A 
 
 Collection 
 
 .— * OF 
 
 lladj: 
 
 Edited by 
 
 Andrew Lang, 
 
 NUfc) 
 
 DIAMOND LIBRARY.
 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 

 
 A COLLECTION OF BALLADS
 
 iMk 
 
 KINMONT W1LUK. 
 
 Frontispiece.
 
 A Collection 
 
 of Ballads 
 
 K.l it ol by- 
 Andrew Lang 
 
 ■': Illustrations ami X 
 
 London: Chapman ^c Hall, Ltd. 
 1897
 
 \L0 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 IN i RODU( I [ON «X 
 
 sik PATRICK SPENS i 
 
 BATTLE OF OTTERBOURNE 5 
 
 TAM LIN IO 
 
 THOMAS THE RHYMER 16 
 
 sIK HUGH; OR, THE JEW'S DAUGHTER 19 
 
 SON DAVIE ! SON DA\ 11. ! 22 
 
 [■HE WIFE "i 1 SHER'S Wi.I.I 24 
 
 1 hi. TW \ I ORBIES 26 
 
 1 HE BONNIE EARL MORAY 27 
 
 1 1 1 i;k SA1 NDERS 3° 
 
 WALY, UAI.V ■-• 35 
 
 LOVE GREQOK ; OR, THE LASS OF LOCH- 
 
 ROYAN 37 
 
 THE QUEEN'S MARIE 4 1 
 
 KINMONT WILLIE... 45 
 
 JAMIE TELFER 5 2 
 
 Tilt: DOI GLAS TRAGEDY ... 59 
 
 THE BONKS HIND 
 
 YOUNG HICHAM 
 
 LOVING BALLAD OF LORD BATEMAN 69 
 vii 
 
 62 
 65 

 
 Contents 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE BONNIE HOUSE O' AIRLY 73 
 
 R( >B ROY 75 
 
 THE BATTLE OF KILLIECKANKIE ... 77 
 
 ANNAN WATER 79 
 
 THE ELPHIN NOURRICE 81 
 
 COSPATEICK 82 
 
 JOHNNIE ARMSTRANG 87 
 
 EDOM O' GORDON 92 
 
 LADY ANNE BOTHWELL'S LAMENT ... 98 
 
 JOCK O THE SIDE IOI 
 
 LORD THOMAS AND FAIR ANNET ... 107 
 
 EAIR ANNIE Ill 
 
 THE DOWIE DENS OF YARROW ... Il6 
 
 SIR ROLAND 119 
 
 ROSE THE RED AND WHITE LILY ... 123 
 THE BATTLE OE HAKLAW : 
 
 Evergreen Version ... ... ... 131 
 
 Traditionary Version 138 
 
 DICKIE MACPHALION 142 
 
 A LYKE-WAKE DIRGE 143 
 
 THE LAIRD OF WARISTOUN 145 
 
 MAY COLVEN I 17 
 
 fOHNIE EAA 150 
 
 HOBBIE NOBLE 152 
 
 THE TWA SISTERS 157 
 
 MARY AMBREI 160 
 
 viii
 
 '.ents 
 
 i '.i 
 
 A I ISDN GROSS 165 
 
 1 ill HEIR OB w JN1 .. 167 
 
 GORDON OI BRA< KLEV ... 17- 
 
 1 DWARD, EDWARD 175 
 
 YOUNG Bl NJIE 177 
 
 auld maitland 180 
 
 the broom! ield hhj 189 
 
 willie's ladye 193 
 
 robin hood and the monk 196 
 
 ROBIN HOOD AND I ill POTTER ... 209 
 ROBIN HOOD AND I 111-. BUTCHER 221 
 
 NOTES 227 

 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 When the learned firsl gave serious 
 attention to popular ballads, from the time 
 of Percy to that of Scott, they laboured 
 
 under certain disabilities. The Comparative 
 Method was scarcely understood, and was 
 little practised. Editors were content to 
 study the ballads of their own countryside, 
 or, at most, of Great Britain. Teutonic 
 and Northern parallels to our ballads were 
 then adduced, as by Scott and Jamieson. 
 It was later that the ballads of Europe, 
 from the Faroes to Modern Greece, were 
 compared with our own, with European 
 hen, or children's tales, and with the 
 popular songs, dances, and traditions of 
 classical and savage peoples. The results of 
 this more recent comparison may be briefly 
 stated. Poetry begins, as Aristotle says, in 
 improvisation. Every man is his own poet, 
 and, in moments of stronge motion, ex- 
 presses himself in song. A typical example 
 i the Song of Lantech in Genesis — 
 
 " I have slain a man to my wounding, 
 And a young man to my hurt." 
 xi
 
 Ballads 
 
 Instances perpetually occur in the Saga 
 Grettir, Egil, Skarphedih, arc always sing- 
 ing. In Kidnapped } Mr. Stevenson intro- 
 duces "The Song of the Sword of Alan," 
 a fine example of Celtic practice : words 
 and air are beaten out together, in the heat 
 of victory. In the same way, the women 
 sang improvised dirges, like Helen; lul- 
 labies, like the lullaby of Dana in Simon- 
 ides, and flower songs, as in modern Italy. 
 Every function of life, war, agriculture, 
 the chase, had its appropriate magical and 
 mimetic dance and song, as in Finland, 
 among Red Indians, and among Australian 
 blacks. "The deeds of men " were chanted 
 by heroes, as by Achilles; stories were told 
 in alternate verse and prose ; girls, like 
 Homer's Nausicaa, accompanied dance and 
 ball play, priests and medicine-men ac- 
 companied rites and magical ceremonies by 
 songs. 
 
 These practices are world-wide, and 
 world-old. The thoroughly popular songs, 
 thus evolved, became the rude material of 
 a professional class of minstrels, when 
 these arose, as in the heroic age of Greece. 
 A minstrel mi^ht be attached to a Court, 
 or a noble; or he might go wandering with 
 song and harp among the people. In 
 xii
 
 Introduction 
 
 either case, this class of men developed 
 in. >ir regular and ample measures. They 
 evolved the hexameter; the laisse of the 
 Chansons de Geste; the strange technicali- 
 ties of Scandinavian poetry; the metres of 
 Vedic hymns; the choral odes oi Greece. 
 The narrative popular chant became in 
 their hands the Epic, 01 the mediaeval 
 rhymed romance. The metre of impro- 
 vj ■'! verse changed into the artistic lyric. 
 These lyric forms were fixed, in many 
 . by the art of writing. But poetry 
 did not remain solely ill professional and 
 literary hands. The mediaeval minstrels 
 and f'on ,\ urs (who may best be studied in 
 1 ..hi Gautier's Introduction to his Epo 
 Francoises) sang in Court and Camp. The 
 poorer, less regular brethren of the art, 
 harped and played conjuring tricks, in 
 farm and grange, or at street corners. The 
 foreign newer metres took the place of the 
 old alliterative English verse. But unpro- 
 ional men and women did not cease 
 to make and sing. 
 
 Some writers have decided, among them 
 
 Mi. Courthope, that our traditional ballads 
 
 i degraded popular survivals oi literary 
 
 poetry. The plot - and situations oi some 
 
 ballad are, indeed, the those of 
 
 xiii
 
 Ballads 
 
 some literary mediaeval romances. But 
 these plots and situations, in Epic and 
 Romance, are themselves the final literary 
 form of marchen, myths and inventions 
 originally popular, and still, in certain 
 cases, extant in popular form among races 
 which have not yet evolved, or borrowed, 
 the ampler and more polished and complex 
 genres of literature. Thus, when a literary 
 romance and a ballad have the same theme, 
 the ballad may be a popular degradation of 
 the romance ; or, it may be the original 
 popular shape <>f it, still surviving in 
 tradition. A well-known ease in prose, is 
 thai of the French fairy tales. 
 
 Perrault, in 1697, borrowed these from 
 tradition and gave them literary and courtly 
 shape, but Ccndrillou or Chaperon Rouge 
 in the moulh of a French peasant, is apt 
 to be the old traditional version, uncon- 
 taminated by the refinements of Perrault, 
 despite Perrault's immense success and 
 circulation. Thus tradition preserves pre- 
 literary forms, even though, on occasion, it 
 may borrow from literature. Peasant poets 
 have been authors of ballads, without 
 being, for all that, professional minstrels. 
 Many such poems survive in our ballad 
 literature. 
 
 xiv
 
 Introduction 
 
 The materia] of the ballad may be eithei 
 
 i antic or historical. The former cl 
 
 is based on one of the primeval invented 
 
 situations, one of the elements of the 
 hen in pr. >m-. Such talcs or myths 
 i in the stories of savages, in Hh 
 legends of peasants, are interwoven later 
 with the plot iii Epic or Romance, and 
 may also inspire ballads. Popular super- 
 stitions, the witch, metamorphosis, the 
 returning ghost, the fairy, all of them 
 survivals of the earliest thought, naturally 
 play a great part. The Historical ballad, 
 on the other hand, has a basis of resound- 
 ing fact, murder, battle, or fire-raising, but 
 the facts, being derived from popular 
 rumour, arc immediately corrupted and 
 dislorted, sometimes out of all knowledge. 
 ( h i,«l examples are the ballads on Darnley's 
 murder and the youth of James VI. 
 
 In the romantic class, we may take 
 Tamlane. Here the idea of fairies stealing 
 children is thoroughly popular; they also 
 steal young men as lovers, and again, men 
 may win fairy brides, by clinging to them 
 through all transformations. A classical 
 example is the seizure of Thetis by Peleus, 
 and Child quotes a modern Cretan ex- 
 ample. The dipping in milk and water, 
 xv
 
 Ballads 
 
 I may add, has precedent in ancient Egypt 
 (in The Two Brothers), and in modern 
 Senegambia. The fairy tax, tithe, or teind, 
 paid to Hell, is illustrated l>y old trials for 
 witchcraft, in Scotland. 1 Now, in literary 
 forms and romance, as in Ogier le Danois, 
 persons are carried away by the Fairy King 
 or Queen. But here the literary romance 
 borrows from popular superstition ; the 
 ballad has no need to borrow a familiar 
 fact from literary romance. On the whole 
 subject the curious may consult "The 
 Secret Commonwealth of Elves, Fauns, 
 and Fairies," by the Reverend Robert Kirk 
 of Aberfoyle, himself, according to tradition, 
 a victim of the fairies. 
 
 Thus, in Tantieme, the whole donnce is 
 popular. But the current version, that of 
 Scott, is contaminated, as Scott knew, by 
 incongruous modernisms. Bums's version, 
 from tradition, already localizes the events 
 at Carterhaugh, the junction of Ettrick 
 and Yarrow. But Bums's version does not 
 make the Earl of Murray father of the 
 hero, nor the Earl of March father of the 
 heroine. Roxburgh is the hero's father in 
 Burns's variant, which is more plausible, 
 and the modern verses do not occur. This 
 
 ' See Pitcairn, Case of Alison Pearson, 1586. 
 xvi
 
 Introduction 
 
 ballad apparently owes nothing to literal) 
 romance. 
 
 In Mary Hamilton we have i table 
 
 instance of the Historical Ballad. No 
 Marie oJ Mary Smart's suffered death for 
 child murder. 
 
 She had no Marie Hamilton, no Marie 
 Qtrmichael among her four Maries, though 
 a lady of the latter name was at her court. 
 lint early in the reign a Frenchwoman of 
 the queen's was hanged, with her para- 
 mour, an apothecary, for slaying her 
 infant. Knox mentions the fact, which is 
 also lecorded in letters from the English 
 ambassador, uncited by Mr. Child. Knox 
 adds that there were ballads against the 
 Maries. Now, in March 17 19, a Mary 
 Hamilton, of Scots descent, a maid of 
 honour of Catherine of Russia, was hanged 
 for child murder {Child, vi. 3S3). It has 
 therefore been supposed, first by Charles 
 Kirkpatrick Sharpe long ago, later by 
 Professor Child, and then by Mr. Court- 
 hope, that our ballad is of 1719, or later, 
 and deals with the Russian, not the Scotch, 
 tragedy. 
 
 To this we may reply (1) that we hav< 
 no example of such a throwing back of a 
 contemporary event, in ballads. (2) There 
 xvii b
 
 Ballads 
 
 is a version (Child, viii. 507) in which 
 Mary Hamilton's paramour is a "pot- 
 linger," or apothecary, as in the real old 
 Scotch affair. (3) The number of variants 
 of a ballad is likely to be proportionate to 
 its antiquity and wide distribution. Now 
 only Sir Patrick Spcns has so many widely 
 different variants as Alary Hamilton. These 
 could hardly have been evolved between 
 1 7 19 and 1790, when Burns quotes the 
 poem as an old ballad. (4) We have no 
 example of a poem so much in the old 
 ballad manner, for perhaps a hundred and 
 fifty years before 17 19. The style first 
 degraded and then expired : compare Rob 
 Roy and Killiecrankie, in this collection, 
 also the ballads of Loudoun Hill, The 
 Battle of Philiphaugh, and others much 
 earlier than 1719. New styles of popular 
 poetry on contemporary events as Sherriff- 
 inuir and Tranent /hue had arisen. (5) 
 The extreme historic inaccuracy of Mary 
 Hamilton is paralleled by that of all the 
 ballads on real events. The mention of 
 the Poltinger is a trace of real history 
 which has no parallel in the Russian affair, 
 and there is no room, says Professor 
 Child, for the supposition that it was 
 voluntarily inserted by reciter or copyist, 
 xviii
 
 Introduction 
 
 to tally with the narrative in Knox's 
 1 [istory. 
 
 On the other side, we have the name of 
 Mary Hamilton occurring in a tragic event 
 of 1719, but then the name does not 
 uniformly appear in the variants of the 
 ballad. The lady is there spoken of gener- 
 ally as Mary Hamilton, hut also as Mary 
 Myle, Lady Maisry, as daughter of the 
 Duke of York (Stuart), as Marie Mild, and 
 50 forth. Though she bids sailors carry 
 the tale of her doom, she is not abroad, but 
 in Edinburgh town. Nothing can be less 
 probable than that a Scots popular ballad- 
 maker in 1719, telling the tale of a yester- 
 day's tragedy in Russia, should throw the 
 time back by a hundred and fifty years, 
 should change the scene to Scotland (the 
 heart of the sorrow would be Mary's 
 exile), and, above all, should compose a 
 ballad in a style long obsolete. This is 
 not the method of the popular poet, and 
 such imitations of the old ballad as Hardy- 
 knute show that literary poets of 17 19 had 
 not knowledge or skill enough to mimic 
 the antique manner with any success. 
 
 We may, therefore, even in face of 
 Professor Child, regard Miay Hamilton 
 as an old example of popular perversion
 
 Ballads 
 
 of history in ballad, not as "one of the 
 very latest," and also "one of the very 
 best" of Scottish popular ballads. 
 
 Rob Roy shows the same power of pi I 
 version. It was not Rob Roy lml his 
 sons, Robin Oig (who shut Maclaren at the 
 plough-tail), and James Mohr (.alternately 
 the spy, the Jacobite, and the Hanoverian 
 spy once more), who carried off the heiress 
 o< Edenbelly. Indeed a kind of added 
 epilogue, in a different measure, proves 
 that a poet was aware of the facts, and 
 wished to correct his predecessor. 
 
 Such then are ballads, in relation to 
 legend and history. They are, on the 
 whole, with exceptions, absolutely popular 
 in origin, composed by men of the people 
 for the people, and then diffused among 
 and altered by popular reciters. In England 
 they soon won their way into printed stall 
 copies, and were grievously handled and 
 moralized by the hack editors. 
 
 No ballad has a stranger history than 
 The Loving Ballad of Lord Batcu/an, 
 illustrated by the pencils of Cruikshank 
 and Thackeray. Their form is a ludicrous 
 cockney perversion, but it retains the 
 essence. Balcman, a captive of "this 
 Turk," is beloved by the Turk's daughter
 
 Introduction 
 
 i il incident of old Fr< rich romance), 
 
 and l>y her released. The lady after seven 
 Lord Bateman : he has just 
 married a local bride, but "orders another 
 marriage," and send > home his bride "in a 
 ii and three." This incident is stereo- 
 typed ^in die ballad, and occurs in an 
 example in the Romaic. 1 
 
 Now Lord Bateman is Young Bekit in 
 the Scotch ballads, who becomes Young 
 Beichan, Young Bichem, and so forth, and 
 has adventures identical with those of 
 Lord Bateman, though the proud porter in 
 the Scots version is scarcely so prominent 
 and illustrious. As .Motherwell saw, Bekie 
 (Beichan, Iiuchan, Bateman) is really 
 el, Gilbert Becket, father of Thomas 
 of Canterbury. Every one has heard how 
 his Saracen bride sought him in London. 
 (Robert of Gloucester's Life and Martyr- 
 dom of Thomas Becket, Percy Society. See 
 Child's Introduction, IV., i. 1861, and 
 Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. xv., 1S27.) 
 The legend of the dissolved marriage is 
 from the common stock of ballad lore. 
 Motherwell found an example in the state 
 of Cantcfablc, alternate prose and vi 
 
 1 Translated in Ballads and Lyrics of OLi 
 France— A. I
 
 Ballads 
 
 like Aucassiu and Nicole/ tc. Thus the 
 cockney rhyme descends from the twelfth 
 century. 
 
 Such are a few of the curiosities of the 
 ballad. The examples selected are chiefly 
 chosen for their romantic charm, and for 
 the spirit of the Border raids which they 
 record. A few notes are added in an 
 appendix. The text is chosen from among 
 the many variants in Child's learned hut 
 still unfinished collection, and an effort has 
 been made to choose the copies which con- 
 tain most poetry with most signs of un- 
 contaminated originality. In a few cases 
 Sir Walter Scott's versions, though con- 
 fessedly "made up," are preferred. Perhaps 
 the editor may be allowed to say that he 
 does not merely plough with Professor 
 Child's heifer, but has made a study of 
 ballads from his boyhood. 
 
 This fact may exempt him, even in the 
 eyes of too patriotic American critics, from 
 "the common blame of a plagiary." In- 
 deed, as Professor Child has not yet pub- 
 lished his general theory of the Ballad, the 
 editor does not know whether he agrees 
 with the ideas here set forth. 
 
 So far (he Editor had written, when 
 news came of Professor Child's regretted 
 xxii
 
 Introduction 
 
 death. He had lived to finish, it is said, 
 the vast collection of all known traditional 
 Scottish and English Ballads, with all 
 accessible variants, a work of great labour 
 and research, and a distinguished honour 
 to American scholarship. We are not told, 
 however, that he had written a general 
 study of the topic, with his conclusions as 
 to the evolution and diffusion of the 
 Ballads: as to the influences which directed 
 the selection of certain themes of Marchen 
 lor poetic treatment, and the processes by 
 which identical ballads were distributed 
 throughout Europe. No one, it is to be 
 feared, is left, in Europe at least, whose 
 knowledge of the subject is so wide and 
 iiiilic as that of Professor Child. It is 
 to lie hoped tint some pupil of his may 
 complete the task in his sense, if, indeed, 
 he has eft it unfinished.
 
 BALLADS 
 
 SIR PATRICK SPENS 
 (Border Minstrelsy. ) 
 
 The king sits in Dunfermline town, 
 Drinking the blude-red wine o : 
 
 " O whare will I get a skeely skipper 
 To sail this new ship of mine o? " 
 
 O up and spake an eldem-knight, 
 S it at the king's right knee : 
 
 ' ' Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor 
 That ever saild the sea." 
 
 Our king has written a braid letter, 
 And seald it with his hand, 
 
 And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens, 
 Was walking on the strand. 
 
 "To Noroway, to Xoroway, 
 To Xoroway ocr the faeni ; 
 
 The king's daughter of Noroway, 
 'Tis thou maun bring her hame." 
 
 The first word that Sir Patrick read, 
 Sae loud, loud laughed he ; 
 
 The neist word that Sir Patrick read, 
 The tear blinded his ee. 
 
 1}
 
 Ballads 
 
 " O wha is this lias done this deed, 
 
 And tauld the king o me, 
 To send ns out, at this time of the year, 
 
 To sail upon the sea?" 
 
 " Be it wind, be itweet.be it hail, be it sleet, 
 
 Our ship must sail the faem ; 
 The king's daughter of Noroway, 
 
 "lis we must fetch her hame." 
 
 Theyhoysed their sails on Monenday morn, 
 
 Wi' a' the speed they may ; 
 They hac landed in Noroway, 
 
 Upon a Wodensday. 
 
 They hadna been a week, a week 
 
 In Noroway but twae, 
 When that the lords o Noroway 
 
 Began aloud to say : 
 
 " Ye Scottishmen spend a' our king's goud, 
 
 And a' our queenis fee." 
 "Ye lie, ye lie, ye liars loud ! 
 
 Fu' loud I hear ye lie 1 
 
 " For I brought as much white monie 
 
 As gane my men and me, 
 And I brought a half-fou' o' gude red goud, 
 
 Out o'er the sea wi' me. 
 
 "Make ready, make ready, my merry-men a' ! 
 
 Our gude ship sails the morn." 
 ' ' Now ever alake, my master dear, 
 
 I fear a deadly storm ! 
 
 " I saw the new moon, late yestreen, 
 Wi' the auld moon in her arm ; 
 
 And if we gang to sea, master, 
 I fear we'll come to harm."
 
 (ads 
 
 They hadna sail'd a league, a league, 
 
 A league but barely three, 
 When the lifl grew dark, and the wind blew 
 
 loud, 
 
 And yni 1y grew the sea, 
 
 1 he ankers brak, and the top-masts lap, 
 1 1 was ic a deadly storm ; 
 
 And the waves earn o'er the broken ship, 
 1 ill a" her sides were torn. 
 
 "O where will I get a gude sailor, 
 
 To take my helm in hand, 
 Till 1 get up to the tall top-mast, 
 
 To see it 1 can spy land ?" 
 
 " O here am I, a sailor gude, 
 
 To take the helm in hand, 
 'I ill you go up to the tall top-mast ; 
 
 But 1 tear you'll ne'er spy land." 
 
 1 re hadna gane a step, a step, 
 
 A step hut barely ane, 
 \\ hen a bout (lew out of our goodly 
 
 And the salt sea it came in. 
 
 *' Gae, fetch a web o' the silken claith, 
 
 Another o' the twine, 
 And wap them into our ship's side, 
 
 And let na the sea come in." 
 
 They fetchd a web o the silken claith, 
 
 Another u the twine, 
 And they wapped them roun that gude 
 ship's side 
 
 But still the sea came in.
 
 Ballads 
 
 O laith, laith, were our gude Scots lords 
 To weet their cork-heel'd shoon ! 
 
 But lang or a the play was play'd 
 They wat their hats aboon, 
 
 And mony was the feather-bed 
 
 That fluttered on the faem, 
 And mony was the gude lord's son 
 
 That never mair cam hamc. 
 
 The ladyes wrang their fingers white, 
 The maidens tore their hair, 
 
 A' for the sake of their true loves, 
 For them they'll see na mair. 
 
 O lang, lang may the ladyes sit, 
 Wi' their fans into their hand, 
 
 Before they see Sir Patrick Spens 
 Come sailing to the strand ! 
 
 And lang, lang may the maidens sit, 
 Wi' their goud kaims in their hair, 
 
 A' waiting for their ain dear loves ! 
 For them they'll see na mair. 
 
 O forty miles off Aberdeen, 
 
 'Tis fifty fathoms deep, 
 And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens, 
 
 Wi' the Scots lords at his feet.
 
 BATTLE OF OTTERBOURNE 
 (Child, vol. vi.) 
 
 It Ml about the Lammas tide, 
 When the muir-men win their hay, 
 
 The doughty Douglas bound him to ride 
 Into England, to drive a prey. 
 
 He chose the Gordons and the Graemes, 
 With them the Lindesays, light and gay; 
 
 But the Jardines wald not with him ride, 
 And they rue it to this day. 
 
 And he has burn'd the dales of Tyne, 
 And part of Bambrough shire : 
 
 And three good towers on Reidswire fells, 
 He left them all on fire. 
 
 And he march'd up to Xeweastle, 
 
 And rode it round about : 
 "O wha's the lord of this castle? 
 
 Or wha's the lady o't ? " 
 
 But up spake proud Lord Percy then, 
 
 And O but lie spake hie ! 
 " I am the lord of this castle, 
 
 My wife's the lady gaye." 
 
 "If thou'rt the lord of this castle, 
 
 Sae wcel it pleases me ! 
 For, ere I cross the Border fells, 
 
 The tane of us sail die." 
 
 5
 
 Ballads 
 
 He took a lang spear in his hand, 
 
 Shod with tin: metal free, 
 And for to meet the Douglas there, 
 
 He rode right furiouslie. 
 
 But O how pale his lady look'd, 
 
 Frae aff the castle wa', 
 When down, before the Scottish spear, 
 
 She saw proud Percy fa'. 
 
 "Had we twa been upon the green, 
 
 And never an eye to sec, 
 I wad hae had you, flesh and fell ; 
 
 Rut your sword sail gac wi' mee." 
 
 ' ' But gae ye up to Otterbourne, 
 
 And wait there dayis three ; 
 And, if I come not ere three dayis end, 
 
 A fause knight ca' ye me." 
 
 "The Otterbourne's a bonnie bum ; 
 
 'Tis pleasant there to be ; 
 But there is nought at Otterbourne, 
 
 To feed my men and me. 
 
 "The deer rins wild on hill and dale, 
 The birds fly wild from tree to tree ; 
 
 But there is neither bread nor kale, 
 To feed my men and me. 
 
 " Yet I will stay at Otterbourne, 
 
 Where you shall welcome be ; 
 And, if ye come not at three dayis end, 
 
 A fause lord I'll ca' thee." 
 
 "Thither will I come," proud Percy said, 
 " By the might of Our Ladyel"— 
 
 "There will I bide thee," said the Douglas, 
 " My troth I plight to thee." 
 6
 
 Ballads 
 
 They lighted high on Otterbourne, 
 
 Upon the bent sac brown ; 
 They lighted high on Otterbourne, 
 
 And threw their pallions down. 
 
 And he thai had a bonnie boy, 
 
 Sent out his horse to grass, 
 \n'i he that had Dot a bonnie boy, 
 
 His ain servant he was. 
 
 But up then spake a little page, 
 
 Before the peep of dawn : 
 " O waken ye, waken ye, my good lord, 
 
 For Percy's hard at hand." 
 
 " Ye lie, ye lie, ye liar loud ! 
 
 Sae loud 1 hear ye lie; 
 For Percy had not men yestreen, 
 
 To dight my men and me. 
 
 " But 1 have dream'd a dreary dream, 
 
 Beyond the Isle of Sky ; 
 I saw a dead man win a fight, 
 
 And 1 think that man was I." 
 
 He belted on his guid braid sword, 
 
 And to the field he ran ; 
 But he forgot the helmet good, 
 
 That should have kept his brain. 
 
 When Percy wi the Douglas met, 
 
 I wat he was fu fain ! 
 They swakked their swords, till sair they 
 swat, 
 
 And the blood rsn down like rain. 
 
 But Percy with his good broad sword, 
 That could so sharply wound, 
 
 I las wounded I "ouglas on the brow, 
 Till he fell to the'ground. 
 
 7
 
 Ballads 
 
 Then he calld on his little foot-page, 
 
 And said — " Run speedilie, 
 And fetch my ain dear sister's son, 
 
 Sir Hugh Montgomery. 
 
 "My nephew good," the Douglas said, 
 • ' What recks the death of ane ! 
 
 Last night I dreamd a dreary dream, 
 And I ken the day's thy ain. 
 
 " My wound is deep ; I fain would sleep ; 
 
 Take thou the vanguard of the three, 
 And hide me by the braken bush, 
 
 That grows on yonder lilye lee. 
 
 " O bury me by the braken-bush, 
 
 Beneath the blooming brier ; 
 Let never living mortal ken 
 
 That ere a kindly Scot lies here." 
 
 He lifted up that noble lord, 
 
 Wi the saut tear in his e'e ; 
 He hid him in the braken bush, 
 
 That his merrie men might not see. 
 
 The moon was clear, the day drew near, 
 
 The spears in flinders flew, 
 nut mony a gallant Englishman 
 
 Ere day the Scotsmen slew. 
 
 The Gordons good, in English blood, 
 They steepd their hose and shoon ; 
 
 The Lindesays flew like fire about, 
 Till all the fray was done. 
 
 The Percy and Montgomery met, 
 That either of other were fain ; 
 
 They swapped swords, and they twa swat, 
 
 And aye the blood ran down between. 
 
 8
 
 Bct/Iads 
 
 "Yield thee, now yield thee, Percy," lie said, 
 "Or else I vow I'll lay thee low ! " 
 
 "To whom must I yield'," quoth Earl I'ercy, 
 " Now that 1 see it must be so?" 
 
 " Thon shalt not yield to lord nor loun, 
 Nor yet shalt thou yield to me ; 
 
 But yield thee to the braken-bush, 
 That grows upon yon lilye lee ! " 
 
 " I will not yield to a braken-bush, 
 
 Nor yet will 1 yield to a brier ; 
 But I would yield to Earl Douglas, 
 
 Or Sir Hugh the Montgomery, if he were 
 here." 
 
 As soon as he knew it was Montgomery, 
 He stuck his sword's point in the gronde; 
 
 The Montgomery was a courteous knight, 
 And quickly took him by the honde. 
 
 This deed was done at Otterbourne, 
 About the breaking of the day ; 
 
 Earl Douglas was buried at the braken bush, 
 And the Percy led captive away.
 
 TAM LIN 
 
 {Child, Part II., p. 340, Burns's Version. 
 
 O I forbid you, maidens a', 
 That wear govvcl on your hair, 
 
 To come or gae by Carterhaugh, 
 For young Tam Lin is there. 
 
 There's nane that gaes by Carterhaugh 
 
 But they leave him a wad, 
 Either their rings, or green mantles, 
 
 Or else their maidenhead. 
 
 Janet has kilted her green kirtle 
 
 A little aboon her knee, 
 And she has braided her yellow hair 
 
 A little aboon her bree, 
 And she's awa' to Carterhaugh, 
 
 As fast as she can hie. 
 
 When she came to Carterhaugh 
 
 Tam Lin was at the well, 
 And there she fand his steed standing, 
 
 But away was himsel. 
 
 She had na pu'd a double rose, 
 
 A rose but only twa, 
 Till up then started young Tam Lin, 
 
 Says, " Lady, thou's pu nae mae. 
 10
 
 I AM LIN. 
 
 p. ID.
 
 Ballads 
 
 " Why pu's thou the rose, Janet, 
 And why breaks thou the wand ? 
 
 i )i why co s thou to < larterhaugh 
 
 Withoutten my command?" 
 
 i. rhaugh, it is my ain, 
 My daddie gave it mi 
 I'll come and gang by Carterhaugh, 
 And a k nae leave at thee." 
 
 Janet has kilted her green kirtle 
 
 A little aboon her knee, 
 And she has snooded her yellow hair 
 
 A lit ili' aboon her bree, 
 And she is to her father's ha, 
 As fast as she can hie. 
 
 Four and twenty ladies fair 
 
 Wen- playing at the ba, 
 And out then cam thr fair Janet, 
 
 Ance the flower amang them a'. 
 
 Four and twenty ladies fair 
 
 Were playing at the chess, 
 And out then cam the fair Janet, 
 
 As green as onie grass. 
 
 Out then spak an auld grey knight, 
 
 Lay oer i le wa, 
 
 Ami says, " Alas, fair Janet, for thee 
 
 Hut we'll be blamed a'." 
 
 " II and your tongue, ye auld-fac'd knight, 
 
 Somr ill death may ye die ! 
 Father my bairn on whom I will, 
 
 I'll fathei nine on thee." 
 I i
 
 Ballads 
 
 Out then spak her father dear, 
 And he spak meek and mild ; 
 
 " And ever alas, sweet Janet," he says, 
 " I think thou gaes wi child." 
 
