Volume 3 / Book 3 — BOOK III. CONTINUED.

"O Lady, rock never your young son, young, One hour langer for me; For I have a sweetheart in Garlioch Wells, I love far better than thee. "The very sole o' that lady's foot5 Than thy face is far mair white:" "But, nevertheless, now, Erl Richard, Ye will bide in my bower a' night?" She birled him with the ale and wine, As they sat down to sup:10 A living man he laid him down, But I wot he ne'er rose up. Then up and spake the popinjay, That flew aboun her head; "Lady! keep weel your green cleiding15 Frae gude Erl Richard's bleid."— "O better I'll keep my green cleiding Frae gude Erl Richard's bleid, Than thou canst keep thy clattering toung, That trattles in thy head."20 She has call'd upon her bower maidens, She has call'd them ane by ane; "There lies a dead man in my bour: I wish that he were gane!" They hae booted him, and spurred him,25 As he was wont to ride;— A hunting-horn tied round his waist, A sharpe sword by his side; And they hae had him to the wan water, For a' men call it Clyde.30 Then up and spoke the popinjay That sat upon the tree— "What hae ye done wi' Erl Richard? Ye were his gay ladye."— "Come down, come down, my bonny bird,35 And sit upon my hand; And thou sall hae a cage o' gowd, Where thou hast but the wand."— "Awa! awa! ye ill woman! Nae cage o' gowd for me;40 As ye hae done to Erl Richard, Sae wad ye do to me." She hadna cross'd a rigg o' land, A rigg but barely ane, When she met wi' his auld father,45 Came riding all alane. "Where hae ye been, now, ladye fair, Where hae ye been sae late? We hae been seeking Erl Richard, But him we canna get."—50 "Erl Richard kens a' the fords in Clyde, He'll ride them ane by ane; And though the night was ne'er sae mirk, Erl Richard will be hame." O it fell anes, upon a day,55 The King was boun to ride; And he has mist him, Erl Richard, Should hae ridden on his right side. The ladye turn'd her round about, Wi' mickle mournfu' din—60 "It fears me sair o' Clyde water, That he is drown'd therein."— "Gar douk, gar douk," the King he cried, "Gar douk for gold and fee; O wha will douk for Erl Richard's sake,65 Or wha will douk for me?" They douked in at ae weil-heid, And out aye at the other; "We can douk nae mair for Erl Richard, Although he were our brother."70 It fell that, in that ladye's castle, The King was boun to bed; And up and spake the popinjay, That flew abune his head. "Leave aff your douking on the day,75 And douk upon the night; And where that sackless knight lies slain, The candles will burn bright."— "O there's a bird within this bower, That sings baith sad and sweet;80 O there's a bird within your bower, Keeps me frae my night's sleep." They left the douking on the day, And douk'd upon the night; And where that sackless knight lay slain,85 The candles burned bright. The deepest pot in a' the linn, They fand Erl Richard in; A green turf tyed across his breast, To keep that gude lord down.90 Then up and spake the King himsell, When he saw the deadly wound— "O wha has slain my right-hand man, That held my hawk and hound?"— Then up and spake the popinjay,95 Says—"What needs a' this din? It was his light leman took his life, And hided him in the linn." She swore her by the grass sae grene, Sae did she by the corn,100 She hadna seen him, Erl Richard, Since Moninday at morn. "Put na the wite on me," she said, "It was my may Catherine:" Then they hae cut baith fern and thorn,105 To burn that maiden in. It wadna take upon her cheik, Nor yet upon her chin; Nor yet upon her yellow hair, To cleanse the deadly sin.110 The maiden touch'd the clay-cauld corpse, A drap it never bled; The ladye laid her hand on him, And soon the ground was red. Out they hae ta'en her, may Catherine,115 And put her mistress in; The flame tuik fast upon her cheik, Tuik fast upon her chin; Tuik fast upon her faire body— She burn'd like hollin-green.120

Earl Richard is a hunting gone, As fast as he could ride; His hunting-horn hung about his neck, And a small sword by his side. When he came to my lady's gate,5 He tirled at the pin; And wha was sae ready as the lady hersell To open and let him in? "O light, O light, Earl Richard," she says, "O light and stay a' night;10 You shall have cheer wi' charcoal clear, And candles burning bright." "I will not light, I cannot light, I cannot light at all; A fairer lady than ten of thee15 Is waiting at Richard's-wall." He stooped from his milk-white steed, To kiss her rosy cheek; She had a penknife in her hand, And wounded him so deep.20 "O lie ye there, Earl Richard," she says, "O lie ye there till morn; A fairer lady than ten of me Will think lang of your coming home." She called her servants ane by ane,25 She called them twa by twa: "I have got a dead man in my bower, I wish he were awa." The ane has ta'en him by the hand, And the other by the feet;30 And they've thrown him in a deep draw well, Full fifty fathoms deep. Then up bespake a little bird, That sat upon a tree: "Gae hame, gae hame, ye fause lady,35 And pay your maids their fee." "Come down, come down, my pretty bird, That sits upon the tree; I have a cage of beaten gold, I'll gie it unto thee."40 "Gae hame, gae hame, ye fause lady, And pay your maids their fee; As ye have done to Earl Richard, Sae wud ye do to me." "If I had an arrow in my hand,45 And a bow bent on a string; I'd shoot a dart at thy proud heart, Among the leaves sae green."

Young Redin's til the huntin gane, Wi' therty lords and three; And he has til his true-love gane, As fast as he could hie. "Ye're welcome here, my young Redin,5 For coal and candle licht; And sae are ye, my young Redin, To bide wi' me the nicht." "I thank ye for your licht, ladie, Sae do I for your coal;10 But there's thrice as fair a ladie as thee Meets me at Brandie's well." Whan they were at their supper set, And merrily drinking wine, This ladie has tane a sair sickness,15 And til her bed has gane. Young Redin he has followed her, And a dowie man was he; He fund his true-love in her bouer, And the tear was in her ee.20 Whan he was in her arms laid, And gieing her kisses sweet, Then out she's tane a little penknife, And wounded him sae deep. "O lang, lang, is the winter nicht,25 And slawly daws the day; There is a slain knicht in my bouer, And I wish he war away." Then up bespak her bouer-woman, And she spak ae wi' spite:—30 "An there be a slain knicht in your bouer, It's yoursel that has the wyte." "O heal this deed on me, Meggy, O heal this deed on me; The silks that war shapen for me gen Pasche, They sall be sewed for thee."35 "O I hae heal'd on my mistress A twalmonth and a day, And I hae heal'd on my mistress, Mair than I can say."40 They've booted him, and they've spurred him, As he was wont to ride:— A huntin horn round his neck, And a sharp sword by his side; In the deepest place o' Clyde's water,45 It's there they've made his bed. Sine up bespak the wylie parrot, As he sat on the tree,— "And hae ye kill'd him young Redin, Wha ne'er had love but thee!"50 "Come doun, come doun, ye wylie parrot, Come doun into my hand; Your cage sall be o' the beaten gowd, When now it's but the wand." "I winna come doun, I canna come doun,55 I winna come doun to thee; For as ye've dune to young Redin, Ye'll do the like to me; Ye'll thraw my head aff my hause-bane, And throw me in the sea."60 O there cam seekin young Redin, Monie a lord and knicht; And there cam seekin young Redin, Monie a ladie bricht. And they hae til his true-love gane,65 Thinking he was wi' her; * * * * * * * * * * * * * * "I hae na seen him, young Redin, Sin yesterday at noon;70 He turn'd his stately steed about, And hied him through the toun. "But ye'll seek Clyde's water up and doun, Ye'll seek it out and in— I hae na seen him, young Redin,75 Sin yesterday at noon." Then up bespak young Redin's mither, And a dowie woman was scho;— "There's na a place in a Clyde's water, But my son wad gae through."80 They've sought Clyde's water up and doun, They've sought it out and in, And the deepest place o' Clyde's water They fund young Redin in. O white, white, war his wounds washen,85 As white as a linen clout; But as the traitor she cam near, His wounds they gushed out! "It's surely been my bouer-woman, O ill may her betide;90 I ne'er wad slain him young Redin, And thrown him in the Clyde." Then they've made a big bane-fire, The bouer-woman to brin; It tuke na on her cheek, her cheek,95 It tuke na on her chin, But it tuke on the cruel hands That put young Redin in. Then they're tane out the bouer-woman, And put the ladie in:100 It tuke na on her cheek, her cheek, It tuke na on her chin, But it tuke on the fause, fause arms, That young Redin lay in.

