Volume 2 / Book 2 — BOOK II.

Glasgerion was a kings owne sonne, And a harper he was goode; He harped in the kings chambere, Where cuppe and caudle stoode, And soe did hee in the queens chambere,5 Till ladies waxed wood, And then bespake the kinges daughter, And these wordes thus shee sayd:— "Strike on, strike on, Glasgerion, Of thy striking doe not blinne;10 Theres never a stroke comes oer thy harpe, But it glads my hart withinne." "Faire might him fall, ladye," quoth hee, "Who taught you nowe to speake! I have loved you, ladye, seven longe yeere,15 My harte I neere durst breake." "But come to my bower, my Glasgerion, When all men are att rest: As I am a ladie true of my promise, Thou shalt bee a welcome guest."20 Home then came Glasgerion, A glad man, lord! was hee: "And, come thou hither, Jacke my boy, Come hither unto mee. "For the kinges daughter of Normandye25 Hath granted mee my boone; And att her chambere must I bee Beffore the cocke have crowen." "O master, master," then quoth hee, "Lay your head downe on this stone;30 For I will waken you, master deere, Afore it be time to gone." But up then rose that lither ladd, And hose and shoone did on; A coller he cast upon his necke,35 Hee seemed a gentleman. And when he came to the ladyes chamber, He thrild upon a pinn: The lady was true of her promise, And rose and lett him inn.40 He did not take the lady gaye To boulster nor to bed: [Nor thoughe hee had his wicked wille, A single word he sed.] He did not kisse that ladyes mouthe,45 Nor when he came, nor yode: And sore that ladye did mistrust, He was of some churls bloud. But home then came that lither ladd, And did off his hose and shoone;50 And cast the coller from off his necke: He was but a churlès sonne. "Awake, awake, my deere master, The cock hath well-nigh crowen; Awake, awake, my master deere,55 I hold it time to be gone. "For I have saddled your horsse, master, Well bridled I have your steede, And I have served you a good breakfast, For thereof ye have need."60 Up then rose good Glasgerion, And did on hose and shoone, And cast a coller about his necke: For he was a kinge his sonne. And when he came to the ladyes chambere,65 He thrilled upon the pinne; The ladye was more than true of promise, And rose and let him inn. "O whether have you left with me Your bracelet or your glove?70 Or are you returned back againe To know more of my love?" Glasgerion swore a full great othe, By oake, and ashe, and thorne; "Ladye, I was never in your chambere,75 Sith the time that I was borne." "O then it was your lither foot-page, He hath beguiled mee:" Then shee pulled forth a little pen-knìffe, That hanged by her knee.80 Sayes, "there shall never noe churlès blood Within my bodye spring: No churlès blood shall e'er defile The daughter of a kinge." Home then went Glasgerion,85 And woe, good lord! was hee: Sayes, "come thou hither, Jacke my boy, Come hither unto mee. "If I had killed a man to-night, Jack, I would tell it thee:90 But if I have not killed a man to-night, Jacke, thou hast killed three." And he puld out his bright browne sword, And dryed it on his sleeve, And he smote off that lither ladds head,95 Who did his ladye grieve. He sett the swords poynt till his brest, The pummil untill a stone: Throw the falsenesse of that lither ladd, These three lives werne all gone.100

Glenkindie was ance a harper gude, He harped to the king; And Glenkindie was ance the best harper That ever harp'd on a string. He'd harpit a fish out o' saut water,5 Or water out o' a stane; Or milk out o' a maiden's breast, That bairn had never nane. He's taen his harp intil his hand, He harpit and he sang;10 And ay as he harpit to the king, To haud him unthought lang. "I'll gie you a robe, Glenkindie, A robe o' the royal pa', Gin ye will harp i' the winter's night15 Afore my nobles a'." And the king but and his nobles a' Sat birling at the wine; And he wad hae but his ae dochter, To wait on them at dine.20 He's taen his harp intill his hand, He's harpit them a' asleep, Except it was the young countess, That love did waukin keep. And first he has harpit a grave tune,25 And syne he has harpit a gay; And mony a sich atween hands I wat the lady gae. Says, "Whan day is dawen, and cocks hae crawen, And wappit their wings sae wide,30 It's ye may come to my bower door, And streek you by my side. "But look that ye tell na Gib your man, For naething that ye dee; For, an ye tell him, Gib your man,35 He'll beguile baith you and me." He's taen his harp intill his hand; He harpit and he sang; And he is hame to Gib his man, As fast as he could gang.40 "O mith I tell you, Gib, my man, Gin I a man had slain?" "O that ye micht, my gude master, Altho' ye had slain ten." "Then tak ye tent now, Gib, my man,45 My bidden for to dee; And, but an ye wauken me in time, Ye sall be hangit hie. "Whan day has dawen, and cocks hae crawen, And wappit their wings sae wide,50 I'm bidden gang till yon lady's bower, And streek me by her side." "Gae hame to your bed, my good master; Ye've waukit, I fear, o'er lang; For I'll wauken you in as good time,55 As ony cock i' the land." He's taen his harp intill his hand, He harpit and he sang, Until he harpit his master asleep, Syne fast awa did gang.60 And he is till that lady's bower, As fast as he could rin; When he cam till that lady's bower, He chappit at the chin. "O wha is this," says that lady,65 "That opens nae and comes in?" "It's I, Glenkindie, your ain true love, O open and lat me in!" She kent he was nae gentle knicht That she had latten in;70 For neither whan he gaed nor cam, Kist he her cheek or chin. He neither kist her whan he cam, Nor clappit her when he gaed; And in and at her bower window,75 The moon shone like the gleed. "O, ragged is your hose, Glenkindie, And riven is your sheen, And reavel'd is your yellow hair That I saw late yestreen."80 "The stockings they are Gib my man's, They came first to my hand; And this is Gib my man's shoon; At my bed feet they stand. I've reavell'd a' my yellow hair85 Coming against the wind." He's taen the harp intill his hand, He harpit and he sang, Until he cam to his master, As fast as he could gang.90 "Won up, won up, my good master; I fear ye sleep o'er lang; There's nae a cock in a' the land But has wappit his wings and crawn." Glenkindie's tane his harp in hand,95 He harpit and he sang, And he has reach'd the lady's bower, Afore that e'er he blan. When he cam to the lady's bower, He chappit at the chin;100 "O, wha is that at my bower door, That opens na and comes in?" "It's I, Glenkindie, your ain true love, And in I canna win." * * * * * * * "Forbid it, forbid it," says that lady,105 "That ever sic shame betide; That I should first be a wild loon's lass, And than a young knight's bride." There was nae pity for that lady, For she lay cald and dead;110 But a' was for him, Glenkindie, In bower he must go mad. He'd harpit a fish out o' saut water; The water out o' a stane; The milk out o' a maiden's breast,115 That bairn had never nane. He's taen his harp intill his hand; Sae sweetly as it rang, And wae and weary was to hear Glenkindie's dowie sang.120 But cald and dead was that lady, Nor heeds for a' his maen; An he wad harpit till domisday, She'll never speak again. He's taen his harp intill his hand;125 He harpit and he sang; And he is hame to Gib his man As fast as he could gang. "Come forth, come forth, now, Gib, my man, Till I pay you your fee;130 Come forth, come forth, now, Gib, my man; Weel payit sall ye be!" And he has taen him, Gib, his man, And he has hang'd him hie; And he's hangit him o'er his ain yate,135 As high as high could be.

"He harped the bark from every tree, And he harped the young from folk and from fee. "He harped the hind from the wild-wood home, He harped the bairn from its mother's womb."

"Villemand takes his harp in his hand, He goes down by the water to stand. "He struck the harp with his hand, And the fish leapt out upon the strand."

"The king but and his nobles a' Sat birling at the wine, [bis] He would hae nane but his ae daughter To wait on them at dine. "She served them but, she served them ben, Intill a gown o' green; But her e'e was ay on Brown Robin, That stood low under the rain," &c.

"O first he sang a merry song, And then he sang a grave; And then he pecked his feathers gray, To her the letter gave."

"And some they whistled and some they sung, Hey, down, down! And some did loudly say, Ever as the lord Barnet's horn blew, Away, Musgrave, away."

