;\u2019 concerning which see Cromek\u2019s Reliques of Robert Burns, p.\n 204 of the edition of 1817, and Johnson\u2019s Museum, IV, 18, 1853.\n\nFootnote 123:\n\n I will add one more corn to a heap. \u201cMrs Wharton, who was lately\n stole, is returned home to her friends, having been married against\n her consent to Captain Campbell\u201d (November, 1690). Luttrell\u2019s\n Relation, II, 130. There is partial comfort, but somewhat cold, in the\n fact that the ravisher was in many cases ultimately unsuccessful in\n his object, as he is in all the ballads here given.\n\nFootnote 124:\n\n I owe the knowledge of these letters to Mr Macmath, who sent me a copy\n that he was allowed to make by the courtesy of the Messrs Brodie of\n Edinburgh, in whose possession they now are.\n\nFootnote 125:\n\n \u201cBeing her guardian as well as waiting-maid, as appointed by old Mrs\n Gibb when on her death-bed, they being, as the saying is, cousins once\n removed.\u201d Letter of July 30.\n\nFootnote 126:\n\n The jury, in James\u2019s trial, brought in a special verdict with the\n intent to save his life, but no such effort was made in favor of Rob\n Oig, though there was a mitigating circumstance in his case. For Jean\n Key \u201chad informed her friends that, on the night of her being carried\n off, Robin Oig, moved by her cries and tears, had partly consented to\n let her return, when James came up, with a pistol in his hand, and\n asking whether he was such a coward as to relinquish an enterprise in\n which he had risked everything to procure him a fortune, in a manner\n compelled his brother to persevere.\u201d It may be remarked, by the way,\n that Duncan MacGregor had his trial as well, but was found not guilty.\n (Scott, Introduction to \u201cRob Roy,\u201d which I have mostly followed,\n introducing passages from the indictment in James MacGregor\u2019s case\n when brevity would allow.)\n\nFootnote 127:\n\n \u201cSuch, at least, was his general character; for when James Mohr [the\n Big], while perpetrating the violence at Edinbelly, called out, in\n order to overawe opposition, that Glengyle was lying in the moor with\n a hundred men to patronise his enterprise, Jean Key told him he lied,\n since she was confident Glengyle would never countenance so\n scoundrelly a business.\u201d Scott, Introduction to \u201cRob Roy,\u201d ed. 1846,\n p. c.\n\nFootnote 128:\n\n \u201cLeezie Lindsay from a maid-servant in Aberdeen, taken down by\n Professor Scott:\u201d Jamieson to Scott, November, 1804, Letters addressed\n to Sir Walter Scott, I, No 117, Abbotsford.\n\nFootnote 129:\n\n It would have come in earlier (as No 195), had it been discovered in\n time.\n\nFootnote 130:\n\n \u201cIt is a received superstition in Scotland,\u201d says Motherwell, \u201cthat\n when friends or lovers part at a bridge they shall never again meet.\u201d\n Surely, lovers who were of this way of thinking would not appoint a\n bridge for a meeting.\n\nFootnote 131:\n\n But not homely enough while #C# 2, 42 are retained. The mystical\n verses with which #A# and #B# begin are also not quite artless.\n\nFootnote 132:\n\n The Scotsman newspaper, November 16, 1888.\n\nFootnote 133:\n\n Buchan, by the Rev. John B. Pratt, 3d ed., 1870, p. 324 f.\n\nFootnote 134:\n\n An Aberdeen newspaper of April, 1885, from which I have a cutting.\n\nFootnote 135:\n\n Buchan gives the year as 1631, and is followed by Chambers and Aytoun.\n The original tombstone having become \u201cdecayed,\u201d Mr Gordon of Fyvie had\n it replaced in 1845 with \u201ca fac-simile in every respect.\u201d A headstone\n in the form of a cross of polished granite was added in 1869, by\n public subscription. (New Statistical Account of Scotland, XII, 325;\n Mill o Tifty\u2019s Annie, Peterhead, 1872, p. 4.)