Lord William was the bravest knight That dwalt in fair Scotland, And though renown'd in France and Spain, Fell by a ladie's hand. As she was walking maid alone,5 Down by yon shady wood, She heard a smit o' bridle reins, She wish'd might be for good. "Come to my arms, my dear Willie, You're welcome hame to me;10 To best o' cheer and charcoal red, And candle burning free."— "I winna light, I darena light, Nor come to your arms at a'; A fairer maid than ten o' you15 I'll meet at Castle-law."— "A fairer maid than me, Willie! A fairer maid than me! A fairer maid than ten o' me Your eyes did never see."—20 He louted ower his saddle lap, To kiss her ere they part, And wi' a little keen bodkin, She pierced him to the heart. "Ride on, ride on, Lord William now,25 As fast as ye can dree! Your bonny lass at Castle-law Will weary you to see."— Out up then spake a bonny bird, Sat high upon a tree,—30 "How could you kill that noble lord? He came to marry thee."— "Come down, come down, my bonny bird, And eat bread aff my hand! Your cage shall be of wiry goud,35 Whar now it's but the wand."— "Keep ye your cage o' goud, lady, And I will keep my tree; As ye hae done to Lord William, Sae wad ye do to me."—40 She set her foot on her door step, A bonny marble stane, And carried him to her chamber, O'er him to make her mane. And she has kept that good lord's corpse45 Three quarters of a year, Until that word began to spread; Then she began to fear. Then she cried on her waiting maid, Aye ready at her ca';50 "There is a knight into my bower, 'Tis time he were awa."— The ane has ta'en him by the head, The ither by the feet, And thrown him in the wan water,55 That ran baith wide and deep. "Look back, look back, now, lady fair, On him that lo'ed ye weel! A better man than that blue corpse Ne'er drew a sword of steel."—60

Prince Robert has wedded a gay ladye, He has wedded her with a ring: Prince Robert has wedded a gay ladye, But he darna bring her hame. "Your blessing, your blessing, my mother dear!5 Your blessing now grant to me!"— "Instead of a blessing ye sall have my curse, And you'll get nae blessing frae me."— She has call'd upon her waiting-maid, To fill a glass of wine;10 She has call'd upon her fause steward, To put rank poison in. She has put it to her roudes lip, And to her roudes chin; She has put it to her fause, fause mouth,15 But the never a drap gaed in. He has put it to his bonny mouth, And to his bonny chin, He's put it to his cherry lip, And sae fast the rank poison ran in.20 "O ye hae poison'd your ae son, mother, Your ae son and your heir; O ye hae poison'd your ae son, mother, And sons you'll never hae mair. "O where will I get a little boy,25 That will win hose and shoon, To rin sae fast to Darlinton, And bid fair Eleanor come?"— Then up and spake a little boy, That wad win hose and shoon,—30 "O I'll away to Darlinton, And bid fair Eleanor come."— O he has run to Darlinton, And tirled at the pin; And wha was sae ready as Eleanor's sell35 To let the bonny boy in. "Your gude-mother has made ye a rare dinour, She's made it baith gude and fine; Your gude-mother has made ye a gay dinour, And ye maun cum till her and dine."—40 It's twenty lang miles to Sillertoun town, The langest that ever were gane: But the steed it was wight, and the ladye was light, And she cam linkin' in. But when she came to Sillertoun town,45 And into Sillertoun ha', The torches were burning, the ladies were mourning, And they were weeping a'. "O where is now my wedded lord, And where now can he be?50 O where is now my wedded lord? For him I canna see."— "Your wedded lord is dead," she says, "And just gane to be laid in the clay: Your wedded lord is dead," she says,55 "And just gane to be buried the day. "Ye'se get nane o' his gowd, ye'se get nane o' his gear, Ye'se get nae thing frae me; Ye'se no get an inch o' his gude braid land, Though your heart suld burst in three."—60 "I want nane o' his gowd, I want nane o' his gear, I want nae land frae thee: But I'll hae the rings that's on his finger, For them he did promise to me."— "Ye'se no get the rings that's on his finger,65 Ye'se no get them frae me; Ye'se no get the rings that's on his finger, An your heart suld burst in three."— She's turn'd her back unto the wa', And her face unto a rock;70 And there, before the mother's face, Her very heart it broke. The tane was buried in Marie's kirk, The tother in Marie's quair; And out o' the tane there sprang a birk,75 And out o' the tother a brier. And thae twa met, and thae twa plat, The birk but and the brier; And by that ye may very weel ken They were twa lovers dear.80

Lord Robert and Mary Florence, They wer twa children ying; They were scarce seven years of age Till luve began to spring. Lord Robert loved Mary Florence, And she lov'd him above power; But he durst not for his cruel mither Bring her intill his bower.

It's fifty miles to Sittingen's rocks, As ever was ridden or gane; And Earl Robert has wedded a wife, But he dare na bring her hame. And Earl Robert has wedded a wife, &c. His mother, she call'd to her waiting-maid: "O bring me a pint of wine, For I dinna weel ken what hour of this day That my son Earl Robert shall dine." She's put it to her fause, fause cheek, But an' her fause, fause chin;10 She's put it to her fause, fause lips; But never a drap went in. But he's put it to his bonny cheek, Aye and his bonny chin; He's put it to his red rosy lips,15 And the poison went merrily down. "O where will I get a bonny boy, That will win hose and shoon,— That will gang quickly to Sittingen's rocks, And bid my lady come?"20 It's out then speaks a bonny boy, To Earl Robert was something akin: "Many a time have I run thy errand, But this day with the tears I'll rin." O when he cam to Sittingen's rocks,25 To the middle of a' the ha', There were bells a ringing, and music playing, And ladies dancing a'. "What news, what news, my bonny boy, What news have ye to me?30 Is Earl Robert in very good health, And the ladies of your countrie?" "O Earl Robert's in very good health, And as weel as a man can be; But his mother this night has a drink to be druken,35 And at it you must be." She called to her waiting-maid, To bring her a riding weed; And she called to her stable groom, To saddle her milk-white steed.40 But when she came to Earl Robert's bouir, To the middle of a' the ha', There were bells a ringing and sheets down hinging, And ladies murning a'. "I've come for none of his gold," she said,45 "Nor none of his white monie; Excepting a ring of his smallest finger, If that you will grant me." "Thou'll no get none of his gold," she said. "Nor none of his white monie;50 Thou'll no get a ring of his smallest finger, Tho' thy heart should break in three." She set her foot unto a stone, Her back unto a tree; She set her foot unto a stone,55 And her heart did break in three! The one was buried in Mary's kirk, The other in Mary's quier; Out of the one there grew a bush, From the other a bonnie brier.60 And thir twa grew, and thir twa threw, Till thir twa craps drew near; So all the world may plainly see That they lov'd each other dear.