As it fell one holy-day, hay downe, As manybe in the yeare, When young men and maids together did goe, Their mattins and masse to heare, Little Musgrave came to the church dore,5 The preist was at private masse; But he had more minde of the faire women, Then he had of our ladys grace. The one of them was clad in green, Another was clad in pall;10 And then came in my lord Barnards wife, The fairest amonst them all. She cast an eye on little Musgrave, As bright as the summer sun, And then bethought this little Musgrave,15 "This ladys heart have I woonn." Quoth she, "I have loved thee, little Musgrave, Full long and many a day:" "So have I loved you, fair lady, Yet never word durst I say."20 "I have a bower at Buckelsfordbery, Full daintyly it is deight; If thou wilt wend thither, thou little Musgrave, Thou's lig in mine armes all night." Quoth he, "I thank yee, faire lady,25 This kindnes thou showest to me; But whether it be to my weal or woe, This night I will lig with thee." All that heard a little tinny page, By his ladyes coach as he ran:30 [Quoth he,] "allthough I am my ladyes foot-page, Yet I am lord Barnards man. "My lord Barnard shall knowe of this, Whether I sink or swimm:" And ever where the bridges were broake,35 He laid him downe to swimme. "Asleepe, awake! thou lord Barnard, As thou art a man of life; For little Musgrave is at Bucklesfordbery, Abed with thy own wedded wife."40 "If this be true, thou little tinny page, This thing thou tellest to mee, Then all the land in Bucklesfordbery I freely will give to thee. "But if it be a ly, thou little tinny page,45 This thing thou tellest to me, On the hyest tree in Bucklesfordbery There hanged shalt thou be." He called up his merry men all:— "Come saddle me my steed;50 This night must I to Buckellsfordbery, For I never had greater need." And some of them whistl'd, and some of them sung, And some these words did say, Ever when my lord Barnards horn blew,55 "Away, Musgrave, away!" "Methinks I hear the thresel-cock, Methinks I hear the jaye; Methinks I hear my Lord Barnard,— And I would I were away."60 "Lye still, lye still, thou little Musgrave, And huggell me from the cold; Tis nothing but a shephards boy, A driving his sheep to the fold. "Is not thy hawke upon a perch?65 Thy steed eats oats and hay, And thou [a] fair lady in thine armes,— And wouldst thou bee away?" With that my lord Barnard came to the dore, And lit a stone upon;70 He plucked out three silver keys, And he open'd the dores each one. He lifted up the coverlett, He lifted up the sheet; "How now, how now, thou little Musgrave,75 Doest thou find my lady sweet?" "I find her sweet," quoth little Musgrave, "The more 'tis to my paine; I would gladly give three hundred pounds That I were on yonder plaine."80 "Arise, arise, thou littell Musgrave, And put thy clothés on; It shal ne'er be said in my country, I have killed a naked man. "I have two swords in one scabberd,85 Full deere they cost my purse; And thou shalt have the best of them, And I will have the worse." The first stroke that little Musgrave stroke, He hurt Lord Barnard sore;90 The next stroke that Lord Barnard stroke, Little Musgrave ne're struck more. With that bespake this faire lady, In bed whereas she lay; "Although thou'rt dead, thou little Musgrave,95 Yet I for thee will pray; "And wish well to thy soule will I, So long as I have life; So will I not for thee, Barnard, Although I am thy wedded wife."100 He cut her paps from off her brest, (Great pity it was to see,) That some drops of this ladies heart's blood Ran trickling downe her knee. "Woe worth you, woe worth [you], my mery men all,105 You were ne're borne for my good; Why did you not offer to stay my hand, When ye saw me wax so wood! "For I have slaine the bravest sir knight That ever rode on steed;110 So have I done the fairest lady That ever did womans deed. "A grave, a grave," Lord Barnard cryd, "To put these lovers in; But lay my lady on [the] upper hand,115 For she came of the better kin."

'There was a knight, on a summer's night, Was riding o'er the lee, diddle; And there he saw a bonny birdy Was singing on a tree, diddle: O wow for day, diddle! And dear gin it were day! Gin it were day, and I were away, For I ha'ena lang time to stay.'

Lord Randal wight, on a summer's night, Was riding o'er the lee, And there he saw a bonny birdie Was singin' on a tree: "O wow for day!5 And dear gin it were day! Gin it were day, and I were away, For I ha'ena lang time to stay! "Mak haste, mak haste, ye wicht baron; What keeps ye here sae late?10 Gin ye kent what was doing at hame, I trow ye wad look blate. "And O wow for day! And dear gin it were day. Gin it were day, and ye were away;15 For ye ha'ena lang time to stay!" "O what needs I toil day and night, My fair body to spill, When I ha'e knichts at my command, And ladies at my will?"20 "O weel is he, ye wight baron, Has the blear drawn o'er his e'e; But your lady has a knight in her arms twa, That she lo'es far better nor thee. "And O wow for day!25 And dear gin it were day! Gin it were day, and ye were away; For ye ha'ena lang time to stay!" "Ye lie, ye lie, ye bonny birdie; How you lie upon my sweet;30 I will tak out my bonny bow, And in troth I will you sheet." "But afore ye ha'e your bow weel bent, And a' your arrows yare, I will flee till anither tree,35 Whare I can better fare. "And O wow for day And dear gin it were day! Gin it were day, and I were away; For I ha'ena lang time to stay!"40 "O whare was ye gotten, and where was ye clecked, My bonny birdie, tell me?" "O, I was clecked in good green wood, Intill a holly tree; A baron sae bald my nest herried,45 And ga'e me to his ladie. "Wi' good white bread, and farrow-cow milk, He bade her feed me aft; And ga'e her a little wee summer-dale wandie, To ding me sindle and saft.50 "Wi' good white bread, and farrow-cow milk, I wat she fed me nought; But wi' a little wee summer-dale wandie, She dang me sair and oft:— Gin she had done as ye her bade,55 I wadna tell how she has wrought. "And O wow for day! And dear gin it were day! Gin it were day, and ye were away; For ye ha'ena lang time to stay."60 Lord Randal rade, and the birdie flew, The live-lang summer's night, Till he cam till his lady's bower-door, Then even down he did light. The birdie sat on the crap o' a tree,65 And I wat it sang fu' dight: "O wow for day! And dear gin it were day! Gin it were day, and I were away; For I ha'ena lang time to stay!"70 * * * * * * * "O wow for day! And dear gin it were day! Gin it were day, and ye were away; For ye ha'ena lang time to stay!" "Now Christ assoile me o' my sin,"75 The fause knight he could say; "It's nae for nought that the hawk whistles; And I wish that I were away! "And O wow for day! And dear gin it were day!80 Gin it were day, and I were away; For I ha'ena lang time to stay!" "What needs ye lang for day, And wish that ye were away? Is na your hounds in my cellar85 Eating white meal and gray?" "Yet, O wow for day! And dear gin it were day! Gin it were day, and I were away, For I ha'ena lang time to stay!"90 "Is na your horse in my stable, Eating good corn and hay? Is na your hawk on my perch tree, Just perching for his prey? And isna yoursel in my arms twa;95 Then how can ye lang for day?" "Yet, O wow for day! And dear gin it were day! Gin it were day, and I were away, For I ha'ena lang time to stay.100 "Yet, O wow for day! And dear gin it were day! For he that's in bed wi' anither man's wife, Has never lang time to stay." * * * * * * * Then out Lord Randal drew his brand,105 And straiked it o'er a strae; And through and through the fause knight's waste He gar'd cald iron gae; And I hope ilk ane sall sae be serv'd, That treats an honest man sae!110