 " If that I gac wi' child, father, 
 Mysel maun bear the blame ; 
 
 There's neer a laird about your ha 
 Shall get the bairn's name. 
 
 " If my love were an earthly knight, 
 
 As he's an elfin grey, 
 I wad na gie my ain true-love 
 
 For nae lord that ye hae. 
 
 "The steed that my true-love rides on 
 
 [s lighter than the wind ; 
 Wi siller he is shod before 
 
 Wi burning gowd behind." 
 
 Janet has kilted her green kirtle 
 
 A little aboon her knee, 
 And she has snooded her yellow hair 
 
 A little aboon her bree, 
 And she's awa' to Carterhaugh, 
 
 As fast as she can hie. 
 
 When she cam to Carterhaugh, 
 
 Tarn Lin was at the well, 
 And there she fand his steed standing, 
 
 But away was himsel. 
 
 She had na pu'd a double rose, 
 
 A rose but only twa, 
 Till up then started young Tain Lin, 
 
 Says, " Lady, thou pu's nae mae. 
 
 " Why pu's thou the rose, Janet, 
 Amang the groves sae green, 
 
 And a' to kill the bonie babe 
 That we gat us between ? " 
 12
 
 Ballads 
 
 " U tell me, tell me, Tarn Lin," she says, 
 " For's sake that died on tree, 
 
 If eer ye was in holy ehapel, 
 Or Christendom did see?" 
 
 cbrugh he was my grandfather, 
 Took me with him to bide, 
 And ance it fell upon a day 
 That wae did me betide. 
 
 " And ance it fell upon a day, 
 
 A cauld day and a snell, 
 When we were frae die hunting come, 
 
 That frae my horse I fell ; 
 1 lie Queen o Fairies she caught me, 
 
 In yon green hill to dwell. 
 
 " And pleasant is the fairy land, 
 
 But, an eerie tale to tell, 
 Ay at the end of seven years 
 
 We pay a tiend to hell ; 
 I am sae fair and fu" o flesh 
 
 I'm feared it be mysel. 
 
 " But the night is Halloween, lady, 
 
 The morn is Hallowday ; 
 Then win me, win me, an ye will, 
 
 For weel I wat ye may. 
 
 "Just at the mirk and midnight hour 
 
 The fairy folk will ride, 
 And they that wad their true-love win, 
 
 At Miles Cross they maun bide." 
 
 " But how shall I thee ken, 'lam Lin, 
 
 Or how my true-love know, 
 Amang sae mony unco knights 
 
 The like I never saw?" 
 
 13
 
 Ballads 
 
 " O first let pass the black, lady, 
 
 And syne let pass tlie brown, 
 But quickly run to the milk-white steed, 
 
 l'u ye his rider down. 
 
 " For I'll ride on the milk-white steed, 
 
 And ay nearest the town ; 
 Because I was an earthly knight 
 
 They gie me that renown. 
 
 " My right hand will be glovd, lady, 
 
 My left hand will be bare, 
 Cockt up shall my bonnet be, 
 
 And kaimd down shall my hair; 
 And thae's the takens I gie thee, 
 
 Nae doubt 1 will be there. 
 
 " They'll turn me in your arms, lady, 
 
 Into an esk and adder ; 
 But hold me fast, and fear inc not, 
 
 I am your bairn's father. 
 
 " They'll turn me to a bear sac grim, 
 
 And then a lion bold ; 
 But hold me fast, and fear me not, 
 
 As ye shall love your child. 
 
 " Again they'll turn me in your arms 
 
 To a red het gaud of aim ; 
 But hold me fast, and fear me not, 
 
 I'll do to you nae harm. 
 
 " And last they'll turn me in your arms 
 
 Into the burning gleed; 
 Then throw me into well water, 
 
 O throw me in wi speed. 
 
 " And then I'll be your ain true-love, 
 
 I'll turn a naked knight ; 
 Then cover me wi your green mantle, 
 
 And cover me out o sight." 
 14
 
 Ballads 
 
 Gloomy, gloom) was the night, 
 
 And eerie was the way. 
 As fair Jenny in hei gn en mantle 
 
 To Miles < 'loss she did gae. 
 
 About the middle o' the nighl 
 
 sin- heard the bridli - ring; 
 This lady was as glad at that 
 
 As any earthly thing. 
 
 First she let the black pass by. 
 
 And syne she let the brown ; 
 But quickly she ran to the milk-white ^iced, 
 
 And pu'd the rider down. 
 
 Sae weel she minded whae he did say, 
 
 And young Tam Lin did win ; 
 Syne coverd him wi her green mantle, 
 As blythe's a bird in spring. 
 
 ( Hit then spak the Queen O Fairies, 
 
 < lut of a bush o broom : 
 " Them that has gotten young 'lam 1 .111 
 
 I las gotten a stately groom." 
 
 Out then spak the Queen o Fairies, 
 And an angry woman was she ; 
 
 " Shame betide her ill-far'd I 
 And an ill death may she die, 
 
 For she's taen awa the bonniest knight 
 In a' my companie. 
 
 " But had I kend, Tam Lin," she says, 
 
 " What now this night I see, 
 I wad hae taen out thy twa grey e'en, 
 
 And put in twa een o tree.'' 
 
 IS
 
 THOMAS THE RHYMER 
 [Child, Part II., p. 317.) 
 
 True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank ; 
 
 A ferlie he spied wi' his ee ; 
 And there he saw a lady bright, 
 
 Come riding down by the Eildon Tree. 
 
 Her skirt was o the grass-green silk, 
 
 Her mantle o the velvet fyne, 
 At ilka tett of her horse's mane 
 
 Hang fifty siller bells and nine. 
 
 True Thomas he pulld aff his cap, 
 And louted low down to his knee: 
 
 "All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven ! 
 For thy peer on earth I never did see. 
 
 "O no, O no, Thomas," she said, 
 " That name does not belang to me ; 
 
 I am but the queen of fair Elfland, 
 That am hither come to visit thee. 
 
 " Harp and carp, Thomas," she said, 
 ' ' Harp and carp, along wi' me, 
 
 And if ye dare to kiss my lips, 
 Sure of your bodie I will be ! " 
 
 " Betide me weal, betide me woe, 
 That weird sail never daunton me ; ' 
 
 Syne he has kissed her rosy lips. 
 All underneath the Eildon Tree. 
 16
 
 Ballads 
 
 " Now, ye maun go \vi me," she said, 
 " True Thomas, ye maun go wi me, 
 
 And ye maun serve me seven years, 
 
 Thro weal or woe as may chance to be." 
 
 She mounted on her milk-white steed, 
 She's tarn True Thomas up behind, 
 
 And aye wheneer her bridle rung, 
 The steed flew swifter than the wind. 
 
 O they rade on, and farther on — 
 
 The steed gaed swifter than the wind— 
 
 Until they reached a desart wide, 
 And living land was left behind. 
 
 " Light down, light down, now, True 
 Thomas, 
 
 And lean your head upon my knee ; 
 Abide and rest a little space, 
 
 And I will shew you ferlies three. 
 
 " O see ye not yon narrow road, 
 So thick beset with thorns and briers? 
 
 That is the path of righteousness, 
 Tho after it but few enquires. 
 
 " And see ye not that braid braid road, 
 That lies across that lily leven ? 
 
 That is the path of wickedness, 
 Tho some call it the road to heaven. 
 
 " And see not ye that bonny road, 
 That winds about the fernie brae ? 
 
 That is the road to fair Elfland, 
 
 Where thou and I this night maun gac. 
 
 " But, Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue, 
 
 Whatever ye may hear or see, 
 For, if you speak word in Elflyn land, 
 
 Ye'll neer get back to your am countrie." 
 •7 C
 
 Ballads 
 
 they rade on, and farther on, 
 
 And they waded thro rivers a boon the 
 knee, 
 And they saw neither sun nor moon, 
 But they heard the roaring of the sea. 
 
 It was mirk mirk night, and there was nae 
 stern light, 
 And they waded thro red blude to the 
 knee ; 
 For a' the blude that's shed on earth 
 Rins thro the springs o that countrie. 
 
 Syne they came on to a garden green, 
 And she pu'd an apple frae a tree : 
 
 " Take this for thy wages, True Thomas, 
 It will give the tongue that can never lie." 
 
 " My tongue is mine ain," True Thomas 
 said, 
 " A gudely gift ye wad gie to me ! 
 
 1 neither dought to buy nor sell, 
 At fair or tryst where I may be. 
 
 " I dought neither speak to prince or peer, 
 Nor ask of grace from fair ladye : " 
 
 " Now hold thy peace," the lady said, 
 " For as I say, so must it be." 
 
 He has gotten a coat of the even cloth, 
 And a pair of shoes of velvet green, 
 
 And till seven years were gane and past 
 True Thomas on earth was never seen. 
 
 lb
 
 ••SIR IIUCHI ; OR THE JEW'S 
 DAUGHTER" 
 
 [Child, vol. v.) 
 
 I . lUR-AND-TWENTY bonny boys 
 
 Were playing ;it the ba, 
 And by it came him sweet Sir Hugh, 
 
 And he playd o'er them a'. 
 
 lie kickd the ba with his right foot 
 
 And catchd it wi his knee, 
 And throuch-and-thro the Jew's window 
 
 He gard the bonny ba flee. 
 
 He's docn him to the Jew's castell 
 
 And walkd it round about; 
 And there he saw the Jew's daughter, 
 
 At the window looking out. 
 
 ' Throw down the ba, ye Jew's daughter, 
 
 Throw down the ba to me ! " 
 " Never a bit," says the Jew's daughter, 
 " Till up to me eome ye." 
 
 ' ' How will I come up ? How can I come 
 up? 
 
 How can I come to thee ? 
 For as ye did to my auld father, 
 
 The same ye' 11 do to in 
 
 She's i^anc till her father's garden, 
 And pu'd an apple red and green ; 
 
 ' 1 was a' tu wyle him sweet Sir Hugh, 
 And to entice him in. 
 
 1. 1
 
 Ballads 
 
 She's led him in through ae dark door, 
 
 And sae has she thro nine ; 
 She's laid him on a dressing-table, 
 
 And stickit him like a swine. 
 
 And first came out the thick, thick blood, 
 
 And syne came out the thin; 
 And syne came out the bonny heart's blood ; 
 
 There was nae mair within. 
 
 She's rowd him in a cake o lead, 
 
 Bade him lie still and sleep ; 
 She's thrown him in Our Lady's draw-well, 
 
 Was fifty fathom deep. 
 
 When bells were rung, and mass was sung, 
 
 And a' the bairns came hame, 
 When every lady gat hame her son, 
 
 The Lady Maisry gat nane. 
 
 She's taen her mantle her about, 
 
 Her coffer by the hand, 
 And she's gane out to seek her son, 
 
 And wanderd o'er the land. 
 
 She's doen her to the Jew's castell, 
 
 Where a' were fast asleep : 
 "Gin ye be there, my sweet Sir Hugh, 
 
 I pray you to me speak." 
 
 " Gae hame, gae hame, my mither dear, 
 
 Prepare my winding-sheet, 
 And at the back o merry Lincoln 
 
 The morn 1 will you meet." 
 
 Now Lady Maisry is gane hame, 
 
 Make him a winding-sheet, 
 And at the back o merry Lincoln, 
 
 The dead corpse did her meet. 
 20
 
 Ballads 
 
 And a the bells o merry Lincoln 
 Without men's hands were rung, 
 
 And a' the books o merry Lincoln 
 Were read without man's tongue, 
 
 And neer was such a burial 
 Sin Adam's days begun. 
 
 21
 
 SON DAVIE! SON DAVIE! 
 [Mackay.) 
 
 " What bluid's tliat on thy coat lap? 
 
 Son Davie ! Son Davie ! 
 What bluid's that on thy coat lap ? 
 
 And the truth come tell to me, O." 
 
 " It is the bluid of my great hawk, 
 
 Mother lady, Mother" lady ! 
 It is the bluid of my great hawk, 
 
 And the truth I hae tald to thee, O." 
 
 " Hawk's bluid was ne'er sae red, 
 
 Son Davie ! Son Davie ! 
 Hawk's bluid was ne'er sae red, 
 
 And the truth come tell to me, O. " 
 
 " It is the bluid of my grey hound, 
 Mother lady ! Mother lady! 
 
 It is the bluid of my grey hound, 
 And it wudna rin for me, O. " 
 
 " I lound's bluid was ne'er sae red, 
 
 Son Davie ! Son Davie ! 
 Hound's bluid was ne'er sae red, 
 
 And the truth come tell to me, O." 
 
 " It is the bluid o' my brother John, 
 Mother lady ! Mother lady ! 
 
 It is the bluid o' my brother John, 
 And the truth I hae tald to thee, O." 
 
 22
 
 Ballads 
 
 " What about did the plea begin ? 
 
 Son Davie ! Son Davie ! " 
 'It began about the cutting o' a willow- 
 wand, 
 That would never hae been a tree, O." 
 
 " Wis. it death dosl thou desire to die? 
 
 Son Davie ! Son 1 >.ivie ! 
 What death dost thou desire to die ' 
 
 And the truth come tell to me, O." 
 
 " I'll set my foot in a bottomless ship, 
 
 Mother lady ! mother lady ! 
 I'll set my foot in a bottomless ship, 
 
 And ye'll never see mair o' me, O." 
 
 " What wilt thou leave to thy poor wife ? 
 
 Son Davie ! Son Davie ! " 
 •' Grief and sorrow all her life, 
 
 And she'll never get mair frae me, O." 
 
 " What wilt thou leave to thy young son ? 
 
 Son Davie ! son Davie ! " 
 •■ The weary warld to wander up and down, 
 
 And he'll never get mair o' me, O." 
 
 •' What wilt thou leave to thy mother dear? 
 
 Son Davie ! Son Davie ! " 
 " A fire o' coals to burn her wi' hearty 
 cheer, 
 
 And she'll never get mair o' me, O."
 
 THE WIFE OF USHER'S WELL 
 [Child, vol. iii.) 
 
 There lived a wife at Usher's Well, 
 And a wealthy wife was she ; 
 
 She had three stout and stalwart sons, 
 And sent them oer the sea, 
 
 They hadna been a week from her, 
 
 A week but barely ane, 
 When word came to the carline wife 
 
 That her three sons were gane. 
 
 They hadna been a week from her, 
 
 A week but barely three, 
 Whan word came to the carlin wife 
 
 That her sons she'd never see. 
 
 " I wish the wind may never cease, 
 
 Nor fashes in the flood, 
 Till my three sons come hame to me, 
 
 In earthly flesh and blood ! " 
 
 It fell about the Martinmass, 
 Whan nights are lang and mirk, 
 
 The carline wife's three sons came hame, 
 And their hats were o the birk. 
 
 It neither grew in syke nor ditch, 
 
 Nor yet in ony sheugh ; 
 P.ut at the gates o Paradise 
 
 That birk !*rew fair eneucrh. 
 
 24
 
 Ballads 
 
 ' ' Blow up the fire, my maidens ! 
 
 Bring writer from the well ; 
 For a' my house shall feast this night, 
 
 Since my three sons are well." 
 
 And she has made to them a bed, 
 She's made it large and wide ; 
 
 And she's taen her mantle her about, 
 Sat down at the bedside. 
 
 • • • • • 
 
 Up then crew the red, red cock, 
 
 And up and crew the gray ; 
 The eldest to the youngest said, 
 
 " "lis time we were away.'' 
 
 The cock he hadna crawd but once, 
 
 And clapp'd his wings at a', 
 Whan the youngest to the eldest said, 
 
 " Brother, we must awa. 
 
 " The cock doth craw, the day doth daw, 
 The channerin worm doth chide ; 
 
 ( iin we be mist out o our place, 
 A sair pain we maun bide. 
 
 " Fare ye weel, my mother dear ! 
 
 Fareweel to barn and byre ! 
 And fare ye weel, the bonny lass 
 
 That kindles my mother's fire ! " 
 
 25
 
 THE TWA CORBIES 
 [Child, vol. i. ) 
 
 As I was walking all alane, 
 
 I heard twa corbies making a mane ; 
 
 'J'ht; tane unto the t'other say, 
 
 ' ' Where sail we gang and dine the day ? " 
 
 " In behint yon auld fail dyke, 
 I wot there lies a new-slain knight ; 
 And naebody kens that he lies there 
 But his hawk, his hound, and his lady 
 fair. 
 
 " His hound is to the hunting gane, 
 His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame, 
 His lady's ta'en another mate, 
 So we may make our dinner sweet. 
 
 " Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane, 
 And I'll pike out his bonny blue een ; 
 Wj ae lock o his gowden hair 
 We'll theek our nest when it grows bare. 
 
 " Mony a one for him makes mane, 
 But nane sail ken whae he is gane, 
 Oer his white banes, when they are bare, 
 The wind sail blaw for evermair." 
 
 26
 
 THE Bi >NNIE EARL MORAY 
 ild, vol. vi.) 
 A. 
 
 Ye Highlands, and ye Lawlands 
 
 ( )li when- have you been ? 
 They have slain the Marl of Murray, 
 
 And they layd him on the green. 
 
 " Now wae be to thee, Huntly ! 
 
 And wherefore did you sue ? 
 i bade you bring him wi you, 
 
 But forbade you him to slay." 
 
 I !<■ was a braw gallant, 
 
 And he rid at the ring ; 
 And the bonny Earl of Murray, 
 
 Oh he might haw been a King ! 
 
 lie was a braw gallant, 
 
 And he playd at the ba ; 
 And the bonny Earl of Murray, 
 
 Was tli'' flower amang them a'. 
 
 I Ie was a braw gallant, 
 And lie playd at the glove ; 
 
 And the bonny Earl of Murray, 
 Oil in- was the Queen's love ! 
 
 Oh lang will his lady 
 
 Look oer the castle Down, 
 Eer she see the Earl of Murray 
 
 ( lome sounding thro the town ! 
 Eer she, etc. 
 
 2 7
 
 Ballads 
 
 B. 
 
 ' ' Open the gates 
 and let him come in ; 
 
 He is my brother Huntly, 
 he'll do him nae harm." 
 
 The gates they were opent, 
 
 they let him come in, 
 But fause traitor Huntly, 
 
 he did him great harm. 
 
 He's ben and ben, 
 
 and ben to his bed, 
 And with a sharp rapier 
 
 he stabbed him dead. 
 
 The lady came down the stair, 
 
 wringing her hands : 
 " He has slain the Earl o Murray, 
 
 the flower o Scotland." 
 
 But Huntly lap on his horse, 
 
 rade to the King : 
 " Ye're welcome hame, Huntly, 
 
 and whare hae ye been ? t 
 
 "Where hae ye been? 
 
 and how hae ye sped ? " 
 " I've killed the Earl o Murray 
 
 dead in his bed." 
 
 " Foul fa you, Huntly ! 
 
 and why did ye so? 
 You might have taen the Earl o 
 Murray, 
 and saved his life too." 
 28
 
 />a//ii(/s 
 
 " Her bread it's to bake, 
 her y ill is to brew ; 
 
 My sister's a widow, 
 and sair do I rue. 
 
 " Her corn grows ripe, 
 her meadows grow green, 
 
 Hut in bonnie Dinnibristle 
 1 darena be seen." 
 
 29
 
 CLERK SAUNDERS 
 (Child, vol. iii.) 
 
 Clerk Saunders and may Margaret 
 Walked ovver yon garden green ; 
 
 And sad and heavy was the love 
 That fell thir twa between. 
 
 "A bed, a bed," Clerk Saunders said, 
 
 " 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 ; 
 They'll say, — ' We hae but ae sister, 
 
 And behold she's wi a knight ! ' ' 
 
 "Then take the sword frae my scabbard, 
 
 And slowly lift the pin ; 
 And you may swear, and save your aith, 
 
 Ye never let Clerk Saunders in. 
 
 " And take a napkin in your hand, 
 And tie up baith your bonny e'en, 
 
 And you may swear, and save your aith, 
 Ye saw me na since late yestreen." 
 
 It was about the midnight hour, 
 
 When they asleep were laid, 
 When in and came her seven brothers, 
 
 Wi' torches burning red. 
 30 

 
 Ha/lads 
 
 When in and came her seven brothers, 
 
 Wi' torches burning bright: 
 They said, " We hae but ac sister, 
 
 And behold her lying with a knight ! " 
 
 Then out and spake the first o' th< m, 
 
 " I bear the sword shall gar him die ! 
 And out and spake the second o' them, 
 '■ His father lias nae mair than he ! " 
 
 And out and spake the third o' them, 
 " 1 wot that they are lovers dear ! " 
 
 And out and spake the fourth o' them, 
 " They hae been in love this niony a 
 year 1" 
 
 Then out and spake the fifth o' them, 
 " It were great sin true love to twain ! " 
 
 And out and spake the sixth o' them, 
 " It were shame to slay a sleeping man ! " 
 
 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. 
 
 Clark Saunders he started, and Margaret 
 she turned 
 
 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 ; 
 Ami 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', 
 And dull and drowsie were his e'en. 
 
 31
 
 Ballads 
 
 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." 
 
 " 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. 
 
 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, 
 ' ' 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 sail never get, 
 Nor our true love sail never twin, 
 
 Until ye come within my bovver, 
 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, 
 Thy days of life will not be lang. 
 
 " O, cocks are crowing a merry midnight 
 1 wot the wild fowls are boding day ; 
 
 Give me my faith and troth again, 
 And let me fare me on my way." 
 
 " Thy faith and troth thou sail na get, 
 And our true love sail never twin, 
 
 Until ye tell what comes of women, 
 I wot, who die in strong trai veiling ?
 
 Ballads l 
 
 " Their beds are made in the heavens high, 
 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 ; 
 
 The psalms of heaven will soon be sung, 
 And I, ere now, will be missed awaj ." 
 
 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, 
 Wi 1 mony a sad sigh, and heavy groan. 
 
 " 1 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." 
 
 It's hosen and shoon, and gown alone, 
 She climb'd the wall, and followed him, 
 
 Until she came to the green forest, 
 And there she lost the sight o' him. 
 
 " Is there ony room at your head, Saunders? 
 
 Is there ony room at your feet? 
 Is there ony room at your side, Saunders, 
 
 Where fain, fain 1 wad sleep?" 
 
 " There's nae room at my head, Marg'ret, 
 
 There's nae room at my feet ; 
 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 
 
 Than my resting-place is weet. 
 
 33 i'
 
 Ballads 
 
 " But plait a wand o' bonnie birk, 
 
 And lay it on my breast ; 
 And shed a tear upon my grave, 
 
 And wish my saul gude rest. 
 
 " And fair Marg'ret, and rare Marg'ret, 
 
 And Marg'ret, o' veritie, 
 (Jin ere ye love another man, 
 
 Ne'er love him as ye did me." 
 
 Then up and crew the milk-white cock, 
 And up and crew the gray \ 
 
 Her lover vauish'd in the air, 
 And she gaed weeping away. 
 
 34
 
 WALY, \VA1.\ 
 ( Ifac&ay.) 
 
 WAI.Y, waly, up the bank, 
 
 (J waly, waly, down the brae. 
 And waly, waly, yon burn side, 
 Where I and my love wont to gae. 
 
 1 leaned my back unto an aik, 
 
 An' thocht it was a trustie tree, 
 But first it bow'd and syne it brak, 
 Sae my true love did liehtly me. 
 
 U waly, waly, but love is bonnie 
 
 A little time while it is new, 
 But when it's auld it waxes cauld, 
 
 And fades away like morning dew. 
 O wherefore should I busk my head, 
 
 O wherefore should I kame my hair, 
 For my true love has me forsook, 
 
 And says he'll never love me mair. 
 
 Now Arthur's Seat shall be my bed, 
 
 The sheets shall ne'er be pressed by me, 
 St. Anton's well shall be my drink, 
 
 Since my true love has forsaken me, 
 Martinmas wind, when wilt thou blaw, 
 
 And shake the green leaves off the tree ! 
 ( > gentle Death, when wilt thou come.-' 
 
 For of my life I am wearie !
 
 Ballads 
 
 "lis not the frost that freezes fell, 
 
 Nor blawing snavv's inclemencie, 
 'Tis not sic cauld that makes nie cry, 
 
 But my love's heart's grown cauld to me. 
 When we came in by Glasgow toun 
 
 We were a comely sicht to see ; 
 My love was clad in the black velvet, 
 
 And I mysel in cramasie. 
 
 But had I wist before I kist 
 
 That love had been sae ill to win, 
 I'd locked my heart in a case of gold, 
 
 And pinned it wi' a siller pin. 
 Oh, oh ! if my young babe were born, 
 
 And set upon the nurse's knee ; 
 And I myself were dead and gane, 
 
 And the green grass growing over me ! 
 
 36
 
 LOVE GREGORj OR, THE LASS 
 OE LOCHROYAN 
 
 [Child, Part III., p. 220.) 
 
 " O WIIA will shoe my fu' fair foot? 
 
 And wha will glove my hand? 
 And wha will lace my middle jimp, 
 
 Wi* the new-made London band? 
 
 "And wha will kaim my yellow hair, 
 Wi" the new made silver kaim ? 
 
 And wha will father my young son, 
 Till Love Gregor come hame ? " 
 
 " Your father will shoe your fu' fair foot, 
 Your mother will glove your hand ; 
 
 Your sister will lace your middle jimp 
 Wi' the new-made London band. 
 
 "Your brother will kaim your yellow hair, 
 Wi' the new made silver kaim ; 
 
 And the king of heaven will father your 
 txurn, 
 Till Love Gregor come haim." 
 
 " But I will get a bonny boat, 
 
 And I will sail the sea, 
 For I maun gang to Love Gregor, 
 
 Since he canno come hame to me." 
 
 O she has gotten a bonny boat, 
 And sailld the sa't sea fame ; 
 Sin- langd to see her ain true-love, 
 
 Since he could no come hame. 
 
 $7
 
 B 'alt 'ads 
 
 " O row your boat, my mariners, 
 
 And bring me to the land, 
 For yonder I see my love's castle, 
 
 Close by the sa't sea strand." 
 
 She has ta'en her young son in her arms, 
 
 And to the door she's gone, 
 And lang she's knocked and sair she ca'd, 
 
 But answer got she none. 
 
 " O open the door, LoveGregor," she says, 
 
 " O open, and let me in ; 
 For the wind blaws thro' my yellow hair, 
 
 And the rain draps o'er my chin." 
 
 " Awa, awa, ye ill woman, 
 You'r nae come here for good ; 
 
 You'r but some witch, or wile warlock, 
 Or mcr-maid of the flood." 
 
 "lam neither a witch nor a wile warlock, 
 
 Nor mer-maid of the sea, 
 I am Fair Annie of Rough Royal ; 
 
 O open the door to me." 
 
 ' ' Gin ye be Annie of Rough Royal — 
 
 And I trust ye arc not she — 
 Now tell me some of the love-tokens 
 
 That past between you and me." 
 
 " O dinna you mind now, Love Gregor, 
 
 When we sat at the wine, 
 How we changed the rings frae our fingers ? 
 
 And I can show thee thine. 
 
 " O yours was good, and good enough, 
 
 But ay the best was mine ; 
 For yours was o' the good red goud, 
 
 But mine o' the diamonds fine. 
 38
 
 Balltitts 
 
 " But open the door now, Ixjvc Gregor, 
 
 open the door I pray, 
 
 l 01 your young son that is in my arms 
 \\ ill li.- dead ere it be day." 
 
 " Awa, awa, ye ill woman, 
 
 For here ye i hanno win in ; 
 Gae drown ye in the raging sea, 
 
 Or hang on the gallows-pin." 
 
 When the cock had crawn, and day did 
 dawn, 
 
 And the sun began to peep, 
 Then up he rose him, Love Gregor, 
 
 And sair, sair did he weep. 
 
 "O I dreamd a dream, my mother dear, 
 The thoughts o' it gars me greet, 
 
 That Fair Annie of Rough Royal 
 Ray cauld dead at my feet." 
 
 "Gin it be for Annie of Rough Royal 
 
 That ye make a' this din, 
 She stood a' last night at this door, 
 
 Rut I trow she wan no in." 
 
 "O wae betide ye, ill woman, 
 
 An ill dead may ye die ! 
 That ye woudno open the door to her, 
 
 Nor yet woud waken me." 
 
 O he has gone down to yon shore-side, 
 
 As fast as he could fare ; 
 He saw Fair Annie in her boat, 
 
 But the wind it tossd her sair. 
 
 And " Hey, Annie ! " and " How, Annie ! 
 
 O Annie, winna ye l>ide?" 
 Rut ay the mair that he cried " Annie," 
 
 1 he braider grew the title 
 
 39
 
 Ballads 
 
 And " Hey, Annie ! " and " How, Annie ! 
 
 Dear Annie, speak to me ! " 
 But ay the louder lie cried " Annie," 
 
 The louder roard the sea. 
 
 The wind blew loud, the sea grew rough, 
 And dashd the boat on shore ; 
 
 Fair Annie floats on the raging sea, 
 But her young son rose no more. 
 
 Love Gregor tare his yellow hair, 
 
 And made a heavy moan ; 
 Fair Annie's corpse lay at his feet, 
 
 But his bonny young son was gone. 
 
 O cherry, cherry was her cheek, 
 
 And gowden was her hair, 
 But clay cold were her rosey lips, 
 
 Nae spark of life was there, 
 
 And first he's kissd her cherry cheek, 
 And neist he's kissed her chin ; 
 
 And saftly pressd her rosey lips, 
 But there was nae breath within. 
 
 " O wae betide my cruel mother, 
 And an ill dead may she die ! 
 
 For she turnd my true-love frae my door, 
 When she came sae far to me." 
 
 40
 
 THE QUEEN'S MARIE 
 (Child, vi., Border Minstrelsy.) 
 
 Marie Hamilton's to the kirk gane, 
 
 W'i ribbons in her hair ; 
 The king thought mair o Marie Hamilton, 
 
 Than ony that were there. 
 
 Marie Hamilton's to the kirk gane, 
 
 W'i ribbons on her breast ; 
 The king thought mair o Marie Hamilton, 
 
 Than he listend to the priest. 
 
 Marie Hamilton's to the kirk gane, 
 
 Wi gloves upon her hands ; 
 The king thought mair o Marie Hamilton, 
 
 Than the queen and a' her lands. 
 
 She hadna been about the king's court 
 
 A month, but barely one, 
 Till she was beloved by a' the king's court, 
 
 And the king the only man. 
 
 She hadna been about the king's court 
 
 A month, but barely three, 
 Till frae the king's court Marie Hamilton, 
 
 Marie Hamilton durst na be. 
 
 The king is to the Abbey gane, 
 
 To pu the Abbey tree, 
 To scale the babe frae Marie's heart ; 
 
 But the thing it wadna be. 
 
 41
 
 Ballads 
 
 O she has rowd it in her apron, 
 
 And set it on the sea : 
 ' ' Gae sink yc, or swim ye, bonny babe 
 
 Ye's get na niair o me." 
 
 Word is to the kitchen gane, 
 
 And word is to the ha, 
 And word is to the noble room, 
 
 Amang the ladyes a', 
 That Marie Hamilton's brought to bed, 
 
 And the bonny babe's mist and awa. 
 
 Scarcely had she lain down again, 
 
 And scarcely faen asleep, 
 When up then started our gude queen, 
 
 Just at her bed-feet, 
 Saying " Marie Hamilton, where's your 
 babe? 
 
 For I am sure I heard it greet." 
 
 " O no, O no, my noble queen ! 
 
 Think no such thing to be ! 
 'Twas but a stitch into my side, 
 
 And sair it troubles me." 
 
 " Get up, get up, Marie Hamilton, 
 
 Get up, and follow me, 
 For I am going to Edinburgh town, 
 
 A rich wedding for to see." 
 
 O slowly, slowly raise she up, 
 
 And slowly put she on ; 
 And slowly rode she out the way, 
 
 Wi mony a weary groan. 
 