David Drummond's destinie, Gude man o' appearance o' Cargill; I wat his blude rins in the flude, Sae sair against his parents' will. She was the lass o' Balathy toun,5 And he the butler o' Stobhall; And mony a time she wauked late, To bore the coble o' Cargill. His bed was made in Kercock ha', Of gude clean sheets and of the hay;10 He wudna rest ae nicht therein, But on the prude waters he wud gae. His bed was made in Balathy toun, Of the clean sheets and of the strae; But I wat it was far better made,15 Into the bottom o' bonnie Tay. She bored the coble in seven pairts, I wat her heart might hae been sae sair; For there she got the bonnie lad lost, Wi' the curly locks and the yellow hair.20 He put his foot into the boat, He little thocht o' ony ill: But before that he was mid waters, The weary coble began to fill. "Woe be to the lass o' Balathy toun,25 I wat an ill death may she die; For she bored the coble in seven pairts, And let the waters perish me! "O help, O help I can get nane, Nae help o' man can to me come!"30 This was about his dying words, When he was choaked up to the chin. "Gae tell my father and my mother, It was naebody did me this ill; I was a-going my ain errands,35 Lost at the coble o' bonnie Cargill." She bored the boat in seven pairts, I wat she bored it wi' gude will; And there they got the bonnie lad's corpse, In the kirk-shot o' bonnie Cargill.40 O a' the keys o' bonnie Stobha', I wat they at his belt did hing; But a' the keys of bonnie Stobha', They now ly low into the stream. A braver page into his age45 Ne'er set a foot upon the plain; His father to his mother said, "O sae sune as we've wanted him! "I wat they had mair luve than this, When they were young and at the scule;50 But for his sake she wauked late, And bored the coble o' bonnie Cargill. "There's ne'er a clean sark gae on my back, Nor yet a kame gae in my hair; There's neither coal nor candle licht55 Shall shine in my bouer for ever mair. "At kirk nor market I'se ne'er be at, Nor yet a blythe blink in my ee; There's ne'er a ane shall say to anither, That's the lassie gar'd the young man die."60 Between the yetts o' bonnie Stobha', And the kirkstyle o' bonnie Cargill, There is mony a man and mother's son That was at my luve's burial.

Let never again soe old a man Marrye soe yonge a wife, As did old Robin of Portingale; Who may rue all the dayes of his life. For the mayors daughter of Lin, God wott5 He chose her to his wife, And thought with her to have lived in love, But they fell to hate and strife. They scarce were in their wed-bed laid, And scarce was hee asleepe,10 But upp shee rose, and forth shee goes, To the steward, and gan to weepe. "Sleepe you, wake you, faire Sir Gyles? Or be you not within? Sleepe you, wake you, faire Sir Gyles,15 Arise and let me inn." "O I am waking, sweete," he said, "Sweete ladye, what is your will?" "I have onbethought me of a wile How my wed lord weel spill.20 "Twenty-four good knights," shee sayes, "That dwell about this towne, Even twenty-four of my next cozens Will helpe to dinge him downe." All that beheard his litle footepage,25 As he watered his masters steed; And for his masters sad perille His verry heart did bleed. He mourned, sighed and wept full sore; I sweare by the holy roode,30 The teares he for his master wept Were blent water and bloude. And that beheard his deare master As he stood at his garden pale: Sayes, "Ever alacke, my litle foot-page,35 What causes thee to wail? "Hath any one done to thee wronge, Any of thy fellowes here? Or is any of thy good friends dead, That thou shedst manye a teare?40 "Or, if it be my head bookes-man, Aggrieved he shal bee: For no man here within my howse Shall doe wrong unto thee." "O it is not your head bookes-man,45 Nor none of his degree: But, on to-morrow ere it be noone All deemed to die are yee: "And of that bethank your head steward, And thank your gay ladye."50 "If this be true, my litle foot-page, The heyre of my land thoust bee:" "If it be not true, my dear master, No good death let me die:" "If it be not true, thou litle foot-page,55 A dead corse shalt thou bee. "O call now downe my faire ladye, O call her downe to mee; And tell my ladye gay how sicke, And like to die I bee."60 Downe then came his ladye faire, All clad in purple and pall: The rings that were on her fingers, Cast light thorrow the hall. "What is your will, my own wed-lord?65 "What is your will with mee?" "O see, my ladye deere, how sicke, And like to die I bee." "And thou be sicke, my own wed-lord, Soe sore it grieveth me:70 But my five maydens and myselfe Will make the bedde for thee. "And at the waking of your first sleepe, We will a hott drinke make; And at the waking of your next sleepe,75 Your sorrowes we will slake." He put a silk cote on his backe, And mail of manye a fold; And hee putt a steele cap on his head, Was gilt with good red gold.80 He layd a bright browne sword by his side, And another att his feete: [And twentye good knights he placed at hand, To watch him in his sleepe.] And about the middle time of the night,85 Came twentye-four traitours inn; Sir Giles he was the foremost man, The leader of that ginn. Old Robin with his bright browne sword, Sir Gyles head soon did winn;90 And scant of all those twenty-four Went out one quick agenn. None save only a litle foot-page, Crept forth at a window of stone; And he had two armes when he came in,95 And he went back with one. Upp then came that ladie gaye, With torches burning bright; She thought to have brought Sir Gyles a drinke, Butt she found her owne wedd knight.100 The first thinge that she stumbled on It was Sir Gyles his foote; Sayes, "Ever alacke, and woe is mee! Here lyes my sweete hart-roote." The next thinge that she stumbled on105 It was Sir Gyles his heade; Sayes, "Ever alacke, and woe is me! Heere lyes my true love deade." Hee cutt the pappes beside her brest, And didd her body spille;110 He cutt the eares beside her heade, And bade her love her fille. He called up then up his litle foot-page, And made him there his heyre; And sayd, "Henceforth my worldlye goodes,115 And countrie I forsweare." He shope the crosse on his right shoulder, Of the white clothe and the redde, And went him into the holy land, Wheras Christ was quicke and dead.120