Gil Morrice was an erles son, His name it waxed wide: It was nae for his great riches, Nor zet his mickle pride; Bot it was for a lady gay5 That liv'd on Carron side. "Quhair sall I get a bonny boy, That will win hose and shoen; That will gae to Lord Barnard's ha', And bid his lady cum?10 "And ze maun rin my errand, Willie, And ze may rin wi' pride; Quhen other boys gae on their foot, On horseback ze sall ride." "O no! O no! my master dear!15 I dare nae for my life; I'll no gae to the bauld barons, For to triest furth his wife." "My bird Willie, my boy Willie, My dear Willie," he sayd:20 "How can ze strive against the stream? For I sall be obeyd." "Bot, O my master dear!" he cry'd, "In grene wod ze're zour lain; Gi owre sic thochts, I walde ze rede,25 For fear ze should be tain." "Haste, haste, I say, gae to the ha', Bid hir cum here wi' speid: If ze refuse my heigh command, I'll gar zour body bleid.30 "Gae bid hir take this gay mantel, 'T is a' gowd bot the hem; Bid hir cum to the gude grene wode, And bring nane hot hir lain: "And there it is, a silken sarke,35 Hir ain hand sewd the sleive; And bid hir cum to Gill Morice, Speir nae bauld barons leave." "Yes, I will gae zour black errand, Though it be to zour cost;40 Sen ze by me will nae be warn'd, In it ze sall find frost. "The baron he is a man of might, He neir could bide to taunt; As ze will see, before it's nicht,45 How sma' ze hae to vaunt. "And sen I maun zour errand rin Sae sair against my will, I'se mak a vow and keip it trow, It sall be done for ill."50 And quhen he came to broken brigue, He bent his bow and swam; And quhen he came to grass growing, Set down his feet and ran. And quhen he came to Barnard's ha',55 Would neither chap nor ca'; Bot set his bent bow to his breist, And lichtly lap the wa'. He wauld nae tell the man his errand, Though he stude at the gait;60 Bot straiht into the ha' he cam, Quhair they were set at meit. "Hail! hail! my gentle sire and dame! My message winna waite; Dame, ze maun to the gude grene wod,65 Before that it be late. "Ze're bidden tak this gay mantel, 'Tis a' gowd bot the hem: Zou maun gae to the gude grene wode, Ev'n by your sel alane.70 "And there it is, a silken sarke, Your ain hand sewd the sleive: Ze maun gae speik to Gill Morice; Speir nae bauld barons leave." The lady stamped wi' hir foot,75 And winked wi' hir ee; But a' that she could say or do, Forbidden he wad nae bee. "It's surely to my bow'r-woman; It neir could be to me."80 "I brocht it to Lord Barnard's lady; I trow that ze be she." Then up and spack the wylie nurse, (The bairn upon hir knee): "If it be cum frae Gill Morice,85 It's deir welcum to mee." "Ze leid, ze leid, ze filthy nurse, Sae loud I heird ze lee; I brocht it to Lord Barnard's lady; I trow ze be nae shee."90 Then up and spack the bauld baron, An angry man was hee; He's tain the table wi' his foot, Sae has he wi' his knee, Till siller cup and ezer dish95 In flinders he gard flee. "Gae bring a robe of zour cliding, That hings upon the pin; And I'll gae to the gude grene wode, And speik wi' zour lemman."100 "O bide at hame, now, Lord Barnard, I warde ze bide at hame; Neir wyte a man for violence, That neir wate ze wi' nane." Gil Morice sate in gude grene wode,105 He whistled and he sang: "O what mean a' the folk coming? My mother tarries lang." The baron came to the grene wode, Wi' mickle dule and care;110 And there he first spied Gill Morice Kameing his zellow hair. "Nae wonder, nae wonder, Gill Morice, My lady loed thee weel; The fairest part of my bodie115 Is blacker than thy heel. "Zet neir the less now, Gill Morice, For a' thy great beautie, Ze's rew the day ze eir was born; That head sall gae wi' me."120 Now he has drawn his trusty brand, And slait it on the strae; And thro' Gill Morice' fair body He's gar cauld iron gae. And he has tain Gill Morice' head,125 And set it on a speir: The meanest man in a' his train Has gotten that head to bear. And he has tain Gill Morice up, Laid him across his steid,130 And brocht him to his painted bowr, And laid him on a bed. The lady sat on castil wa', Beheld baith dale and doun; And there she saw Gill Morice' head135 Cum trailing to the toun. "Far better I loe that bluidy head, Bot and that zellow hair, Than Lord Barnard, and a' his lands, As they lig here and thair."140 And she has tain her Gill Morice, And kissd baith mouth and chin: "I was once as fow of Gill Morice, As the hip is o' the stean. "I got ze in my father's house,145 Wi' mickle sin and shame; I brocht thee up in gude green wode, Under the heavy rain. "Oft have I by thy cradle sitten, And fondly seen thee sleip;150 Bot now I gae about thy grave, The saut tears for to weip." And syne she kissd his bluidy cheik, And syne his bluidy chin: "O better I loe my Gill Morice155 Than a' my kith and kin!" "Away, away, ze il woman, And an ill deith mait ze dee: Gin I had ken'd he'd bin zour son, He'd neir bin slain for mee."160

His face was fair, lang was his hair, In the wild woods he staid; But his fame was for a fair lady That lived on Carronside.

His hair was like the threeds of gold Drawne frae Minerva's loome; His lipps like roses drapping dew; His breath was a' perfume. His brow was like the mountain snae Gilt by the morning beam; His cheeks like living roses glow; His een like azure stream. The boy was clad in robes of grene, Sweete as the infant spring; And like the mavis on the bush, He gart the vallies ring.

That sweetly wavd around his face, That face beyond compare; He sang sae sweet, it might dispel A' rage but fell dispair.

"Obraid me not, my Lord Barnard! Obraid me not for shame! Wi' that saim speir, O pierce my heart! And put me out o' pain. "Since nothing bot Gill Morice' head Thy jelous rage could quell, Let that saim hand now tak hir life That neir to thee did ill. "To me nae after days nor nichts Will eir be saft or kind; I'll fill the air with heavy sighs, And greet till I am blind." "Enouch of blood by me's bin spilt, Seek not zour death frae me; I rather lourd it had been my sel Than eather him or thee. "With waefo wae I hear zour plaint; Sair, sair I rew the deid, That eir this cursed hand of mine Had gard his body bleid. "Dry up zour tears, my winsome dame, Ze neir can heal the wound; Ze see his head upon the speir, His heart's blude on the ground. "I curse the hand that did the deid, The heart that thocht the ill; The feet that bore me wi' sik speid, The comely zouth to kill. "I'll ay lament for Gill Morice, As gin he were mine ain; I'll neir forget the dreiry day On which the zouth was slain."

Child Noryce is a clever young man, He wavers wi' the wind; His horse was silver shod before, With the beaten gold behind. He called to his little man John,5 Saying, "You don't see what I see; For O yonder I see the very first woman That ever loved me. "Here is a glove, a glove," he said, "Lined with the silver gris;10 You may tell her to come to the merry green wood, To speak to Child Nory. "Here is a ring, a ring," he says, "It's all gold but the stane; You may tell her to come to the merry green wood,15 And ask the leave o' nane." "So well do I love your errand, my master, But far better do I love my life; O would ye have me go to Lord Barnard's castel, To betray away his wife?"20 "O don't I give you meat," he says, "And don't I pay you fee? How dare you stop my errand?" he says; "My orders you must obey." O when he came to Lord Barnard's castel,25 He tinkled at the ring; Who was as ready as Lord Barnard himself To let this little boy in? "Here is a glove, a glove," he says, "Lined with the silver gris;30 You are bidden to come to the merry green wood, To speak to Child Nory. "Here is a ring, a ring," he says, "It's all gold but the stane: You are bidden to come to the merry green wood,35 And ask the leave o' nane." Lord Barnard he was standing by, And an angry man was he: "O little did I think there was a lord in this world My lady loved but me!"40 O he dressed himself in the Holland smocks, And garments that was gay; And he is away to the merry green wood, To speak to Child Nory. Child Noryce sits on yonder tree,45 He whistles and he sings: "O wae be to me," says Child Noryce, "Yonder my mother comes!" Child Noryce he came off the tree, His mother to take off the horse:50 "Och alace, alace," says Child Noryce, "My mother was ne'er so gross." Lord Barnard he had a little small sword, That hung low down by his knee; He cut the head off Child Noryce,55 And put the body on a tree. And when he came to his castel, And to his lady's hall, He threw the head into her lap, Saying, "Lady, there is a ball!"60 She turned up the bloody head, She kissed it frae cheek to chin: "Far better do I love this bloody head Than all my royal kin. "When I was in my father's castell,65 In my virginitie, There came a lord into the North, Gat Child Noryce with me." "O wae be to thee, Lady Margaret," he said, "And an ill death may you die;70 For if you had told me he was your son, He had ne'er been slain by me."