\n\nFootnote 136:\n\n \u201cI have lately, by rummaging in a by-corner of my memory, found some\n Aberdeenshire ballads which totally escaped me before. They are of a\n different class from those I sent you, not near so ancient, but may be\n about a century ago. I cannot boast much of their poetical merits, but\n the family incidents upon which they are founded, the local allusions\n which they contain, may perhaps render them curious and not\n uninteresting to many people. They are as follows: 1st, \u2018The Baron of\n Braichly\u2019 [No 203]; 2d, \u2018The Lass of Philorth [No 239 ?];\u2019 3d, \u2018The\n Tryal of the Laird of Gycht\u2019 [No 209]; 4th, \u2018The Death of the Countess\n of Aboyne\u2019 [No 235]; 5[th], \u2018The Carrying-off of the Heiress of\n Kinady.\u2019 All these I can recollect pretty exactly. I never saw any of\n them either in print or manuscript, but have kept them entirely from\n hearing them sung when a child.\u201d Letter to Alexander Fraser Tytler,\n December 23, 1800.\n\n \u2018Charlie MacPherson\u2019 should have been put with Nos 221\u20135.\n\nFootnote 137:\n\n Epitaphs and Inscriptions . . . in the North East of Scotland, by\n Andrew Jervise, 1875, I, 17. (W. Macmath.)\n\nFootnote 138:\n\n The House of Drum is a well-known mansion in Liberton, near Edinburgh,\n and there is a note to #F a# importing (wrongly) that the ballad\n refers to this place.\n\nFootnote 139:\n\n Lady Jean Gordon was divorced from the Earl of Bothwell in 1567,\n \u201cbeing then twenty years of age,\u201d says Sir Robert Gordon. His\n continuator puts her death at 1629, in her eighty-fourth year.\n Genealogy of the Earls of Sutherland, pp. 143, 145, 169, 469.\n\nFootnote 140:\n\n There is, to tell the whole truth, an allusion in #A#, #H# to Jean\u2019s\n portion, or tocher, as not being sufficient to justify the breaking of\n a previous engagement. One would wish to think that \u2018portion\u2019 in #A# 5\n is a corruption of \u2018fortune,\u2019 and that what is meant is that her luck\n is hard. But tocher in #H# 3 is not easily disposed of.\n\nFootnote 141:\n\n The gross and uncalled-for language of father and mother in #A# 7, 10,\n has slipped in by a mere trick of memory, I am convinced, from \u2018Lady\n Maisry,\u2019 No 65, #B#, #C#. See again the ballad which follows this.\n\nFootnote 142:\n\n I owe the knowledge of Marshall\u2019s and Fittis\u2019s publications to Mr\n Macmath.\n\nFootnote 143:\n\n Carruthers, Abbotsford Notanda, appended to R. Chambers\u2019s Life of\n Scott, 1871, p. 122.\n\n In the last edition of Sharpe\u2019s Ballad Book (1880), p. 158, we find\n this note by Scott: \u201cI remember something of another ballad of\n diablerie. A man sells himself to the fause thief for a term of years,\n and the devil comes to claim his forfeit. He implores for mercy, or at\n least reprieve, and, if granted, promises this:\n\n \u2018And I will show how the lilies grow\n On the banks of Italy.\u2019\n\n Satan, being no horticulturist, pays no attention to this proffer.\u201d\n Scott\u2019s memory seems to have gone quite astray here.\n\nFootnote 144:\n\n Why the ghost should wait four years, and what is meant in st. 18 by\n his travelling seven years, it is not easy to understand. The author\n would probably take up the impregnable position that he was simply\n relating the facts as they occurred.\n\nFootnote 145:\n\n We must not be critical about copies which have been patched by\n tradition, but #F# 3 is singularly out of place for a \u201cd\u00e6mon lover.\u201d\n\nFootnote 146:\n\n Justifying Thackeray\u2019s \u2018Little Billee.\u2019\n\nFootnote 147:\n\n Five are named in #C# 3, 4, but that is too many to allow. Probably\n two versions may have been combined here. #B# has only the three\n mentioned in #C# 4; the three of #A# 3 are repeated in #A# 9; and\n there are three only in #E# 7\u20139. The Black Burgess of #C# 3 occurs in\n #A# 3, and \u2018the smack calld (caud) Twine\u2019 of #C# 3 looks like a\n corruption of \u2018the small (sma\u2019) Cordvine.