King Easter has courted her for her lands, King Wester for her fee, King Honour for her comely face, And for her fair bodie. They had not been four months married,5 As I have heard them tell, Until the nobles of the land Against them did rebel. And they cast kevils them amang, And kevils them between;10 And they cast kevils them amang, Wha suld gae kill the king. O some said yea, and some said nay, Their words did not agree; Till up and got him, Fause Foodrage,15 And swore it suld be he. When bells were rung, and mass was sung, And a' men bound to bed, King Honour and his gay ladye In a high chamber were laid.20 Then up and raise him, Fause Foodrage, When a' were fast asleep, And slew the porter in his lodge, That watch and ward did keep. O four and twenty silver keys25 Hang hie upon a pin; And aye as ae door he did unlock, He has fasten'd it him behind. Then up and raise him, King Honour, Says—"What means a' this din?30 Or what's the matter, Fause Foodrage, Or wha has loot you in?"— "O ye my errand weel sall learn, Before that I depart."— Then drew a knife, baith lang and sharp,35 And pierced him to the heart. Then up and got the Queen hersell, And fell low down on her knee, "O spare my life, now, Fause Foodrage! For I never injured thee.40 "O spare my life, now, Fause Foodrage! Until I lighter be! And see gin it be lad or lass, King Honour has left me wi'."— "O gin it be a lass," he says,45 "Weel nursed it sall be; But gin it be a lad bairn, He sall be hanged hie. "I winna spare for his tender age, Nor yet for his hie, hie kin;50 But soon as e'er he born is, He sall mount the gallows pin."— O four-and-twenty valiant knights Were set the Queen to guard; And four stood aye at her bour door,55 To keep both watch and ward. But when the time drew near an end, That she suld lighter be, She cast about to find a wile, To set her body free.60 O she has birled these merry young men With the ale but and the wine, Until they were a' deadly drunk As any wild-wood swine. "O narrow, narrow is this window,65 And big, big am I grown!"— Yet through the might of Our Ladye, Out at it she is gone. She wander'd up, she wander'd down, She wander'd out and in;70 And, at last, into the very swine's stythe, The Queen brought forth a son. Then they cast kevils them amang, Which suld gae seek the Queen; And the kevil fell upon Wise William,75 And he sent his wife for him. O when she saw Wise William's wife, The Queen fell on her knee: "Win up, win up, madam!" she says: "What needs this courtesie?"—80 "O out o' this I winna rise, Till a boon ye grant to me; To change your lass for this lad bairn, King Honour left me wi'. "And ye maun learn my gay goss-hawk85 Right weel to breast a steed; And I sall learn your turtle dow As weel to write and read. "And ye maun learn my gay goss-hawk To wield both bow and brand;90 And I sall learn your turtle dow To lay gowd wi' her hand. "At kirk and market when we meet, We'll dare make nae avowe, But—'Dame, how does my gay goss-hawk?'95 'Madame, how does my dow?'" When days were gane, and years came on, Wise William he thought lang; And he has ta'en King Honour's son A-hunting for to gang.100 It sae fell out, at this hunting, Upon a simmer's day, That they came by a bonny castell, Stood on a sunny brae. "O dinna ye see that bonny castell,105 Wi' halls and towers sae fair? Gin ilka man had back his ain, Of it you suld be heir." "How I suld be heir of that castell, In sooth, I canna see;110 For it belangs to Fause Foodrage, And he is na kin to me."— "O gin ye suld kill him, Fause Foodrage, You would do but what was right; For I wot he kill'd your father dear,115 Or ever ye saw the light. "And gin ye suld kill him, Fause Foodrage, There is no man durst you blame; For he keeps your mother a prisoner, And she darna take ye hame."—120 The boy stared wild like a gray goss-hawk, Says,—"What may a' this mean?" "My boy, ye are King Honour's son, And your mother's our lawful queen." "O gin I be King Honour's son,125 By our Ladye I swear, This night I will that traitor slay, And relieve my mother dear!"— He has set his bent bow to his breast, And leaped the castell wa';130 And soon he has seized on Fause Foodrage, Wha loud for help 'gan ca'. "O haud your tongue, now, Fause Foodrage, Frae me ye shanna flee;"— Syne pierced him through the fause, fause heart,135 And set his mother free. And he has rewarded Wise William Wi' the best half o' his land; And sae has he the turtle dow Wi' the truth o' his right hand.140

There was a rich lord, and he lived in Forfar, He had a fair lady, and one only dochter. O she was fair, O dear! she was bonnie, A ship's captain courted her to be his honey. There cam a ship's captain out owre the sea sailing,5 He courted this young thing till he got her wi' bairn:— "Ye'll steal your father's gowd, and your mother's money, And I'll mak ye a lady in Ireland bonnie." She's stown her father's gowd and her mother's money, But she was never a lady in Ireland bonnie.10 * * * * * * * "There's fey fowk in our ship, she winna sail for me, There's fey fowk in our ship, she winna sail for me." They've casten black bullets twice six and forty, And ae the black bullet fell on bonnie Annie. "Ye'll tak me in your arms twa, lo, lift me cannie,15 Throw me out owre board, your ain dear Annie." He has tane her in his arms twa, lo, lifted her cannie, He has laid her on a bed of down, his ain dear Annie. "What can a woman do, love, I'll do for ye;" "Muckle can a woman do, ye canna do for me.— Lay about, steer about, lay our ship cannie,21 Do all you can to save my dear Annie." "I've laid about, steer'd about, laid about cannie, But all I can do, she winna sail for me. Ye'll tak her in your arms twa, lo, lift her cannie,25 And throw her out owre board, your ain dear Annie." He has tane her in his arms twa, lo, lifted her cannie, He has thrown her out owre board, his ain dear Annie: As the ship sailed, bonnie Annie she swam, And she was at Ireland as soon as them.30 They made his love a coffin of the gowd sae yellow, And they buried her deep on the high banks of Yarrow.

He made his love a coffin off the Goats of Yerrow, And buried his bonnie love doun in a sea valley.

"My name is William Guiseman, In London I do dwell; I have committed murder, And that is known right well; I have committed murder,5 And that is known right well, And it's for mine offence I must die. "I lov'd a neighbour's dochter, And with her I did lie; I did dissemble with her10 Myself to satisfy; I did dissemble with her Myself to satisfy, And it's for mine offence I must die. "Sae cunningly's I kept her,15 Until the fields war toom; Sae cunningly's I trysted her Unto yon shade o' broom; And syne I took my wills o' her, And then I flang her doun,20 And it's for mine offence I must die. "Sae cunningly's I killed her, Who should have been my wife; Sae cursedly's I killed her, And with my cursed knife;25 Sae cursedly's I killed her, Who should have been my wife, And it's for mine offence I must die. "Six days she lay in murder, Before that she was found;30 Six days she lay in murder, Upon the cursed ground; Six days she lay in murder, Before that she was found, And it's for mine offence I must die.35 "O all the neighbours round about, They said it had been I; I put my foot on gude shipboard, The county to defy; The ship she wadna sail again,40 But hoisted to and fro, And it's for mine offence I must die. "O up bespak the skipper-boy, I wat he spak too high; 'There's sinful men amongst us,45 The seas will not obey;' O up bespak the skipper-boy, I wat he spak too high, And it's for mine offence I must die. "O we cuist cavels us amang,50 The cavel fell on me; O we cuist cavels us amang, The cavel fell on me; O we cuist cavels us amang, The cavel fell on me,55 And it's for mine offence I must die. "I had a loving mother Who of me took gret care; She wad hae gien the gold sae red, To have bought me from that snare;60 But the gold could not be granted, The gallows pays a share, And it's for mine offence I must die."