Clerk Saunders and may Margaret, Walked ower yon garden green; And sad and heavy was the love That fell thir twa between. "A bed, a bed," Clerk Saunders said,5 "A bed for you and me!"— "Fye na, fye na," said may Margaret, "Till anes we married be; "For in may come my seven bauld brothers, Wi' torches burning bright;10 They'll say—'We hae but ae sister, And behold she's wi' a knight!'"— "Then take the sword from my scabbard, And slowly lift the pin; And you may swear, and safe your aith,15 Ye never let Clerk Saunders in. "And take a napkin in your hand, And tie up baith your bonny een; And you may swear, and safe your aith, Ye saw me na since late yestreen."20 It was about the midnight hour, When they asleep were laid, When in and came her seven brothers, Wi' torches burning red. When in and came her seven brothers,25 Wi' torches burning bright; They said, "We hae but ae sister, And behold her lying with a knight!" Then out and spake the first o' them, "I bear the sword shall gar him die!"30 And out and spake the second o' them, "His father has nae mair than he!" And out and spake the third o' them, "I wot that they are lovers dear!" And out and spake the fourth o' them,35 "They hae been in love this mony a year!" Then out and spake the fifth o' them, "It were great sin true love to twain!" And out and spake the sixth of them, "It were shame to slay a sleeping man!"40 Then up and gat the seventh o' them, And never a word spake he; But he has striped his bright brown brand Out through Clerk Saunders' fair bodye. Clerk Saunders he started, and Margaret she turn'd45 Into his arms as asleep she lay; And sad and silent was the night That was atween thir twae. And they lay still and sleeped sound, Until the day began to daw;50 And kindly to him she did say, "It is time, true love, you were awa." But he lay still, and sleeped sound, Albeit the sun began to sheen; She looked atween her and the wa',55 And dull and drowsie were his een. Then in and came her father dear, Said—"Let a' your mourning be: I'll carry the dead corpse to the clay, And I'll come back and comfort thee."—60 "Comfort weel your seven sons, For comforted will I never be: I ween 'twas neither knave nor loon Was in the bower last night wi' me."—

——"Ye'll take me in your arms twa, Ye'll carry me into your bed, And ye may swear, and save your aith, That in your bour floor I ne'er gae'd."

The clinking bell gaed through the town, To carry the dead corse to the clay; And Clerk Saunders stood at may Margaret's window, I wot, an hour before the day. "Are ye sleeping, Margaret?" he says,5 "Or are ye waking presentlie? Give me my faith and troth again, I wot, true love, I gied to thee."— "Your faith and troth ye sall never get, Nor our true love sall never twin,10 Until ye come within my bower, And kiss me cheik and chin."— "My mouth it is full cold, Margaret, It has the smell, now, of the ground; And if I kiss thy comely mouth,15 Thy days of life will not be lang. "O cocks are crowing a merry midnight, I wot the wild fowls are boding day; Give me my faith and troth again, And let me fare me on my way."—20 "Thy faith and troth thou sall na get, And our true love shall never twin, Until ye tell what comes of women, I wot, who die in strong traiveling." "Their beds are made in the heavens high,25 Down at the foot of our good Lord's knee, Weel set about wi' gillyflowers; I wot sweet company for to see. "O cocks are crowing a merry midnight, I wot the wild fowl are boding day;30 The psalms of heaven will soon be sung, And I, ere now, will be miss'd away."— Then she has ta'en a crystal wand, And she has stroken her troth thereon; She has given it him out at the shot-window,35 Wi' mony a sad sigh, and heavy groan. "I thank ye, Marg'ret; I thank ye, Marg'ret; And aye I thank ye heartilie; Gin ever the dead come for the quick, Be sure, Marg'ret, I'll come for thee."—40 It's hosen and shoon and gown alone, She climb'd the wall, and follow'd him, Until she came to the green forest, And there she lost the sight o' him. "Is there ony room at your head, Saunders?45 Is there ony room at your feet? Or ony room at your side, Saunders, Where fain, fain, I wad sleep?"— "There's nae room at my head, Marg'ret, There's nae room at my feet;50 My bed it is full lowly now: Amang the hungry worms I sleep. "Cauld mould is my covering now, But and my winding-sheet; The dew it falls nae sooner down,55 Than my resting place is weet. "But plait a wand o' bonny birk, And lay it on my breast; And shed a tear upon my grave, And wish my saul gude rest.60 "And fair Marg'ret, and rare Marg'ret, And Marg'ret o' veritie, Gin e'er ye love another man, Ne'er love him as ye did me."— Then up and crew the milk-white cock,65 And up and crew the grey; Her lover vanish'd in the air, And she gaed weeping away.

Sweet Willie was a widow's son, And he wore a milk-white weed O; And weel could Willie read and write, Far better ride on steed O. Lady Margerie was the first ladye5 That drank to him the wine O; And aye as the healths gaed round and round, "Laddy, your love is mine O." Lady Margerie was the first ladye That drank to him the beer O;10 And aye as the healths gaed round and round, Laddy, ye're welcome here O. "You must come intill my bower, When the evening bells do ring O; And you must come intill my bower,15 When the evening mass doth sing O." He's taen four-and-twenty braid arrows, And laced them in a whang O; And he's awa to Lady Margerie's bower, As fast as he can gang O.20 He set his ae foot on the wa', And the other on a stane O; And he's kill'd a' the king's life guards, He's kill'd them every man O. "O open, open, Lady Margerie,25 Open and let me in O; The weet weets a' my yellow hair, And the dew draps on my chin O." With her feet as white as sleet, She strode her bower within O;30 And with her fingers lang and sma', She's looten sweet Willie in O. She's louted down unto his foot, To lowze sweet Willie's shoon O; The buckles were sae stiff they wadna lowze,35 The blood had frozen in O. "O Willie, O Willie, I fear that thou Hast bred me dule and sorrow; The deed that thou hast done this nicht Will kythe upon the morrow."40 In then came her father dear, And a braid sword by his gare O; And he's gien Willie, the widow's son, A deep wound and a sair O. "Lye yont, lye yont, Willie," she says,45 "Your sweat weets a' my side O; Lye yont, lye yont, Willie," she says, "For your sweat I downa bide O." She turned her back unto the wa', Her face unto the room O;50 And there she saw her auld father, Fast walking up and doun O. "Woe be to you, father," she said, "And an ill deid may you die O; For ye've killed Willie, the widow's son,55 And he would have married me O." She turned her back unto the room, Her face unto the wa' O; And with a deep and heavy sich, Her heart it brak in twa O.60