 The queen was clad in scarlet, 
 
 Her merry maids all in green ; 
 And every town that they cam to, 
 
 They took M;iiic for the queen. 
 42
 
 Ballads 
 
 " Ride liooly, liooly, gentlemen, 
 
 Ride liooly now wi' me ! 
 For never, 1 am sure, a wearier burd 
 
 Rade in your cumpanie." 
 
 Bui little wist Marie I lamilton, 
 When she rade on the brow a, 
 
 That she was ga'en to Edinburgh town, 
 And a' to be put down. 
 
 " Why weep ye so, yc burgess-wives, 
 
 Why look ye so on me? 
 O, I am going to Edinburgh town, 
 
 A rich wedding for to see ! " 
 
 When, she gaed up the Tolbooth stairs, 
 The corks frae her heels did llee ; 
 
 And lang cr eer she cam down again, 
 She was condemned to die. 
 
 When she cam to the Netherbow Port, 
 She laughed loud laughters three ; 
 
 But when she cam to the gallows-foot, 
 The tears blinded her ee. 
 
 " Yestreen the queen had four Maries, 
 The night she'll hae but three ; 
 
 There was Marie Seaton, and Marie Beaton, 
 And Marie Carmichacl, and me. 
 
 " O, often have I dressd my queen, 
 
 And put gold upon her hair ; 
 But now I've gotten for my reward 
 
 The gallows to be my share. 
 
 " Often have 1 dressd my queen, 
 
 And often made her bed : 
 But now I've gotten for mj 
 
 The gallows-tree t<> tread. 
 
 43
 
 Ballads 
 
 " I charge ye all, ye mariners, 
 
 When ye sail ower the faem, 
 Let neither my father nor mother get wit, 
 
 But that I'm coming hame. 
 
 " I charge ye all, ye mariners, 
 
 That sail upon the sea, 
 Let neither my father nor mother get wit, 
 
 This dog's death I'm to die. 
 
 " For if my father and mother got wit, 
 And my bold brethren three, 
 
 O mickle wad be the gude red l.lude, 
 This day wad be spilt for me ! 
 
 " O little did my mother ken, 
 
 '['he day she cradled me, 
 The lands 1 was to travel in, 
 
 Or the death I was to die ! " 
 
 44
 
 the queen's makie. 
 
 p. to.
 
 KIN MONT WILLI E 
 [Child, vol vi.) 
 
 O have ye Da heard o the fause Sakelde? 
 
 have ye na heard o the keen Lord 
 Si- roop ? 
 
 How they liae taen bauld Kiamont Willie, 
 On Hairibee to hang him up? 
 
 Had Willie had but twenty men, 
 
 But twenty men as stout as he, 
 Fause Sakelde had never the Kinmont taen 
 
 Wi eight score in his companie. 
 
 They band his legs beneath the steed, 
 
 They tied his hands behind his back ; 
 They guarded him, fivesome on each side, 
 And they brought him ower the Liddel- 
 rack. 
 
 They led him thro the Liddel-rack, 
 And also thro the Carlisle sands ; 
 
 They brought him to Carlisle castell, 
 To be at my Lord Scroope's commands. 
 
 " My hands are tied, but my tongue is free, 
 And whae will dare this deed avow ? 
 
 Or answer by the border law ? 
 
 Or answer lo the bauld Bucclcuch ? " 
 
 " Now haud thy tongue, thou rank reiver ! 
 
 There's never a Scot shall set ye free : 
 Before ye cross my castle-yate, 
 
 1 trow ye shall take farewell o me." 
 
 45
 
 Ballads 
 
 " Fear na ye that, my lord," quo Willie : 
 " ljy the faith o my body, Lord Scroope," 
 he said, 
 
 " 1 never yet lodged in a hostelrie — 
 But 1 paid my Jawing before I gaed." 
 
 Now word is gane to the bauld Keeper, 
 In 1 Irani. some I la where that In- lay, 
 
 That Lord Scroope has tacn the Kinmont 
 Willie, 
 Between the hours of night and day. 
 
 1 le has taen the table wi his hand, 
 He garrd the red wine spring on hie ; 
 
 " Now Christ's curse on my head," lie said, 
 " But avenged of Lord Scroope I'll be ! 
 
 " O is my basnet a widow's curch ? 
 
 Or my lance a wand of the willow-tree ? 
 Or my arm a lady's lilye hand, 
 
 That an English lord should lightly me ? 
 
 " And have they taen him, Kinmont Willie, 
 Against the truce of Border tide ? 
 
 And forgotten that the bauld I lacleueh 
 Is keeper here on the Scottish side ? 
 
 "And have they een tacn him, Kinmont 
 Willie, 
 
 Withouten either dread or fear, 
 And forgotten that the bauld l'acleuch 
 
 Can back a steed, or shake a spear ? 
 
 " O were there war between the lands, 
 As well I wot that there is none, 
 
 1 would slight Carlisle castell high, 
 Tho it were builded of marble stone. 
 46
 
 Ballads 
 
 " 1 would set that castell in a low, 
 
 And sloki m it with English blood ; 
 There's nevir .1 man in 1 umberland 
 
 Should ken where Carlisle castell stood. 
 
 " But since nae war's between the lai 
 And there is peace, and peace should be; 
 
 I'll neither harm English lad or lass, 
 And yet the Kinuiunt lived shall be !" 
 
 He lias calld him forty maiclmien bauld, 
 I trow they were >>i his ain name, 
 
 Except Sir Gilbert Elliot, calld 
 The Laird ol Stobs, 1 mean the same. 
 
 He has calld him forty marchmeri bauld, 
 Were kinsmen to the bauld Buccleuch, 
 
 With spur on heel, and splcnt on spauld, 
 And gleuves of green, and feathers blue. 
 
 I here were five and five before them a', 
 Wi hunting-horns and bugles bright ; 
 And live and five came wi I luccleuch, 
 Like Warden's men, arrayed for fight. 
 
 And five and five, like a mason-gang, 
 That carried the ladders king and hie ; 
 
 Ami five and five, like broken men ; 
 And so they reached the Woodhouselee. 
 
 And as we crossd the Rateable Land, 
 When to the English side we held, 
 
 The first o men that we met wi, 
 
 Whae sould it be but fause Sakelde ! 
 
 " Where be ye gaun, ye hunters keen? " 
 < v Hio fause Sakelde ; " come tell to me ! " 
 
 " We go to hunt an English stag, 
 lias trespassed on the Scots countrie." 
 47
 
 Ballads 
 
 " Where be ye gaun, ye marshal-men ? " 
 Quo fause Sakelde ; " come tell me true ! " 
 
 " We go to catch a rank reiver, 
 Has broken faith wi the bauld Buccleuch." 
 
 " Where are ye gaun, ye mason-lads, 
 Wi a' your ladders lang and hie ? " 
 
 ' ' We gang to herry a corbie's nest, 
 That wons not far frae Woodhouselee." 
 
 " Where be ye gaun, ye broken men?" 
 Quo fause Sakelde ; ' ' come tell to me?" 
 
 Now Dickie of Dryhope led that band, 
 And the nevir a word o lear had he. 
 
 " Why trespass ye on the English side? 
 
 Row-footed outlaws, stand ! " quo he ; 
 The neer a word had Dickie to say, 
 
 Sae he thrust the lance thro his fause bodie. 
 
 Then on we held for Carlisle toun, 
 
 And at Staneshaw-bank the Eden we 
 crossd ; 
 
 The water was great and meikle of spait, 
 But the nevir a horse nor man we lost. 
 
 And when we reachd the Staneshaw-bank, 
 The wind was rising loud and hie ; 
 
 And there the laird garrd leave our steeds, 
 Eor fear that they should stamp and nie. 
 
 And when we left the Staneshaw-bank, 
 The wind began full loud to blaw ; 
 
 But 'twas wind and weet, and fire and sleet, 
 When we came beneath the caslell-wa. 
 
 We crept on knees, and held our breath, 
 Till we placed the ladders against the wa ; 
 
 And sae ready was Buccleuch himsell 
 To mount the first, before us a'. 
 48
 
 Ballads 
 
 He has taen the watchman by the throat, 
 He flung him down upon the lead : 
 
 "Had there not been peace between our 
 lands, 
 Upon the other side thou hadst gaed. 
 
 " Now sound out, trumpets !" quo Buccleuch; 
 
 " Let's waken Lord Scroope right merrilie!' 
 Then loud the warden's trumpet blew 
 
 " O whae dare meddle \\i me ? " 
 
 Then speedilie to wark we gaed, 
 And raised the slogan ane and a', 
 
 And cut a hole through a sheet of lead, 
 And so we wan to the castel-ha. 
 
 They thought King James and a 1 his nun 
 Had won the house wi bow and speir ; 
 
 It was but twenty Scots and ten 
 That put a thousand in sic a stear ! 
 
 Wi coulters, and wi fore-hammers, 
 We garni the bars bang merrilie, 
 
 Until we came to the inner prison, 
 Where Willie o Kinmont he did lie. 
 
 And when we came to the lower prison, 
 Where Willie o Kinmont he did lie, 
 
 " O sleep ye, wake ye, Kinmont Willie, 
 Upon the morn that thou's to die? " 
 
 " O I sleep saft, and I wake aft, 
 It's lang since sleeping was fley'd frae mc ; 
 
 Gie my service back to my wyfe and bairns 
 And a' gude fellows that speer for me." 
 
 Then Red Rowan has heme him up, 
 The starkest man in Teviotdale : 
 
 "Abide, abide now, Red Rowan, 
 Till of m_\- 1 .ord Scroope 1 take farewell. 
 49 i.
 
 Ballads 
 
 " Farewell, farewell, my glide Lord Scroo] e ! 
 
 My glide Lord Scroope, farewell ! " he cried; 
 " I'll pay you for my lodging-maill, 
 
 When first we meet on the border-side." 
 
 Then shoulder high, with shout and cry, 
 We bore him down the ladder lang ; 
 
 At every stride Red Rowan made, 
 
 I wot the Kinmont's airms playd clang ! 
 
 " O mony a time," quo Kinmont Willie, 
 " I have ridden horse baith wild and wood ; 
 
 But a rougher beast than Red Rowan, 
 I ween my legs have neer bestrode. 
 
 " And mony a time," quo Kinmont Willie, 
 " I've pricked a horse out oure the furs ; 
 
 But since the day I backed a steed 
 1 nevir wore sic cumbrous spurs ! " 
 
 We scarce had won the Staneshaw-bank, 
 When a' the Carlisle bells were rung, 
 
 And a thousand men, in horse and foot, 
 Cam vvi the keen Lord .Scroope along. 
 
 Buccleuch has turned to Eden Water, 
 Even where it flowd frae bank to brim, 
 
 And he has plunged in wi a' his band, 
 And safely swam them thro the stream. 
 
 He turned him on the other side, 
 
 And at Lord Scroope his glove flung he : 
 
 " If ye like na my visit in merry England, 
 In fair Scotland come visit me ! " 
 
 All sore astonished stood Lord Scroope, 
 He stood as still as rock of stane ; 
 
 He scarcely (hired to trew his eyes, 
 When thro the water they had gane. 
 
 50
 
 /la/lads 
 
 " He is titlicr himsell a de\ il frae hell, 
 Or else his mother a witch maun be ; 
 
 1 wad na have ridden that wan water 
 Foi a' the gowd in Christentie." 
 
 5i
 
 JAMIE TELFER 
 (Child, vol. vi. Early Edition.) 
 
 It fell about the Martinmas tyde, 
 
 When our Border steeds get corn and hay 
 
 The captain of Bewcastle hath bound him to 
 ryde, 
 And he's ower to Tividale to drive a prey. 
 
 The first ae guide that they met wi', 
 It was high up Hardhaughswire ; 
 
 The second guide that we met wi', 
 
 It was laigh down in Borthwick water. 
 
 " What tidings, what tidings, my trusty 
 guide?" 
 
 " Nae tidings, nae tidings, I hae to thee ; 
 But, gin ye'll gae to the fair Dodhead, 
 
 Mony a cow's cauf I'll let thee see." 
 
 And whan they cam to the fair Dodkead, 
 Right hastily they clam the peel ; 
 
 They loosed the kye out, ane and a', 
 And ranshackled the house right week 
 
 Now Jamie Telfer's heart was sair, 
 
 The tear aye rowing in his e'e ; 
 He pled wi' the captain to hae his gear, 
 
 Or else revenged he wad be. 
 
 The captain turned him round and leugh ; 
 
 Said — " Man, there's naething in thy house, 
 But ae auld sword without a sheath, 
 
 That hardly now wad fell a mouse !" 
 52 .
 
 Rillads 
 
 The sun was na up, but the moon was down, 
 It was the gryming o' a new fa'n snaw, 
 
 Jamie Telfer has run three myles a-foot, 
 Between the Dodhead and the Stobs's Ha' 
 
 And whan he cam to the fair tower yate, 
 lie shouted loud, and cried weel hie, 
 
 Till out bespak auld Gibby Elliot — 
 
 " Wha's this that brings the fraye to mo? " 
 
 "It's I, Jamie Telfer o' the fair Dodhead, 
 And a harried man I think I be ! 
 
 There's naething left at the fair Dodhead, 
 But a waefu' wife and bairnies three." 
 
 " Gae seek your succour at Branksome Ha'. 
 
 For succour ye'se get nane frae me ! 
 ( iae seek your succour where ye paid black- 
 mail, 
 
 For, man ! ye ne'er paid money to me." 
 
 Jamie has turned him round about, 
 
 I wat the tear blinded his e'e — 
 " I'll ne'er pay mail to Elliot again. 
 
 And the fair Dodhead I'll never see ! 
 
 " My hounds may a' rin masterless, 
 My hawks may fly frae tree to tree ; 
 
 My lord may grip my vassal lands, 
 For there again maun I never Le. " 
 
 He has turned him to the Tiviot side, 
 
 E'en as fast as he could drie, 
 Till he came to the Coultart Cleugh 
 
 And there he shouted baith loud and hie. 
 
 Then up bespak him auld Jock Grieve — 
 " Wha's this that brings the fray to me? " 
 
 " It's I, Jamie Teller o' the fair Dodhead, 
 A harried man I trow 1 be, 
 
 53
 
 Ballads 
 
 " There's naething left in the fair Dodhead, 
 But a greeting wife and bairnies three, 
 
 And sax poor ca's stand in the sta', 
 A' routing loud for their minnie." 
 
 " Alack a vvae ! " quo' auld Jock Grieve, 
 " Alack ! my heart is sair for thee ! 
 
 For I was married on the elder sister, 
 And you on the youngest of a' the three." 
 
 Then he has ta'en out a bonny black, 
 Was right weel fed wi' corn and hay, 
 
 And he's set Jamie Telfcr on his back, 
 To the Catslockhill to tak' the fray. 
 
 And whan he cam to the Catslockhill, 
 He shouted loud and weel cried ho, 
 
 Till out and spak him William's Wat — 
 " O wha's this brings the fraye to me ? " 
 
 " It's I, Jamie Telfer o' the fair Dodhead, 
 
 A harried man I think I be ! 
 The captain of Bewcastle has driven my gear ; 
 
 For God's sake rise, and succour me ! " 
 
 " Alas for wae ! " quo' William's Wat, 
 " Alack, for thee my heart is sair ! 
 
 I never cam by the fair Dodhead, 
 That ever I fand thy basket bare." 
 
 He's set his twa sons on coal-black steeds, 
 
 Himsel' upon a freckled gray, 
 And they are on wi' Jamie Telfer, 
 
 To Branksome Ha' to tak the fray. 
 
 And whan they cam to Branksome Ha', 
 They shouted a' baith loud and hie, 
 
 Till up and spak him auld Buccleuch, 
 
 Said — " Wha's this brings the fray to me? " 
 
 54
 
 Ballads 
 
 " It's I, Jame Telfer o' the fair Dodhead, 
 
 And a harried man I think I be ! 
 There's nought left in the fair Dodhead, 
 Hut a greeting wife and bairnics three." 
 
 " Alack for wae ! " i|iioth the gude mild lord, 
 " And ever my heai i is wae i"i thee ! 
 
 But fye gar cry on Willie, ni) son, 
 \inl see thai he a >mi ; to m lilie ! 
 
 " ( rar warn the water, braid and wide, 
 
 ( i.ir warn it soon and hastily ! 
 They that winna ride for Tiller' s kye, 
 
 Let them never look in the face o' me ! 
 
 " Wain Wat o' Harden, and his sons, 
 Wi' them will Borthwick water ride ; 
 
 Wain Gaudilands, and Allanhaugh, 
 Ami Gilmanscleugh, and Commonside. 
 
 " Ride by the gate at Priesthaughswire, 
 And warn the ( urrors o' the Lee; 
 
 As ye come down the Hermitage Slack, 
 Warn doughty Willie o' Gorrinbery." 
 
 The Scots they rade, the Scots they ran, 
 
 Sae starkly and sae steadilie ! 
 And aye the ower-word o' the thrang. 
 
 Was — " Rise for Branksome readilie ! " 
 
 The gear was driven the Frostylee up, 
 Frae the Frostylee unto the plain, 
 
 Whan Willie has looked his men before, 
 And saw the kye right fast driving. 
 
 " Wha drives thir kye ?" 'gan Willie say, 
 
 " To mak an ontspeckle o' me?" 
 " It's I, the captain o' Bewcastle, Willie ; 
 
 I winna layne my name for thee." 
 
 55
 
 Ballads 
 
 " O will ye let Telfer's kye gae back, 
 Or will ye do aught for regard o' me ? 
 
 Or, by the faith o' my body," quo' Willie Scott, 
 " I'se ware my dame's cauf's-skin on thee ! " 
 
 " I winna let the kye gae back, 
 
 Neither for thy love, nor yet thy fear, 
 
 But I will drive Jamie Telfer's kye, 
 In spite of every Scot that's here." 
 
 " Set on them, lads ! " quo' Willie than, 
 " Fye, lads, set on them cruellie ! 
 
 For ere they win to the Ritterford, 
 Mony a toom saddle there sail be ! " 
 
 But Willie was stricken ower the head, 
 And through the knapscap the sword has 
 gane; 
 
 And Harden grat for very rage, 
 
 Whan Willie on the ground lay slain. 
 
 But he's ta'en aff his gude steel-cap, 
 And thrice he's waved it in the air — 
 
 The Dinlay snaw was ne'er mair white, 
 Nor the lyart locks of Harden's hair. 
 
 " Revenge ! revenge ! " auld Wat 'gan cry ; 
 
 " Fye, lads, lay on them cruellie ! 
 We'll ne'er see Tiviotside again, 
 
 Or Willie's death revenged shall be." 
 
 O mony a horse ran masterless, 
 The splintered lances flew on hie ; 
 
 But or they wan to the Kershope ford, 
 The Scots had gotten the victory. 
 
 John o' Brigham there was slain, 
 And John o' Barlow, as I hear say ; 
 
 And thirty mae o' the captain's men, 
 Lay bleeding on the grund that day. 
 56
 
 flallads 
 
 The captain was run thro' the thick of the 
 thigh — 
 
 And broken was his right leg bane ; 
 If he had lived this hundred year, 
 
 He had never been loved by woman again. 
 
 " Ilae back thy kye ! " the captain said ; 
 
 " Dear kye, I trow, to some they be) 
 For gin I suld live a hundred years, 
 
 There will ne'er fair lady smile on me. " 
 
 Then word is gane to the captain's bride, 
 Even in the bower where that she lay, 
 
 That her lord was prisoner in enemy's land, 
 Since into Tividale he had led the way. 
 
 " I wad lourdhave had a winding-sheet, 
 And helped to put it ower his head, 
 
 Ere he had been disgraced by the Border Scot, 
 When he ower Liddel his men did lead ! " 
 
 There was a wild gallant amang us a', 
 His name was Watty wi' the Wudspurs, 
 
 < tied — " On for his house in Stanegirthside, 
 If ony man will ride with us ! " 
 
 When they cam to the Stanegirthside, 
 They dang wi' trei>s, and burst the door ; 
 
 They loosed out a' the captain's kye, 
 And set them forth our lads before. 
 
 There was an auld wife ayont the fire, 
 
 A wee bit o' the captain's kin — 
 " Wha daur loose out the captain's kye, 
 
 Or answer to him and his men ?" 
 
 " It's I, Watty Wudspurs, loose the kye, 
 1 winna layne my name frae thee ! 
 
 And I will loose out the captain's kye, 
 In scorn of a' his men and he 
 
 57
 
 Ballads 
 
 When they cam to the fair Dodhead, 
 They were a wellcum sight to see ! 
 
 For instead of his ain ten milk-kye, 
 Jamie Telfer has gotten thirty and three, 
 
 And lie has paid the rescue shot, 
 Baith wi' goud, and white monic ; 
 
 And at the burial o' Willie Scott, 
 I wot was mony a weeping e'e. 
 
 5^
 
 THE DOUGLAS TRAGEDY 
 
 (Child, vol. ii. Early Edition.) 
 
 " Risk up, rise up now, Lord Douglas," she 
 says, 
 
 ■ And i >iit mi your armour so bright ; 
 Lei it never In- said, that a daughter of thine 
 
 Was married to a lord under night. 
 
 " Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons, 
 And put on your armour so bright, 
 
 And take better care of your youngest sister, 
 l'or your eldest's awa the last night." — 
 
 He's mounted her on a milk-white steed, 
 
 And himself on a dapple grey, 
 With a bugelet horn hung down by his 
 
 And lightly they rode away. 
 
 Lord William lookit o'er his left shoulder, 
 
 To see what he could see, 
 And there he spy'd her seven brethren bold, 
 
 ' "ine riding o'er the Ice. 
 
 " Light down, light down, Lady Margret," 
 he said, 
 
 " And hold my steed in your hand. 
 Until that against your seven brothers bold, 
 
 And your father I make a stand." — 
 
 She held his steed in her milk white hand, 
 
 And never shed one tear, 
 Until that she saw her seven brethren f.i', 
 
 And her father hard fighting, who loved her 
 so dear. 
 
 59
 
 Ballads 
 
 "O hold your hand, Lord William!" she 
 said, 
 
 " For your strokes they are wondrous sair ; 
 True lovers I can get many a ane, 
 
 But a father 1 can never get mair." — 
 
 O she's ta'en out her handkerchief, 
 
 It was o' the holland sae fine, 
 And aye she dighted her father's bloody 
 wounds, 
 
 That were redder than the wine. 
 
 " O chuse, O chuse, Lady Marg'ret," he said, 
 " O whether will ye gang or bide?" 
 
 " I'll gang, I'll gang, Lord William," she said, 
 " For ye have left me no other guide." — 
 
 He's lifted her on a milk-white steed, 
 
 And himself on a dapple grey. 
 With a bugelet horn hung down by his side, 
 
 And slowly they baith rade away. 
 
 O they rade on, and on they rade, 
 And a' by the light of the moon, 
 
 Until they came to yon wan water, 
 And there they lighted down. 
 
 They lighted down to tak a drink 
 Of the spring that ran sae clear : 
 
 And down the stream ran his gude heart's 
 blood, 
 And sair she 'gan to fear. 
 
 " Hold up, hold up, Lord William," she says, 
 
 " For I fear that you are slain ! " 
 " 'Tis naething but the shadow of my scarlet 
 cloak 
 That shines in the water sae plain." 
 60
 
 Ballads 
 
 U they rade on, and on they rade, 
 
 And a' by the light of the moon, 
 Until they cam to his mother's ha' door, 
 
 And there they lighted down. 
 
 " Get up, get up, lady mother," he says, 
 
 " (Jet up, and let me in ! — 
 Get up, get up, lady mother," he says, 
 
 " For this night my fair ladye I've win. 
 
 " O mak my bed, lady mother," he says, 
 
 ' ' O mak it braid and deep ! 
 And lay Lady Marg'ret close at my back, 
 
 And the sounder I will sleep." — 
 
 Lord William was dead lang ere midnight, 
 
 Lady Marg'ret lang ere day— 
 And all true lovers that go thegither, 
 
 May they have mair luck than they ! 
 
 Lord William was buried in St. Marie's kirk, 
 Lady Margaret in Marie's quire ; 
 
 Out o' the lady's grave grew a bonny red rose, 
 And out o' the knight's a brier. 
 
 And they twa met, and they twa plat, 
 
 And fain they wad be near ; 
 And a' the warld might ken right weel, 
 
 They were twa lovers dear. 
 
 But by and rade the Black Douglas, 
 
 And wow but he was rough ! 
 For he pull'd up the bonny brier, 
 
 An tlang't in St. Marie's Loch. 
 
 01
 
 THE BONNY HIND 
 {Child, vol. ii.) 
 
 O May she comes, and may she goes, 
 
 Down by yon gardens green, 
 And diere she spied a gallant squire 
 
 As squire had ever been. 
 
 And may she comes, and may she goes, 
 
 Down by yon hollin tree, 
 And there she spied a brisk young squire, 
 
 And a brisk young squire was he. 
 
 " Give me your green manteel, fair maid, 
 
 Give me your maidenhead ; 
 Gif ye winna gie me your green manteel, 
 
 Gi me your maidenhead." 
 
 lie has taen her by the milk-while hand, 
 
 And softly laid her down, 
 And when he's lifted her up again 
 
 Given her a silver kaim. 
 
 " Perhaps there may be bairns, kind sir, 
 
 Perhaps there may be nane ; 
 But if you be a courtier, 
 
 You'll tell to me your name." 
 
 " I am na courtier, fair maid, 
 
 But new come frae the sea ; 
 I am nae courtier, fair maid, 
 
 But when I court 'ith thee. 
 62
 
 I'mllaJs 
 
 "They call me [ack when I'm abroad, 
 Sometimes they call me John ; 
 
 But when I'm in my father's bower 
 Jock Randal is my name." 
 
 " Ye lee, ye lee, ye bonny lad, 
 
 Sae load's I hear ye lee I 
 For I'm Lord Randal's yae daughter, 
 
 He has nae mair nor me." 
 
 " Ye lee, ye lee, ye bonny may, 
 
 Sae load's I hear ye lee ! 
 For I'm Lord Randal's yae yae son, 
 
 Just now come oer the sea." 
 
 She's putten her hand down by her spare, 
 
 And oat she's taen a knife, 
 And she has putn't in her heart's bluid, 
 
 And taen away her life. 
 
 And he's taen up his bonny sister, 
 
 With the big tear in his een, 
 And he has buried his bonny sister 
 
 Amang the hollins green. 
 
 And syne he's hyed him our the dale, 
 
 1 lis father dear to see : 
 " Sing O and O for my bonny hind, 
 
 Beneath yon hollin tree ! " 
 
 " What needs yon care for your bonny hyn ? 
 
 For it you needna care ; 
 There's aught score hyns in yonder park, 
 
 And five score hyns to spare. 
 
 " Fourscore of them are siller-shod, 
 
 I )f thae ye may get three ; 
 " I Uit (.) and for my bonny hyn, 
 
 Beneath von hollin tree! " 
 
 63
 
 Jjlllllltis 
 
 ' ' What needs you care for your bonny liyn ? 
 
 For it you needna care ; 
 Take you the best, gi me the warst, 
 
 Since plenly is to spare." 
 
 " I care na for your hyns, my lord, 
 
 I care na for your fee ; 
 But O and O for my bonny hyn, 
 
 Beneath the hollin tree 1 " 
 
 " O were ye at your sister's bower, 
 
 Your sister fair to see, 
 Yell think na mair o your bonny hyn 
 
 Beneath the hollin tree." 
 
 64
 
 VOUNG BICHAM 
 (Child, vol. ii.) 
 
 is London city was Bicham born, 
 He longd strange countries for to see, 
 
 But he was taen by a savage Moor, 
 Who handld him right cruely. 
 
 For thro his shoulder he put a bore, 
 An thro the bore has pitten a tree, 
 
 And he's gard him draw the carts o wine, 
 Where horse and oxen had wont to be. 
 
 He's casten [him] in a dungeon deep, 
 Where he coud neither hear nor see ; 
 
 He's shut him up in a prison strong, 
 An he's handld him right cruely. 
 
 O this Moor he had but ae daughter, 
 I wot her name was Shusy Pye ; 
 
 She's doen her to the prison-house, 
 
 And she's calld young Bicham one word 
 by. 
 
 " O hae ye ony lands or rents, 
 
 Or citys in your ain country, 
 Coud free you out of prison strong, 
 
 An coud maintain a lady free ? " 
 
 O London city is my own, 
 An other citys twa or three, 
 Coud loose me out o prison strong, 
 An could maintain a lady free." 
 6 5 F 

 
 Ballads 
 
 O she has bribed her father's men 
 Wi meikle goud and white money, 
 
 She's gotten the key o the prison doors, 
 And she has set Young Bicham free. 
 
 She's gin him a loaf o good white bread, 
 But an a flask o Spanish wine, 
 
 An she bad him mind or. the ladie's love 
 That sae kindly freed him out o pine. 
 
 " Go set your foot on good ship-board, 
 An haste you back to your ain country. 
 
 An before that seven years has an end, 
 Come back again, love, and marry me." 
 
 It was long or seven years had an end 
 She longd fu sair her love to see ; 
 
 She's set her foot on good ship-board, 
 An turnd her back on her ain country. 
 
 She's saild up, so has she down, 
 Till she came to the other side ; 
 
 She's landed at Young Bicham 's gates, 
 An I hop this day she sal be his bride. 
 
 " Is this Young Bicham's gates?" says she, 
 " Or is that noble prince within ? " 
 
 " He's up the stair wi his bonny bride. 
 An monny a lord and lady wi him." 
 
 " O has he taen a bonny bride, 
 An has he clean forgotten me ? " 
 
 An sighing said that gay lady, 
 
 " I wish I were in my ain country ! " 
 
 She's pitten her han in her pocket, 
 An gin the porter guineas three ; 
 
 Says, ' ' Take ye that, ye proud porter, 
 An bid the bridegroom speak to me," 
 66
 
 Ballads 
 
 O whan the porter c ime up the stair, 
 lie's f.t'n low down upon his knee: 
 
 " Won up, won up, ye proud porter, 
 And what makes a' this courtesy?" 
 
 " O I've been porter at your gates 
 This mair nor seven years an three, 
 
 But there is a lady at them now 
 The like of whom I never did see. 
 
 " For on every finger she has a ring, 
 An on the mid-finger she has three, 
 
 An there's as meikle goud aboon her brow 
 As woud buy an earldom o Ian to me." 
 
 Then up it started Young Richam, 
 An sware so loud by Our Lady, 
 
 "It can be nane but Shusy I 'ye, 
 That has come oor the sea to me." 
 
 O quickly ran he down the- stair, 
 
 O fifteen steps he has made but three ; 
 
 lie's tane his bonny love in his arms 
 An a wot lie kissd her tenderly. 
 
 " O hae you tane a bonny bride ? 
 
 An hae you quite forsaken me ? 
 An hae ye quite forgotten her 
 
 That gae you life an liberty ? " 
 
 She's lookit oer her left shoulder 
 
 To hide the tears stood in her ee ; 
 " Now fare thee well, Young Hicham," she 
 
 says, 
 " I'll strive to think nae mair on thee." 
 67
 
 Ballads 
 
 " Take back your daughter, madam," he says, 
 "Ana double dowry I'll gie her wi ; 
 
 For I maun marry my first true love, 
 
 That's done and suffered so much for me." 
 
 He's tak his bonny love by the han, 
 And led her to yon fountain stane ; 
 
 He's changed her name frae Shusy l'ye, 
 An he's cald her his bonny love, Lady Jane. 
 
 68
 
 THE LOVING BALLAD OF LORD 
 BATEMAN 
 
 (Child, vol. ii. Cockney copy.) 
 
 LORD BATEMAN was a noble lord, 
 
 A noble lord of high degree ; 
 lie shipped himself all aboard of a ship, 
 
 Some foreign country for to see. 
 
 He sailed east, he sailed west, 
 Until he came to famed Turkey, 
 
 Where he was taken and put to prison, 
 Until his life was quite weary. 
 
 All in this prison there grew a tree, 
 O there it grew so stout and strong ! 
 