In Lauderdale I chanc'd to walk, And heard a lady's moan, Lamenting for her dearest dear, And aye she cried, ohon! "Sure never a maid that e'er drew breath5 Had harder fate than me; I'd never a lad but one on earth, They forc'd him to the sea. "The ale shall ne'er be brewin o' malt, Neither by sea nor land,10 That ever mair shall cross my hause, Till my love comes to hand. A handsome lad wi' shoulders broad, Gold yellow was his hair; None of our Scottish youths on earth15 That with him could compare. She thought her love was gone to sea, And landed in Bahome; But he was in a quiet chamber, Hearing his lady's moan.20 "Why make ye all this moan, lady? Why make ye all this moan? For I'm deep sworn on a book, I must go to Bahome. "Traitors false for to subdue,25 O'er seas I'll make me boun', That have trepan'd our kind Scotchmen, Like dogs to ding them down." "Weell, take this ring, this royal thing, Whose virtue is unknown;30 As lang's this ring's your body on, Your blood shall ne'er be drawn. "But if this ring shall fade or stain, Or change to other hue, Come never mair to fair Scotland,35 If ye're a lover true." Then this couple they did part With a sad heavy moan; The wind was fair, the ship was rare, They landed in Bahome.40 But in that place they had not been A month but barely one, Till he look'd on his gay gold ring, And riven was the stone. Time after this was not expir'd45 A month but scarcely three, Till black and ugly was the ring, And the stone was burst in three. "Fight on, fight on, you merry men all, With you I'll fight no more;50 I will gang to some holy place, Pray to the King of Glore." Then to the chapel he is gone, And knelt most piteouslie, For seven days and seven nights,55 Till blood ran frae his knee. "Ye'll take my jewels that's in Bahome, And deal them liberallie, To young that cannot, and old that mannot, The blind that does not see.60 "Give maist to women in child-bed laid, Can neither fecht nor flee: I hope she's in the heavens high, That died for love of me." The knights they wrang their white fingers,65 The ladies tore their hair; The women that ne'er had children born, In swoon they down fell there. But in what way the knight expir'd, No tongue will e'er declare;70 So this doth end my mournful song, From me ye'll get nae mair.

By Arthur's dale as late I went, I heard a heavy moan; I heard a lady lamenting sair. And ay she cried "ohon!" "Ohon, alas! what shall I do,5 Tormented night and day? I never loved a love but ane, And now he's gone away. "But I will do for my true love What ladies would think sair;10 For seven years shall come and gae, Ere a kaime gae in my hair. "There shall neither a shoe gae on my foot, Nor a kaime gae in my hair, Nor ever a coal or candle light15 Shine in my bower nae mair." She thought her love had been on sea, Fast sailing to Bee-Ho'm; But he was still in a quiet chamber, Hearing his lady's moan.20 "Be hush'd, be hush'd, my lady dear, I pray thee moan not so; For I am deep sworn on a book To Bee-Ho'm for to go." She's gien him a chain o' the beaten goud,25 And a ring with a ruby stone: "As lang as this chain your body binds, Your blood can never be drawn. "But gin this ring should fade or fail, Or the stone should change its hue,30 Be sure your love is dead and gone, Or she has proved untrue." * * * * * * * He had not been at bonny Bee-Ho'm A twelvemonth and a day, Till looking on his gay gold ring,35 The stone grew dark and gray. "O ye tak my riches to Bee-Ho'm, And deal them presentlie, To the young that canna, the old that manna, The blind that downa see."40 Now Death has come intill his bower, And split his heart in twain: Sae their twa sauls flew up to heaven, And there shall ever remain.

There were three ravens sat on a tree, Downe, a downe, hay downe, hay downe, There were three ravens sat on a tree, With a downe, There were three ravens sat on a tree, They were as blacke as they might be, With a downe, derrie, derrie, derrie, downe, downe. The one of them said to his mate, "Where shall we our breakefast take?"— "Downe in yonder greene field,5 There lies a knight slain under his shield. "His hounds they lie downe at his feete, So well they their master keepe. "His haukes they flie so eagerly, There's no fowle dare him com nie."10 Downe there comes a fallow doe, As great with yong as she might goe. She lift up his bloudy hed, And kist his wounds that were so red. She got him up upon her backe,15 And carried him to earthen lake. She buried him before the prime, She was dead herselfe ere even-song time. God send every gentleman, Such haukes, such houndes, and such a leman.20

As I was walking all alane, I heard twa corbies making a mane; The tane unto the t'other say, "Where sall we gang and dine to-day?"— "In behint yon auld fail dyke,5 I wot there lies a new-slain knight; And naebody kens that he lies there, But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair. "His hound is to the hunting gane, His hawk, to fetch the wild-fowl hame,10 His lady's ta'en another mate, So we may mak our dinner sweet. "Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane, And I'll pick out his bonny blue een: Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair15 We'll theek our nest when it grows bare. "Mony a one for him makes mane, But nane sall ken where he is gane: O'er his white banes, when they are bare, The wind sall blaw for evermair."—20

'When I look east, my heart is sair, But when I look west, it's mair and mair; For then I see the braes o' Yarrow, And there, for aye, I lost my marrow.'"

Late at e'en, drinking the wine, And ere they paid the lawing, They set a combat them between, To fight it in the dawing. "O stay at hame, my noble lord,5 O stay at hame, my marrow! My cruel brother will you betray On the dowie houms of Yarrow."— "O fare ye weel, my ladye gaye! O fare ye weel, my Sarah!10 For I maun gae, though I ne'er return Frae the dowie banks o' Yarrow." She kiss'd his cheek, she kaim'd his hair, As oft she had done before, O; She belted him with his noble brand,15 And he's away to Yarrow. As he gaed up the Tennies bank, I wot he gaed wi' sorrow, Till, down in a den, he spied nine arm'd men, On the dowie houms of Yarrow.20 "O come ye here to part your land, The bonnie Forest thorough? Or come ye here to wield your brand, On the dowie houms of Yarrow?"— "I come not here to part my land,25 And neither to beg nor borrow; I come to wield my noble brand, On the bonnie banks of Yarrow. "If I see all, ye're nine to ane; And that's an unequal marrow;30 Yet will I fight, while lasts my brand, On the bonnie banks of Yarrow." Four has he hurt, and five has slain, On the bloody braes of Yarrow, Till that stubborn knight came him behind,35 And ran his body thorough. "Gae hame, gae hame, good-brother John, And tell your sister Sarah, To come and lift her leafu' lord; He's sleepin sound on Yarrow."—40 "Yestreen I dream'd a dolefu' dream; I fear there will be sorrow! I dream'd I pu'd the heather green, Wi' my true love, on Yarrow. "O gentle wind, that bloweth south,45 From where my love repaireth, Convey a kiss from his dear mouth, And tell me how he fareth! "But in the glen strive armed men; They've wrought me dole and sorrow;50 They've slain—the comeliest knight they've slain— He bleeding lies on Yarrow." As she sped down yon high high hill, She gaed wi' dole and sorrow, And in the den spied ten slain men,55 On the dowie banks of Yarrow. She kissed his cheek, she kaim'd his hair, She searched his wounds all thorough, She kiss'd them, till her lips grew red, On the dowie houms of Yarrow.60 "Now haud your tongue, my daughter dear! For a' this breeds but sorrow; I'll wed ye to a better lord, Than him ye lost on Yarrow."— "O haud your tongue, my father dear!65 Ye mind me but of sorrow; A fairer rose did never bloom Than now lies cropp'd on Yarrow."