Sweet Willie was a widow's son, And milk-white was his weed; It sets him weel to bridle a horse, And better to saddle a steed, my dear, And better to saddle a steed.5 But he is on to Maisry's bower door, And tirled at the pin; "Ye sleep ye, wake ye, Lady Maisry, Ye'll open, let me come in, my dear, Ye'll open, let me come in."10 "O who is this at my bower door, Sae well that knows my name?" "It is your ain true love, Willie, If ye love me, lat me in, my dear, If ye love me, lat me in."15 Then huly, huly raise she up, For fear o' making din; Then in her arms lang and bent, She caught sweet Willie in, my dear, She caught sweet Willie in.20 She lean'd her low down to her toe, To loose her true love's sheen; But cauld, cauld were the draps o' bleed, Fell fae his trusty brand, my dear, Fell fae his trusty brand.25 "What frightfu' sight is that, my love? A frightfu' sight to see; What bluid is this on your sharp brand, O may ye not tell me, my dear? O may ye not tell me?"30 "As I came thro' the woods this night, The wolf maist worried me; O shou'd I slain the wolf, Maisry? Or shou'd the wolf slain me, my dear? Or shou'd the wolf slain me?"35 They hadna kiss'd nor love clapped, As lovers when they meet, Till up it starts her auld father, Out o' his drowsy sleep, my dear, Out o' his drowsy sleep.40 "O what's become o' my house cock Sae crouse at ane did craw? I wonder as much at my bold watch, That's nae shootin ower the wa', my dear, That's nae shooting ower the wa'.45 "My gude house cock, my only son, Heir ower my land sae free; If ony ruffian hae him slain, High hanged shall he be, my dear, High hanged shall he be."50 Then he's on to Maisry's bower door, And tirled at the pin; "Ye sleep ye, wake ye, daughter Maisry, Ye'll open, lat me come in, my dear, Ye'll open, lat me come in."55 Between the curtains and the wa', She row'd her true love then; And huly went she to the door, And let her father in, my dear, And let her father in.60 "What's become o' your maries, Maisry, Your bower it looks sae teem? What's become o' your green claithing? Your beds they are sae thin, my dear, Your beds they are sae thin."65 "Gude forgie you, father," she said, "I wish ye be't for sin; Sae aft as ye hae dreaded me, But never found me wrang, my dear, But never found me wrang."70 He turn'd him right and round about, As he'd been gaun awa'; But sae nimbly as he slippet in, Behind a screen sae sma', my dear, Behind a screen sae sma'.75 Maisry thinking a' dangers past, She to her love did say; "Come, love, and take your silent rest, My auld father's away, my dear, My auld father's away!"80 Then baith lock'd in each other's arms, They fell full fast asleep; When up it starts her auld father, And stood at their bed feet, my dear, And stood at their bed feet.85 "I think I hae the villain now, That my dear son did slay; But I shall be reveng'd on him, Before I see the day, my dear, Before I see the day."90 Then he's drawn out a trusty brand, And stroak'd it o'er a stray; And thro' and thro' sweet Willie's middle He's gart cauld iron gae, my dear, He's gart cauld iron gae.95 Then up it waken'd Lady Maisry, Out o' her drowsy sleep; And when she saw her true love slain, She straight began to weep, my dear, She straight began to weep.100 "O gude forgie you now, father," she said, "I wish ye be't for sin; For I never lov'd a love but ane, In my arms ye've him slain, my dear, In my arms ye've him slain."105 "This night he's slain my gude bold watch, Thirty stout men and twa; Likewise he's slain your ae brother, To me was worth them a', my dear, To me was worth them a'."110 "If he has slain my ae brither, Himsell had a' the blame; For mony a day he plots contriv'd, To hae sweet Willie slain, my dear, To hae sweet Willie slain.115 "And tho' he's slain your gude bold watch, He might hae been forgien; They came on him in armour bright, When he was but alane, my dear, When he was but alane."120 Nae meen was made for this young knight, In bower where he lay slain; But a' was for sweet Maisry bright, In fields where she ran brain, my dear, In fields where she ran brain.125

O I will sing to you a sang, Will grieve your heart full sair; How the Clerk's twa sons o' Owsenford Have to learn some unco lear. They hadna been in fair Parish5 A twelvemonth and a day, Till the Clerk's twa sons fell deep in love Wi' the Mayor's dauchters twae. And aye as the twa clerks sat and wrote, The ladies sewed and sang;10 There was mair mirth in that chamber, Than in a' fair Ferrol's land. But word's gane to the michty Mayor, As he sailed on the sea, That the Clerk's twa sons made licht lemans15 O' his fair dauchters twae. "If they hae wranged my twa dauchters, Janet and Marjorie, The morn, ere I taste meat or drink, Hie hangit they shall be."20 And word's gane to the clerk himsell, As he was drinking wine, That his twa sons at fair Parish Were bound in prison strang. Then up and spak the Clerk's ladye,25 And she spak tenderlie: "O tak wi' ye a purse o' gowd, Or even tak ye three; And if ye canna get William, Bring Henry hame to me."30 O sweetly sang the nightingale, As she sat on the wand; But sair, sair mourned Owsenford, As he gaed in the strand. When he came to their prison strang,35 He rade it round about, And at a little shot-window, His sons were looking out. "O lie ye there, my sons," he said, "For owsen or for kye?40 Or what is it that ye lie for, Sae sair bound as ye lie?" "We lie not here for owsen, father; Nor yet do we for kye; But it's for a little o' dear-boucht love,45 Sae sair bound as we lie. "O borrow us, borrow us, father," they said, "For the luve we bear to thee!" "O never fear, my pretty sons, Weel borrowed ye sall be."50 Then he's gane to the michty Mayor, And he spak courteouslie: "Will ye grant my twa sons' lives, Either for gold or fee? Or will ye be sae gude a man,55 As grant them baith to me?" "I'll no grant ye your twa sons' lives, Neither for gold nor fee; Nor will I be sae gude a man, As gie them baith to thee;60 But before the morn at twal o'clock, Ye'll see them hangit hie!" Ben it came the Mayor's dauchters, Wi' kirtle coat alone; Their eyes did sparkle like the gold,65 As they tripped on the stone. "Will ye gie us our loves, father, For gold, or yet for fee? Or will ye take our own sweet lives, And let our true loves be?"70 He's taen a whip into his hand, And lashed them wondrous sair; "Gae to your bowers, ye vile limmers; Ye'se never see them mair." Then out it speaks auld Owsenford;75 A sorry man was he: "Gang to your bouirs, ye lilye flouirs; For a' this maunna be." Then out it speaks him Hynde Henry: "Come here, Janet, to me;80 Will ye gie me my faith and troth, And love, as I gae thee?" "Ye sall hae your faith and troth, Wi' God's blessing and mine:" And twenty times she kissed his mouth,85 Her father looking on. Then out it speaks him gay William: "Come here, sweet Marjorie; Will ye gie me my faith and troth, And love, as I gae thee?"90 "Yes, ye sall hae your faith and troth, Wi' God's blessing and mine:" And twenty times she kissed his mouth, Her father looking on. * * * * * * * "O ye'll tak aff your twa black hats,95 Lay them down on a stone, That nane may ken that ye are clerks, Till ye are putten doun." The bonnie clerks they died that morn; Their loves died lang ere noon;100 And the waefu' Clerk o' Owsenford To his lady has gane hame.

His lady sat on her castle wa', Beholding dale and doun; And there she saw her ain gude lord Come walking to the toun. "Ye're welcome, ye're welcome, my ain gude lord,5 Ye're welcome hame to me; But where-away are my twa sons? Ye suld hae brought them wi' ye." "O they are putten to a deeper lear, And to a higher scule:10 Your ain twa sons will no be hame Till the hallow days o' Yule." "O sorrow, sorrow, come mak my bed; And, dule, come lay me doun; For I will neither eat nor drink,15 Nor set a fit on groun'!" The hallow days o' Yule were come, And the nights were lang and mirk, When in and cam her ain twa sons, And their hats made o' the birk.20 It neither grew in syke nor ditch, Nor yet in ony sheuch; But at the gates o' Paradise That birk grew fair eneuch. "Blow up the fire, now, maidens mine,25 Bring water from the well; For a' my house shall feast this night, Since my twa sons are well. "O eat and drink, my merry-men a', The better shall ye fare;30 For my two sons they are come hame To me for evermair." And she has gane and made their bed, She's made it saft and fine; And she's happit them wi' her gay mantil,35 Because they were her ain. But the young cock crew in the merry Linkum, And the wild fowl chirped for day; And the aulder to the younger said, "Brother, we maun away.40 "The cock doth craw, the day doth daw, The channerin worm doth chide; Gin we be missed out o' our place, A sair pain we maun bide." "Lie still, lie still a little wee while,45 Lie still but if we may; Gin my mother should miss us when she wakes, She'll gae mad ere it be day." * * * * * * * O it's they've taen up their mother's mantil, And they've hung it on a pin:50 "O lang may ye hing, my mother's mantil, Ere ye hap us again."