 Where he was chained all by the middle, 
 Until his life was almost gone. 
 
 This Turk he had one only daughter, 
 The fairest my two eyes eer see ; 
 
 She steal the keys of her father's prison, 
 And swore Lord Bateman she would let go 
 free. 
 
 O she took him to her father's cellar, 
 And gave to him the best of wine; 
 And every health she drank unto him 
 Was "I wish, Lord Bateman, as you was 
 mine." 
 
 69
 
 Ballads 
 
 " O have you got houses, have you got land, 
 And does Northumberland belong to thee? 
 
 And what would you give to the fair young 
 lady 
 As out of prison would let you go free ? " 
 
 " O I've got houses and I've got land, 
 And half Northumberland belongs to me ; 
 
 And I will give it all to the fair young lady 
 As out of prison would let me go free." 
 
 " O in seven long years I'll make a vow 
 
 For seven long years, and keep it strong, 
 That if you'll wed no other woman, 
 
 I will wed no other man." 
 
 O she took him to her father's harbor, 
 
 And gave to him a ship of fame, 
 Saying, "Farewell, farewell to you, Lord 
 Bateman, 
 
 1 fear I shall never see you again." 
 
 Now seven long years is gone and past, 
 And fourteen days, well known to me ; 
 
 She packed up all her gay clothing, 
 And swore Lord Bateman she would go see. 
 
 O when she arrived at Lord Bateman's castle, 
 How boldly then she rang the bell ! 
 
 " Who's there? who's there?" cries the proud 
 young porter, 
 " O come unto me pray quickly tell." 
 
 " O is this here Lord Bateman's castle, 
 And is his lordship here within?" 
 
 " O yes, O yes," cries the proud young porter, 
 " He's just now taking his young bride in." 
 70
 
 Ballads 
 
 " O bid him to send mc a slice of bread, 
 And a bottle oi the very best wine, 
 
 And not forgettin" the fair young lady 
 As did release him when close confine." 
 
 O away and away went this proud young 
 porter, 
 
 O away and away and away went he, 
 Until he came to Lord Bateman's chamber, 
 
 Where he went down on his bended knee. 
 
 "What news, what news, my proud young 
 porter ? 
 
 What news, what news? come tell to me : " 
 "O there is the fairest young lad] 
 
 As ever my two eyes did see. 
 
 " She has got rings on every finger, 
 And on one finger she has got three ; 
 
 With as much gay gold about her middle 
 As would buy half Northumberlee. 
 
 " O she bids you to send her a slice of bread, 
 And a bottle of the very best wine, 
 
 And not forgetting the fair young lady 
 As did release you when close confine." 
 
 Lord Ratcman then in passion flew, 
 And broke his sword in splinters three, 
 
 Saying, " I will give half of my father's land, 
 If so be as Sophia has crossed the sea. 
 
 Then up and spoke this young bride's mother, 
 Who never was heard to speak so free ; 
 
 Saying, " You'll not forget my only daughter, 
 If so be Sophia has crossed the sea." 
 71
 
 Ballads 
 
 " O it's true I made a bride of your daughter, 
 But she's neither the better nor the worse 
 for me ; 
 She came to me with a horse and saddle, 
 But she may go home in a coach and 
 three." 
 
 Lord Bateman then prepared another mar- 
 riage, 
 With both their hearts so full of glee, 
 Saying, "I will roam no more to foreign 
 countries, 
 Now that Sophia has crossed the sea." 
 
 72
 
 THE RONNIE HOUSE O' AIRLY 
 [Child, vol. vii. Early Edition.) 
 
 It fell on a day, and a bonnie summer day, 
 When the corn grew green and yellow, 
 
 That there fell out a gnat dispute 
 Between Argyle and Airly. 
 
 The Duke o" Montrose has written to Argyle 
 
 To come in the morning early, 
 An' lead in his men, by the back o' Dunkeld, 
 
 To plunder the bonnie house o' Airly. 
 
 The lady look'd o'er her'window sae hie, 
 
 And O but she looked weary ! 
 And there she espied the great Argyle 
 
 Come to plunder the bonnie house o' Airly. 
 
 "Come down, come down, Lady Margaret," 
 he says, 
 
 " Come down and kiss me fairly, 
 Or before the morning clear daylight, 
 
 I'll no leave a standing stane in Airly." 
 
 " I wadna kiss thee, great Argyle, 
 
 I wadna kiss thee fairly, 
 I wadna kiss thee, great Argyle, 
 
 (Jin you shouldna leave a standing stane in 
 Airly." 
 
 He has ta'en her by the middle sae sma', 
 Says " Lady, where is your drurv?" 
 
 " It's up and down by the bonnie burn side, 
 Amang the planting of Airly." 
 73
 
 ftct//ads 
 
 Tliey sought it up, they sought it down, 
 
 They sought it late and early, 
 And found it in the bonnie balm-tree, 
 
 That shines on the bowling-green o' Airly. 
 
 He has ta'en her by the left shoulder, 
 
 And O but she grat sairly, 
 And led her down to yon green bank, 
 
 Till he plundered the bonnie house o' Airly. 
 
 " O it's I hae seven braw sons," she says, 
 "And the youngest ne'er saw his daddie, 
 
 And altho' I had as mony mae, 
 I wad gie them a' to Charlie. 
 
 " But gin my good lord had been at hamc, 
 
 As this night he is wi' < 'harlie, 
 There durst na a Campbell in a' the west 
 
 Hae plundered the bonnie house o' Airly.'' 
 
 74
 
 ROII K<>\ 
 (Child, vol. vi. Early Edition.) 
 
 Rob Roy from the Highlands cam, 
 
 Unto the Lawlan' border, 
 'l'o steal awa a gay ladie 
 
 'To haud his house in order. 
 He cam oure the lock o' Lynn, 
 
 Twenty men his arms did carry ; 
 I Iimsel gaed in, an' fand her out, 
 
 Protesting he would marry. 
 
 " O will ye gac wi' me," he says, 
 
 " Or will ye be my honey ? 
 ( >r will ye be my wedded wife? 
 
 For I love you best of any." 
 " I winna gae wi' you," she says, 
 
 " Nor will I be your homy, 
 Nor will I be your wedded wife ; 
 
 You love me for my money." 
 .... 
 Put he set her on a coal-black steed, 
 
 Himsel lap on behind her, 
 An" he's awa to the Highland hills, 
 
 Whare her frien's they canna find her. 
 
 " Rob Roy was my father ca'd, 
 
 Macgregor was his name, ladie ; 
 I [e led a band o' heroes bauld, 
 
 An' I am here the same, ladie. 
 Be content, be content, 
 
 Be content to stay, ladie, 
 For thou art my wedded wife 
 
 Until thy dying day, ladie, 
 
 75
 
 Ballads 
 
 " He was a hedge unto his frien's, 
 
 A heckle to his foes, ladie, 
 Every one that durst him wrang, 
 
 He took him by the nose, ladie. 
 I'm as bold, I'm as bold, 
 
 I'm as bold, an more, ladie ; 
 He that daurs dispute my word, 
 
 Shall feel my guid claymore, ladie. 
 
 76
 
 TIFF. BATTLE OF KILLIE- 
 CRANKIE 
 
 [Child, vol. vii. Early Edition.) 
 
 (Layers and his Highlandmen 
 
 Came down upo' the raw, man, 
 Who being stout, gave mony a clout ; 
 
 The lads began to claw then. 
 With sword and terge into their hand, 
 
 Wi which they were nac slaw, man, 
 Wi mony a fearful heavy sigh, 
 
 The lads began to claw then. 
 
 O'er bush, o'er bank, o'er ditch, o'er stark, 
 
 She flang amang them a', man ; 
 The butter-box got many knocks, 
 
 Their riggings paid for a' then. 
 They got their paiks, wi sudden straiks, 
 
 Which to their grief they saw, man : 
 Wi clinkum, clankum o'er their crowns, 
 
 The lads began to fa' then. 
 
 Hur skipt about, hur leapt about, 
 And Bang amang them a', man ; 
 
 The English blades got broken heads, 
 Their cr.owns were cleav'd in twa then. 
 
 The durk and door made their last hour, 
 And prov'd their final fa', man ; 
 
 They thought the devil had been there, 
 lh.it play'd them sic a paw then. 
 
 77
 
 Ballads 
 
 The Solemn League and Covenant 
 
 ( lame whigging up the liills, man ; 
 Thought Highland trews durst not refuse 
 
 For to subscribe their bills then. 
 In Willie's name, they thought nae ane 
 
 Durst stop their course at a', man, 
 lint hur-nane-sell, vvi mony a knock, 
 
 Cry'd " Furich— Whigs awa'," man. 
 
 Sir Evan Du, and his men true, 
 
 Came linking up the brink, man ; 
 The Hogan Dutch they feared such, 
 
 They bred a horrid stink then. 
 The true Maclean and his fierce men 
 
 Came in amang them a', man ; 
 Nane durst withstand his heavy hand, 
 
 All fled and ran awa' thru. 
 
 Oli' on a ri, Oh' on a ri, 
 
 Why should she lose King Shames, man? 
 ( >//' rig in di. Oh' rig in <ii, 
 
 She shall break a' her banes then ; 
 With furichinish, an' stay a while, 
 
 And speak a word or twa, man, 
 She's gi' a straike, out o'er the neck, 
 
 Before ye win awa' then. 
 
 Oh fy for shame, ye're three for ane, 
 
 Ilur-nane-scll's won the day, man ; 
 King Shames' red-coats should be hung up, 
 
 I'.i cause they ran awa' then. 
 Had bent their brows, like Highland trows, 
 
 And made as king a stay, man, 
 They'd sav'd their king, that sacred thing, 
 
 And Willie 'd ran awa' then. 
 
 78
 
 ANNAN WATER. 
 (Child, vol. ii. Early Edition.) 
 
 '• Annan water's wading di i p, 
 
 \nil my love Annie's wondmu . bunny , 
 And I am laith she sulci weet her feet, 
 Because I love her best of ony. 
 
 " tiar saddle me the bonny black, — 
 I In saddle sune, and make him ready : 
 
 For I will down the Gatehope-Slack, 
 And all to see my bonny ladye." — 
 
 He has loupen on the bonny black, 
 
 He stirr'd him \vi' the spur right sairly ; 
 
 Mm. or he wan the Gatehope-Slack, 
 1 think the steed was wae and weary. 
 
 He has loupen on the bonny gray, 
 I le rade (lie 1 1 ht gate and the ready ; 
 
 1 trow he would neither stint nor stay, 
 For he was seeking his bonny ladye. 
 
 ( ' he has ridden o'er field and fell, 
 Through muirand moss, and monya mire 
 
 I lis spurs o' steel were sair to bide, 
 And fra her fore-feet flew the fire. 
 
 " Now, bonny grey, now play your part ! 
 
 i lin ye he the steed th.it wins my deary, 
 Wi' torn and hay ye'se be fed for aye, 
 
 And never spur sail make vou wearie. " 
 
 79
 
 Ballads 
 
 The gray was a mare, and a right good mare , 
 But when she wan the Annan water, 
 
 She couldna hae ridden a furlong mair, 
 Had a thousand merks been wadded at her. 
 
 " O boatman, boatman, put off your boat ! 
 
 Put off your boat for gowden monie ! 
 I cross the drumly stream the night, 
 
 Or never mair I see my honey." — 
 
 " O I was sworn sae late yestreen, 
 And not by ae aith, but by many ; 
 
 And for a' the gowd in fair Scotland, 
 I dare na take ye through to Annie." 
 
 The side was stey, and the bottom deep, 
 Frae bank to brae the water pouring ; 
 
 And the bonny grey mare did sweat for fear, 
 For she heard the water-kelpy roaring. 
 
 O he has pou'd aff his dapperpy coat, 
 The silver buttons glanced bonny ; 
 
 The waistcoat bursted aff his breast, 
 He was sae full of melancholy. 
 
 He has ta'en the ford at that stream tail ; 
 
 I wot he swam both strong and steady ; 
 But the stream was broad, and his strength 
 did fail, 
 
 And he never saw his bonny ladye. 
 
 " O wae betide the frush saugh wand ! 
 
 And wae betide the bush of brier ! 
 It brake into my true love's hand, 
 
 When his strength did fail, and his limbs 
 did tire. 
 
 "And wae betide ye, Annan water, 
 This night that ye are a drumlie river ! 
 
 For over thee I'll build a bridge, 
 That ye never more true love may sever. " — 
 80
 
 HIE ELPHIN NOURRICE 
 •(C. K. Sharpc); 
 
 I heard a cow low, a bonnie cow low, 
 An' a cow low down in yon glen ; 
 
 Lang, lang will my young son greet, 
 Or his mither bid him come ben. 
 
 I heard a cow low, a bonnie cow low, 
 An' a cow low down in yon fauld ; 
 
 Lang, lang will my young son greet, 
 Or his mither take him frae cauld. 
 
 Waken, Queen of Elfan, 
 
 An hear your Nourrice moan. 
 
 O moan ye for your meat, 
 
 Or moan ye for your fee, 
 
 Or moan ye for the ither bounties 
 
 That ladies are wont to gie ? 
 
 I moan na for my meat, 
 Nor yet for my fee, 
 
 But I mourn for Christened land- 
 It's there 1 fain would be. 
 
 O nurse my bairn, Nourice, she says, 
 
 Till he stan' at your knee, 
 An' yes win name to Christen land, 
 
 W'har fain it's ye wad be. 
 
 O keep my bairn, Nourice, 
 
 Till he gang by the hauld, 
 An' ye's win hame to your young son, 
 
 Ye left in four nights auld. 
 
 S'l a '
 
 COS PATRICK 
 
 [Mackay.) 
 
 Cospatrick has sent o'er the faem ; 
 Cospatrick brought his ladye harae ; __ 
 And fourscore ships have come her \vi', 
 The ladye by the green-wood tree. 
 
 There were twal' and twal' wi' baken bread, 
 And twal' and twal' wi' gowd sae red, 
 And twal' and twal' wi' bouted flour, 
 And twal' and twal' wi' the paramour. 
 
 Sweet Willy was a widow's son, 
 And at her stirrup he did run ; 
 And she was clad in the finest pall, 
 But aye she loot the tears down fall. 
 
 " O is your saddle set awrye? 
 Or rides your steed for you owre high ? 
 Or are you mourning, in your tide, 
 That you suld be Cospatrick's bride? " 
 
 " I am not mourning, at this tide, 
 That I suld be Cospatrick's bride ; 
 But I am sorrowing in my mood, 
 That I suld leave my mother good." 
 
 " But, gentle boy, come tell to me, 
 What is the custom of thy countrie?" 
 "The custom thereof, my dame," he says, 
 " Will ill a gentle ladye please. 
 82
 
 Ballads 
 
 •• Seven king's daughters has our lord 
 
 wedded, 
 And seven king's daughters has our lord 
 
 bo Ided ; 
 But he's culled their breasts frae their 
 
 breast bane, 
 And scut them mourning hame again. 
 
 Yet, t;in you're sure that you're a maid, 
 Ye may gae safely to his bed ; 
 But gif «> that ye be na sure, 
 
 I lieu hire some (lain ;el o' your hour." 
 
 The ladyc's called her bour-maiden, 
 'That waiting was unto her train. 
 " Five thousand marks I'll gie to thee, 
 To sleep this night with my lord for me." 
 
 When bells were rung, and mass was sayne, 
 And a' men unto bed were gane, 
 Cospatrick and the bonny maid, 
 Into ae chamber they were laid. 
 
 " Now speak to me, blankets, and speak to 
 
 me, bed, 
 And speak, thou sheet, enchanted web; 
 And speak, my sword, that winna lie, 
 Is this a true maiden that lies by me? " 
 
 " It is not a maid that you hae wedded, 
 Hut it is a maid that you hae bedded ; 
 It is a leal maiden that lies by thee, 
 But not the maiden that it should be." 
 
 O wrathfully.be left the bed, 
 And wrathfully his claes on did ; 
 And he has ta'en him through the ha', 
 And on his mother he did ca'. 
 
 83
 
 Ballads 
 
 "lam the most unhappy man, 
 That ever was in Christen land ? 
 I courted a maiden, meik and mild, 
 And I hae gotten naething but a woman wi' 
 child." 
 
 " O stay, my son, into this ha', 
 
 And sport ye wi' your merry men a' ; 
 
 And I will to the secret bour, 
 
 To see how it fares wi' your paramour." 
 
 The carline she was stark and stare, 
 She aff the hinges dang the dure. 
 " O is your bairn to laird or loun, 
 Or is it to your father's groom ? " 
 
 " O hear me, mother, on my knee, 
 Till my sad story I tell to thee : 
 O we were sisters, sisters seven, 
 We were the fairest under heaven. 
 
 " It fell on a summer's afternoon, 
 When a' our toilsome work was done, 
 We coost the kevils us amang, 
 To see which suld to the green-wood gang. 
 
 " Ohon ! alas, for I was youngest, 
 And aye my weird it was the strongest! 
 The kevil it on me did fa', 
 Whilk was the cause of a' my woe. 
 
 " For to the green-wood I maun gae, 
 To pu' the red rose and the slae ; 
 To pu' the red rose and the thyme, 
 To deck my mother's bour and mine. 
 
 " I hadna pu'd a flower but ane, 
 When by there came a gallant hinde, 
 Wi' high colled hose and laigh colled shoon, 
 And he seemed to be some king's son. 
 84
 
 Ballads 
 
 "And be I maid, or be I nae, 
 
 He kept me there till the close o' day ; 
 
 And be I maid, or be I nane, 
 
 1 le kept me there till the day was done. 
 
 " He gae me a lock o' his yellow hair, 
 And bade me keep it ever mair ; 
 He gae me a carknct o' bonny beads, 
 And bade me keep it against my needs. 
 
 " He gae to me a gay gold ring, 
 And bade me keep it abune a' tiling." 
 " What did ye wi' the tokens rare. 
 That ye gat frae that gallant there? " 
 
 " O bring that coffer unto me, 
 
 And a' the tokens ye sail see." 
 
 " Now stay, daughter, your bour within. 
 
 While I gae parley wi' my son." 
 
 she has ta'en her thro' the ha', 
 And on her son began to ca' : 
 
 " What did ye wi' the bonny beads, 
 
 1 bade ye keep against your needs ? 
 
 "What did you wi' the gay gold ring, 
 I bade you keep abune a thing? " 
 ' ' I gae them to a ladye gay, 
 I met in green-wood on a day. 
 
 " But I wad gie a' my halls and tours, 
 I had that ladye within my bours, 
 But I wad gie my very life, 
 1 had that ladye to my wife." 
 
 " Now keep, my son, your ha's and tours ; 
 Ye have that bright burd in your bours ; 
 And keep, my son, your very life ; 
 Ye have that ladye to your wife." 
 
 S5
 
 l\i I lads 
 
 Now, or a month was come and gane, 
 The ladye bore a bonny son ; 
 And 'twas written on his breast bane, 
 " Cospatrick is my father's name." 
 
 sr,
 
 JOHNNIE ARMSTRANG 
 
 Some speak of lords, some speak of lairds, 
 And sic like men of high degree ; 
 
 Of a gentleman I sing a sang, 
 Some time call'd Laird of Gilnockie. 
 
 The king he writes a loving letter, 
 With his ain hand sae tenderlie, 
 
 And he hath sent it to Johnnie Armstrong, 
 To come and speak with him speedilie. 
 
 The Elliots and Armstrongs did convene, 
 
 They were a gallant companie : 
 " We'll ride and meet our lawful king, 
 
 And bring him safe to Gilnockie. 
 
 " Make kinnen ' and capon ready, then, 
 
 And venison in great plentie ; 
 We'll welcome here our royal king ; 
 
 I hope he'll dine at Gilnockie ! " 
 
 1 hey ran their horse on the Langholm howm, 
 And brake their spears with meikle main ; 
 
 The ladies lookit frae their loft windows— 
 " God bring our men weel hame again ! " 
 
 When Johnnie came before the 1. 
 
 With all his men sae brave to see, 
 The king he moved his bonnet to him ; 
 He ween'd he was a king as well as he. 
 1 " Kinnen," rabt 
 87
 
 Ballads 
 
 " May I find grace, my sovereign liege, 
 Grace for my loyal men and me? 
 
 For my name it is Johnnie Armstrang, 
 And a subject of yours, my liege," said he. 
 
 " Away, away, thou traitor Strang ! 
 
 Out of my sight soon may'st thou be ! 
 I granted never a traitor's life, 
 
 And now I'll not begin with thee." 
 
 "Grant me my life, my liege, my king ! 
 
 And a bonnie gift I'll gi'e to thee ; 
 Full four-and-twenty milk-white steeds, 
 
 Were all foal'd in ae year to me. 
 
 " 1 11 gi'e thee all these milk-white steeds, 
 That prance and nicher l at a spear ; 
 
 And as meikle gude Inglish gilt, 3 
 
 As four of their braid backs dow 3 bear."- 
 
 " Away, away, thou traitor Strang ! 
 
 Out of my sight soon may'st thou be ! 
 I granted never a traitor's life, 
 
 And now I'll not begin with thee." 
 
 " Grant me my life, my liege, my king ! 
 
 And a bonnie gift I'll gi'e to thee : 
 Gude four-and-twenty ganging 4 mills, 
 
 That gang thro' all the year to me. 
 
 " These four-and-twenty mills complete, 
 Shall gang for thee thro' all the year ; 
 
 And as meikle of gude red wheat, 
 As all their happers dow to bear." 
 
 1 " Nicher," neigh. - " Gilt," gold. 
 
 - " Dow," are able to- 4 " Ganging,'' going. 
 
 S3
 
 Ballads 
 
 "Away, away, tliou traitor Strang! 
 
 Out of my sight soon may'st thou be ! 
 I granted never a traitor's life, 
 
 And now I'll not begin with thee." 
 
 " Grant me my life, my liege, my king ! 
 
 And a great gift I'll gi'c to thee : 
 Bauld four-and-twenty sisters' sons 
 
 Shall for thee fecht, tho' all shou'd flee." 
 
 " Away, away, thou traitor Strang ! 
 
 Out of my sight soon may'st thou be ! 
 I granted never a traitor's life, 
 
 And now I'll not begin with thee." 
 
 " Grant me my life, my liege, my king ! 
 
 And a brave gift I'll gi'e to thee : 
 All between here and Newcastle town 
 
 Shall pay their yearly rent to thee." 
 
 " Away, away, thou traitor Strang ! 
 
 Out of my sight soon may'st thou be ! 
 I granted never a traitor's life, 
 
 And now I'll not begin with thee." 
 
 " Ye lied, ye lied, now, king," he says, 
 " Altho' a king and prince ye be ! 
 
 For I've loved naething in my life, 
 1 weel dare say it, but honestie. 
 
 " Save a fat horse, and a fair woman, 
 Twa bonnie dogs to kill a deer ; 
 
 lint England shou'd have found me meal and 
 mault, 
 Gif I had lived this hundred year. 
 
 " She shou'd have found me meal and mault, 
 And beef and mutton in all plentie ; 
 
 But never a Scots wife eou'd have said, 
 That e'er I skaith'd her a puir flee. 
 89
 
 Ballads 
 
 " To seek het water beneath cauld ice, 
 
 Surely it is a great follie : 
 I have ask'd grace at a graceless face, 
 
 But there is nane for my men and me. 
 
 " But had I kenn'd, ere I came frae hame, 
 How unkind thou wou'dst been to me, 
 
 I wou'd ha'e keepit the Border side, 
 In spite of all thy force and thee. 
 
 " Wist England's king that I was ta'en, 
 Oh, gin a blythe man he wou'd be! 
 
 For ance I slew his sister's son, 
 And on his breast-bane brak a tree." 
 
 John wore a girdle about his middle, 
 Embroider'd o'er with burning gold, 
 
 Bespangled with the same metal, 
 Maist beautiful was to behold. 
 
 There hang nine targats 1 at Johnnie's hat, 
 An ilk ane worth three hundred pound : 
 
 " What wants that knave that a king shou'd 
 have, 
 But the sword of honour and the crown ? 
 
 " Oh, where got thee these targats, Johnnie, 
 That blink sae brawly 2 aboon thy brie? " 
 
 " I gat them in the field fechting, 3 
 Where, cruel king, thou durst not be. 
 
 " Had I my horse and harness gude, 
 
 And riding as I wont to be, 
 It shou'd have been tauld this hundred year, 
 
 The meeting of my king and me ! 
 
 1 "Targats," tassels. 
 - " Blink sat; brawly," glance so bravely. 
 3 " Fechting," fighting. 
 90
 
 Ballads 
 
 "God In- with thee, Kirsty, 1 my brother, 
 Lang live thou lnird of Mangertoun ! 
 
 Lang may 'st thou live on the Border side, 
 Ere thou see thy brother ride up and 
 down ! 
 
 " And God be with thee, Kirsty, my son, 
 Wln'iv thou sits on thy nurse's knee ! 
 
 I'.nl an thou live this hundred year, 
 Thy father's better thou'lt never be. 
 
 " Farewell, my bonnie Gilnock hall, 
 Where on Ksk side thou standest stout ! 
 
 Gif I had lived but seven years mair, 
 I wou'd ha'e gilt thee round about." 
 
 John murder'd was at Carlinrigg, 
 
 And all his gallant companie ; 
 Rut Scotland's heart was ne'er sae wae, 
 
 To see sae mony brave men die ; 
 
 I '■< cause they saved their country dear 
 Frae Englishmen ! Nane were sae bauld ; 
 
 While Johnnie lived on the Border side, 
 Nane of them durst come near his hatild. 
 
 1 " Kirsty," Christopher. 
 
 91
 
 EDOM O' GORDON 
 
 It fell about the Martinmas, 
 
 When the wind blew shrill and cauld, 
 Said Edom o' Gordon to his men, — 
 
 " We maun draw to a hald. ' 
 
 " And vvhatna hald shall we draw to, 
 
 My merry men and me? 
 We will gae straight to Tovvie house, 
 
 To see that fair ladye." 
 
 [The ladye stood on her castle wall, 
 
 Beheld baith dale and down ; 
 There she was 'ware of a host of men 
 
 Came riding towards the town. 
 
 " Oh, see ye not, my merry men all, 
 
 Oh, see ye not what I see? 
 Methinks I see a host of men ; 
 
 I marvel who they be." 
 
 She thought it had been her own wed lord, 
 
 As he came riding hame ; 
 It was the traitor, Edom o' Gordon, 
 
 Wha reck'd nae sin nor shame.] 
 
 She had nae sooner buskit hersel', 
 
 And putten on her gown, 
 Till Edom o' Gordon and his men 
 
 Were round about the town. 
 
 J "Hald," hold. 
 92
 
 Dalhuh 
 
 They had nae sooner supper set, 
 
 Nae sooner said the grace, 
 Till Kdom o' Gordon and his men 
 
 Were round about the place. 
 
 The ladye ran to her tower head, 
 
 As fast as she cou'd hie, 
 To see if, by her fair speeches, 
 
 She cou'd with him agree. 
 
 As soon as he saw this ladye fair, 
 And her yetts all lockit fast, 
 
 He fell into a rage of wrath, 
 And his heart was all aghast. 
 
 ' ' Come down to me, ye ladye gay, 
 Come down, come down to me ; 
 
 This night ye shall lye within my arms, 
 The morn my bride shall be." 
 
 " I vvinna come down, ye false Gordon, 
 I winna come down to thee ; 
 
 1 winna forsake my ain dear lord, 
 That is sae far frae me." 
 
 " Gi'e up your house, ye ladye fair, 
 
 Gi'e up your house to me ; 
 Or I shall burn yoursel' therein, 
 
 Bot and your babies three." 
 
 " I winna gi'e up, ye false Gordon, 
 
 To nae sic traitor as thee ; 
 The' you shou'd burn mysel' therein, 
 
 Bot and my babies three. 
 
 [" But fetch to me my pistolette, ' 
 
 And charge to me my gun ; 
 For, but if 1 pierce that bluidy butcher, 
 
 My babes we will be undone." 
 
 93
 
 Ballads 
 
 She stiffly stood on her castle wall, 
 
 And let the bullets lice ; 
 She miss'il that bluidy butcher's heart, 
 
 Tho' she slew other three.] 
 
 "Set fire to the house!" quo' the false 
 Gordon, 
 
 " Since better may nae be ; 
 And I will burn hersel' therein, 
 
 Bot and her babies three." 
 
 " Wae worth, wae worth ye, Jock, my 
 man, 
 
 I paid ye weel your fee ; 
 Why pull ye out the grund-wa'-stane, 
 
 Lets in the reek ' to inc.' 
 
 "And e'en wae worth ye, Jock, my man, 
 
 1 paid ye weel your hire ; 
 Why pull ye out my grund-wa'-stane, 
 
 To me lets in the fire ? " 
 
 " Ye paid me weel my hire, ladye, 
 
 Ye paid me weel my fee ; 
 But now I'm Edom o' Gordon's man, 
 
 Maun either do or dee." 
 
 Oh, then out spake her youngest son, 
 
 Sat on the nurse's knee : 
 Says — " Mither dear, gi'e o'er this house, 
 
 For the reek it smothers me." 
 
 ["I wou'd gi'e all my gold, my bairn, 
 
 Sae wou'd 1 all my fee, 
 For ae blast of the westlin' wind, 
 
 To blaw the reek frae thee. ] 
 
 1 " Reek," smoke. 
 
 94
 
 P.alhvh 
 
 " But I winna gi'e up my house, my dear, 
 
 To nae sic traitor as lie ; 
 Come weal, come woe, my jewels fair, 
 
 Ye maun take share with me." 
 
 Oh, then out spake her daughter dear, 
 She was baitta jimp and small : 
 
 " Oh, ro . Hi' in ,t pair of sheets, 
 And low me o'er the wall." 
 
 They row'd her in a pair of sheets, 
 
 And tow'd her o'er the wall ; 
 But on the point of Gordon's spear 
 
 She got a deadly fall. 
 
 Oh, bonnie, bonnie was her mouth, 
 
 And cherry were her cheeks ; 
 And clear, clear was her yellow hair, 
 
 Whereon the red bluid dreeps. 
 
 Then with his spear he turn'd her o'er, 
 
 Oh, gin her face was wan ! 
 He said — " You are the first that e'er 
 
 1 wish'd alive again." 
 
 lie turn'd her o'er and o'er again, 
 
 Oh, gin her skin was while ! 
 " 1 might ha'e spared that bonnie face 
 
 To ha'e been some man's delight. 
 
 " Rusk and boun, my merry men all, 
 
 For ill dooms I do guess ; 
 I canna look on that bonnie face, 
 
 As it lyes on the grass ! " 
 
 " Wha looks to freits,' my master clear, 
 
 Their freits will follow them ; 
 Lei it ne'er be said brave Kdom o' Gordon 
 
 Was daunted with a dame. 
 
 1 " Freits," omens. 
 95
 
 Badads 
 
 [But when the ladye saw the fire 
 
 Come flaming o'er her head, 
 She wept, and kissed her children twain ; 
 
 Said — " Bairns, we been but dead." 
 
 The Gordon then his bugle blew, 
 
 And said — " Away, away ! 
 The house of Towie is all in a flame, 
 
 I hald it time to gae."] 
 
 Oh, then he spied her ain dear lord, 
 
 As he came o'er the lea ; 
 He saw his castle all in a flame, 
 
 As far as he could see. 
 
 Then sair, oh sair his mind misgave, 
 
 And oh, his heart was wae ! 
 " Put on, put on, my wighty l men, 
 
 As fast as ye can gae. 
 
 " Put on, put on, my wighty men, 
 
 As fast as ye can drie ; 
 For he that is hindmost of the thrang 
 
 Shall ne'er get gude of me ! " 
 
 Then some they rade, and some they ran, 
 
 Full fast out o'er the bent ; 
 But ere the foremost could win up, 
 
 Baith ladye and babes were brent. 
 