Ten lords sat drinking at the wine, Intill a morning early; There fell a combat them among, It must be fought,—nae parly. "O stay at hame, my ain gude lord,5 O stay, my ain dear marrow." "Sweetest min', I will be thine, And dine wi' you to-morrow." She's kiss'd his lips, and comb'd his hair, As she had done before, O;10 Gied him a brand down by his side, And he is on to Yarrow. As he gaed ower yon dowie knowe, As aft he'd dune before, O; Nine armed men lay in a den,15 Upo' the braes o' Yarrow. "O came ye here to hunt or hawk, As ye hae dune before, O? Or came ye here to wiel' your brand, Upo' the braes o' Yarrow?"20 "I came na here to hunt nor hawk, As I hae dune before, O; But I came here to wiel' my brand, Upon the braes o' Yarrow." Four he hurt, and five he slew,25 Till down it fell himsell, O; There stood a fause lord him behin', Who thrust him thro' body and mell, O. "Gae hame, gae hame, my brother John, And tell your sister sorrow;30 Your mother to come take up her son, Aff o' the braes o' Yarrow." As he gaed ower yon high, high hill, As he had dune before, O; There he met his sister dear,35 Came rinnin fast to Yarrow. "I dreamt a dream last night," she says, "I wish it binna sorrow; I dreamt I was pu'ing the heather green, Upo' the braes o' Yarrow."40 "I'll read your dream, sister," he says, "I'll read it into sorrow; Ye're bidden gae take up your love, He's sleeping sound on Yarrow." She's torn the ribbons frae her head,45 They were baith thick and narrow; She's kilted up her green claithing, And she's awa' to Yarrow. She's taen him in her arms twa, And gien him kisses thorough,50 And wi' her tears she bath'd his wounds, Upo' the braes o' Yarrow. Her father looking ower his castle wa', Beheld his daughter's sorrow; "O had your tongue, daughter," he says,55 "And let be a' your sorrow, I'll wed you wi' a better lord, Than he that died on Yarrow." "O had your tongue, father," she says, "And let be till to-morrow;60 A better lord there cou'dna be Than he that died on Yarrow." She kiss'd his lips, and comb'd his hair, As she had dune before, O; Then wi' a crack her heart did brack,65 Upon the braes o' Yarrow.

O heard ye o' Sir James the Rose, The young heir o' Buleighan? For he has kill'd a gallant squire, Whase friends are out to tak him. Now he has gane to the house o' Mar,5 Whar nane might seik to find him; To see his dear he did repair, Weining she wold befreind him. "Whar are ye gaing Sir James," she said, "O whar awa are ye riding?"10 "I maun be bound to a foreign land, And now I'm under hiding. "Whar sall I gae, whar sall I rin, Whar sall I rin to lay me? For I ha kill'd a gallant squire,15 And his friends seik to slay me." "O gae ye down to yon laigh house, I sall pay there your lawing; And as I am your leman trew, I'll meet ye at the dawing."20 He turned him richt and round about, And rowd him in his brechan: And laid him doun to tak a sleip, In the lawlands o' Buleighan. He was nae weil gane out o' sicht,25 Nor was he past Milstrethen, Whan four and twenty belted knichts Cam riding owr the Leathen. "O ha ye seen Sir James the Rose, The young heir o' Buleighan?30 For he has kill'd a gallant squire, And we are sent to tak him." "Yea, I ha seen Sir James," she said, "He past by here on Monday; Gin the steed be swift that he rides on,35 He's past the Hichts of Lundie." But as wi speid they rade awa, She leudly cryd behind them; "Gin ye'll gie me a worthy meid, I'll tell ye whar to find him."40 "O tell fair maid, and on our band, Ye'se get his purse and brechan." "He's in the bank aboon the mill, In the lawlands o' Buleighan." Than out and spak Sir John the Graham,45 Who had the charge a keiping, "It's neer be said, my stalwart feres, We kill'd him whan a sleiping." They seized his braid sword and his targe, And closely him surrounded:50 "O pardon! mercy! gentlemen," He then fou loudly sounded. "Sic as ye gae, sic ye sall hae, Nae grace we shaw to thee can." "Donald my man, wait till I fa,55 And ye sall hae my brechan; Ye'll get my purse thouch fou o' gowd To tak me to Loch Lagan." Syne they take out his bleiding heart, And set it on a speir;60 Then tuke it to the house o' Mar, And shawd it to his deir. "We cold nae gie Sir James's purse, We cold nae gie his brechan; But ye sall ha his bleeding heart,65 Bot and his bleeding tartan." "Sir James the Rose, O for thy sake My heart is now a breaking, Curs'd be the day I wrocht thy wae, Thou brave heir of Buleighan!"70 Then up she raise, and furth she gaes, And, in that hour o' tein, She wanderd to the dowie glen, And nevir mair was sein.

Gude Lord Græme is to Carlisle gane, Sir Robert Bewick there met he, And arm in arm to the wine they did go, And they drank till they were baith merrie. Gude Lord Græme has ta'en up the cup,5 "Sir Robert Bewick, and here's to thee! And here's to our twae sons at hame! For they like us best in our ain countrie."— "O were your son a lad like mine, And learn'd some books that he could read,10 They might hae been twae brethren bauld, And they might hae bragged the Border side. "But your son's a lad, and he is but bad, And billie to my son he canna be;" * * * * * * * "I sent him to the schools, and he wadna learn;15 I bought him books, and he wadna read; But my blessing shall he never earn, Till I see how his arm can defend his head."— Gude Lord Græme has a reckoning call'd, A reckoning then called he;20 And he paid a crown, and it went roun', It was all for the gude wine and free. And he has to the stable gane, Where there stude thirty steeds and three; He's ta'en his ain horse amang them a',25 And hame he rade sae manfullie. "Welcome, my auld father!" said Christie Græme, "But where sae lang frae hame were ye?"— "It's I hae been at Carlisle town, And a baffled man by thee I be.30 "I hae been at Carlisle town, Where Sir Robert Bewick, he met me; He says ye're a lad, and ye are but bad, And billie to his son ye canna be. "I sent ye to the schools, and ye wadna learn;35 I bought ye books, and ye wadna read; Therefore my blessing ye shall never earn, Till I see with Bewick thou save thy head." "Now, God forbid, my auld father, That ever sic a thing suld be!40 Billie Bewick was my master, and I was his scholar, And aye sae weel as he learned me." "O hald thy tongue, thou limmer loon, And of thy talking let me be! If thou does na end me this quarrel soon,45 There is my glove, I'll fight wi' thee." Then Christie Græme he stooped low Unto the ground, you shall understand;— "O father, put on your glove again, The wind has blown it from your hand?"50 "What's that thou says, thou limmer loon? How dares thou stand to speak to me? If thou do not end this quarrel soon, There's my right hand thou shalt fight with me."— Then Christie Græme's to his chamber gane,55 To consider weel what then should be; Whether he should fight with his auld father, Or with his billie Bewick, he. "If I suld kill my billie dear, God's blessing I shall never win;60 But if I strike at my auld father, I think 'twald be a mortal sin. "But if I kill my billie dear, It is God's will, so let it be; But I make a vow, ere I gang frae hame,65 That I shall be the next man's die."— Then he's put on's back a gude auld jack, And on his head a cap of steel, And sword and buckler by his side; O gin he did not become them weel!70 We'll leave off talking of Christie Græme, And talk of him again belive; And we will talk of bonny Bewick, Where he was teaching his scholars five. When he had taught them well to fence,75 And handle swords without any doubt, He took his sword under his arm, And he walk'd his father's close about. He look'd atween him and the sun, And a' to see what there might be,80 Till he spied a man in armour bright, Was riding that way most hastilie. "O wha is yon, that came this way, Sae hastilie that hither came? I think it be my brother dear,85 I think it be young Christie Græme. "Ye're welcome here, my billie dear, And thrice ye're welcome unto me!"— "But I'm wae to say, I've seen the day, When I am come to fight wi' thee.90 "My father's gane to Carlisle town, Wi' your father Bewick there met he: He says I'm a lad, and I am but bad, And a baffled man I trow I be. "He sent me to schools, and I wadna learn;95 He gae me books, and I wadna read; Sae my father's blessing I'll never earn, Till he see how my arm can guard my head." "O God forbid, my billie dear, That ever such a thing suld be!100 We'll take three men on either side, And see if we can our fathers agree." "O hald thy tongue, now, billie Bewick, And of thy talking let me be! But if thou'rt a man, as I'm sure thou art,105 Come o'er the dyke, and fight wi' me." "But I hae nae harness, billie, on my back, As weel I see there is on thine."— "But as little harness as is on thy back, As little, billie, shall be on mine."—110 Then he's thrown aff his coat o' mail, His cap of steel away flung he; He stuck his spear into the ground, And he tied his horse unto a tree. Then Bewick has thrown aff his cloak,115 And's psalter-book frae's hand flung he; He laid his hand upon the dyke, And ower he lap most manfullie. O they hae fought for twae lang hours; When twae lang hours were come and gane,120 The sweat drapp'd fast frae aff them baith, But a drap of blude could not be seen. Till Græme gae Bewick an ackward stroke, Ane ackward stroke strucken sickerlie; He has hit him under the left breast,125 And dead-wounded to the ground fell he. "Rise up, rise up, now, billie dear, Arise and speak three words to me! Whether thou's gotten thy deadly wound, Or if God and good leeching may succour thee?" "O horse, O horse, now, billie Græme,131 And get thee far from hence with speed; And get thee out of this country, That none may know who has done the deed."— "O I have slain thee, billie Bewick,135 If this be true thou tellest to me; But I made a vow, ere I came frae hame, That aye the next man I wad be." He has pitch'd his sword in a moodie-hill, And he has leap'd twenty lang feet and three, And on his ain sword's point he lap,141 And dead upon the ground fell he. 'Twas then came up Sir Robert Bewick, And his brave son alive saw he; "Rise up, rise up, my son," he said,145 "For I think ye hae gotten the victorie." "O hald your tongue, my father dear, Of your prideful talking let me be! Ye might hae drunken your wine in peace, And let me and my billie be.150 "Gae dig a grave, baith wide and deep, And a grave to hald baith him and me; But lay Christie Græme on the sunny side, For I'm sure he wan the victorie." "Alack! a wae!" auld Bewick cried,155 "Alack! was I not much to blame? I'm sure I've lost the liveliest lad That e'er was born unto my name." "Alack! a wae!" quo' gude Lord Græme, "I'm sure I hae lost the deeper lack!160 I durst hae ridden the Border through, Had Christie Græme been at my back. "Had I been led through Liddesdale, And thirty horsemen guarding me, And Christie Græme been at my back,165 Sae soon as he had set me free! "I've lost my hopes, I've lost my joy, I've lost the key but and the lock; I durst hae ridden the world round, Had Christie Græme been at my back."170