Lord Ingram and Childe Vyet, Were both born in ane bower, Had both their loves on one Lady, The less was their honour. Childe Vyet and Lord Ingram,5 Were both born in one hall, Had both their loves on one Lady The worse did them befall. Lord Ingram woo'd the Lady Maiserey, From father and from mother;10 Lord Ingram woo'd the Lady Maiserey, From sister and from brother. Lord Ingram wooed the Lady Maiserey, With leave of all her kin; And every one gave full consent,15 But she said no, to him. Lord Ingram wooed the Lady Maiserey, Into her father's ha'; Childe Vyet wooed the Lady Maiserey, Among the sheets so sma'.20 Now it fell out upon a day, She was dressing her head, That ben did come her father dear, Wearing the gold so red. "Get up now, Lady Maiserey,25 Put on your wedding gown, For Lord Ingram will be here, Your wedding must be done!" "I'd rather be Childe Vyet's wife, The white fish for to sell,30 Before I were Lord Ingram's wife, To wear the silk so well! "I'd rather be Childe Vyet's wife, With him to beg my bread, Before I'd be Lord Ingram's wife,35 To wear the gold so red. "Where will I get a bonny boy, Will win gold to his fee, Will run unto Childe Vyet's ha', With this letter from me?"40 "O here, I am the boy," says one, "Will win gold to my fee, And carry away any letter, To Childe Vyet from thee." And when he found the bridges broke,45 He bent his bow and swam; And when he found the grass growing, He hasten'd and he ran. And when he came to Vyet's castle, He did not knock nor call,50 But set his bent bow to his breast, And lightly leaped the wall; And ere the porter open'd the gate, The boy was in the hall. The first line that Childe Vyet read,55 A grieved man was he; The next line that he looked on, A tear blinded his e'e. "What ails my own brother," he says, "He'll not let my love be;60 But I'll send to my brother's bridal; The woman shall be free. "Take four and twenty bucks and ewes, And ten tun of the wine, And bid my love be blythe and glad,65 And I will follow syne." There was not a groom about that castle, But got a gown of green; And a' was blythe, and a' was glad, But Lady Maiserey was wi' wean.70 There was no cook about the kitchen, But got a gown of gray; And a' was blythe, and a' was glad, But Lady Maiserey was wae. 'Tween Mary Kirk and that castle,75 Was all spread o'er with garl, To keep the lady and her maidens, From tramping on the marl. From Mary Kirk to that castle, Was spread a cloth of gold,80 To keep the lady and her maidens, From treading on the mould. When mass was sung, and bells were rung, And all men bound for bed, Then Lord Ingram and Lady Maiserey,85 In one bed they were laid. When they were laid upon their bed, It was baith soft and warm, He laid his hand over her side, Says he, "you are with bairn."90 "I told you once, so did I twice, When ye came as my wooer, That Childe Vyet, your one brother, One night lay in my bower. "I told you twice, so did I thrice,95 Ere ye came me to wed, That Childe Vyet, your one brother, One night lay in my bed!" "O will you father your bairn on me, And on no other man?100 And I'll gie him to his dowry, Full fifty ploughs of land." "I will not father my bairn on you, Nor on no wrongous man, Tho' you'd gie him to his dowry,105 Five thousand ploughs of land." Then up did start him Childe Vyet, Shed by his yellow hair, And gave Lord Ingram to the heart, A deep wound and a sair.110 Then up did start him Lord Ingram, Shed by his yellow hair, And gave Childe Vyet to the heart, A deep wound and a sair. There was no pity for the two lords,115 Where they were lying slain, All was for Lady Maiserey: In that bower she gaed brain! There was no pity for the two lords, When they were lying dead,120 All was for Lady Maiserey: In that bower she went mad! "O get to me a cloak of cloth, A staff of good hard tree; If I have been an evil woman,125 I shall beg till I die. "For ae bit I'll beg for Childe Vyet, For Lord Ingram I'll beg three, All for the honourable marriage, that At Mary Kirk he gave me!"130

"Er schlug sie so sehre, er schlug sie so lang, Bis Lung und Leber aus dem Leib ihr sprang!"

The young lords o' the north country Have all a-wooing gane, To win the love of lady Maisry, But o' them she wou'd hae nane. O thae hae sought her, lady Maisry,5 Wi' broaches, and wi' rings; And they hae courted her, lady Maisry, Wi' a' kin kind of things. And they hae sought her, lady Maisry, Frae father and frae mither;10 And they hae sought her, lady Maisry, Frae sister and frae brither. And they hae follow'd her, lady Maisry, Thro' chamber, and through ha'; But a' that they could say to her,15 Her answer still was "Na." "O haud your tongues, young men," she said, "And think nae mair on me; For I've gi'en my love to an English lord, Sae think nae mair on me."20 Her father's kitchey-boy heard that, (An ill death mot he die!) And he is in to her brother, As fast as gang cou'd he. "O is my father and my mother weel,25 But and my brothers three? Gin my sister lady Maisry be weel, There's naething can ail me." "Your father and your mother is weel, But and your brothers three;30 Your sister, lady Maisry's, weel, Sae big wi' bairn is she." "A malison light on the tongue, Sic tidings tells to me!— But gin it be a lie you tell,35 You shall be hanged hie." He's doen him to his sister's bower, Wi' mickle dool and care; And there he saw her, lady Maisry, Kembing her yellow hair.40 "O wha is aucht that bairn," he says, "That ye sae big are wi'? And gin ye winna own the truth, This moment ye sall die." She's turned her richt and round about,45 And the kembe fell frae her han'; A trembling seized her fair bodie, And her rosy cheek grew wan. "O pardon me, my brother dear, And the truth I'll tell to thee;50 My bairn it is to Lord William, And he is betrothed to me." "O cou'dna ye gotten dukes, or lords, Intill your ain countrie, That ye drew up wi' an English dog,55 To bring this shame on me? "But ye maun gi'e up your English lord, Whan your young babe is born; For, gin ye keep by him an hour langer, Your life shall be forlorn."60 "I will gi'e up this English lord, Till my young babe be born; But the never a day nor hour langer, Though my life should be forlorn." "O whare is a' my merry young men,65 Wham I gi'e meat and fee, To pu' the bracken and the thorn, To burn this vile whore wi'?" "O whare will I get a bonny boy, To help me in my need,70 To rin wi' haste to Lord William, And bid him come wi' speed?" O out it spak a bonny boy, Stood by her brother's side; "It's I wad rin your errand, lady,75 O'er a' the warld wide. "Aft ha'e I run your errands, lady, When blawin baith wind and weet; But now I'll rin your errand, lady, With saut tears on my cheek."80 O whan he came to broken briggs, He bent his bow and swam; And whan he came to the green grass growin', He slack'd his shoon and ran. And when he came to Lord William's yeats,85 He badena to chap or ca'; But set his bent bow to his breast, And lightly lap the wa'; And, or the porter was at the yeat, The boy was in the ha'.90 "O is my biggins broken, boy? Or is my towers won? Or is my lady lighter yet, O' a dear daughter or son?" "Your biggin isna broken, sir,95 Nor is your towers won; But the fairest lady in a' the land This day for you maun burn." "O saddle to me the black, the black, Or saddle to me the brown;100 Or saddle to me the swiftest steed That ever rade frae a town." Or he was near a mile awa', She heard his weir-horse sneeze; "Mend up the fire, my fause brother,105 It's nae come to my knees." O whan he lighted at the yeat, She heard his bridle ring: "Mend up the fire, my fause brother; It's far yet frae my chin.110 "Mend up the fire to me, brother, Mend up the fire to me; For I see him comin' hard and fast, Will soon men't up for thee. "O gin my hands had been loose, Willy,115 Sae hard as they are boun', I wadd hae turn'd me frae the gleed, And casten out your young son." "O I'll gar burn for you, Maisry, Your father and your mother;120 And I'll gar burn for you, Maisry, Your sister and your brother; "And I'll gar burn for you, Maisry, The chief o' a' your kin; And the last bonfire that I come to,125 Mysell I will cast in."