 [He wrang his hands, he rent his hair, 
 
 And wept in tearful mood ; 
 "Ah, traitors ! for this cruel deed, 
 
 Ye shall weep tears of bluid." 
 
 And after the Gordon he has gane, 
 
 Sae fast as he might drie ; 
 And soon in the Gordon's foul heart's bluid 
 
 He's wroken 2 his dear layde.] 
 
 " Wighty," valiant. - " Wroken," revenged. 
 
 9 6
 
 Ballads 
 
 And mony were the mudie 1 men, 
 
 Lay gasping on the green ; 
 And mony were the fair ladyes 
 
 Lay lemanless at hame. 
 
 And mony were the mudie men 
 
 Lay gasping on the green ; 
 For of Fifty men the Gordon brocht, 
 
 There were but live gaed hame. 
 
 And round, and round the walls he went, 
 
 Their ashes for to view ; 
 At last into the flames he flew, 
 
 And bade the world adieu. 
 
 1 "Mudie," bold. 
 
 97 H
 
 LADY ANNE BOTHWELL'S 
 LAMENT 
 
 (Child, vol. iv. Early Edition.) 
 
 Balow, my boy, ly still and sleep, 
 It grieves me sore to hear thee weep, 
 If thou'lt be silent, I'll be glad, 
 Thy mourning makes my heart full sad. 
 Balow, my boy, thy mother's joy, 
 Thy father bred one great annoy. 
 
 Balow, my boy, ly still and sleep, 
 It grieves me sore to hear thee weep. 
 
 Balow, my darling, sleep a while, 
 And when thou wak'st then sweetly smile ; 
 But smile not as thy father did, 
 To cozen maids, nay, God forbid ; 
 For in thine eye his look I see, 
 The tempting look that ruin'd me. 
 Balow, my boy, etc. 
 
 When he began to court my love, 
 And with his sugar'd words to move, 
 His tempting face, and flatt'ring chear, 
 In time to me did not appear ; 
 But now I see that cruel he 
 Cares neither for his babe nor me. 
 Balow, my boy, etc. 
 98
 
 Ballads 
 
 Farewi I, ran m • ' • youth 
 
 l Imi ever ki >l a woman's mouth. 
 Let Devi i any after me 
 
 Submit unto thy courtesy ! 
 For, if they do, O ! cruel thou 
 Wilt her abuse and care not how ! 
 Balow, my boy, etc, 
 
 I was too cred'lous at the first, 
 To yield thee all a maiden durst. 
 I hou ^vore for ever true to prove, 
 Thy faith unchang'd, unchang'd thy love ; 
 But quick as thought the change is wrought, 
 Thy love's no niair, thy promise nought. 
 Ha low, my boy, etc. 
 
 1 wish I were a maid again ! 
 From young mi n" itt'ry I'd refrain ; 
 For now unto my grief 1 find 
 They all are perjurd and unkind ; 
 Bewitching charms bred all my harms ; — 
 Witness my babe lies in my arms. 
 Balow, my boy, etc. 
 
 I take my fate from bad to worse, 
 That I must nei ds be now a nurse, 
 And lull my young son on my lap : 
 From me, sweet orphan, take the pap. 
 Balow, my child, thy mother mild 
 Shall wail as from all bliss exil'd. 
 '.low, my boy, etc. 
 
 Balow, my boy, weep not for me, 
 Whose greatest grief's for wronging thee. 
 Nor pity her deserved smart, 
 Who can blame none but her fond hear! ; 
 l or, too soon trusting latest finds 
 With fairest tongues are falsest minds. 
 Ha low, my boy, < A . 
 
 ' 99
 
 Ballads 
 
 Balow, my boy, thy father's fled, 
 When he the thriftless son has played ; 
 Of vows and oaths forgetful, he 
 Preferr'd the wars to thee and me. 
 But now, perhaps, thy curse and mine 
 Make him eat acorns with the swine. 
 Balow, my boy, etc. 
 
 But curse not him ; perhaps now he, 
 Stung with remorse, is blessing thee : 
 Perhaps at death ; for who can tell 
 Whether the judge of heaven or hell, 
 By some proud foe has struck the blow, 
 And laid the dear deceiver low ? 
 Balow, my boy, etc. 
 
 I wish I were into the bounds 
 Where he lies smother'd in his wounds, 
 Repeating, as he pants for air, 
 My name, whom once he call'd his fair ; 
 No woman's yet so fiercely set 
 But she'll forgive, though not forget. 
 Balow, my boy, etc. 
 
 If linen lacks, for my love's sake 
 Then quickly to him would I make 
 My smock, once for his body meet, 
 And wrap him in that winding-sheet. 
 Ah me ! how happy had I been, 
 If he had ne'er been wrapt therein. 
 Baloio, my boy, etc. 
 
 Balow, my boy, I'll weep for thee ; 
 Too soon, alake, thou'lt weep for me : 
 Thy griefs are growing to a sum, 
 God grant thee patience when they come 
 Born to sustain thy mother's shame, 
 A hapless fate, a bastard's name. 
 
 Balow, my boy, ly still and slap, 
 It grieves me sore to hear thee wec[>. 
 
 IOO
 
 JOCK O THE SIDE 
 (Child, Part VI., p. 479.) 
 
 Now Liddisdalc has ridden a raid, 
 
 I !ut I wat they had better staid at hame ; 
 
 For Mitchell o Winfield he is dead, 
 And my son Johnie is prisner tane? 
 With my fa ding diddle, la la dow diddle. 
 
 For Mangerton house auld Downie is pane, 
 I U-r coats she has kilted up to her knee ; 
 
 And down the water \vi speed sin: rins, 
 While tears in spaits fa fast frae her eie. 
 
 Then up and bespake the lord Mangerton : 
 " What news, what news, sister I >ownie, to 
 me? " 
 " Had news, bad news, my lord Mangerton ; 
 Mitchel is killd, and tane they hae my son 
 Johnie." 
 
 " Neer fear, sister Downie," quo Mangerton ; 
 
 " I hae yokes of oxen, four-and-twentie, 
 My barns, my byres, and my faulds, a' weel 
 filld, 
 
 And I'll part w i them a' ere Johnie shall die. 
 
 " Three men I'll take to set him free, 
 Weel harnessd a' wi best of steel ; 
 
 The English rogues may hear, and drie 
 The weight o their braid swords to feel. 
 
 101
 
 Ballads 
 
 "The Laird's Jock ane, the Laird's Wat 
 twa, 
 
 O Hobie Noble, thou ane maun be ! 
 Thy coat is blue, thou has been true, 
 
 Since England banishd thee, to me." 
 
 Now, Hobie was an English man, 
 
 In Bewcastle-dale was bred and born ; 
 
 Rut his misdeeds they were sae great, 
 They banished him neer to return. 
 
 Lord Mangerton then orders gave,— 
 
 "Your horses the wrang way maun a' be 
 shod ; 
 
 Like gentlemen ye must not seem, 
 
 But look like corn-caugers gawn ae road. 
 
 " Your armour gude ye maunna shaw, 
 Nor ance appear like men o weir ; 
 
 As country lads be all arrayd, 
 Wi branks and brecham on ilk mare." 
 
 Sae now a' their horses arc shod the wrang 
 way, 
 And Hobie has mounted Ins grey sae nne, 
 Jock his lively bay, Wat's on his white horse 
 behind, 
 And on they rode for the water o Tyne. 
 
 At the Cholerford they a' light down, 
 
 And there, wi the help o the light o the 
 moon, 
 A tree they cut, wi fifteen naggs upon each 
 side, 
 To climb up the wall of Newcastle toun. 
 
 But when thev came to Newcastle toun, 
 
 And were alighted at the wa, 
 They fand their tree three ells oer laigh, 
 
 I hey fand their stick baith short and sma. 
 
 I02
 
 Ballads 
 
 Then up and spake the Laird's ain Jock, 
 " There's naething for't ; the gates we maun 
 fore/ 
 I Jut when they cam the gate unto, 
 A proud porter withstood baith men and 
 horse. 
 
 His neck in twa I wat they hae wrung ; 
 
 Wi foot or hand he neer play'd paw ; 
 His life and his keys at anes (hey hae taen, 
 
 And cast His body ahind the wa. 
 
 Now soon they readied Newcastle jail, 
 And to the prisner thus they call : 
 
 " SKips thou, wakes thou, Jock o the Side, 
 Or is thou wearied o thy thrall ? " 
 
 Jock answers thus, wi dolefu tone : 
 " .Alt, aft I wake, I seldom sleip ; 
 
 But wha 's this kens my name sae weel, 
 And thus to hear my waes does seek ? " 
 
 Then up and spake the good I.aird's Jock: 
 " Neer fear ye now, my billie," quo he ; 
 
 "For here 's the Laird's Jock, the Laird's 
 Wat, 
 And Hobie Noble, come to set thee free." 
 
 " Oh, had thy tongue, and speak nae mair, 
 
 Aim! o thy talk now let me be ! 
 For if a' Liddesdale were here the night, 
 
 The morn's the day that 1 maun die. 
 
 " Full fifteen stane o Spanish iron, 
 I hey hae laid a' i ignl sair on me ; 
 
 Wi locks and keys I am fasl bound 
 Into this dungeon mirk and drearie. " 
 
 103
 
 Ballads 
 
 " Fear ye no that," quo the Laird's Jock ; 
 
 " A faint heart neer wan a fair ladie ; 
 Work thou within, we'll work without, 
 
 And I'll be sworn we set thee free." 
 
 The first strong dore that they came at, 
 
 They loosed it without a key ; 
 The next chaind dore that they cam at, 
 
 They gard it a' in flinders flee. 
 
 The prisner now, upo his back, 
 
 The Laird's Jock's gotten up fu hie ; 
 
 And down the stair him, irons and a', 
 Wi nae sma speed and joy brings he. 
 
 " Now, Jock, I wat," quo Hobie Noble, 
 " Part o the weight ye may lay on me ; " 
 
 " I wat weel no," quo the Laird's Jock, 
 " I count him lighter than a flee." 
 
 Sae out at the gates they a' are gane, 
 The prisner's set on horseback hie ; 
 
 And now wi speed they've tane the gate ; 
 While ilk ane jokes fu wantonlie. 
 
 " O Jock, sae winsomely's ye ride, 
 Wi baith your feet upo ae side ! 
 
 Sae weel's ye're harnessd, and sae trig ! 
 In troth ye sit like ony bride. " 
 
 The night, tho wat, they didna mind, 
 
 But hied them on fu mirrilie, 
 Until they cam to Cholerford brae, 
 
 Where the water ran like mountains hie. 
 
 But when they came to Cholerford, 
 There they met with an auld man ; 
 
 Says, " Honest man, will the water ride? 
 Tell us in haste, if that ye can." 
 104
 
 /lillads 
 
 " I wat weel no," quo the good auld man ; 
 
 " Here 1 hae livdthis threty yeirsand three, 
 And 1 neer yet saw the Tyne sae big, 
 
 Nor rinning ance sae like a sea.'' 
 
 I hen u]) and spake the Laird's saft Wat, 
 I he greatest coward in the company ; 
 " Now halt, now halt, we needna try't ; 
 The day is comd we a' maun die ! " 
 
 " Poor faint-hearted thief!" quo the Laird's 
 Jock, 
 
 " There'll nae man die but he that's fie ; 
 I'll lead ye a' light safely through ; 
 
 Lift ye the prisner on ahint me." 
 
 now the water they a' hae tane, 
 I'.y anes and twas they a' swam through ; 
 
 "Hi re are we a' safe," says the 1 .Mini.. Joel;, 
 "Ami, poor faint Wat, what think ye 
 now ? " 
 
 They scan e the ither side had wi »n, 
 When twenty men they saw pursue ; 
 
 Frae Newcastle town they had been sent, 
 A' English lads rigl ami tine. 
 
 lint when the land-sergeant the water saw, 
 
 "It winna ride, my lads," quo he ; 
 I hen out he cries, " Ye the prisner may take, 
 
 I '.ut lease the irons, I pray, to me." 
 
 " 1 wat weel no," cryd the Laird's Jock, 
 "I'll keep them a'; hoon to my mare 
 
 they'll be ; 
 I ;ood grey mare; for I am sure, 
 She's bought ili. -in a' in oVar frae thee." 
 
 ' °5
 
 Ballads 
 
 Sae now they're away for Liddisdale, 
 Een as fast as they coud them hie ; 
 
 The prisner's brought to his ain fireside, 
 And there o's aims they make him free. 
 
 " Now, Jock, my billie," quo a' the three, 
 " The day was comd thou was to die ; 
 
 But thou 's as weel at thy ain fireside, 
 Now sitting, I think, 'tween thee and me. 
 
 They hae gard fill up ae punch-bowl, 
 And after it they maun hae anither, 
 
 And thus the night they a' hae spent, 
 Just as they had beenMarither and brither. 
 
 1 06 

 
 LORD THOM \ i \\l> FAIR 
 AN NET 
 
 {Child, Part III., p. 182.) 
 
 LORD Thomas and Fair Annct 
 
 Sate a' clay on a hill ; 
 Whan night was cum, and sun was sett, 
 
 They had not talkt their fill. 
 
 Lord Tin. mas said a word in jest, 
 
 Fair Annet took it ill : 
 "A, I will nevir wed a wife 
 
 Against my ain friend's will." 
 
 " 1 iil ye wull nevir wed a wife, 
 A wife wull neir wed yi 
 
 he 1 hame to tell his mithi 1 
 And knelt upon his knee. 
 
 "O rede, O rede, mithcr," he says, 
 
 " A gude rede gie to mee ; 
 O sail 1 tak the nut-browne bride, 
 
 And let Faire Annet bee?" 
 
 "Tlu- nut-browne bride haes gowd and 
 ir, 
 1 he has gat nam' ; 
 
 And the little beauty Fair Annet haes 
 ( 1 it wull soon be gane." 
 
 And he has till his brother gane : 
 ■• Now, brother, rede ye mee , 
 
 A, s iil 1 marrie the nut-brou ne laid.-. 
 Ami let Fair Annel l» 
 107
 
 Ballads 
 
 " The nut-browne bride has oxen, brother, 
 The nut-browne bride has kye ; 
 
 I wad hae ye marrie the nut-browne bride, 
 And cast Fair Annet bye." 
 
 "Her oxen may dye i' the house, billie, 
 
 And her kye into the byre ; 
 And I sail hae nothing to mysell 
 
 Bot a fat fadge by the fyre." 
 
 And he has till his sister gane : 
 " Now, sister, rede ye mee ; 
 
 sail I marrie the nut-browne bride, 
 And set Fair Annet free? " 
 
 " I'se rede ye tak Fair Annet, Thomas, 
 And let the browne bride alane ; 
 
 1 ,'■ ,t ye sould sigh, and say, Alace, 
 
 What is this we brought hame ! " 
 
 " No, I will tak my mither's counsel, 
 
 And marrie me owt o hand ; 
 And I will tak the nut-browne bride, 
 
 Fair Annet may leive the land." 
 
 Up then rose Fair Ar.net's father, 
 
 Tvva hours or it wer day, 
 And he is gane unto the bower 
 
 Wherein Fair Annet lay. 
 
 ' Rise up, rise up, fair Annet," he says, 
 " Put on your silken sheene ; 
 
 I . < us gae to St. Marie's Kirke, 
 And see that rich weddeen." 
 
 " My maides, gae to my dressing-roome, 
 
 And dress to me my hair ; 
 Whaireir yee laid a plait before, 
 
 See yee lay ten times mair. 
 1 08
 
 Ballads 
 
 " My in. lids, gae to my dressing-room, 
 And dress to me my smock ; 
 
 The one half is o the Holland fine, 
 The other o needle-work.'' 
 
 The horse Fair Annet rade upon, 
 
 IIo amhlit like the wind ; 
 Wi siller he was shod before, 
 
 Wi burning gowd behind. 
 
 Four and twanty siller bells 
 
 Wer a' tyed till his mane, 
 And yae lift o the norland wind, 
 
 They tinkled ane by ane. 
 
 Four and twanty gay gude knichts 
 
 Rade by Fair Annet's side, 
 And four and twanty fair ladies, 
 
 As gin she had bin a bride. 
 
 And whan she cam to Marie's Kirk, 
 
 She sat on Marie's stean : 
 The (.leading that Fair Annet had on 
 
 It skinkled in their een. 
 
 And whan she cam into the kirk, 
 She shimmerd like the sun ; 
 
 The belt that was about her waist 
 Was a' wi pearles bedone. 
 
 She sat her by the nut-brownc bride, 
 And her een they wer sae clear, 
 
 Lord Thomas he clean forgat the bride, 
 When Fair Annet drew near. 
 
 lie had a rose into his hand, 
 
 He gae it kisses three, 
 And reaching by the nut-browne bride, 
 
 Laid it on Fair Annet's knee. 
 
 109
 
 Ballads 
 
 Up then spak the nut-browne bride, 
 
 She spak \vi meikle spite : 
 ' ' And whair gat ye that rose-water, 
 
 That does mak yee sae white ? " 
 
 " O I did get the rose-water 
 
 Whair ye vvull neir get nane, 
 For I did get that very rose-water 
 
 Into my mither's vvame." 
 
 The bride she drew a long bodkin 
 
 Frae out her gay head-gear, 
 And strake Fair Annet unto the heart, 
 
 That word spak nevir mair. 
 
 Lord Thomas he saw Fair Annet wex pale, 
 
 And marvelit what mote bee ; 
 But when he saw her dear heart's blmk-, 
 
 A' wood-wroth wexed hee. 
 
 He drew his dagger that was sae sharp, 
 
 That was sae sharp and meet, 
 And drave it into the nut-browne bride, 
 
 That fell deid at his feit. 
 
 " Now stay for me, dear Annet," he sed, 
 " Now stay, my dear," he cry'd ; 
 
 Then strake the dagger untill his heart, 
 And fell deid by her side. 
 
 Lord Thomas was buried without kirk-wa, 
 
 Fair Annet within the quiere, 
 And o the ane thair grew a birk, 
 
 The other a bonny briere. 
 
 And ay they grew, and ay they threw, 
 
 As they wad faine be neare ; 
 And by this ye may ken right weil 
 
 They were twa luvers deare. 
 no
 
 FAIR ANNIE 
 (Child, Part III., p. 69.) 
 
 " It's narrow, narrow, make your bed, 
 
 And learn to lie your lane ; 
 For I'm ga'n oer the sea, Fair Annie, 
 
 A braw bride to bring hame. 
 Wi her I will get govvd and gear ; 
 
 Wi you I ncer got nanc. 
 
 " But wha will bake my bridal bread, 
 
 < >r brew my bridal ale ? 
 And wha will welcome my brisk bride, 
 
 That I bring oer the dale?" 
 
 " It's I will bake your bridal bread, 
 
 And brew your bridal ale, 
 And I will welcome your brisk bride, 
 
 That you bring oer the dale." 
 
 " But she that welcomes my brisk bride 
 Maun gang like maiden fair ; 
 
 She maun lace on her robe sae jimp, 
 And braid her yellow hair." 
 
 " Rut how can I gang maiden-like, 
 When maiden I am nane ? 
 
 Have I not born seven sons to thee, 
 And am with child again ? " 
 
 III
 
 Ballads 
 
 She's taen her young son in her arms, 
 
 Another in her hand, 
 And she's up to the highest tower, 
 
 To see him come to land. 
 
 " Come up, come up, my eldest son, 
 
 And look oer yon sea-strand, 
 And see your father's new-come bride, 
 
 Before she come to land." 
 
 "Come down, come down, my mother 
 dear, 
 
 Come frae the castle wa ! 
 1 fear, if langer ye stand there, 
 
 Ye'll let yoursell down fa." 
 
 And she gaed down, and farther down, 
 
 Her love's ship for to see, 
 And the topmast and the mainmast 
 
 Shone like the silver free. 
 
 And she's gane down, and farther down, 
 
 The bride's ship to behold, 
 And the topmast and the mainmast 
 
 They shone just like the gold. 
 
 She's taen her seven sons in her hand, 
 
 I wot she didna fail ; 
 She met Lord Thomas and his bride, 
 
 As they came oer the dale. 
 
 "You're welcome to your house, Lord 
 Thomas, 
 You're welcome to your land ; 
 You're welcome with your fair ladye, 
 That you lead by the hand. 
 112
 
 Ilallatls 
 
 " You're welcome to your ha's, ladye, 
 You're welcome to your bowers ; 
 
 Your welcome to your hame, ladye, 
 For a' that's here is yours." 
 
 " I thank thee, Annie ; I thank thee, Annie, 
 
 Sae dearly as I thank thee ; 
 You're the likest to my sister Annie, 
 
 That ever I did see. 
 
 " There came a knight out oer the sea, 
 
 And steald my sister away ; 
 The shame scoup in his company, 
 
 And land where'er he gae ! " 
 
 She hang ae napkin at the door, 
 
 Another in the ha, 
 And a' to wipe the trickling tears, 
 
 Sae fast as they did fa. 
 
 And aye she served the lang tables 
 With white bread and with wine, 
 
 And aye she drank the w.m water, 
 To had her colour fine. 
 
 \nd aye she served the lang tables, 
 With white bread and with brown ; 
 
 And aye she turned her round about, 
 Sae fast the tears fell down. 
 
 And he's laen down the silk napkin, 
 
 1 tung on a silver pin, 
 Vnd aye he wipes the tear trickling 
 
 A'down her cheek and chin. 
 
 And aye he turn'd him round about, 
 
 And smiled amang his men ; 
 Says, " Like ye best the old ladye, 
 
 Or her that's new come hame ? " 
 "3 I
 
 Ballads 
 
 When bells were rung, and mass was sung, 
 
 And a' men bound to bed, 
 Lord Thomas and his new-come bride 
 
 To their chamber they were gaed. 
 
 Annie made her bed a little forbye, 
 
 To hear what they might say ; 
 "And ever alas ! " Fair Annie cried, 
 
 " That I should see this day ! 
 
 ' ' Gin my seven sons were seven young rats, 
 
 Running on the castle wa, 
 And I were a grey cat mysell, 
 
 I soon would worry them a'. 
 
 "Gin my young sons were seven young 
 hares, 
 
 Running oer yon lilly lee, 
 And I were a grew hound mysell, 
 
 Soon worried they a' should be." 
 
 And wae and sad Fair Annie sat, 
 
 And drearie was her sang, 
 And ever, as she sobbd and grat, 
 
 " Wae to the man that did the wrang ! " 
 
 "My gown is on," said the new-come 
 bride, 
 
 " My shoes are on my feet, 
 And I will to Fair Annie's chamber, 
 
 And see what gars her greet. 
 
 "What ails ye, what ails ye, Fair Annie, 
 
 That ye make sic a moan ? 
 Has your wine-barrels cast the girds, 
 
 Or is your white bread gone? 
 114
 
 lull lads 
 
 "Owhawas'l was your father, Annie, 
 
 Or wha was't was your mother? 
 And liacl yc ony sister, Annie, 
 Or had yc ony brother? " 
 
 " The Karl of Wemyss was my father, 
 The Countess of Wemyss my mother ; 
 
 And a' the folk about the house 
 To me were sister and brother." 
 
 "If the Earl of Wemyss was your father, 
 
 I wot sae was he mine ; 
 And it shall not be for lack o gowd 
 
 That ye your love sail fyne. 
 
 " For I have seven ships o mine ain, 
 
 A' loaded to the brim, 
 And 1 will gie them a' to thee 
 
 Wi four to thine eldest son : 
 But thanks to a' the powers in heaven 
 
 That I gae maiden hame ! " 

 
 THE DOWIE DENS OF YARROW 
 {Child, Part III. Early Edition.) 
 
 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. 
 
 " Oh, stay at hame, my noble lord, 
 Oh, stay at hame, my marrow ! 
 
 My cruel brother will you betray 
 On the dowie houms of Yarrow." 
 
 " Oh, fare ye weel, my ladye gaye ! 
 
 Oh, fare ye weel, my Sarah ! 
 For I maun gae, though I ne'er return, 
 
 Frae the dowie banks of Yarrow." 
 
 She kiss'd his cheek, she kaim'd his hair, 
 As oft she had clone before, O ; 
 
 She belted him with his noble brand, 
 And he's away to Yarrow. 
 
 As he gaed up the Tcnnies bank, 
 
 I wot he gaed wi' sorrow, 
 Till, down in a den, he spied nine arm'd 
 men, 
 
 On the dowie houms of Yarrow. 
 
 "Oh, 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?" 
 116
 
 Ballads 
 
 " I come not here to part my land, 
 And neither to beg nor borrow ; 
 
 I i ome to wield my noble brand, 
 On the bonnie banks of Yarrow. 
 
 "If 1 see all, ye' re nine to ane ; 
 
 An that's an unequal marrow : 
 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, 
 And ran his body thorough. 
 
 " Gae name, gae name, good-brother John, 
 
 And tell your sister Sarah, 
 To come and lift her leafu' lord ; 
 He's sleepin' sound on Yarrow." 
 
 " Yestreen 1 dream'd a dolefu' dream ; 
 
 1 fear there will be sorrow ! 
 1 dream 'd 1 pu'd the heather green, 
 
 \Vi' my true love, cm Yarrow. 
 
 "O gentle wind, that bloweth south, 
 From where my love repaireth, 
 
 < onvey 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 ; 
 They've slain — the comeliest knight they've 
 slain — 
 
 He bleeding lies on Yarrow.' 1 
 
 As she sped down yon high, high hill, 
 
 Sin- gaed wi' dole and sorrow, 
 And in the den spied ten slain men, 
 
 < in the dowie banks of Yarrow. 
 
 117
 
 Hallads 
 
 She kiss'd his cheek, she kaim'd liis hair, 
 She search'd his wounds all thorough, 
 
 Shi- kiss'd them, till her lips grew red, 
 On the dovvie houms of Yarrow. 
 
 "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." 
 
 "Oh, haud your tongue, my father dear ! 
 
 Ye mind me but of sorrow : 
 A fairer ro ie did never bloom 
 
 Than now lies cropp'd on Yarrow." 
 
 ITS
 
 SIR ROLAND 
 {Child, vol. i. Early Edition.) 
 
 WHAN be cam to his ain hive's bouir 
 
 He tirled at the pin, 
 And sae ready was his fair fause hive 
 
 To rise and let him in. 
 
 "O welcome, welcome, Sir Roland," she 
 says, 
 ' ' Thrice welcome thou art to me ; 
 For this night thou wilt feast in my secret 
 bouir, 
 And to-morrow we'll wedded be." 
 
 " This night is hallow-eve," he said, 
 " And to-morrow is hallow-day ; 
 
 And 1 dreamed a drearie dream yestreen, 
 That has made my heart fu' wae. 
 
 " I dreamed a drearie dream yestreen, 
 And I wish it may cum to glide : 
 
 I dreamed that ye slew my best grew 
 hound, 
 And gied me his lappered blude." 
 
 " Unbuckle your belt, Sir Roland," she 
 said, 
 "And set you safely down." 
 " O your chamber is very dark, fair maid, 
 And the night is wondrous lown. 
 119
 
 fin/lads 
 
 "Yes, dark, dark is my secret bouir, 
 And lown the midnight may be ; 
 
 For there is none waking in a' this tower 
 But thou, my true love, and me." 
 
 She has mounted on her true love's steed, 
 
 By the ae light o' the moon ; 
 She has whipped him and spurred him, 
 
 And roundly she rade frae the toun. 
 
 She hadna ridden a mile o' gate, 
 
 Never a mile but ane, 
 When she was aware of a tall young man, 
 
 Slow riding o'er the plain. 
 
 She turned her to the right about, 
 
 Then to the left turn'd she ; 
 But aye, 'tween her and the wan moonlight, 
 
 That tall knight did she see. 
 
 And he was riding burd alane, 
 
 On a horse as black as jet, 
 But tho' she followed him fast and fell, 
 
 No nearer could she get. 
 
 " O stop ! O stop ! young man," she said ; 
 
 "For I in dule am dight ; 
 O stop, and win a fair lady's hive, 
 
 If you be a leal true knight. " 
 
 But nothing did the tall knight say, 
 
 And nothing did he blin ; 
 Still slowly rode he on before 
 
 And fast she rade behind. 
 
 She whipped her steed, she spurred her 
 steed, 
 Till his breast was all a foam ; 
 But nearer unto that tall young knight, 
 By Our I.adye she could not come. 
 1 20
 
 Ballads 
 
 " O if you be a gay young knight, 
 
 As well I trow you be, 
 l'ull tight your bridle reins, and stay 
 
 Till 1 come up to thee." 
 
 But nothing did that tall knight say, 
 
 And no whit did he blin, 
 Until be reached a broad river's side 
 
 And there he drew his rein. 
 
 " O is this water deep?" he said, 
 
 " As it is wondrous dun ? 
 < )r is it sic as a saikless maid, 
 
 And a leal true knight may swim ? " 
 
 • I he water it is deep," she said, 
 " As it is wondrous dun ; 
 
 Bui it is IC .is a saikless maid, 
 
 And a leal true knight may swim." 
 
 I lie knight spurred on hi . tall blacfc steed , 
 
 The lady spurred on her brown ; 
 And fast they rade unto the flood, 
 
 And fast they baith .swam down. 
 
 ' II"- \\ iter writs m\ tae," she said ; 
 
 " 1 In- water weets my knee, 
 And hold up my bridle reins, sir knight, 
 For the sake of Our Ladye." 
 
 " If I would help thee now," he said, 
 
 "It were a deadly sin, 
 For I've sworn neir to trust a fair may's 
 word, 
 
 Till the water weets her chin." 
 
 1 ' lh, the water weets my waist," she said, 
 
 " Sae dues it weet mj 
 And my aching heart rin round about, 
 
 The burn maks sic a din. 
 121
 
 Ballads 
 
 " The water is waxing deeper still, 
 
 Sae does it wax niair wide ; 
 And aye the farther that we ride on, 
 
 Farther off is the other side. 
 
 " O help me now, thou false, false knight, 
 
 Have pity on my youth, 
 For now the water jawcs owre my head, 
 
 And it gurgles in my mouth." 
 
 The knight turned right and round about, 
 
 All in the middle stream ; 
 And he stretched out his head to that lady, 
 
 But loudly she did scream. 
 
 " O this is hallow-mom," he said, 
 
 " And it is your bridal-day, 
 lint sad would be that gay wedding, 
 
 Jf bridegroom and bride were away. 
 
 " And ride on, ride on, proud Margaret ! 
 
 Till tin- water conies o'er your bree, 
 For the bride maun rule deep, and deeper 
 yet, 
 
 Wha rides this ford wi' me. 
 
 " Turn round, turn round, proud Margaret! 
 
 Turn ye round, and look on me, 
 Thou hast killed a true knight under trust, 
 
 And his "host now links on with thee." 
 
 122
 
 ROSE THE RED WD WHITE LILY 
 (Child, Part IV.) 
 
 < I Rose the Red and White Lilly, 
 
 Their mother dear was dead, 
 And their father married an ill woman, 
 Wishd them twa little guede. 
 
 Yel she had twa as fu fair sons 
 
 As eer brake manis bread, 
 And the tane of them loed her White Lilly, 
 
 And the titlier lood Rose the Red. 
 
 < », biggit ha they a bigly bowr, 
 
 And straw n it oer wi 
 And there was mair mirth i the ladies' bowr 
 I han in a' their father's Ian. 
 
 But out it spake tln'ir step-mother, 
 
 Wha stood a little foreby : 
 " I hope to live and play the prank 
 n your loud sang ly." 
 
 She's ealld upon her eldest son : 
 
 " < lome lien-, my son, to me ; 
 It fears me sair, my eldest son, 
 
 That ye maun sail the sea." 
 
 " i rin it fear you sair, my mither dear, 
 
 Your bidding I maun dr.' ; 
 Bui be never war to Rose the Red 
 
 I han ye ha been to me 
 
 133
 
 Ballads 
 
 " O had your tongue, my eldest son, 
 
 For sma sal be her part ; 
 You'll nae get a kiss o her comely mouth 
 
 Gin your very fair heart should break." 
 