He flang his cloak from off his shoulders, His psalm-book from his pouch flang he, He clapped his hand upon the hedge, And o'er lap he right wantonly. When Graham did see his bully come, The salt tears stood long in his ee; "Now needs must I say thou art a man, That dare venture thy body to fight with me. "Nay, I have a harness on my back; I know that thou hast none on thine; But as little as thou hast on thy back, As little shall there be on mine." He flang his jacket from off his back, His cap of steel from his head flang he; He's taken his spear into his hand, He's ty'd his horse unto a tree.

My love he built me a bonny bower, And clad it a' wi' lilye flour, A brawer bower ye ne'er did see, Than my true love he built for me. There came a man, by middle day,5 He spied his sport, and went away; And brought the King that very night, Who brake my bower, and slew my knight. He slew my knight, to me sae dear; He slew my knight, and poin'd his gear;10 My servants all for life did flee, And left me in extremitie. I sew'd his sheet, making my mane; I watch'd the corpse, myself alane; I watch'd his body, night and day;15 No living creature came that way. I tuk his body on my back, And whiles I gaed, and whiles I sat; I digg'd a grave, and laid him in, And happ'd him with the sod sae green.20 But think na ye my heart was sair, When I laid the moul' on his yellow hair; O think na ye my heart was wae, When I turn'd about, away to gae? Nae living man I'll love again,25 Since that my lovely knight is slain; Wi' ae lock of his yellow hair I'll chain my heart for ever mair.

About Zule, quhen the wind blew cule, And the round tables began, A'! there is cum to our kings court Mony a well-favourd man. The queen luikt owre the castle wa',5 Beheld baith dale and down, And then she saw zoung Waters Cum riding to the town. His footmen they did rin before, His horsemen rade behind;10 Ane mantel of the burning gowd Did keip him frae the wind. Gowden graith'd his horse before, And siller shod behind; The horse zoung Waters rade upon15 Was fleeter than the wind. But then spake a wylie lord, Unto the queen said he: "O tell me quha's the fairest face Rides in the company?"20 "I've sene lord, and I've sene laird, And knights of high degree, Bot a fairer face than zoung Waters Mine eyne did never see." Out then spaek the jealous king25 (And an angry man was he): "O if he had been twice as fair, Zou micht have excepted me." "Zou're neither laird nor lord," she says, "Bot the king that wears the crown;30 There is not a knight in fair Scotland, Bot to thee maun bow down." For a' that she could do or say, Appeasd he wade nae bee; Bot for the words which she had said,35 Zoung Waters he maun dee. They hae taen zoung Waters, and Put fetters to his feet; They hae taen zoung Waters, and Thrown him in dungeon deep.40 "Aft I have ridden thro' Stirling town, In the wind bot and the weit; Bot I neir rade thro' Stirling town Wi' fetters at my feet. "Aft have I ridden thro' Stirling town,45 In the wind bot and the rain; Bot I neir rade thro' Stirling town Neir to return again." They hae taen to the heiding-hill His zoung son in his craddle;50 And they hae taen to the heiding-hill His horse bot and his saddle. They hae taen to the heiding-hill His lady fair to see; And for the words the queen had spoke55 Zoung Waters he did dee.

Hie upon Hielands, And low upon Tay, Bonnie George Campbell Rade out on a day. Saddled and bridled5 And gallant rade he; Hame cam his gude horse, But never cam he! Out cam his auld mither Greeting fu' sair,10 And out cam his bonnie bride Rivin' her hair. Saddled and bridled And booted rade he; Toom hame cam the saddle,15 But never cam he! "My meadow lies green, And my corn is unshorn; My barn is to big, And my babie's unborn."20 Saddled and bridled And booted rade he; Toom hame cam the saddle, But never cam he!