"Ye maun gang to your father, Janet, Ye maun gang to him soon; Ye maun gang to your father, Janet, In case that his days are dune!" Janet's awa' to her father,5 As fast as she could hie; "O what's your will wi' me, father? O what's your will wi' me?" "My will wi' you, Fair Janet," he said, "It is both bed and board;10 Some say that ye lo'e Sweet Willie, But ye maun wed a French lord." "A French lord maun I wed, father? A French lord maun I wed? Then, by my sooth," quo' Fair Janet,15 "He's ne'er enter my bed." Janet's awa' to her chamber, As fast as she could go; Wha's the first ane that tapped there, But Sweet Willie her jo!20 "O we maun part this love, Willie, That has been lang between; There's a French lord coming o'er the sea To wed me wi' a ring; There 's a French lord coming o'er the sea,25 To wed and tak me hame." "If we maun part this love, Janet, It causeth mickle woe; If we maun part this love, Janet, It makes me into mourning go."30 "But ye maun gang to your three sisters, Meg, Marion, and Jean; Tell them to come to Fair Janet, In case that her days are dune." Willie's awa' to his three sisters,35 Meg, Marion, and Jean; "O haste, and gang to Fair Janet, I fear that her days are dune." Some drew to them their silken hose, Some drew to them their shoon,40 Some drew to them their silk manteils, Their coverings to put on; And they're awa' to Fair Janet, By the hie light o' the moon. * * * * * * * "O I have born this babe, Willie,45 Wi' mickle toil and pain; Take hame, take hame, your babe, Willie, For nurse I dare be nane." He's tane his young son in his arms, And kist him cheek and chin,—50 And he's awa' to his mother's bower, By the hie light o' the moon. "O open, open, mother," he says, "O open, and let me in; The rain rains on my yellow hair,55 And the dew drops o'er my chin,— And I hae my young son in my arms, I fear that his days are dune." With her fingers lang and sma' She lifted up the pin;60 And with her arms lang and sma' Received the baby in. "Gae back, gae back now, Sweet Willie, And comfort your fair lady; For where ye had but ae nourice,65 Your young son shall hae three." Willie he was scarce awa', And the lady put to bed, When in and came her father dear: "Make haste, and busk the bride."70 "There's a sair pain in my head, father, There's a sair pain in my side; And ill, O ill, am I, father, This day for to be a bride." "O ye maun busk this bonny bride,75 And put a gay mantle on; For she shall wed this auld French lord, Gin she should die the morn." Some put on the gay green robes, And some put on the brown;80 But Janet put on the scarlet robes, To shine foremost through the town. And some they mounted the black steed, And some mounted the brown; But Janet mounted the milk-white steed,85 To ride foremost through the town. "O wha will guide your horse, Janet? O wha will guide him best?" "O wha but Willie, my true love, He kens I lo'e him best!"90 And when they cam to Marie's kirk, To tye the haly ban, Fair Janet's cheek looked pale and wan, And her colour gaed and cam. When dinner it was past and done,95 And dancing to begin, "O we'll go take the bride's maidens, And we'll go fill the ring." O ben than cam the auld French lord, Saying, "Bride, will ye dance with me?" "Awa', awa', ye auld French Lord,100 Your face I downa see." O ben than cam now Sweet Willie, He cam with ane advance: "O I'll go tak the bride's maidens,105 And we'll go tak a dance." "I've seen ither days wi' you, Willie, And so has mony mae; Ye would hae danced wi' me mysel', Let a' my maidens gae."110 O ben than cam now Sweet Willie, Saying, "Bride, will ye dance wi' me?" "Aye, by my sooth, and that I will, Gin my back should break in three." [And she's ta'en Willie by the hand,115 The tear blinded her e'e; "O I wad dance wi' my true love, Tho' bursts my heart in three!"] She hadna turned her throw the dance, Throw the dance but thrice,120 Whan she fell doun at Willie's feet, And up did never rise! [She's ta'en her bracelet frae her arm, Her garter frae her knee: "Gie that, gie that, to my young son;125 He'll ne'er his mother see."] Willie's ta'en the key of his coffer, And gi'en it to his man; "Gae hame, and tell my mother dear, My horse he has me slain;130 Bid her be kind to my young son, For father he has nane." ["Gar deal, gar deal the bread," he cried, "Gar deal, gar deal the wine; This day has seen my true love's death,135 This night shall witness mine."] The tane was buried in Marie's kirk, And the tither in Marie's quire: Out of the tane there grew a birk, And the tither a bonny brier.140

"Will you marry the southland lord, A queen o' fair England to be? Or will you mourn for sweet Willie, The morn upon yon lea?" "I will marry the southland lord,5 Father, sen it is your will; But I'd rather it were my burial day, For my grave I'm going till. "O go, O go now my bower wife, O go now hastilie,10 O go now to sweet Willie's bower, And bid him cum speak to me.— "Now, Willie, gif ye love me weel, As sae it seems to me, Gar build, gar build a bonny ship,15 Gar build it speedilie! "And we will sail the sea sae green Unto some far countrie; Or we'll sail to some bonny isle, Stands lanely midst the sea."20 But lang or e'er the ship was built, Or deck'd or rigged out, Cam sic a pain in Annet's back, That down she cou'dna lout. "Now, Willie, gin ye love me weel,25 As sae it seems to me, O haste, haste, bring me to my bower, And my bower maidens three." He's ta'en her in his arms twa, And kiss'd her cheek and chin,30 He's brocht her to her ain sweet bower, But nae bower maid was in. "Now leave my bower, Willie," she said, "Now leave me to my lane; Was never man in a lady's bower35 When she was travailing." He's stepped three steps down the stair, Upon the marble stane, Sae loud's he heard his young son greet, But and his lady mane.40 "Now come, now come, Willie," she said, "Tak your young son frae me, And hie him to your mother's bower, With speed and privacie." And he is to his mother's bower,45 As fast as he could rin; "Open, open, my mother dear, Open, and let me in; "For the rain rains on my yellow hair, The dew stands on my chin,50 And I have something in my lap, And I wad fain be in." "O go, O go now, sweet Willie, And make your lady blithe, For wherever you had ae nourice,55 Your young son shall hae five."— Out spak Annet's mother dear, An' she spak a word o' pride; Says, "Whare is a' our bride's maidens, They're no busking the bride?"60 "O haud your tongue, my mother dear, Your speaking let it be, For I'm sae fair and full o' flesh, Little busking will serve me." Out an' spak the bride's maidens,65 They spak a word o' pride; Says, "Whare is a' the fine cleiding? Its we maun busk the bride." "Deal hooly wi' my head, maidens, Deal hooly wi' my hair,70 For it was washen late yestreen, And it is wonder sair. "My maidens, easy wi' my back, And easy wi' my side; O set my saddle saft, Willie,75 I am a tender bride." O up then spak the southland lord, And blinkit wi' his ee; "I trow this lady's born a bairn," Then laucht loud lauchters three.80 "Ye hae gi'en me the gowk, Annet, But I'll gie you the scorn; For there's no a bell in a' the town Shall ring for you the morn." Out and spak then sweet Willie,85 "Sae loud's I hear you lie, There's no a bell in a' the town But shall ring for Annet and me." And Willie swore a great great oath, And he swore by the thorn,90 That she was as free o' a child that night, As the night that she was born. O up an' spak the brisk bridegroom, And he spak up wi' pride, "Gin I should lay my gloves in pawn,95 I will dance wi' the bride." "Now haud your tongue, my lord," she said, "Wi' dancing let me be, I am sae thin in flesh and blude, Sma' dancing will serve me."100 But she's ta'en Willie by the hand, The tear blinded her ee; "But I wad dance wi' my true love, But bursts my heart in three." She's ta'en her bracelet frae her arm,105 Her garter frae her knee, "Gie that, gie that, to my young son; He'll ne'er his mother see."