 She's calld upon her youngest son : 
 
 " Come here, my son, to me ; 
 It fears me sair, my youngest son, 
 
 That ye maun sail the sea." 
 
 "Gin it fear you sair, my mither dear, 
 
 Your bidding I maun dee ; 
 But be never war to White Lilly 
 
 Than ye ha been to me." 
 
 "O haud your tongue, my youngest son, 
 
 For sma sail be her part ; 
 You'll neer get a kiss o her comely mouth 
 
 Tho your very fair heart should break." 
 
 When Rose the Red and White Lilly 
 Saw their twa loves were gane, 
 
 Then stopped ha they their loud, loud sang, 
 And tane up the still moarnin ; 
 
 And their step-mother stood listnin by, 
 To hear tin. ladies' mean. 
 
 Then out it spake her, White Lily ; 
 
 " My sister, we'll be gane ; 
 Why shou'd we stay in Barnsdale, 
 
 To waste our youth in pain ? " 
 
 Then cutted ha they their green cloathing, 
 
 A little below their knee ; 
 And sae ha they their yallow hair, 
 
 A little aboon there bree ; 
 And they've doen them to haely chapel 
 
 Was christened by Our Ladye. 
 124
 
 Inillath 
 
 There III they changed their ain twa names, 
 Sae far frae ony town ; 
 
 And tli<' t.uic o them hight Sweet Willy, 
 And the tither o them Roge the Roun. 
 
 Between this twa a vow was made, 
 
 An they sware it to fulfil ; 
 That at three blasts o a buglchorn, 
 
 .she'd come her sister till. 
 
 Now Sweet Willy's gane to thekingis court, 
 
 Her true-love for to see, 
 And Koge the Roun to good green wood, 
 
 Brown Robin's man to be. 
 
 As it fell out upon a day, 
 
 They a did put the stane ; 
 Full seven foot ayont them a 
 
 She gard the puttin-stane gang. 
 
 She leand her back against an oak, 
 
 And gae a loud Ohone ! 
 Then out it spake him Brown Robin, 
 
 " Rut that's a woman's moan ! " 
 
 " Oh, ken ye by my red rose lip ? 
 
 Or by my yallow hair ; 
 Or ken ye by my milk-white breast? 
 
 For ye never saw it bare ? " 
 
 " I ken no by your red rose lip, 
 
 Nor by your yallow hair ; 
 Nor ken I by your milk-white breast, 
 
 For I never yaw it bare ; 
 But, come to your bowr whacver sae likes, 
 
 Will find a ladye there." 
 125
 
 Ballads 
 
 " Oh, gin ye come to my bowr within, 
 
 Thro fraud, deceit, or guile, 
 Wi this same bran that's in my han 
 
 I swear I will thee kill." 
 
 " But I will come thy bowr within, 
 An spear nae leave," quoth he ; 
 
 " An this same bran that's i my han, 
 I sail ware back on the. " 
 
 About the tenth hour of the night, 
 The ladie's bowr door was broken, 
 
 An eer the first hour of the day 
 
 The bonny knave bairn was gotten. 
 
 When days were gane and months were run, 
 The ladye took travailing, 
 
 And sair she cry'd for a bow'r-woman, 
 For to wait her upon. 
 
 Then out it spake him, Brown Robin : 
 " Now what needs a' this din ? 
 
 For what coud any woman do 
 But I coud do the same ? " 
 
 " Twas never my mither's fashion," she 
 says, 
 
 " Nor sail it ever be mine, 
 That belted knights shoud eer remain 
 
 Where ladies dreed their pine. 
 
 " But ye take up that bugle-horn, 
 
 An blaw a blast for me ; 
 1 ha a brother i the kingis court 
 
 Will come me quickly ti." 
 
 " O gin ye ha a brither on earth 
 
 That ye love better nor me, 
 Ye blaw the horn yoursel," he says, 
 
 " For ae blast I winna gie." 
 126
 
 Ballads 
 
 She's set the horn till her mouth, 
 And she's blawn three blasts sae shrill ; 
 
 Sweel Willy heard i the kinyis court, 
 And came licr quickly till. 
 
 Then up it started Brown Robin, 
 
 An an angry man was he : 
 " There comes nae man this bowr within 
 
 But first must fight wi me." 
 
 O they hac fought that bowr within 
 
 Till the sun was gaing down, 
 Till drops o blude frae Rose the Red 
 
 Cam trailing to the groun. 
 
 Sin Kami her back against the wa, 
 
 Says, " Robin, let a' be ; 
 For it is a lady born and bred 
 
 That's foughtcn sae well wi thee." 
 
 seven foot he lap a back ; 
 Says, " Alas, and wae is me ! 
 
 1 never wisht in a' my life, 
 A woman's blude to see ; 
 
 An ae for the sake of ae fair maid 
 Whose name was White Lilly." 
 
 Then out it spake her White Lilly, 
 
 An a hearty laugh laugh she : 
 " She's lived wi you this year an mair, 
 
 Tho ye kenntna it was she." 
 
 Now word has gane thro a' the Ian, 
 
 Before a month was clone, 
 That Brown Robin's man, in good green 
 wood, 
 Had born a bonny young son. 
 127
 
 Bai 
 
 The word has gane to the kingis court, 
 
 An to the king himsel ; 
 " Now, by my fay," the king could say, 
 
 " The like was never heard tell ! " 
 
 Then out it spake him Bold Arthur, 
 
 An a hearty laugh laugh he : 
 "I trow some may has playd the loun, 
 
 And fled her ain country." 
 
 " Bring me my steed," then cry'd the king, 
 
 " My bow and arrows keen ; 
 I'll ride mysel to good green wood, 
 
 An see what's to be seen." 
 
 " An't please your grace," said Bold Arthur, 
 
 "My liege, I'll gang you wi, 
 An try to fin a little foot-page, 
 
 That's strayd awa frae me." 
 
 () they've hunted i the good green wood 
 
 The buck but an the rae, 
 An they drew near Brown Robin's bowr, 
 
 About the close of day. 
 
 Then out it spake the king in hast, 
 
 Says, " Arthur look an see 
 Gin that be no your little foot-page 
 
 That leans against yon tree." 
 
 Then Arthur took his bugle-horn, 
 
 An blow a Mast sae shrill ; 
 Sweet Willy started at the sound, 
 
 An ran him quickly till. 
 
 " O wanted ye your meat, Willy ? 
 
 Or wanted ye your fee? 
 Or gat ye ever an angry word, 
 
 That ye ran awa frae me? " 
 I2S
 
 Ballads 
 
 " I wanted nought, my master dear ; 
 
 To me ye ay was good ; 
 I came but to see my ae brother, 
 
 That wons in tliis green wood." 
 
 Then out it spake the king again, 
 Says, " Bonny boy, tell to me, 
 
 Wba lives into yon bigly bowr, 
 Stands by yon green oak tree ? " 
 
 "Oh, pardon me," says Sweet Willie, 
 
 " My liege, I dare no tell ; 
 An I pray you go no near that bowr, 
 
 For fear they do you fell." 
 
 " Oh, baud your tongue, my bonny boy, 
 
 For I winna be said nay ; 
 But I will gang that bowr within, 
 
 Betide me weal or wae." 
 
 rhey've lighted off their milk-white steeds, 
 
 An saftly enterd in, 
 And there they saw her White Lilly, 
 
 Nursing her bonny young son. 
 
 " Now, by the rood," the king coud say, 
 
 " This is a comely sight ; 
 I trow, instead of a forrester's man, 
 
 This is a lady bright ! " 
 
 Then out it spake her, Rose the Red, 
 An fell low down on her knee : 
 
 ' ' Uh, pardon us, my gracious liege, 
 An our story I'll tell thee. 
 
 " Our father was a wealthy lord, 
 1 hat wond in Barnsdale ; 
 
 But we had a wicked step-mother, 
 That wrought us meickle bale. 
 
 129 K
 
 Ballads 
 
 " Yet she had twa as fu fair sons 
 
 As ever the sun did see, 
 An the tane of them lood my sister dear, 
 
 An the tother said he lood me." 
 
 Then out it spake him Bold Arthur, 
 
 As by the king he stood : 
 " Now, by the faith o my body, 
 
 This shoud be Rose the Red ! " 
 
 Then in it came him Brown Robin, 
 
 Frae hunting o the deer ; 
 But whan he saw the king was there, 
 
 He started back for fear. 
 
 The king has taen him by the hand, 
 
 An bade him naithing dread ; 
 Says, " Ye maun leave the good greenwood, 
 
 Come to the court wi speed." 
 
 Then up he took White Lilly's son, 
 
 An set him on his knee ; 
 Says — " Gin ye live to wield a bran, 
 
 My bowman ye sail bee." 
 
 The king he sent for robes of green, 
 
 An girdles o shinning gold ; 
 He gart the ladies be arrayd 
 
 Most comely to behold. 
 
 They've done them unto Mary kirk, 
 
 An there gat fair wedding, 
 An fan the news spread oer the Ian, 
 
 For joy the bells did ring. 
 
 Then out it spake her Rose the Red, 
 
 An a hearty laugh laugh sin- : 
 " I wonder what would our step-dainc say, 
 
 (Jin she his sight did see ! " 
 130
 
 THE l: A i 1 U'. OF HARLAW 
 
 (Child, vol. vii. Early Edition, Appendix. ) 
 
 FRAE Dunidier as I cam tliroucli, 
 
 Doun by the hill of Banochie, 
 Allangst the lands of Garioch. 
 
 Grit pitie was to heir and e 
 
 The noys and dulesum hermonie, 
 That evir that dreirj day did daw ! 
 
 < Iryand the corynoch on hie, 
 Alas ! alas ! for the Ilarlaw. 
 
 1 marvlit what the matter meant ; 
 
 All folks wei i j fariy : 
 
 wist Docht wha was fae or freind, 
 
 Yet quietly I did me carrie. 
 
 But sen the days ofauld King Hairy, 
 Sie slauchter was not hard nor sene, 
 
 And thair I had nae i me to tairy, 
 Eor bissiness in Aberdene. 
 
 Thus as I walkit on the way, 
 
 To Inverury as 1 went, 
 I met a man, and bad him stay, 
 
 Requeisting him to mak me quaint 
 
 Of th ning and the event 
 
 That happenil thair at the I lailaw ; 
 
 Then he entreited me to tak tent, 
 And he the truth sotild to me schaw. 
 
 131
 
 Ballads 
 
 ( irit Donald of the Ysles did claim 
 Unto the lands of Ross sum richt, 
 
 And to the governour he came, 
 
 Them for to haif, gif that he mieht, 
 Wha saw his interest was but slicht, 
 
 And thairfore answerit with disdain. 
 He hastit hame baith day and nieht, 
 
 And sent nae bodward back again. 
 
 Hut Donald richt impatient 
 Of that answer Duke Robert gaif, 
 
 He vow'd to God Omniyotent, 
 All the hale lands of Ross to haif, 
 Or ells be graithed in his graif : 
 
 He wald not quat his richt for nocht, 
 Nor be abusit like a slaif; 
 
 That bargin sould be deirly bocht. 
 
 Then haistylie he did command 
 
 That all his weir-men should convene ; 
 Ilk an well harnisit frae hand, 
 
 To meit and heir what he did mem. 
 
 He waxit wrath and vowit tein ; 
 Sweirand he wald surpryse the North, 
 
 Subdew the brugh of Aberdene, 
 Mearns, Angus, and all Fyfe to Forth. 
 
 Thus with the weir-men of the yles, 
 Wha war ay at his bidding bown, 
 
 With money maid, with forss and wyls, 
 Richt far and neir, baith up and doun, 
 Throw mount and muir, frae town to 
 town, 
 
 Allangst the lands of Ross he roars, 
 And all obey'd at his bandown, 
 
 Evin frae the North to Suthren shoars. 
 
 Then all the countrie men did yield ; 
 For nae resistans durst they mak,
 
 Ballads 
 
 Nor offer batill in the feikl, 
 Be forss of arms to beir him bak. 
 Sync tliey resolvit all and spak, 
 
 That best it was for thair behoif, 
 They sould him for thair chiftain tak, 
 
 Believing weil he did them luve. 
 
 Then be a proclamation maid, 
 
 All men 10 meet at Inverness, 
 Throw Murray land to mak a raid, 
 
 Frae Arthursyre unto Spey-ness. 
 
 And further mair, he sent express, 
 To schaw his collours and ensenzie, 
 
 To all and sindry, mair and less, 
 Throchout the bounds of Byne ami Enzie. 
 
 And then throw fair Strathbogie land 
 His purpose was for to pur ew 
 
 And whatsi evir dursl gainstand, 
 
 Tliiii rare they should full sairly rew. 
 
 Then he bad all his men be trew, 
 
 And him defend by forss and sli hi, 
 And promist them rewardis anew, 
 
 And mak them men of mekle micht. 
 
 Without resistans, as he said, 
 
 Throw all these parts he stoutly prist, 
 Where sum war wae, and sum war glaid, 
 
 I tut ( larioch was all agast. 
 
 Throw all these feilds he sped him fit 
 For sic a sicht was never sene ; 
 
 And then, forsuith, hi; langd ;ii last 
 To se the briich of Aberdene. 
 
 To hinder this proud enterpi 
 The stout and. michtj Erl of Mirr 
 
 \\ ith all his men in arm-, did r\ e, 
 Even frae < )urgarf to < u 
 
 '33
 
 Ballads 
 
 And down the syde of Don richt far, 
 Angus and M earns did all convene 
 
 To fccht, or Donald came sae nar 
 The ryall bruch of Aberdene. 
 
 And thus the martial Erie of Marr 
 
 Marcht with his men in richt array ; 
 Befoir his cnemis was aware, 
 
 His banner bauldly did display. 
 
 For weil enewch they kent the way, 
 And all their semblance weil they saw : 
 
 Without all dangir or delay, 
 Come haistily to the Harlaw. 
 
 With him the braif Lord Ogilvy, 
 
 Of Angus sheriff principal], 
 The constable of gude Dunde, 
 
 The vanguard led before them all. 
 
 Suppose in number they war small, 
 Thay first richt bauldlie did pursew, 
 
 And maid thair faes befor them fall, 
 Wha then that race did sairly rcw. 
 
 And then the worthy Lord Sal ton, 
 
 The strong' undoubted Laird of 1 )rum, 
 The stalwart Laird of Lawrislone, 
 
 With ilk thair forces all and sum. 
 
 Panmuir with all bis men, did cum, 
 The provost of braif Aberdene, 
 
 With trumpets and with tuick of drum, 
 Came schortly in thair armour schene. 
 
 These with the Earle of Marr came on, 
 In the rcir-ward richt orderlie, 
 
 Thair enemies to sett upon ; 
 In awfull manner hardilie, 
 Togither vowit to live and die, 
 
 Since they had marchit mony mylis, 
 For to suppress the tyrannie 
 
 Of douted Donald of the Ysles, 
 
 134
 
 Rut lie, in number ten to ane, 
 
 Right subtile alang did ryde, 
 With Malcomtosch, and fell Maclean, 
 
 With all thair power at thair syde; 
 
 Pre iumeand on their strenth and pryde, 
 Withoul .ill feir or ony aw, 
 
 uldie battil did abyde, 
 Hard by the town of fair Ilarlaw. 
 
 The armies met, the trumpet sounds, 
 
 The dandling drums alloud did touk, 
 Baith armies byding on the bounds, 
 
 Till ane of them the feild sould bnuk. 
 
 Nae help was thairfor, nane wald jouk, 
 Ferss was tin- fecht on ilka syde, 
 
 .And on tin' ground lay mony a bonk 
 Of them that thair did battil byd. 
 
 With doutsum victorie tiny dealt, 
 
 The bludy battil lastit lang ; 
 Each man his nibours forss thair felt, 
 The weakest aft-tymes gal the wrang : 
 I hair was nae mowis thair them amang, 
 Naithing was hard but heavy knocks, 
 
 1 hat cecho mad a dulefull s ing, 
 Thairto resounding frae the rocks. 
 
 Bui Donalds men at last gaif back, 
 
 For they war all out of array : 
 The Earl of Marris men throw them brak, 
 
 Pursewing shairply in thair way, 
 
 Thair enemys t<> tak or slay, 
 I ni ,,] foi . to g ir them j ield ; 
 
 \.\ ba war rii lit blyth to « in away, 
 And sae forfeirdness tint the feild. 
 
 Then Donald fled, and that full fast, 
 
 To mountains hich for all his micht ; 
 Foi he and his war all agast, 
 
 id ran till they war out of sicht ; 
 135
 
 Ballads 
 
 And sae of Ross he lost his richt, 
 Thocht mony men with hem he brocht ; 
 
 Towards the yles fled day and nicht, 
 And all he wan was deirlie bocht. 
 
 This is (quod he) the richt report 
 Of all that I did heir and knaw ; 
 
 Thocht my discourse be sumthing schort, 
 Tak this to be a richt suthe saw : 
 Contrairie God and the kings law, 
 
 Thair was spilt mekle Christian blude, 
 Into the battil of Harlaw : 
 
 This is the sum, sae I conclude. 
 
 But yet a bonnie while abide, 
 And I sail mak thee cleirly ken 
 
 What slauchter was on ilkay syde, 
 Of Lowland and of Highland men, 
 Wha for thair awin haif evir bene ; 
 
 These lascie lowns micht weil be spared, 
 Chased like deers into their dens, 
 
 And gat their wages for reward. 
 
 Malcomtosh, of the clan heid-cheif, 
 
 Macklean with his grit hauchty heid, 
 With all thair succour and relief, 
 
 War dulefully dung to the deid ; 
 
 And now we are freid of thair feid, 
 They will not lang to cum again ; 
 
 Thousands with them, without remeid, 
 On Donald's syd, that day war slain. 
 
 And on the uther syde war lost, 
 
 Into the feild that dismal day, 
 Chief men of worth, of mekle cost, 
 
 To be lamentit sair for ay. 
 
 The Lord Saltoun of Rothemay, 
 A man of micht and mekle main ; 
 
 Grit dolour was for his decay, 
 That sae unhappylie was slain. 
 •36
 
 Ballads 
 
 Of tlie best men amang them was 
 The gracious gude Lord Ogilvy, 
 
 The sheriff- principal of Angus, 
 Renownit for truth and equitie, 
 For faith and magnanimitie ; 
 
 He bad few fallows in the field, 
 Yet fell by fatall destinie, 
 
 For he naeways wad grant to yield. 
 
 Sir James Scrimfjeor of Duddap, knicht, 
 
 Grit constabill of fair I >unde, 
 Unto the dulefull deith was dicht ; 
 
 The kingis cheif bannerman was he, 
 
 A valiant man of chevalrie, 
 Whose predecessors wan that place 
 
 At Spey, with gude King William frie 
 '( rainst Murray, and Macduncan's race. 
 
 t Sude Sir Allexander Irving, 
 The much renowit laird of Drum, 
 
 Nane in his days was bettir sine 
 When they war semblit all and sum, 
 To praise him we sould not be dumm, 
 
 For valour, witt, and worthyness ; 
 To end his days he ther did cum 
 
 Whose ransom is remeidylcss. 
 
 And thair the knicht of Lawriston 
 Wis slain into his armour schene, 
 
 And gude Sir Robert Davidson, 
 W'lia provost was of Aberdene : 
 The knicht of l'anniure, as was sene, 
 
 A mortall man in armour bricht, 
 Sir Thomas Murray, stout and ken<\ 
 
 Left to the warld thair last gude nicht, 
 
 Thair was not sen King Kcneths days 
 Sic strange intestine crewel stryf 
 
 In Scotland sene, as ilk man says, 
 W'hare mony liklie lost thair lyfe ; 
 
 137
 
 Ballads 
 
 Whilk maid divorce twcne man and wyfe, 
 And mony childrene fatherless, 
 
 Whilk in this realme has bene full ryfe : 
 1 ,ord help these lands, our wrangs redress. 
 
 In lulv, on Saint James his even, 
 That four and twenty dismall flay, 
 
 Twelve hundred, ten score and eleven 
 Of theirs sen Chryst, the suthe to say, 
 Men will remember, as they may, 
 
 When thus the ventie they knaw, 
 And mony a ane may mum for ay, 
 
 The brim battil of the Harlavv. 
 
 Traditionary Version 
 {Child, Part VI.) 
 
 As 1 came in by Dunidier, 
 
 An doun by Netherha, 
 There was fifty thousand Ilielanmen 
 
 A marching to Ilarlaw. 
 [Chorus) Wi a dree dreedradie drumtie dree. 
 
 As I cam on, an farther on, 
 
 An doun an by Balquhain, 
 Oli then 1 1 mei Sir fames the Rose, 
 
 Wi him Sir John the Gryme. 
 
 " O cam ye frae the Ilielans, man ? 
 
 And cam ye a" the wey? 
 Saw ye Macdonell an his men^ 
 
 As they cam frae the Skee?" 
 
 "Yes, me cam frae la Hielans, man, 
 
 An me cam a ta wey, 
 An she saw Macdonell an his men, 
 
 As the) cam (Vac ta Skee." 
 
 138
 
 Ballads 
 
 " Oh, was ye near Macdoncll's men ? 
 I >nl ye their numbers see? 
 
 1 to me, John 1 [ielanman, 
 What micht their numbers be ? " 
 
 "Yi . me was near, an near eneucfa, 
 
 An me their numbers saw ; 
 There was fiftj '1 llielanmen 
 
 A marching to Harlaw." 
 
 " Gin that be true," says James the Rose, 
 " \\ r e'll no come meikle speed ; 
 
 We'll cry upo our merry men, 
 And lichtly mount our steed." 
 
 " ( ill no, oh no !" quo' John the Gryme, 
 " That thing maun never be ; 
 
 The gallant Grymes were never bate, 
 We'll try what we can dee." 
 
 As I cam on, an farther on, 
 An doun an bj I rarlaw, 
 
 fell fn close on ilka side ; 
 Sic fun ye never saw. 
 
 •• fell fu close on ilka side, 
 
 ,er saw ; 
 Hielan swords gied clash for clash, 
 At the battle o Harlaw. 
 
 '1 he Hielanmen, wi their lang swords, 
 
 Thi in us fu sair, 
 
 \n ; rry men 
 
 Three acn br< idth an rn 
 
 ither did say, 
 ■• \ r, dinna - 
 
 They beat us back on ilka side, 
 An we'se be forced to • 
 i |9
 
 Ballads 
 
 • ' Oh no, oh no, my brither dear, 
 
 That thing maun never be ; 
 Tak ye your good sword in your hand, 
 
 An come your was wi me." 
 
 " Oh no, oh no, my brither dear, 
 The clans they are ower Strang, 
 
 An they drive back our merry men, 
 Wi swords baith sharp an lang." 
 
 Brave Forbes drew his men aside, 
 Said, "Tak your rest a while, 
 
 Until I to Drumminnor send, 
 To fess my coat o mail." 
 
 The servan he did ride, 
 
 An his horse it did na fail. 
 For in twa hours an a quarter 
 
 He brocht the coat o mail. 
 
 Then back to back the brithcrs twa 
 
 Gaed in amo the thrang, 
 An they hewed doun the Hielanmen, 
 
 Wi swords baith sharp an lang. 
 
 Macdonell he was young an stout, 
 
 I lad on his coat o mail, 
 And he has gane oot throw them a' 
 
 To try his han himsell. 
 
 The first ae straik that Forbes strack, 
 
 He garrt Macdonell reel ; 
 An the neist ae straik that Forbes strack, 
 
 The great Macdonell fell. 
 
 And siccan a lierachie, 
 
 I'm sure ye never sawe 
 As wis amo the I [ielanmen, 
 
 When they saw Macdonell fa. 
 140
 
 Ballads 
 
 An whan they saw that be was deid, 
 
 They turnd and ran awa, 
 An they buried him in Legget's Den, 
 
 A large mile frae Harlaw. 
 
 I hey rade, they ran, an some did gang, 
 
 They were o sma record ; 
 But Forbes and his merry men, 
 I liey slew them a' the road. 
 
 On Monanday, at mornin, 
 
 The battle it began, 
 On Saturday at gloamin', 
 
 Yc'd scarce kent wha had wan. 
 
 An sic a weary buryin, 
 
 I'm sure ye never saw, 
 As wis the Sunday after that, 
 
 On the muirs aneath Harlaw. 
 
 ( iin anybody speer at ye 
 
 For them ye took awa, 
 Ye may tell their wives and bairnies, 
 
 They're sleepin at Harlaw. 
 
 •41
 
 DICKIE MACPHALION 
 
 (Sharpens Ballad Book, No. XIV.) 
 
 1 went to the mill, but the mill, r was gone, 
 
 1 sat me down, and cried ochone ! 
 
 To think on the days that are past and gone, 
 
 Of Dickie Macphalion that's slain. 
 Shoo, shoo, shoolaroo, 
 To think on the days that are past and gone, 
 
 Of Dickie Macphalion that's slain. 
 
 I sold my rock, I sold my reel, 
 \ml sae hae I my spinning wheel, 
 And a' to buy a cap of steel 
 
 For Dickie Macphalion that's slain ! 
 Shoo, shoo, shoolaroo, 
 And a' to buy a cap of steel 
 
 For Dickie Macphalion that's slain. 
 
 ■ i-
 
 A LYKE-WAKE DIRGE 
 
 (Border Minstrelsy, vol. ii., p. 357.) 
 
 Phis ae nighte, thi . ae nighte, 
 
 Fire, and leet, and candle-lighte, 
 I ' . ' /v, eive thye saule. 
 
 When thou from hence away art paste, 
 
 and alle, 
 To Wliinny-muir thou comest at lastc ; 
 And Christe receive thye saule. 
 
 < thou gavest hosen and shoon, 
 md alle. 
 Sit thee down and put them on; 
 . Ind Christe receive thye saule. 
 
 If hosen and shoon thou ne'er gavest nane, 
 
 /■'.very nighte and alle, 
 The whinnes sail pricke thee to the bare bane ; 
 
 And Christe receive thye saule. 
 
 From Whinny-muir when thou mayst passe, 
 
 Every nighte and alle, 
 To Brigg o' I >read thou cum' 1 at laste, 
 
 And ('/irate receive thye tide. 
 
 143
 
 Ballads 
 
 From Brigg o' Dread when thou mayst passe, 
 
 Every nighte and alle. 
 To Purgatory fire thou comest at last, 
 
 And Christe receive thye sank. 
 
 If ever thou gavest meat or drink, 
 
 Every nighte and alle, 
 The fire sail never make thee shrinke ; 
 
 And Christe receive lliye saulc. 
 
 If meate or drinke thou never gavest nane, 
 
 Every nighte and alle. 
 The fire will burn thee to the bare bane ; 
 
 And Christe receive thye saule. 
 
 This ae nighte, this ae nighte, 
 
 Every' nighte and alle. 
 Fire, and sleet, and candle-lighte, 
 
 And Christe receive thye sank. 
 
 144
 
 THE LAIRD OF WARISTOUN 
 
 (Child, vol. iii. Marly Edition.) 
 
 Down by yon garden green, 
 
 Sae merrily as she gaes ; 
 She has tvva weel-made feet, 
 
 And she trips upon her taes. 
 
 She has twa weel-made feet ; 
 
 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, 
 
 It's I will make you lady 
 Of a' the lands you see." 
 
 ■ • • • ■ 
 
 He spak a word in jest ; 
 
 I ler answer was na good ; 
 He threw a plate at her face, 
 
 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. 
 
 " Gif ye will do my bidding, 
 
 At my bidding for to be, 
 I'll learn you a wile, 
 
 Avenged for to be." 
 
 145 L
 
 Ballads 
 
 I be loul thiel knotted the tether ; 
 
 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 
 
 That the lady had kill'd the laird, 
 The laird o' Waristoun. 
 
 Tak aff, tak aff my hood 
 But kit my petticoat be; 
 
 Put my mantle o'er my head ; 
 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. 
 
 " For he married me for love, 
 But I married him for fee ; 
 
 And sae brak out the feud 
 That gar'd my dearie die." 
 
 146
 
 MAY COLVEN 
 
 (Child, I 'art I., p. 56.) 
 
 E Sir John ;i wooing came 
 1 maid of beauty fair ; 
 May Colven was this lady's name, 
 Her father's only heir. 
 
 1 [e wood her butt, he wood her ben, 
 
 He wood her in the ha, 
 Until he got this lady's eonscnt 
 
 To mount and ride awa. 
 
 He went down to her father's bower, 
 
 Where all the steeds did st 
 And he's taken one of the best steeds 
 
 That was in her father's land. 
 
 1 [e's got on and she's got on, 
 
 As fast as they could I 
 Until they came to a lonesome part, 
 
 A rock by the side of the sea. 
 
 ip off the steed," says false Sir John, 
 ' Y. iiir bridal bed you see ; 
 for I have drowned seven young ladies, 
 The eighth one you shall be. 
 
 " (.'ast off, cast off, my May Colven, 
 
 All and your silken gown, 
 For it's oer good and oer costly 
 
 To rot in the salt sea loam. 
 M7
 
 Ballads 
 
 " Cast off, cast off, my May ( olvcn, 
 All and your embroiderd shoen, 
 
 For they're oer good and oer costly 
 To rot in the salt sea foam." 
 
 " O turn you about, O false Sir John, 
 And look to the leaf of the tree, 
 
 For it never became a gentleman 
 A naked woman to see." 
 
 He turned himself straight round about, 
 
 To look to the leaf of the tree, 
 So swift as May Colven was 
 
 To throw him in the sea. 
 
 "O help, O help, my May Colven, 
 
 O help, or else I'll drown ; 
 I'll take you home to your father's bower, 
 
 And set you down safe and sound." 
 
 " No help, no help, O false Sir John, 
 
 No help, nor pity thee ; 
 Tho' seven kings' daughters you have 
 drownd, 
 
 But the eighth shall not be me." 
 
 So she went on her father's steed, 
 
 As swift, as she could flee, 
 And she came home to her father's bower 
 
 Before it was break of day. 
 
 Up then and spoke the pretty parrot : 
 " May Colven, where have you been ? 
 
 What has become of false Sir John, 
 That woo'd you so late the streen? 
 
 " He woo'd you butt, he woo'd you ben, 
 
 He woo'd you in the ha, 
 Until he got your own consent 
 
 For to mount and gang awa." 
 148
 
 Ballads 
 
 "O hold your tongue, my pretty parrot, 
 Lay not the blame upon me ; 
 
 Your cup shall be of the flowered gold, 
 Your cage of the root of the tree." 
 
 Up then spake the king himself, 
 In the bed-chamber where he lay: 
 
 " What ails the pretty parrot, 
 That prattles so long or day ? " 
 
 ' ' There came a cat to'my cage door, 
 
 It almost a worricd.me, 
 An I I was calling 'on,May Colven 
 
 To take the cat from me." 
 
 140
 
 JOIINIE FAA 
 (Child, vol. iv. Early Edition.) 
 
 THE gypsies came to our good lord's gate 
 And wow but they sang sweetly ! 
 
 They sari] sae sweet and sac very complete 
 That down came the fair lady. 
 
 And she came tripping doun the stair, 
 
 And a' her maids before her ; 
 As soon as they saw her weel far'd face, 
 They coost the glamer o'er her. 
 
 " O come with me," saysjohnie Faw, 
 " O come with me, my dearie ; 
 
 For I vow and I swear by the hilt of my 
 sword, 
 That your lord shall nae maircome near 
 
 ye." 
 
 Then she gied them the beer and the wine, 
 
 And they gied her the ginger; 
 But she gied them a far better thing, 
 
 The goud ring aff her finger. 
 
 " Gae take frae me this yay mantle, 
 
 And bring to me a plaidie ; 
 For if kith and kin, and a' had sworn, 
 
 111 follow the gypsy laddie. 
 I50
 
 Ballads 
 
 "Yestreen llayinaweel mad'- lied, 
 
 Wi' my good lord Inside me; 
 But tin i ii Jii I'll lye in a tenant's barn, 
 
 Whatever shall betide me!" 
 