"O pay me now, Lord Wearie; Come, pay me out o' hand." "I canna pay you, Lamkin, Unless I sell my land." "O gin ye winna pay me,5 I here sall mak a vow, Before that ye come hame again, Ye sall ha'e cause to rue." Lord Wearie got a bonny ship, To sail the saut sea faem;10 Bade his lady weel the castle keep, Ay till he should come hame. But the nourice was a fause limmer As e'er hung on a tree; She laid a plot wi' Lamkin,15 Whan her lord was o'er the sea. She laid a plot wi' Lamkin, When the servants were awa'; Loot him in at a little shot window, And brought him to the ha'.20 "O whare's a' the men o' this house, That ca' me Lamkin?" "They're at the barn well thrashing, 'Twill be lang ere they come in." "And whare's the women o' this house,25 That ca' me Lamkin?" "They're at the far well washing; 'Twill be lang ere they come in." "And whare's the bairns o' this house, That ca' me Lamkin?"30 "They're at the school reading; 'Twill be night or they come hame." O whare's the lady o' this house, That ca's me Lamkin?" "She's up in her bower sewing,35 But we soon can bring her down." Then Lamkin's tane a sharp knife, That hang down by his gaire, And he has gi'en the bonny babe A deep wound and a sair.40 Then Lamkin he rocked, And the fause nourice sang, Till frae ilkae bore o' the cradle The red blood out sprang. Then out it spak the lady,45 As she stood on the stair, "What ails my bairn, nourice, That he's greeting sae sair? "O still my bairn, nourice; O still him wi' the pap!"50 "He winna still, lady, For this, nor for that." "O still my bairn, nourice; "O still him wi' the wand!" "He winna still, lady,55 For a' his father's land." "O still my bairn, nourice, O still him wi' the bell!" "He winna still, lady, Till ye come down yoursel."60 O the firsten step she steppit, She steppit on a stane; But the neisten step she steppit, She met him, Lamkin. "O mercy, mercy, Lamkin!65 Ha'e mercy upon me! Though you've ta'en my young son's life, Ye may let mysel be." "O sall I kill her, nourice? Or sall I lat her be?"70 "O kill her, kill her, Lamkin, For she ne'er was good to me." "O scour the bason, nourice, And mak it fair and clean, For to keep this lady's heart's blood,75 For she's come o' noble kin." "There need nae bason, Lamkin; Lat it run through the floor; What better is the heart's blood O' the rich than o' the poor?"80 But ere three months were at an end, Lord Wearie came again; But dowie dowie was his heart When first he came hame. "O wha's blood is this," he says,85 "That lies in the châmer?" "It is your lady's heart's blood; 'Tis as clear as the lamer." "And wha's blood is this," he says, "That lies in my ha'?"90 "It is your young son's heart's blood; 'Tis the clearest ava." O sweetly sang the black-bird That sat upon the tree; But sairer grat Lamkin,95 When he was condemn'd to die. And bonny sang the mavis Out o' the thorny brake; But sairer grat the nourice, When she was tied to the stake.100

Belinkin was as gude a mason As e'er pickt a stane; He built up Prime Castle, But payment gat nane. The lord said to his lady,5 When he was going abroad, "O beware of Belinkin, For he lyes in the wood." The gates they were bolted, Baith outside and in;10 At the sma' peep of a window Belinkin crap in. "Gude morrow, gude morrow," Said Lambert Linkin. "Gude morrow to yoursell, sir,"15 Said the fause nurse to him. "O whare is your gude lord?" Said Lambert Linkin. "He's awa to New England, To meet with his king."20 "O where is his auld son?" Said Lambert Linkin. "He's awa to buy pearlings, Gin our lady ly in." "Then she'll never wear them,"25 Said Lambert Linkin. "And that is nae pity," Said the fause nurse to him. "O where is your lady?" Said Lambert Linkin.30 "She's in her bouir sleepin'," Said the fause nurse to him. "How can we get at her?" Said Lambert Linkin. "Stab the babe to the heart35 Wi' a silver bo'kin." "That wud be a pity," Said Lambert Linkin. "Nae pity, nae pity," Said the fause nurse to him.40 Belinkin he rocked, And the fause nurse she sang, Till a' the tores o' the cradle Wi' the red blude down ran. "O still my babe, nurice,45 O still him wi' the knife." "He'll no be still, lady, Tho' I lay down my life." "O still my babe, nurice, O still him wi' the kame."50 "He'll no be still, lady, Till his daddy come hame." "O still my babe, nurice, O still him wi' the bell." "He'll no be still, lady,55 Till ye come down yoursell." "It's how can I come doun, This cauld frosty nicht, Without e'er a coal Or a clear candle licht?"60 "There's twa smocks in your coffer, As white as a swan; Put ane o' them about you, It will shew you licht doun." She took ane o' them about her,65 And came tripping doun; But as soon as she viewed, Belinkin was in. "Gude morrow, gude morrow," Said Lambert Linkin.70 "Gude morrow to yoursell, sir," Said the lady to him. "O save my life, Belinkin, Till my husband come back, And I'll gie ye as much red gold75 As ye'll haud in your hat." "I'll not save your life, lady, Till your husband come back, Tho' you wud gie me as much red gold As I could haud in a sack.80 "Will I kill her?" quo' Belinkin, "Will I kill her, or let her be?" "You may kill her," said the fause nurse, "She was ne'er gude to me; And ye'll be laird o' the Castle,85 And I'll be ladye." Then he cut aff her head Fra her lily breast bane, And he hung 't up in the kitchen, It made a' the ha' shine.90 The lord sat in England A-drinking the wine: "I wish a' may be weel Wi' my lady at hame; For the rings o' my fingers95 They're now burst in twain!" He saddled his horse, And he came riding doun; But as soon as he viewed, Belinkin was in.100 He hadna weel stepped Twa steps up the stair, Till he saw his pretty young son Lying dead on the floor. He hadna weel stepped105 Other twa up the stair, Till he saw his pretty lady Lying dead in despair. He hanged Belinkin Out over the gate;110 And he burnt the fause nurice, Being under the grate.

Down by yon garden green Sae merrily as she gaes; She has twa weel-made feet, And she trips upon her taes. She has twa weel-made feet;5 Far better is her hand; She's as jimp in the middle As ony willow-wand. "Gif ye will do my bidding, At my bidding for to be,10 It's I will make you lady Of a' the lands you see." * * * * * * * He spak a word in jest; Her answer wasna good; He threw a plate at her face,15 Made it a' gush out o' blood. She wasna frae her chamber A step but barely three, When up and at her richt hand There stood Man's Enemy.20 "Gif ye will do my bidding, At my bidding for to be; I'll learn you a wile Avenged for to be." The Foul Thief knotted the tether;25 She lifted his head on hie; The nourice drew the knot That gar'd lord Waristoun die. Then word is gane to Leith, Also to Edinburgh town,30 That the lady had kill'd the laird, The laird o' Waristoun. * * * * * * * "Tak aff, tak aff my hood, But lat my petticoat be; Put my mantle o'er my head;35 For the fire I downa see. "Now, a' ye gentle maids, Tak warning now by me, And never marry ane But wha pleases your e'e.40 "For he married me for love, But I married him for fee; And sae brak out the feud That gar'd my dearie die."

It was at dinner as they sat, And when they drank the wine, How happy were the laird and lady Of bonnie Wariestoun. The lady spak but ae word,5 The matter to conclude; The laird strak her on the mouth, Till she spat out o' blude. She did not know the way Her mind to satisfy,10 Till evil cam into her head All by the Enemy. * * * * * * * "At evening when ye sit And when ye drink the wine, See that ye fill the glass well up15 To the laird o' Wariestoun." * * * * * * * So at table as they sat, And when they drank the wine, She made the glass aft gae round To the laird o' Wariestoun.20 The nurice she knet the knot, And O she knet it sicker; The ladie did gie it a twig, Till it began to wicker. But word has gane doun to Leith,25 And up to Embro toun, That the lady she has slain the laird, The laird o' Wariestoun. Word's gane to her father, the great Duniepace, And an angry man was he;30 Cries, "Fy! gar mak a barrel o' pikes, And row her doun some brae." She said, "Wae be to ye, Wariestoun, I wish ye may sink for ain; For I hae been your gudwife35 These nine years, running ten; And I never loved ye sae weill As now when you're lying slain." * * * * * * * "But tak aff this gowd brocade, And let my petticoat be,40 And tie a handkerchief round my face, That the people may not see."