"O wha will shoe my fair foot, And wha will glove my han'? And wha will lace my middle jimp Wi' a new-made London ban'? "Or wha will kemb my yellow hair5 Wi' a new-made silver kemb? Or wha'll be father to my young bairn, Till love Gregor come hame?" "Your father'll shoe your fair foot, Your mother glove your han';10 Your sister lace your middle jimp Wi' a new-made London ban'; "Your brethren will kemb your yellow hair Wi' a new-made silver kemb; And the king o' Heaven will father your bairn,15 Till love Gregor come hame." "O gin I had a bonny ship, And men to sail wi' me, It's I wad gang to my true love, Sin he winna come to me!"20 Her father's gien her a bonny ship, And sent her to the stran'; She's taen her young son in her arms, And turn'd her back to the lan'. She hadna been o' the sea sailin'25 About a month or more, Till landed has she her bonny ship Near her true-love's door. The nicht was dark, and the wind blew cald, And her love was fast asleep,30 And the bairn that was in her twa arms Fu' sair began to greet. Lang stood she at her true love's door, And lang tirl'd at the pin; At length up gat his fause mother,35 Says, "Wha's that wad be in?" "O it is Annie of Lochroyan, Your love, come o'er the sea, But and your young son in her arms; So open the door to me."40 "Awa, awa, ye ill woman, You're nae come here for gude; You're but a witch, or a vile warlock, Or mermaid o' the flude." "I'm nae a witch or vile warlock,45 Or mermaiden," said she;— "I'm but your Annie of Lochroyan;— O open the door to me!" "O gin ye be Annie of Lochroyan, As I trust not ye be,50 What taiken can ye gie that e'er I kept your companie?" "O dinna ye mind, love Gregor," she says, "Whan we sat at the wine, How we changed the napkins frae our necks?55 It's nae sae lang sinsyne. "And yours was gude, and gude enough, But nae sae gude as mine; For yours was o' the cambrick clear, But mine o' the silk sae fine.60 "And dinna ye mind, love Gregor," she says, "As we twa sat at dine, How we chang'd the rings frae our fingers, And I can shew thee thine: "And yours was gude, and gude enough,65 Yet nae sae gude as mine; For yours was o' the gude red gold, But mine o' the diamonds fine. "Sae open the door, now, love Gregor, And open it wi' speed;70 Or your young son, that is in my arms, For cald will soon be dead." "Awa, awa, ye ill woman, Gae frae my door for shame; For I hae gotten anither fair love,75 Sae ye may hie you hame." "O hae ye gotten anither fair love, For a' the oaths ye sware? Then fare ye weel, now, fause Gregor; For me ye's never see mair!"80 O hooly, hooly gaed she back, As the day began to peep; She set her foot on good ship board, And sair, sair did she weep. "Tak down, tak down the mast o' goud;85 Set up the mast o' tree; Ill sets it a forsaken lady To sail sae gallantlie. "Tak down, tak down the sails o' silk; Set up the sails o' skin;90 Ill sets the outside to be gay, Whan there's sic grief within!" Love Gregor started frae his sleep, And to his mother did say, "I dreamt a dream this night, mither,95 That maks my heart richt wae; "I dreamt that Annie of Lochroyan, The flower o' a' her kin, Was standin' mournin' at my door, But nane wad lat her in."100 "O there was a woman stood at the door, Wi' a bairn intill her arms; But I wadna let her within the bower, For fear she had done you harm." O quickly, quickly raise he up,105 And fast ran to the strand; And there he saw her, fair Annie, Was sailing frae the land. And "heigh, Annie!" and "how, Annie! O, Annie, winna ye bide?"110 But ay the louder that he cried "Annie," The higher rair'd the tide. And "heigh, Annie!" and "how, Annie! O, Annie, speak to me!" But ay the louder that he cried "Annie,"115 The louder rair'd the sea. The wind grew loud, and the sea grew rough, And the ship was rent in twain; And soon he saw her, fair Annie, Come floating o'er the main.120 He saw his young son in her arms, Baith toss'd aboon the tide; He wrang his hands, and fast he ran, And plunged in the sea sae wide. He catch'd her by the yellow hair,125 And drew her to the strand; But cald and stiff was every limb, Before he reach'd the land. O first he kist her cherry cheek, And syne he kist her chin;130 And sair he kist her ruby lips, But there was nae breath within. O he has mourn'd o'er fair Annie, Till the sun was ganging down; Syne wi' a sich his heart it brast,135 And his saul to heaven has flown.

"O wha will shoe my bonny foot? And wha will glove my hand? And wha will lace my middle jimp Wi' a lang, lang linen band? "O wha will kame my yellow hair,5 With a new-made silver kame? And wha will father my young son, Till Lord Gregory come hame?"— "Thy father will shoe thy bonny foot, Thy mother will glove thy hand,10 Thy sister will lace thy middle jimp, Till Lord Gregory come to land. "Thy brother will kame thy yellow hair With a new-made silver kame, And God will be thy bairn's father15 Till Lord Gregory come hame."— "But I will get a bonny boat, And I will sail the sea; And I will gang to Lord Gregory, Since he canna come hame to me."20 Syne she's gar'd build a bonny boat, To sail the salt, salt sea; The sails were o' the light green silk, The tows o' taffety. She hadna sailed but twenty leagues,25 But twenty leagues and three, When she met wi' a rank robber, And a' his company. "Now whether are ye the queen hersell, (For so ye weel might be,)30 Or are ye the Lass of Lochroyan, Seekin' Lord Gregory?"— "O I am neither the queen," she said, "Nor sic I seem to be; But I am the Lass of Lochroyan,35 Seekin' Lord Gregory."— "O see na thou yon bonny bower, It's a' cover'd o'er wi' tin? When thou hast sail'd it round about, Lord Gregory is within."40 And when she saw the stately tower Shining sae clear and bright, Whilk stood aboon the jawing wave, Built on a rock of height; Says—"Row the boat, my mariners,45 And bring me to the land! For yonder I see my love's castle Close by the salt-sea strand." She sail'd it round, and sail'd it round, And loud, loud cried she—50 "Now break, now break, ye fairy charms, And set my true love free!" She's ta'en her young son in her arms, And to the door she's gane; And long she knock'd, and sair she ca'd,55 But answer got she nane. "O open the door, Lord Gregory! O open and let me in! For the wind blaws through my yellow hair, And the rain draps o'er my chin."—60 "Awa, awa, ye ill woman! Ye're no come here for good! Ye're but some witch or wil warlock, Or mermaid o' the flood."— "I am neither witch, nor wil warlock,65 Nor mermaid o' the sea; But I am Annie of Lochroyan; O open the door to me!"— "Gin thou be Annie of Lochroyan, (As I trow thou binna she,)70 Now tell me some o' the love tokens That past between thee and me."— "O dinna ye mind, Lord Gregory, As we sat at the wine, We changed the rings frae our fingers?75 And I can show thee thine. "O yours was gude, and gude enough, But aye the best was mine; For yours was o' the gude red gowd, But mine o' the diamond fine.80 "And has na thou mind, Lord Gregory, As we sat on the hill, Thou twin'd me o' my maidenheid Right sair against my will? "Now open the door, Lord Gregory!85 Open the door, I pray! For thy young son is in my arms, And will be dead ere day."— "If thou be the lass of Lochroyan, (As I kenna thou be,)90 Tell me some mair o' the love tokens Past between me and thee." Fair Annie turn'd her round about— "Weel! since that it be sae, May never a woman that has borne a son,95 Hae a heart sae fou o' wae! "Take down, take down, that mast o' gowd! Set up a mast o' tree! It disna become a forsaken lady To sail sae royallie."100 When the cock had crawn, and the day did dawn, And the sun began to peep, Then up and raise him Lord Gregory, And sair, sair did he weep. "Oh I hae dream'd a dream, mother,105 I wish it may prove true! That the bonny Lass of Lochroyan Was at the yate e'en now. "O I hae dream'd a dream, mother, The thought o't gars me greet!110 That fair Annie o' Lochroyan Lay cauld dead at my feet."— "Gin it be for Annie of Lochroyan That ye make a' this din, She stood a' last night at your door,115 But I true she wan na in."— "O wae betide ye, ill woman! An ill deid may ye die! That wadna open the door to her, Nor yet wad waken me."120 O he's gane down to yon shore side As fast as he could fare; He saw fair Annie in the boat, But the wind it toss'd her sair. "And hey, Annie, and how, Annie!125 O Annie, winna ye bide!" But aye the mair he cried Annie, The braider grew the tide. "And hey, Annie, and how, Annie! Dear Annie, speak to me!"130 But aye the louder he cried Annie, The louder roar'd the sea. The wind blew loud, the sea grew rough, And dash'd the boat on shore; Fair Annie floated through the faem,135 But the babie rose no more. Lord Gregory tore his yellow hair, And made a heavy moan; Fair Annie's corpse lay at his feet, Her bonny young son was gone.140 O cherry, cherry was her cheek, And gowden was her hair; But clay-cold were her rosy lips— Nae spark o' life was there. And first he kiss'd her cherry cheek,145 And syne he kiss'd her chin, And syne he kiss'd her rosy lips— There was nae breath within. "O wae betide my cruel mother! An ill death may she die!150 She turn'd my true love frae my door, Wha came sae far to me. "O wae betide my cruel mother! An ill death may she die! She turn'd fair Annie frae my door,155 Wha died for love o' me."