 " Conic to your bed," saysjohnie Faw, 
 " ( )h, come to your bed, mj dearie : 
 For I vow and swear by the hilt of my sword, 
 
 Your lord shall nae mair come near ye." 
 
 " I'll go to bed to my Johnie Faw, 
 
 I'll go to bed to my dearie ; 
 For 1 vow and I swear bj the fan in mj hand, 
 
 My lord shall nae mair come near me. 
 
 " I'll mak a hap to my Johnie Faw, 
 
 I'll mak a hap to nvj dearie ; 
 And he's get a' the coal g les round, 
 
 And my lord shall nae mair come near 
 me." 
 
 And when our lord came hame at e'en, 
 
 \iiil spier'd for his fair lady, 
 The tane she cry d, and the other reply'd, 
 
 " She's aw a' w i' the gypsy laddie ! " 
 
 ■■ i Jae saddle to me the Mack black steed, 
 Gae Middle and make him ready; 
 
 e thai I either eat or sleep, 
 I'll gae seek my fair lady." 
 
 And we were fifteen weel-made men, 
 
 Altho' we were na bonm ; 
 And we were a' pul down but ane, 
 
 For a fair young wanton lady. 
 
 151
 
 IIOBBIE NOBLE 
 [Child, vi. Early Edition.) 
 
 Foul fa' the breast first treason bred in ! 
 
 That Liddesdale may safely say : 
 For in it there was baith meat and drink, 
 
 And corn unto our geldings gay. 
 
 We were stout-hearted men and true, 
 
 As England it did often say ; 
 Bui now we may turn our backs and fly, 
 
 Since brave Noble is seld away. 
 
 Now Hobie he was an English man, 
 And born into Bewcastle dale ; 
 
 But his misdeeds they were sae great, 
 They banish'd him to Liddisdale. 
 
 At Kershope foot the tryst was set, 
 
 Kershope of the lilye lee ; 
 And there was traitour Sim o' the Mains, 
 
 With him a private companie. 
 
 Then Hobie has graith'd his body weel, 
 1 wat it was wi' baith good iron and steel ; 
 
 And he has pull'd out his fringed grey, 
 And there, brave Noble, he rade him weel. 
 
 '5 2
 
 Ballads 
 
 Then Hobie is down the water gone, 
 
 E'en as fast as he may drie ; 
 Tho' they shoud a' brustenand broken their 
 hearts, 
 
 Frae that tryst Noble he would na be. 
 
 " Wee! may ye be, my feiries five ! 
 
 And aye, what is your wills wi' me?" 
 Then they cry'd a' wi' ae consent, 
 
 " Thou'rt welcome here, brave Noble, to 
 me, 
 
 "Wilt thou with us in England ride. 
 And thy sate warrand we will be? 
 
 If we get a horse worth a hundred punds, 
 Upon his back that thou shah be 
 
 " I dare not with you into England ride ; 
 
 The Land-sergeant lias me at feid : 
 I know not what evil may betide, 
 
 For Peter ol Whitfield, his brother, is 
 dead. 
 
 " And Anton Shi.-l he loves not me. 
 For 1 gat twa diilts o his sheep; 
 
 The great Earl of Whitfield loves me not, 
 For Dae gear frae me he e'er could keep. 
 
 " But will ye stay till the day gae down, 
 Until the night come o'er the grand, 
 
 And Ml be a guide worth ony twa, 
 I hat may in Liddesdale be fund? 
 
 " Tho' dark the night as pitch and tar, 
 I'll guide ye o'er yon hills fu' hie ; 
 
 And bring ye a' in safety back, 
 If ye'll be true and follow me." 
 
 153
 
 I'allads 
 
 He's guided them o'er moss and muir, 
 O'er hill and houp, and mony a down ; 
 
 Til they came to the Foulbogshiel, 
 
 And there, brave Noble, he lighted down. 
 
 But word is gane to the Land-sergeant, 
 In Askirton where that he lay — 
 
 " The deer that ye hae hunted lang, 
 Is seen into the Waste this day." 
 
 " Then Hobbie Noble is that deer ! 
 
 1 wat he carries the style fu' hie ; 
 Aft has he beat your slough-hounds back, 
 
 And set yourselves at little lee. 
 
 " Gar warn the bows of Hartlie-burn ; 
 
 See they shaft their arrows on the wa' ! 
 Warn Willeva and Spear Fdnm, 
 
 And see the morn they meet me a'. 
 
 " Gar meet me on the Rodric-haugh, 
 And see i! be by break o' day ; 
 
 And we will on to < tonscowthart-Green, 
 For there, I think, we'll get our prey." 
 
 Then Hobbie Noble has dream'd a dream, 
 In the Foulbogshiel, where that he lay; 
 
 He though) his horse was neath him shot, 
 And he himself <^ot hard away. 
 
 The cocks could crow, the day could dawn, 
 And 1 wot so even down fell the rain ; 
 
 If Hobbie had no waken'd at that time, 
 In the Foulbogshiel he had been tane or 
 slain. 
 
 " (jet up, get up, my feiries five ! 
 
 for I wot here makes a fu' ill day ; 
 Vet ilic ",,-irst cloak of this companie, 
 
 1 hope, shall cross the Waste this day." 
 '54
 
 
 Eiobie thought tin- ^atcs were clear; 
 But, not sae : 
 
 t wi" cruel men and k 
 1 li.it away brave Hobbie could not • 
 
 i!.', my feiries five, 
 And sco of me- ye kee 
 And the worst > loak o' this com] 
 
 I hope shall cross the Waste this day." 
 
 There was heaps of men now Hobbie before, 
 And other heaps was him behind, 
 
 That had was, 
 
 Away brave Noble he could not win. 
 
 : I [obie he had but a laddi i 
 But he did more than a la :ed ; 
 
 In the midst of ' lonscouthart < Ireen, 
 I te brake it oer fersawigh im' . head. 
 
 e brave I [obie V 
 Wi' hisain bowstring they band him 
 And I v it h art was ni ur, 
 
 As when his ain five band him on the brae. 
 
 They ha\e tane him on for West < "ai lisle ; 
 
 ask'd him if he knew the - 
 W'li it.-', r he th< lught, yel little he said ; 
 i [e knev the way as well as they. 
 
 a him up the Ricker gate ; 
 
 The wive ist their windows wide ; 
 
 And every wife to anither can say, 
 
 "That's the man loos'd Jock o' the 
 Side ! " 
 
 " Fye on ye, women ! why ca' ye me man ? 
 
 it's nae man that I'm used like ; 
 l am but like a forfoughen hound, 
 I [a - been fighting in a dirtj yke."
 
 Ballads 
 
 Then they hae tanc him up thro' Carlisle 
 
 town, 
 And set him by the chimney fire ; 
 They gave brave Noble a wheat loaf to eat, 
 And that was little his desire. 
 
 Then they gave him a wheat loaf to eat, 
 
 And after that a can o beer ; 
 Then they cried a' with ae consent, 
 
 ' ' Eat, brave Noble, and make gude cheer ! 
 
 "Confess my lord's horse, Hobie," they 
 said, 
 "And the morn in Carlisle thou's no 
 die; " 
 " How shall 1 confess them," Hobie says, 
 " For I never saw them with mine eye ? " 
 
 Then Hobie has sworn a fu' great aith, 
 I'.y the day that he was gotten and born, 
 
 He never had ony thing o' my lord's, 
 That either eat him grass or corn. 
 
 " Now fare thee weel, sweet Mangerton ! 
 
 For I think again I'll ne'er thee see : 
 I wad betray nae lad alive, 
 
 For a' the goud in Christentie. 
 
 " And fare thee weel, sweet Liddesdale ! 
 
 Baith the hie land and the law ; 
 Keep ye weel frae traitor Mains ! 
 
 For goud and gear he'll sell ye a". 
 
 " Yet wad I rather be ca'd Hobie Noble, 
 In Carlisle where he suffers for his faut, 
 
 IVfore I'd be ca'd traitor Mains, 
 That eats and drinks of the meal and 
 maut." 
 
 156
 
 THE TWA SISTERS 
 (Sharpe's Ballad Hook, No. X., p. 30.) 
 
 I HERE liv'il twa sisters in a bower, 
 Hey Edinbruch, how Kdinbruch. 
 There liv'd twa sisters in a bower, 
 
 Stirling for aye : 
 The youngest o' them, O, she was a 
 flowei ! 
 1 Sonny Sanct Johnstonne that stands upon 
 Tay. 
 
 There came a squire frae the west, 
 Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch. 
 There cam a squire frae the west, 
 
 Stirling for aye : 
 He lo'ed them baith, but the youi 
 best, 
 Bonny Sanct Johnstonne that stands upon 
 'lay. 
 
 lie gied the eldest a gay gold ring, 
 
 1 ley Edinbruch, how Edinbruch. 
 
 1 le gied the eldest a gay gold ring, 
 
 Stirling for aye : 
 I '.ut In' lo'ed the youngest aboon a' thing, 
 Bonny Sanct Johnstonne that stands upon 
 lay. 
 
 157
 
 Ballads 
 
 " Oh sister, sister, will ye go to the sea? 
 
 I ley Edinbruch, how Edinbruch. 
 Oh sister, sister, will ye go to the sea? 
 
 Stirling for aye : 
 Our father's ships sail bonnilie, 
 Bonny Sanct Johnstonne that stands upon 
 lay. 
 
 The youngest sat down upon a stane, 
 
 Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch. 
 The youngest sat down upon a stane, 
 
 Stirling for aye : 
 The eldest shot the youngest in, 
 Bonny Sanct Johnstonne that stands upon 
 Tay. ' 
 
 "Oh sister, sister, lend me your hand, 
 
 Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch. 
 Oli, sister, sister, lend me your hand, 
 
 Stirling for aye : 
 And you shall hae my gouden fan, 
 Bonny Sanct Johnstonne that stands upon 
 Tay. 
 
 "Oh, sister, sister, save my life, 
 
 Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch. 
 Oh sister, sister, save my life, 
 
 Stirling for aye : 
 And ye shall be the squire's wife, 
 1 Sonny Sweet Johnstonne that stands upon 
 Tay." 
 
 First she sank, and then she swam, 
 
 Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch. 
 
 First she sank, and then she swain, 
 
 Stirling for aye : 
 Until she cam to Tweed mill dam, 
 lionny Sanct Johnstonne that stands upon 
 Tay. 
 
 158
 
 /•'. I 
 
 '1 lie millai 's d 
 
 Hey I dinbruch, how Edinbruch. 
 The millar's daughter was baking bread, 
 
 Sliding for aye : 
 She went .'or water, as she had need, 
 Bonny Sanct Johnstonne that stands upon 
 Tay. 
 
 " Oh father, father, in our mill dun. 
 Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbrueh, 
 Oh father, father, in our mill dam, 
 
 Stirling for aye : 
 There's either a lady, or a milk-white 
 swan, 
 Bonny Sanct Johnstonne that stands upon 
 'lay. 
 
 They could nae see her fingers small, 
 
 Hey Edinbruch, how F.dinbruch. 
 They could nae see her lingers small, 
 
 Stirling for aye : 
 Wi' diamond rings they were eover'd all, 
 Bonny Sanct Johnstonne that stands upon Tay. 
 
 They could nae see her yellow hair, 
 
 Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch. 
 
 They could nae see her yellow hair, 
 
 Stirling for aye : 
 Sae mony knots and platts war there, 
 Bonny Sanct Johnstonne that stands upon 
 Tay. 
 
 Bye there cam a fiddler fair, 
 
 I ley Edinbruch, how Edinbruch. 
 Bye there earn a tiddler fair, 
 
 Stirling for aye: 
 And he's ta'en three tails o' her yellow 
 hair, 
 Bonny Sanct Johnstonne that stands upon 
 Tay. 
 
 159
 
 MARY AMBREE 
 
 [Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, vol. ii. 
 p. 230!) 
 
 When captaines couragious, whom death 
 
 cold not daunte, 
 Did march to the siege of the citty of Gaunt, 
 They mustred their souldiers by two and by 
 
 three, 
 And the formost in battle was Mary Ambree. 
 
 When [the] brave sergeant-major was slaine 
 
 in her sight, 
 Who was her true lover, her joy, and delight, 
 Because he was slaine most treachcrouslie 
 Then vowd to revenge him Mary Ambree. 
 
 She clothed herselfe from the top to the toe 
 In buffe of the bravest, most scemelye to 
 
 showe ; 
 A faire shirt of male then slipped on shee : 
 Was not this a brave bonny lassc, Mary 
 
 Ambree ? 
 
 A helmett of proofe shee strait did provide, 
 A stronge arminge-sword shee girt by her side, 
 On her hand a goodly faire gauntlett put shee : 
 Was not. this a brave bonny lasse, Mary 
 Ambree ? 
 
 160
 
 Ballads 
 
 Then tooke shee her sworde and her targett 
 
 in band, 
 I lidding all such, as wold, [to ] bee of her band ; 
 To wayte on her person came thousand and 
 
 three : 
 Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary 
 
 Ambree? 
 
 " My soldiers," she saith, "soe valliant ami 
 
 bold, 
 Nowe followe your captaine, whom you doe 
 
 beholde ; 
 Still formost in battell myselfe will I bee : " 
 Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary 
 
 Ambree ? 
 
 Then cryed out her souldiers, and loude they 
 
 did say, 
 " Soe well thou becomest this gallant array, 
 Thy harte and thy weapons so well do agree, 
 No mayden was ever like Mary Ambree." 
 
 She cheared her souldiers, that foughten for 
 
 life, 
 .With ancyent and standard, with drum and 
 
 with fife, 
 With brave clanging trumpetts, that sounded 
 
 so fi'ii' ; 
 Was nut this a brave l>onny lasse, Mary 
 
 Ami 
 
 " Before 1 will see the worst of you all 
 To come into danger of death or of thrall, 
 rhis hand and this lit'- 1 will venture so free :" 
 Was not this a brave bonny lass», Mary 
 Ambree? 
 
 iCl M
 
 I 'iil lads 
 
 Shee ledd upp her souldiers in battaile array, 
 Gainst three times theyr number by breake of 
 
 the daye ; 
 Seven bowers in skirmish continued shee : 
 Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary 
 
 Ambree? 
 
 She filled the skyes with the smoke of her shott, 
 And herenemyes bodyes with bullettsso hott ; 
 For one of her own men a score killed shee : 
 Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary 
 Ambree? 
 
 And when her false gunner, to spoyle her 
 
 intent, 
 Away all her pellets and powder had sent, 
 Straight with her keen weapon she slasht him 
 
 in three : 
 Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary 
 
 Ambree ? 
 
 Being falselye betrayed for lucre of hyre, 
 At length she was forced to make a retyre ; 
 Then her souldiers into a strong castle drew 
 
 shee : 
 Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary 
 
 Ambree ? 
 
 Her foes they besett her on cverye side, 
 As thinking close siege shee cold never abide ; 
 To beate down the walles they all did decree : 
 But stoutlye deffyd them brave Mary Ambree. 
 
 Then tooke shee her sword and her targett in 
 
 hand, 
 And mounting the walls all undaunted did 
 
 stand, 
 There daring their captaines to match any 
 
 three : 
 O what a brave captaine was Mary Ambree ! 
 162
 
 lUillads 
 
 "Now s.iye, English captaine, what woldest 
 
 thou give 
 To ransome thy selfe, which else must not live? 
 Come yield thy selfe quicklye, or slaine thou 
 
 must bee : " 
 Then smiled sweetlye brave Mary Ambree. 
 
 *' Ye captaines couragious, of valour so bold, 
 Whom thinke you before you now you doe 
 
 behold?" 
 "A knight, sir, of England, and captaine soe 
 
 free, 
 Who shortlye with us a prisoner must bee." 
 
 "No captaine of England; behold in your 
 
 sight 
 Two brests in my bosome, and therefore no 
 
 knight : 
 Noe knight, sirs, of England, nor captaine 
 
 you see, 
 Hiit a poor simple mayden called Mary 
 
 Ambree." 
 
 " But art thou a woman, as thou dost declare, 
 Whose valor hath proved so undaunted in 
 
 warre ? 
 If England doth yield such brave maydens as 
 
 thee, 
 Full well may they conquer, faire Mary 
 
 Ambree." 
 
 The Prince of Great Parma heard of her 
 
 renowno, 
 Who long had advanced for England's fair 
 
 crowne ; 
 Hi'- wooed her and sued her his mistress 
 
 to bee, 
 And offered rich presents to Mary Ambree. 
 
 163
 
 Ballads 
 
 But this virtuous mayden despised them all : 
 " 'He nere sell my honour for purple nor pall ; 
 A maiden of England, sir, never will bee 
 The wench of a monarcke," quoth Mary 
 Ambree. 
 
 Then to her owne country shee back did 
 
 returne, 
 Still holding the foes of faire England in 
 
 scorne ! 
 Therfore English captaines of every degree 
 Sing forth the brave valours of Mary Ambree. 
 
 j 64
 
 ALISON GROSS 
 
 Alison GROSS, that lives in yon tow'r, 
 The ugliest witch in the north countrie, 
 
 She trysted me ae day up till her bow'r, 
 And mony fair speeches she made to me. 
 
 She straik'd my head, and she kaini'd my 
 hair, 
 
 And she set me down saftly on her knee ; 
 Says — " If ye will be my leman sae true, 
 
 Sac mony braw things as I will you gi'e." 
 
 She shaw'd me a mantle of red scarlet, 
 With gowden flowers and fringes fine ; 
 
 Says — " If ye will be my leman sae tru<\ 
 This goodly gift it shall be thine." 
 
 " Awa, awa, ye ugly witch, 
 Hand far awa, and let me be ; 
 
 1 never will be your leman sae true, 
 
 And I wish I were out of your company " 
 
 She neist brocht a sark of the saftest silk, 
 Weel wrought with pearls about the band ; 
 
 Says — " If ye will be my ain true love, 
 This goodly gift ye shall command." 
 
 She show'd me a cup of the good red gowd, 
 ^ Weel set with jewels sae fair to see ; 
 Says — " If ye will be my leman sae true, 
 This goodly gift 1 will vou gi'e," 
 16$
 
 Ballads 
 
 "Awa, awrt, ye ugly witch, 
 
 Hand far awa, and let me be ; 
 For I wadna ance kiss your ugly mouth, 
 
 For all the gifts that ye cou'd gi'e." 
 
 She's turn'd her richt and round about, 
 
 And thrice she blew on a grass green horn; 
 
 And she sware by the moon and the stars 
 aboon, 
 That she'd gar me rue the day I was born. 
 
 Then out has she ta'en a silver wand, 
 And she turn'd her three times round and 
 round ; 
 She mutter'd sic words, that my strength it 
 fail'd, 
 And I fell down senseless on the ground. 
 
 She turn'd me into an ugly worm, 
 And gar'd me toddle about the tree ; 
 
 And aye on ilka Saturday night, 
 Auld Alison Gross she came to me, 
 
 With silver basin, and silver kame, 
 To kame my headie upon her knee ; 
 
 But rather than kiss her ugly mouth, 
 Fd ha'e toddled for ever about the tree. 
 
 But as it fell out on last Hallow-e'en, 
 When the seely court was ridin' by, 
 
 The queen lighted down on a gowan bank, 
 Near by the tree where I wont to lye. 
 
 She took me up in her milk-white hand, 
 And she straik'd me three times o'er her 
 knee ; 
 She chang'd me again to my ain proper 
 shape, 
 And nae mair do I toddle about the tree. 
 1 66
 
 THE HEIR OF LVNNE 
 
 Of all the lords in faire Scotland 
 
 A song I will begin : 
 Amongst them all dwelled a lord 
 
 Which was the unthrifty Lord of Lynne. 
 
 His father and mother were (lend him froe, 
 And so was the head of all his kinne ; 
 
 He did neither cease nor blinne 
 To the cards and dice that he did run. 
 
 To drinke the wine that was so cleere ! 
 
 With every man he would make merry. 
 And then bespake him John of the Scales, 
 
 Unto the heire of Lynne say'd hee, 
 
 Sayes " how dost thou, Lord of Lynne. 
 
 Doest either want gold or fee? 
 Wilt thou not sell thy land so brode 
 
 To such a good fellow as me ? 
 
 " For . . I . . " he said, 
 
 " My land, take it unto thee ; 
 I draw you to record, my lords all ; " 
 
 With that he cast him a Gods pennie. 
 
 lb- told him the gold upon the bord, 
 It wanted never a bare penny. 
 
 " I h it gold is thine, the land is mine, 
 Hie heire of Lynne 1 will bee," 
 167
 
 Ballads 
 
 " Heeres gold enough," saithe the heire of 
 Lynne, 
 
 " Roth for me and my company." 
 He drunke the wine that was so cleere, 
 
 And with every man he made merry. 
 
 Within three quarters of a yeare 
 His gold and fee it waxed thinne, 
 
 His merry men were from him gone, 
 And left himselfe all alone. 
 
 He had never a penny left in his purse, 
 
 Never a penny but three, 
 And one was brasse and another was lead 
 
 And another was white mony. 
 
 "Now well-a-day ! " said the heire of 
 Lynne, 
 
 " Now well-a-day, and woe is mee ! 
 For when I was the Lord of Lynne, 
 
 I neither wanted gold nor fee ; 
 
 " For I have sold my lands so broad, 
 And have not left me one penny ! 
 
 I must go now and take some read 
 
 Unto Edenborrow and beg my bread." 
 
 He had not beene in Edenborrow 
 
 Nor three quarters of a yeare, 
 But some did give him and some said nay, 
 
 And some bid " to the deele gang yee ! 
 
 ' ' For if we should hang some land selfeer, 
 
 The first we would begin with thee." 
 "Now well-a-day!" said the heire of 
 Lynne, 
 " Now well-a-day, and woe is mee ! 
 1 68
 
 Ballads 
 
 " For now I have sold my lands so broad 
 
 That mi 1 1 \ man is irke with mi e , 
 But when that I was the Lord of Lynne 
 
 Then on my land I lived merrily ; 
 
 "And now I have sold my land so broade 
 That I have not left me one pennye ! 
 
 tiod be with my father ! " he said. 
 " On his land he lived merrily." 
 
 Still in a study there as he stood, 
 He unbethought him of a bill, 
 
 He unbethought him of a lull 
 Which His father had left with him. 
 
 Bade him he should never on it looke 
 Till he was in extreame neede, 
 
 "And by my faith," said the heire of 
 Lynne, 
 " Then now I had never more neede." 
 
 He tooke the bill and looked it on, 
 Good comfort that he found there ; 
 
 It told him of a castle wall 
 Where there stood three chests in feare : 
 
 Two were full of the beaten gold, 
 The third was full of white money. 
 He turned then downe his bags of bread 
 And filled them full of gold so red. 
 
 Then he did never cease nor blinne 
 Till John of the Scales house he did winne. 
 When that he came John of the Scales, 
 Up at the speere he looked then ; 
 169
 
 Ballads 
 
 There sate three lords upon a roue, 
 
 And John o' the Scales sate at the bord's 
 
 head, 
 And John o' the Scales sate at the bord's 
 
 head 
 Because he was the lord of Lynne. 
 
 And then bespake the heire of Lynne 
 To John o' the Scales wife thus sayd hee, 
 
 Sayd " Dame, wilt thou not trust me one 
 shott 
 That I may sit downe in this company ? " 
 
 " Now Christ's curse ou my head," she said, 
 " If I do trust thee one pennye," 
 
 Then bespake a good fellowe, 
 Which sate by John o' the Scales his knee, 
 
 Said " have thou here, thou heire of Lynne, 
 
 Forty-pence I will lend thee, — 
 Some time a good fellow thou hast beene 
 
 And other forty if it need bee." 
 
 They drunken wine that was so cleere, 
 And every man they made merry, 
 
 And then bespake him John o' the Scales 
 Unto the Lord of Lynne said hee ; 
 
 Said "how doest thou heire of Lynne, 
 Since I did buy thy lands of thee? 
 
 I will sell it to thee twenty better cheepe 
 Nor ever did I buy it of thee." 
 
 " I draw you to recorde, lords all ; " 
 With that he cast him god's penny ; 
 
 Then lie tooke to his bags of bread, 
 And they were full of the gold so red. 
 170
 
 Bal i 
 
 He told him the gold then ovei the horde 
 It wanted never a broad pennye ; 
 
 " Thai gold is thine, the land is mine, 
 And the heire of Lynne againe I will bee." 
 
 " Now well-a-day!" said John o' the Scales' 
 wife, 
 
 "Well-a-day, and woo is me ! 
 Yesterday 1 was the lady of Lynne, 
 
 And now I am but John o' the Scales' 
 
 wife!" 
 
 Says "have thou here, thou good fellow, 
 
 Forty pence thou did lend me ; 
 
 Forty pence thou did lend me, 
 
 And forty I will give thee, 
 
 I'll make thee keeper of my forrest, 
 
 Both of the wild deere and the tame." 
 
 Rut then bespake the heire of I.ynne, 
 These were the words and thus spake hee, 
 
 "Christ's curse light upon my crow in- 
 If ere my land stand in any jeopardy ! " 
 
 171
 
 GORDON OF BRACKLEY 
 
 Down Deeside cam Inveraye 
 
 Whistlin' and playing, 
 An' called loud at Brackley gate 
 
 Ere the day dawning — 
 " Come, Gordon of Brackley, 
 
 Proud Gordon, come down, 
 There's a sword at your threshold 
 
 Mair sharp than your own." 
 
 "Arise now, gay Gordon," 
 
 His lady 'gan cry, 
 " Look, here is bold Inveraye 
 
 Driving your kye." 
 "How can I go, lady, 
 
 An' win them again, 
 When I have but ae sword, 
 
 And Inveraye ten?" 
 
 " Arise up, my maidens, 
 
 Wi' roke and wi' fan, 
 How blest had I been 
 
 Had I married a man ! 
 Arise up, my maidens, 
 
 Tak' spear and tak' sword, 
 Go milk the ewes, Gordon, 
 
 An' 1 will be lord." 
 172
 
 Ballads 
 
 I in- i ;. >t. l. hi prung up 
 
 WV his hi lm on lu , head, 
 l aid his hand on his sword, 
 
 An' his thigh on his steed, 
 An' he stooped low, and said, 
 
 As he kissed his young dame, 
 " I here's a ( lordon rides out 
 
 That will never ride ha me. ' 
 
 I here rode with fierce Invei 
 
 Thirty and three, 
 But wi' Brackley were nane 
 
 1 (ut his brother and he ; 
 Twa gallanter Gordons 
 
 Did never blade draw, 
 But against three-and-thirty 
 
 Wae's me ! what are twa? 
 
 Wi' sword and wi' dagger 
 
 They rushed on him rude ; 
 I he twa gallant Gordons 
 
 I ,ie bathed in their blude. 
 Frae the springs o' the Dee 
 
 To the mouth o' the 'lay, 
 lli<- Gordons mourn for him, 
 
 And curse Inveraye. 
 
 ' ' O were ye at Brackley ? 
 
 An' what saw ye there? 
 Was his young widow weeping 
 
 An' tearing her hair?" 
 " I looked in at Brackley, 
 
 I looked in, and oh ! 
 There was mirth, there was feasting, 
 
 But naething o' woe. 
 
 "Asa rose bloomed the lady, 
 
 An' liliiii 
 As a bridegroom bold Inveraye 
 
 Smiled by her side. 
 
 173
 
 Ballads 
 
 Oh ! she feasted him there 
 As she ne'er feasted lord, 
 
 While the blood of her husband 
 Was moist on his sword. 
 
 "In her chamber she kept him 
 
 Till morning grew gray, 
 Thro' the dark woods of Brackley 
 
 She shewed him the way. 
 'Yon wild hill,' she said, 
 
 ' Where the sun's shining on, 
 Is the hill of Glentanner, — 
 
 One kiss, and begone ! ' " 
 
 There's grief in the cottage, 
 
 There's grief in the ha', 
 For the gude, gallant Gordon 
 
 That's dead an' awa', 
 To the bush comes the bud, 
 
 An' the flower to the plain, 
 But the gude and the brave 
 
 They come never again. 
 
 174
 
 i DWARD, EDWARD. 
 
 " Why docs your brand sac drop wi' I 'Hide, 
 
 !, Edward? 
 Why does your brand sae drop wi' blude 
 
 And why sac sad gang ye, O?" 
 "O I hae killed my hawk sae gude, 
 
 Mither, mither ; 
 O I hae killed my hawk sac gude, 
 And I hae nae mair but he, O." 
 
 " Your hawk's blude was never sae red, 
 
 Ed ! dward ; 
 
 Your hawk's blude was never sae red, 
 My dear son, I tell thee, < »." 
 1 l I hae killed my red-roan steed, 
 Mither, mitl 
 O I hae killed my red-n an teed. 
 That was sae fair and free, O." 
 
 " Your steed was auld, and ye've plenty mair, 
 
 Edward, Edward ; 
 Your steed was auld, and ye've plenty mair ; 
 
 Some itlier dule ye dree, O." 
 " O I hae killed my fatl 
 
 Mither, mither ; 
 O I hae killed my father dear, 
 Alas, and wae is me, O!" 
 
 " And whatten penance will ye dree for that, 
 
 Edward, Edward? 
 Whatten penance will ye dree for that? 
 My dear son, now tell me, ( I, 
 
 175
 
 Ballads 
 
 " I'll set my feet in yonder boat, 
 
 Mittaer, mither ; 
 I'll set my feet in yonder boat, 
 And I'll fare over the sea, O." 
 
 "And what will ye do vvi' your tow'rs and 
 your ha', 
 
 Edward, Edward? 
 And what will ye do wi' your tow'rs and 
 your ha', 
 That were sae fair to see, O ? " 
 " I'll let them stand till they doun fa', 
 
 Mither, mither ; 
 I'll let them stand till they doun fa', 
 
 For here never mair maun I be, O." 
 
 ' ' And what will ye leave to your bairns and 
 your wife, 
 
 Edward, Edward? 
 And what will ye leave to your bairns and 
 your wife, 
 When ye gang ower the sea, O?" 
 ' ' The warld's room : let them beg through 
 life, 
 
 Mither, mither ; 
 The warld's room : let them beg through life ; 
 For them never mair will I see, O." 
 
 " And what will ye leave to your ain mither 
 dear, 
 
 Edward, Edward ? 
 And what will ye leave to your ain mither 
 dear, 
 My dear son, now tell me, O? " 
 " The curse of hell frae me sail ye bear, 
 
 Mither, mither ; 
 The curse of hell frae me sail ye bear : 
 Sic counsels ye gave to me, O ! " 
 
 176
 
 Vol Mi BENJIE 
 
 Ok all the maids of fair Scotland, 
 
 '1 he faire I wa > Marjorie ; 
 And young Benjie was her ae true love, 
 
 And a dear true love was he. 
 
 And wow but they were lovers dear, 
 
 And lov'd full constantlie ; 
 But aye the mair when they fell out, 
 
 The snirer was their plea. 
 
 And they ha'e quarrell'd on a day, 
 Till Marjories heart grew wae ; 
 
 And she said she'd chuse another hive, 
 And let young Benjie gae. 
 
 And he was stout and proud-hearted. 
 
 And thought o't bitterlie ; 
 And he's gane I >y the wan moonli 
 
 To meet his Marjorie. 
 
 "Oh, open, open, my true love, 
 
 Oh, open and let me in ! " 
 " I darena open, young Benjie, 
 
 My three brothers are within. 
 
 " Ye lee, ye lee, ye bonnie burd, 
 
 S;it' loud's I hear ye lee; 
 As I came by the I ouden banks, 
 
 Th gude e'en t'> m 
 
 177 \
 
 Ballads 
 
 " But fare ye weel, my ae fause love, 
 
 That I have lov'd sae lang ! 
 It sets ye chuse another love, 
 
 And let young Benjie gang." 
 