\u2019\n\nFootnote 148:\n\n In a note at the end of #E# (which he regarded as a variety of \u2018Sir\n Patrick Spens\u2019), Burton says: \u201cThere appears to be still lurking in\n some part of Aberdeenshire a totally different version of this ballad,\n connected with the localities of the North [that is, not with\n Dunfermline, with which \u2018Young Allan\u2019 has no concern, or with Linn or\n Lee, which are in Outopia]. A person who remembered having heard it\n said that it ends happily, with the mariners drinking the bluid-red\n wine at Aberdeen. It mentions Bennachie, or the Hill of Mist, a\n celebrated hill in Aberdeenshire, which is seen far out at sea, and\n seems to have guided the gallant mariner to the shore.\u201d All the copies\n \u201cend happily\u201d so far as Young Allan is concerned, and this is all that\n we are supposed to care for.\n\nFootnote 149:\n\n Mr Macmath informs me that all the traditional pieces in \u201cScottish\n Songs\u201d are in the hand of Scott, of about 1795. At folio 11 (the top\n part of which has been torn away), Scott says: \u201cThese ballads are all\n in the Northern dialect, but I recollect several of them as recited in\n the south of Scotland divested of their Norlandisms, and also varying\n considerably in other respects. In a few instances where my memory\n served me, I have adopted either additional verses or better readings\n than those in Mr Tytler\u2019s collection. Such variations can excite no\n reasonable surprise in any species of composition which owes\n preservation to oral tradition only.\u201d\n\nFootnote 150:\n\n \u2018C,\u2019 safely to be identified with John Wilson Croker, says Colonel W.\n F. Prideaux, who, in Notes and Queries, VI, xii, 223, has brought\n together most of the matter pertaining to this ballad. If Colonel\n Prideaux\u2019s supposition is well founded, \u2018The Grey Cock\u2019 was known in\n Ireland in the last century.\n\nFootnote 151:\n\n Scott suggested that the passage in Knox was the foundation of the\n ballad, January, 1802, in the first edition of his Minstrelsy, where\n only three stanzas were given. The Rev. Mr Paxton, however, first saw\n Scott\u2019s fragment not long before 1804, and then in the second number\n of the Edinburgh Review, where there is no mention of the apothecary.\n Thereupon, he says, I \u201cinstantly\u201d wrote the enclosed piece from the\n mouth of my aged mother. There is no room, consequently, for the\n supposition that either mother or son might have taken a hint from\n Knox, and put in the pottinger.\n\nFootnote 152:\n\n Compare here \u2018Adam Bell,\u2019 V, 28, stanzas 125, 128.\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n TRANSCRIBER\u2019S NOTES\n\n\n Page Changed from Changed to\n\n 49 Motherwelll\u2019s MS. Motherwell\u2019s MS.\n\n 2^1. wi birk and brume. Note: The \u2018i\u2019 in \u201cbirk\u201d appears\n 77 to have a ring instead of a\n dot.\n\n #O.# \u2018Lord Jamie Douglas,\u2019 \u201c#N.# \u2018Lord Jamie Douglas,\u2019\n Motherwell\u2019s Minstrelsy, Motherwell\u2019s Minstrelsy,\n Appendix, p. v, the last three Appendix, p. v, the last three\n 90 stanzas. stanzas.\n #N.# \u2018Jamie Douglas,\u2019 #O.# \u2018Jamie Douglas,\u2019\n Motherwell\u2019s Minstrelsy, Motherwell\u2019s Minstrelsy,\n Appendix, p. xvii, IX, one Appendix, p. xvii, IX, one\n stanza. stanza.\n\n 1. Except as noted, all spelling errors were left uncorrected.\n 2. All punctuation was left uncorrected, except as follows.\n 3. A beginning or ending quote mark was added for obviously unbalanced\n pairs of quotes.\n 4. Full stops and commas were made consistent for the verse & line\n references, for example, \u201c12^1,\u201d was corrected to \u201c12^1.\u201d\n 5. Footnotes have been re-indexed using numbers and collected together\n at the end of the last chapter.\n 6. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.\n 7. Enclosed bold font in #number signs#.\n 8. Enclosed letter spaced font in _double angle quotation marks_.\n 9. Superscripts are denoted by a caret before a single superscript\n character or a series of superscripted characters enclosed in\n curly braces, e.g. M^r. or M^{ister}.\n10. Superscript letters centered over subscript periods or colons are\n denoted by [th :].","title":"The English and Scottish popular ballads, volume 4 (of 5)","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":302885}