 Then Marjorie turn'd her round about, 
 
 The tear blinding her e'e ; 
 " I darena, darena let thee in, 
 
 But I'll come down to thee." 
 
 Then saft she smil'd, and said to him — 
 
 " Oh, what ill ha'e I done?" 
 He took her in his arms twa, 
 
 And threw her o'er the linn. 
 
 The stream was strong, the maid was stout, 
 
 And laith, laith to be dang ; 
 But ere she wan the Louden banks, 
 
 Her fair colour was wan. 
 
 Then up bespake her eldest brother — 
 
 " Oh, see na ye what I see? " 
 And out then spake her second brother — 
 
 " It is our sister Marjorie ! " 
 
 Out then spake her eldest brother — 
 
 " Oh, how shall we her ken ? " 
 And out then spake her youngest brother — 
 
 " There's a honey mark on her chin." 
 
 Then they've ta'en the comely corpse, 
 
 And laid it on the ground ; 
 Saying — " Wha has kill'd our ae sister? 
 
 And how can he be found ? 
 
 "The night it is her low lykewake, 
 
 The morn her burial day ; 
 And we maun watch at mirk midnight, 
 
 And hear what she will say." 
 I 7 8
 
 Ballads 
 
 Willi .1 , aj ii. and candle light, 
 
 \ihI ton ties burning clear, 
 The streekit corpse, till still midnight , 
 They waked, but naething hear. 
 
 About the middle ol the night 
 rhe cock i n fan to craw ; 
 And .it the dead houi of the night, 
 The corpse began to tbraw. 
 
 "( ih, wha has done thee wrang, bister, 
 
 < >r dared the deadly sin? 
 Wha was sae stout, and fear'd nae dout, 
 
 As throw ye o'er the linn ? " 
 
 " Young Benjie was the first ae titan 
 
 I laid my love upon ; 
 He was sae- .stout and proud-hearted, 
 
 I [e threw me o'er the linn." 
 
 "Shall we young Benjie head, sister? 
 
 Shall we young Benjie hang? 
 Or shall we pike out his twa gray ecu, 
 
 And punish him ere he gang " 
 
 "Ye maunna Benjie head, brothers, 
 
 Ye maunna Benjie hang; 
 But ye maun pike out his twa gray ecn, 
 
 And punish him ere he gang. 
 
 " Tie a green gravat round his neck, 
 
 l lead him out and in, 
 And the best ae servant about your house 
 To wait young Benjie on. 
 
 " And aye at every seven years' end, 
 
 Ye'll take him to the linn ; 
 For that's the penance he maun dree, 
 
 To SCUg his deadly sin." 
 179
 
 AULD MAITLAND 
 
 There lived a king in southern land, 
 King Edward hight his name ; , 
 
 Unwordily he wore the crown, 
 Till fifty years were gane. 
 
 He had a sister's son o's ain, 
 
 Was large of blood and bane ; 
 And afterward, when he came up, 
 
 Young Edward hight his name. 
 
 One day he came before the king, 
 
 And kneel'd low on his knee : 
 ' ' A boon, a boon, my good uncle, 
 
 I crave to ask of thee ! 
 
 "At our lang wars, in fair Scotland, 
 
 I fain ha'e wish'd to be ; 
 If fifteen hundred waled wight men 
 
 You'll grant to ride with me." 
 
 "Thou shall ha'e thae, thou shall ha'e mae 
 
 I say it sickerlie ; 
 And i' myself, an auld gray man, 
 
 Array' d your host shall see." 
 
 King Edward rade, King Edward ran— 
 
 I wish him dool and pyne ! 
 Till he had fifteen hundred men 
 
 Assembled on the Tyne. 
 1 80
 
 Ballads 
 
 And thrice as many at Berwicke 
 
 Were all lor battle bound. 
 | Who, marching forth with false Dunbar, 
 
 \ ready welcome found.] 
 
 They lighted on the banks of Tweed, 
 
 And blew their coals sac het, 
 And fired the Merse and Teviotdale, 
 
 All in an evening late. 
 
 As tlu-y fared up o'er Lammermoor, 
 They burn'd baith up and down, 
 
 Until they came to a darksome house, 
 Some call it Leader-Town. 
 
 "Who. bauds this house?" young Edward 
 cried, 
 "Or wha gi'est o'er to me ? " 
 
 v hair'd knight set up his head, 
 Vnd era at crousely : 
 
 "Of So ] ■■ ■ I haud my hou 
 
 I [e pay ■ me meat and fee ; 
 And 1 will keep my gude auld hou e, 
 
 While my house will keep me." 
 
 They I rid their sowies to the w 
 
 With mony a heavy peal ; 
 But he threw o'er to them agen 
 
 Baith pilch and tar barrel. 
 
 With springalds, stanes, and gad ofairn, 
 
 Amang them l.i t he threw ; 
 Till mony of the Englishmen 
 
 About the wall he slew. 
 
 i , ,11 fifteen da; thai braid ho I lay, 
 
 Sieging \uld Maitland keen ; 
 Syne they ha'e left him, hail and feir, 
 
 w ithin I th of stn
 
 71 a Had s 
 
 Then fifteen barks, all gaily good, 
 
 Met them upon a day, 
 Which they did lade with as much spoil 
 
 As they cou'd bear away. 
 
 " England's our ain by heritage ; 
 
 And what can us withstand, 
 Now we ha'e conquer' d fair Scotland, 
 
 With buckler, bow, and brand? " 
 
 Then they are on to the land of France, 
 
 Where auld king Edward lay, 
 Burning baith castle, tower, and town, 
 
 That he met in his way. 
 
 Until he came unto that town, 
 Which some call Billop-Grace : 
 
 There were Auld Maitland's sons, all three, 
 Learning at school, alas ! 
 
 The eldest to the youngest said, 
 
 " Oh, see ye what I see? 
 If all be true yon standard says, 
 
 We're fatherless all three. 
 
 " For Scotland's conquer'd up and down ; 
 
 Landmen we'll never be ! 
 Now, will you go, my brethren two, 
 
 And try some jeopardy?" 
 
 Then they ha'e saddled twa black horse, 
 
 Twa black horse and a gray ; 
 And they are on to king Edward's host, 
 
 Before the dawn of day. 
 
 When they arrived before the host, 
 
 They hover'd on the lay : 
 " Wilt thou lend me our king's standard, 
 
 To bear a litlle way ? " 
 l8?
 
 Ballads 
 
 "Where wast tliou bred? where wast thou 
 urn? 
 
 Where, or in what countrie?" 
 "In north of England I was born ; " 
 
 ( It needed him to lee.) 
 
 •• A knight me gat, a ladye b 
 
 I am a squire of high renown ; 
 I well may bear't to any king 
 
 That ever yet wore crown." 
 
 " He ne'er came of an Englishman, 
 
 1 lad sic an e'e or bree ; 
 But thou art the likest Auld Mankind, 
 Thai ever I did see. 
 
 " But sic a gloom on ae browhead, 
 
 i frant i ne'er see main ! 
 Tor mony of our men he slew, 
 
 And mony put to pain." 
 
 When Maitland heard his father's name, 
 
 An angry man was he ; 
 Then, lifting up a gilt dagger, 
 Hung low down by his knee, 
 
 He stabb'd the knight the standard bore, 
 He stabb'd him cruellie ; 
 
 Then caught the standard by the neuk, 
 And fast away rode he. 
 
 " Now, is't na time, brothers," he cried, 
 
 " Now, is't na time to flee?" 
 " Ay, by my sooth ! " they baith replied, 
 
 " We'll bear you companye." 
 
 The youngest turn'd him in a path, 
 
 \nd drew a burnish' d brand, 
 And fifteen of the foremost ! 
 
 Till back the lave did stand. 
 183
 
 Ballads 
 
 He spurr'd the gray into the path, 
 
 Till baitli his sides they bled : 
 " Gray ! thou maun carry me away, 
 
 Or my life lies in wad ! " 
 
 The captain lookit o'er the wall, 
 
 About the break of day ; 
 There he beheld the three Scots lads 
 
 Pursued along the way. 
 
 " Pull up portcullize ! down draw-brig ! 
 
 My nephews are at hand ; 
 And they shall lodge with me to-night, 
 
 In spite of all England." 
 
 Whene'er they came within the yate, 
 They thrust their horse them frae, 
 
 And took three lang spears in their hands, 
 Saying — " Here shall come nae me ! " 
 
 And they shot out, and they shot in, 
 
 Till it was fairly day ; 
 When mony of the Englishmen 
 
 About the draw-brig lay. 
 
 Then they ha'e yoked the carts and wains, 
 
 To ca' their dead away, 
 And shot auld dykes abune the lave, 
 
 In gutters where they lay. 
 
 The king, at his pavilion door, 
 
 Was heard aloud to say : 
 " Last night, three of the lads of France 
 
 My standard stole away. 
 
 " With a fause tale, disguised they came, 
 
 And with a fauser trayne ; 
 And to regain my gaye standard, 
 
 These men where all down slayne." 
 184
 
 Ballads 
 
 " It ill befits," the youngest said, 
 
 ' ' A crow nril kmg' to lee ; 
 But, or that I ta ;te meat and drink, 
 Reproved shall lie be." 
 
 lie went before king Edward straight, 
 
 And kneel'd low on his knee : 
 " I uou'd ha'e leave, my lord," he said, 
 
 " To speak a word with thee." 
 
 The king he tnrn'd him round about, 
 
 And wistna what to say : 
 Quo' he, " Man, thou 's ha'e leave to speak, 
 
 Though thou should speak all day." 
 
 " Ye said that three young lads of France 
 
 Your standard stole away, 
 With a fause tale and fauser trayne, 
 
 And niony men did slay ; 
 
 " But we are nane the lads of 1'' ranee, 
 
 Nor e'er pretend to be : 
 We are three lads of fair Scotland, — 
 
 Auld Maitland's sons are we. 
 
 " NDr is there men in all your host 
 
 Daur fight us three to three." 
 " Now, by my sooth," young Edward said, 
 
 " Weel lilted ye shall be ! 
 
 " Piercy shall with the eldest fight, 
 
 Ami Ethei i I .mm with thee ; 
 William of Lancaster tin; third, 
 \nd bring your fourth to me ! 
 
 " Remember, Piercy, aft the Scot 
 Has cower'd beneath thy band ; 
 
 For every drap of Maitland blood, 
 I'll gi'e a rig of land." 
 
 [8 5
 
 Ballads 
 
 He clanked Piercy o'er the head 
 
 A deep wound and a sair, 
 Till the best blood of his body 
 
 Came running down bis hair. 
 
 " Now, I've slayne ane ; slay ye the twa ; 
 
 And that's glide companye ; 
 And if the twa shou'd slay ye baith, 
 
 Ye'se get nae help frae me." 
 
 But Ethert Lunn, a baited bear, 
 
 Had many battles seen ; 
 He set the youngest wonder sair, 
 
 Till the eldest he grew keen. 
 
 *' I am nae king, nor nae sic thing : 
 
 My word it shanna stand ! 
 For Ethert shall a buffet bide, 
 
 Come he beneath my brand." 
 
 He clankit Ethert o'er the head 
 
 A deep wound and a sair, 
 Till the best blood in his body 
 
 Came running o'er his hair. 
 
 " Now, I've slayne twa ; slay ye the ane ; 
 
 Isna that gude companye? 
 And though the ane shou'd slay ye baith, 
 
 Ye'se get nae help of me." 
 
 The twa-some they ha'e slayne the ane, 
 
 They maul'd him crucllie ; 
 Then hung him over the draw-brig, 
 
 That all the host might see. 
 
 They rade their horse, they ran their horse, 
 
 Then hover'd on the lee : 
 " We be three lads of fair Scotland, 
 
 That fain wou'd fighting sec." 
 1 86
 
 /.'■ 
 
 This boasting when young Edward heard, 
 An angry man was he : 
 
 " I'll take yon lad, I'll hind yon lad, 
 And bring him bound to thee ! 
 
 " Now, God forbid," king Edward said, 
 
 "That ever thou shou'd try ! 
 Three worthy leaders we ha'e lost, 
 
 And thou !hc forth wou'd lie. 
 
 '* If thou shou'dst hang on yon draw-brig, 
 
 Rlythc wou'd I never be." 
 But, with the poll-axe in his hand, 
 
 Upon the brig sprang be. 
 
 The first stroke that young Edward ga'e, 
 He struck with might and main ; 
 
 He clove the Mankind's helmet stout, 
 Ami bit right nigh the brain. 
 
 When Maitland saw his ain blood fall, 
 
 An angry man was he ; 
 He let hi i weapon frae him fall, 
 
 And at his throat did flee. 
 
 And thrice about he did him swing, 
 
 Till on the ground he light, 
 Where he has halden young Edward, 
 
 Tho' he was great in might 
 
 " Now let him up," king Edward cried, 
 
 "And let him come to nic ; 
 And for the deed that thou hast done, 
 
 Thou shalt ha'e earldomcs three ! " 
 
 " It 's ne'er be said in France, nor e'er 
 In Scotland, when I'm hame, 
 
 That Edward once lay under me. 
 And e'er gat up again ! " 
 
 1S7
 
 Ballads 
 
 He pierced him through and through the 
 heart, 
 
 I [e maul'd him cruellie ; 
 Then hung him o'er the draw-brig, 
 
 Beside the other three. 
 
 " Now take frae me that feather-bed, 
 
 Make me a bed of strae ! 
 I wish I hadna lived this day, 
 
 To make my heart sac wae. 
 
 " If I were ance at London Tow'r, 
 
 Where I was wont to be, 
 I never mair shou'd gang frae hame, 
 
 Till borne on ;\ bier-tree." 
 
 [88
 
 THE BROOMFIELD HILL 
 
 '1 here was a knight and lady bright 
 
 Set trysts amo the broom, 
 The one to come at morning eav, 
 
 The other at afternoon. 
 
 " I'll wager a wager wi' you," he said, 
 " An hundred marks and ti a, 
 
 That ye shall not go to Broomfield Hill 
 Return a maiden again." 
 
 " I'll wager a wager wi" you," she said, 
 " A hundred pounds and ten, 
 
 1 ha I will gang to Broomfield Hills, 
 A maiden return again." 
 
 The lady stands in her bower door, 
 And thus she made her mane : 
 
 '* Oh, shall I gang to Broomfield Hills, 
 Or shall I stay at hame ? 
 
 " If I do gang to Broomfield Hills 
 
 A maid I'll not return ; 
 But if 1 stay from Broomfield Hills, 
 
 I'll be a maid mis-sworn." 
 
 Then out it speaks an auld witch wife, 
 
 Sat in the bower aboon : 
 " O ye shall gang to Broomfield Hills, 
 
 Ye shall not stay at hame. 
 l8 9
 
 Ballads 
 
 " Bui when ye gang to Broomfield llillb, 
 Walk nine times round and round ; 
 
 Down below a bonny burn bank, 
 Ye 11 find your love sleeping sound. 
 
 " Ye'll pu the bloom frae off the broom, 
 
 Strew't at his head and feet, 
 And aye the thicker that ye do strew, 
 
 The sounder he will bleep. 
 
 " The broach that is on your napkin, 
 
 Put it on his breast bane, 
 To let him know, when he does wake, 
 
 That's true love's come and gane. 
 
 " The rings that are on your fingers, 
 
 Lay them down on a stane, 
 To let him know, when he does wake, 
 
 That's true love's come and gane. 
 
 " And when he hae your work all done, 
 Ye'll gang to a bush o' broom, 
 
 And then you'll hear what he will say, 
 When he sees ye are gane." 
 
 When she came to liroomfield Hills, 
 She walked it nine times round, 
 
 And down below yon burn bank, 
 She found him sleeping sound. 
 
 She pu'd the bloom frae off the broom, 
 Strew'd it at 's head and feet, 
 
 And aye the thicker that she strewd, 
 The sounder he did sleep. 
 
 The broach that was on her napkin, 
 She put it on his breast-bane, 
 
 To let him know, when he did wake, 
 His love was come and gane. 
 190
 
 Ballad; 
 
 The. rings that were on her fingers, 
 
 She laid upon a stane, 
 To let him know, when he did wake, 
 
 1 1 is love was come and gane. 
 
 Now when she had her work all dune, 
 
 She went to a bush o' bra 
 That she might hear what he did say, 
 
 When he saw that she was gane. 
 
 " O where were ye my guid grey hound, 
 
 That I paid for sae dear, 
 Ye didna waken me frae my sleep 
 
 When my true love was sae near? " 
 
 " I scraped wi' my foot, master, 
 
 Till a my collars rang, 
 But still the mair that I did scrape, 
 
 Waken woud ye nane." 
 
 " Where were ye, my bony brown steed, 
 
 That I paid for sae dear, 
 That ye woudna waken me out o' my sleep 
 
 When my love was sae near ? " 
 
 " I patted wi my foot, master, 
 
 Till a' my bridles rang, 
 But the mair that I did patt, 
 
 Waken woud ye nane." 
 
 " O where were ye, my gay goss-hawk 
 
 That I paid for sae dear, 
 That ye woudna waken me out o' my sleep 
 
 When ye saw my love near? " 
 
 " I flapped wi my wings, master, 
 
 Till a' my bells they ran£, 
 But still, the mair that I did flap, 
 
 Waken woud ye nane." 
 
 191
 
 Ballads 
 
 " O where were ye, my merry young men, 
 
 That I pay meat and fee, 
 That ye woudna waken me out o' my sleep 
 
 When my love ye did see?" 
 
 " Ye'll sleep mair on the night, master, 
 
 And wake mair on the day ; 
 ( Jae sooner down to Broomfield Mills 
 
 Wlicn ye've sic pranks to play. 
 
 " If I had seen any armed men 
 
 ( onie riding over the hill — 
 But I saw but a fair lady 
 
 Come quietly you until." 
 
 " O wae mat worth yow, my young men, 
 
 That I pay meat and fee, 
 That ye woudna waken me frae sleep 
 
 When ye my love did see? 
 
 " O had I waked when she was nigh, 
 
 And o her got my will, 
 I shoudna cared upon the morn 
 
 The sma liinls o her were fill." 
 
 When she went out, right bitter she wept, 
 
 I it it singing came she hame ; 
 Says, " [ hae been al Broomfield Hills, 
 
 And maid returned again." 
 
 192
 
 WILLIE'S LADYE 
 
 Wil.UK has ta'en him o'er the facm, 
 I le 's wooed a wife, and brought her hame 
 i le 's wooed her for her yellow hair, 
 Hut his mother wrought her mcikle care ; 
 
 And meikle dolour gar'd her dree, 
 For lighter she can never be ; 
 Hut in her bow'r she sits with pain, 
 And Willie mourns o'er her in vain. 
 
 And to his mother he has gane, 
 That vile rank witch, of vilest kind ! 
 lie says — " My lady has a cup, 
 With gowd and silver set about ; 
 This gudely gift shall be your ain, 
 And let her be lighter of her bairn. 
 
 "Of her bairn she 's never be lighter, 
 Nor in her bow'r to shine the brighter 
 
 Rut she shall die, and turn to clay, 
 And you shall wed another may." 
 
 " Another may I'll never wed, 
 Another may I'll never bring hame." 
 But, sighing, said that weary wight — 
 " I wish my life were at an end." 
 
 " Yet gae ye to your mother again, 
 That vile rank witch, of vilest kind 
 .And say, your ladye has i steed, 
 The like of him 's no in the land of Leo I. 
 
 193
 
 Ballads 
 
 ' ' For he is silver shod before, 
 
 And he is govvden shod behind ; 
 
 At every tuft of that horse mane 
 
 There 's a golden chess, and a bell to ring. 
 
 This gudely gift shall be her ain, 
 
 And let me be lighter of my bairn." 
 
 " Of her young bairn she 's ne'er be lighter, 
 Nor in her bovv'r to shine the brighter ; 
 But she shall die, and turn to clay, 
 And ye shall wed another may." 
 
 " Another may I'll never wed, 
 Another may I'll never bring hamc. " 
 But, sighing, said that weary wight — 
 " I wish my life were at an end ! " 
 
 "Yet gae ye to your mother again, 
 That vile rank witch, of rankest kind ! 
 And say, your ladye has a girdle, 
 It 's all red govvd to the middle ; 
 
 " And aye, at ilka siller hem, 
 Hang fifty siller bells and ten ; 
 This gudely gift shall be her ain, 
 And let me be lighter of my bairn." 
 
 ' ' Of her young bairn she 's ne'er be lighter, 
 Nor in your bovv'r to shine the brighter; 
 For she shall die, and (urn to clay, 
 And thou shall wed another may." 
 
 " Another may I'll never wed, 
 Another may I'll never bring name. 
 But, sighing, 'said that weary wight — 
 " I wish my days were at an end ! " 
 194
 
 I>'al/,t</< 
 
 Then out and spak the Billy Blind, 
 I !•• spak aye in good time [his mind]: — 
 " Yet gae ye to the market place, 
 And there do buy a loaf of wace ; 
 Do shape it bairn and liairnly like, 
 And in it two glassen een you'll put. 
 
 "Oh, wha has loosed the nine witch-knots 
 That were amang that ladye's locks? 
 And wha 's ta'en out the kames of care, 
 That were amang that ladye's hair? 
 
 "And wha has ta'en down that bush of 
 
 woodbine 
 That hung between her bow'r and mine? 
 And wha has kill'd the master kid 
 That ran beneath that ladye's bed? 
 And wha has loosed her left foot shee, 
 And let that ladyc lighter be ? " 
 
 Syne, Willie 's loosed the nine witch-knots 
 That were amang that ladye's locks; 
 And Willie 's ta'en out the' kames of care 
 Thai were into that ladye's hair ; 
 And he 's ta'en down the bush of woodbine 
 Hung atween her bow'r and the witch carhne' 
 
 And he has killed the master kid 
 That ran beneath that ladye's bed; 
 And he has loosed her left foot shee, 
 And latter thai ladye lighter be; 
 And now he has gotten a bonnie son, 
 And meikle grace be him upon. 
 
 195
 
 ROBIN HOOD AND THE MONK 
 
 In somer when the shawes be sheyne, 
 And leves be large and longe, 
 
 Hit is full mery in feyre foreste 
 To here the foulys song. 
 
 To se the dere draw to the dale, 
 
 And levc the hilles hee, 
 And shadow hem in the leves grene, 
 
 Vndur the grene-wode tre. 
 
 Hit befell on Whitsontide, 
 
 Erly in a may mornyng, 
 The son vp fayre can shyne, 
 
 And the briddis mery can syng. 
 
 "This is a mery mornyng," seid Litul 
 Johne, 
 
 "lie hym that dyed on tre ; 
 A more mery man than I am one 
 
 Lyves riot in Cristiant6." 
 
 ' ' I'luk vp thi hert, my dere mayster." 
 
 Litulle Johne can sey, 
 " And thynk hit is a fulle fayre tyme 
 
 In a mornynge of may." 
 
 "Ze on thyngegreves me," seid Robyne, 
 " And does my hert mych woo, 
 
 That I may not so solem day 
 To mas nor matyns goo. 
 196
 
 liallads 
 
 " Hit is a fourtnel and more," seyd lice, 
 
 "Syn I my Snnyour sec ; 
 Today will I to Notyngham," seid Robyn, 
 
 " with the myght ofmylde Maty." 
 
 1 hen spake Mocbe the mylner sune, 
 
 Em i more wt 1 hym betyde, 
 "Take xii ofthi wyghl isemen 
 
 Well weppynd !"■ thei side. 
 Such on wolde tlii selfe slon 
 
 That xii dar not abyde." 
 
 "OfFalle my mery men," seid Robyne, 
 
 " Be my feithe I wil non haue ; 
 Bui Litulle Johne shall beyre my bow 
 
 Til that me list to drawe." 
 
 "Thou slialle beyre thin own,'' seid 
 I .itulle Jon, 
 " Maister, and I wil beyre myne, 
 And we wille shete a peny," seid Litulle 
 Jon, 
 " Vndcr the grcne wode lyne." 
 
 " I wil not shetc a peny," seyde Robyn 
 Hode, 
 " In fcith, Litulle Johne, with thee, 
 But euer for on as thou shetes," seid 
 Robyn, 
 " In feith I holde the thre." 
 
 Thus shet thei forthe, these zemen too, 
 
 Bothe at buske and brome, 
 Til I -itulle Johne wan of his maister 
 
 V s. to hose and shone. 
 197
 
 Ballads 
 
 A ferly strife fel them betwene, 
 
 As they went bi the way ; 
 Litull Johne seid he had won v shyllyngs, 
 
 And Robyn Hode seid schortly nay. 
 
 With that Robyn Hode lyed Litul Jone, 
 And smote him with his honde ; 
 
 Litul John waxed wroth therwith, 
 And pulled out his bright bronde. 
 
 " Were thou not my maister," seid Litul le 
 Johne, 
 
 " Thou shuklis by hit ful sore ; 
 Get the a man where thou wilt, Robyn, 
 
 For thou getes me no more." 
 
 Then Robyn goes to Notyngham, 
 
 Hymselfe mornynge allone, 
 And Litulle Johne to mery Schcrewoik, 
 
 The pathes he knowe alkone. 
 
 Whan Robyn came to Notyngham, 
 
 Sertenly withoutene layne, 
 He prayed to God and myld Mary 
 
 To brynge hym out saue agayne. 
 
 He gos into seynt Mary chirche, 
 And knelyd downe before the rode ; 
 
 Alle that euer were the churche within 
 Beheld wel Robyne Hode. 
 
 Beside hym stode a gret-hedid munke, 
 
 I pray to God woo he be ; 
 Full sone he knew gode Robyn 
 
 As sone as he hym se. 
 
 Out at the durre he ran 
 
 Ful sone and anon ; 
 Alle the /.atis of Notyngham 
 
 He made to be sparred euerychone. 
 198
 
 Ball, 
 
 "Rise vp," he seid, "thou prowde 
 
 Buske the and make the bowne ; 
 I lime spyed the kynges felo 
 For sothe he is in this towne. 
 
 " I haue spyed the false felone, 
 
 ^s he tondes at his masse ; 
 Hit is longe of the," seide the munke, 
 
 " And euer he fro vs passe. 
 
 ' I Ins trayturfs] name is Robyn Hodc ; 
 
 Vnder the grene wode lynde, 
 He robbyt me onys of a C pound, 
 Hit shalle neuer out of my myndc." 
 
 Vp then rose this prowd schereff, 
 
 And zade towarde hym /.are ; 
 Many was the modur son 
 
 To tlie lcyrk with him can fare. 
 
 In at the durres thei throly thrast 
 
 With sia\<-s lul gode ilkone, 
 "Alas, alas,"; seid Robin Mode, 
 
 " Now mysse I Li tulle Johne." 
 
 Iu( Robyne toke out a too-hond sworde 
 Thai liin it down In- his ki 
 
 as the schereff and his men stode 
 
 tllM ' 
 
 Thidurward svold he 
 
 Thryes tliorow at them In- ran, 
 
 Then for sothe as 1 you say, 
 And woundyt many a modur sone, 
 
 And xii he slew that day. 
 199
 
 Ballads 
 
 Hys sworde vpon the schireff hed 
 
 Sertanly lie brake in too ; 
 "The smyth that the made," seid Robyn, 
 " I pray God wyrke him woo. 
 
 "For now am I weppynlesse, " seid 
 Robyne, 
 
 "Alasse, agayn my wylle ; 
 But ii' I may fle these traytors fro, 
 I wot thei wil me kylle." 
 
 Robyns men to the churehe ran 
 
 Throout hem euerilkon ; 
 Sum fel in swonyng as thei were dede, 
 
 And lay still as any stone. 
 
 Non of theym were in her niynde 
 But only Li tulle Jon. 
 
 " Let be your dule," seid Litulle Jon, 
 ' ' For his luf that dyed on tre ; 
 
 Ze that shulde be duzty men, 
 Hit is gret shame to se. 
 
 " Oure maister has bene hard bystode, 
 
 And zet seapyd away ; 
 Pluk up your hertes and leve this mone, 
 
 And herkyn what I shal say. 
 
 " He has seruyd our lady many a day, 
 
 And zet wil securly ; 
 Therefore I trust in her specialy 
 
 No wycked detli shal he dye. 
 
 " Therfor be glad," seid Litul Johne, 
 " And let this mournyng be, 
 
 And I shall be the munkes gyde, 
 With the myght of mylde Mary. 
 200
 
 Ballad 
 
 "And I mete hym," seid Litull Johne, 
 " We will go but we too 
 
 •' Loke that yc kepe wel our tristil tre 
 Vhder the levys smale, 
 
 And spare non of tliis venyson 
 That gose in thys vale." 
 
 Forthe thei went these zeraen too, 
 Litul [ohne and Moche onfere, 
 
 And lokid on Moi he emys liows 
 The hyeway lay fulle at re. 
 
 Litul John Stode at a window in the 
 mornynge, 
 
 And lokid forth at a stage ; 
 I [e was war wher the munke came ridynge, 
 
 And with him a litul page. 
 
 " Be my feith," said l.itul Johne to Moclie, 
 " I can the tel tithyngus gode ; 
 
 I se wlur the munk conns rydyng, 
 I know hym be his wyde hode." 
 
 Thei went into the way these zemen bothe 
 
 As curtes men and hende, 
 Thei spyrred tithyngus at the munke, 
 
 As thei hade bene his frende. 
 
 " Frowhens come ze," seid Litul Johne, 
 "Tel vs tithyngus, I vow pray, 
 
 Off a false owtlay (called Robyn HodeJ, 
 Was takyn zishmiav. 
 
 " He robbyt me and my felowes bothe 
 
 Of xx marke in ^-irtcn ; 
 If that false owtlay be takyn, 
 
 For sothe we wolde be fayne. " 
 20 1
 
 Ballads 
 
 " So did he me," seid the munke, 
 
 " Of a C pound and more ; 
 I layde furst hande hym apon, 
 
 Ze may thonkc me therefore." 
 
 "I pray God thanke yow," scid Litulle 
 Johne, 
 
 " And we wil when we may ; 
 We wil go with yow, with your leve, 
 
 And brynge yow on your way. 
 
 "For Robyn I lode hase many a wilde 
 Mow, 
 
 I telle yow in certen ; 
 11 thei wist ze rode this way, 
 
 In feith ze shulde be slayn." 
 
 As thei went talkyng be the way, 
 The munke and Litulle Johne, 
 
 Johne toke the munkes horse be the hede 
 Ful sone and anone. 
 
 Johne toke the munkes horse be the lied. 
 
 For sothe as I yow say, 
 So did Muche the litulle page, 
 
 For he shulde not stirre away. 
 
 Be the golett of the hode 
 [ohne pulled the munke downe ; 
 
 Johne was nothynge of hym agast, 
 1 le lcte hym falie on his crowne. 
 
 Litulle Johne was sore agrevyd, 
 And drew out his swerde in hye ; 
 
 The munke saw he shulde be ded, 
 Lowd mercy can he crye. 
 202
 
 Ballads 
 
 ■• He wa i mymaister," said Litulle Johne, 
 " That thou hase browzt in l>ale ; 
 
 Shalle thou neuet cum at our kynge 
 For to telle hym tale." 
 
 John smote of the munkes hed, 
 
 No longer wolde he dwelle ; 
 So did Moche the litulle page, 
 
 For ferd lest he wold tell. 
 
 Ill r thei beryed hem both 
 
 In nouther mossc nor lynge, 
 And Litulle fohne and Mucin- mi' re 
 
 1 (are the letturs to oure kyng. 
 
 He kneled down vpon his kne, 
 
 " God zow saue, my lege lorde, 
 Jesus yow saue and se. 
 
 " God yow saue, my lege kyng," 
 To speke Johne was fulle bolde; 
 
 hym the letturs in his hond, 
 I he kyng did hit unfold. 
 
 1 he kyng red the letturs anon, 
 
 And seid, " so mot I the, 
 1 her was neuei zoman in mery Inglond 
 
 1 longut so sore to see. 
 
 " Wher is the munke that these shuld 
 haue browzt ? 
 ( Jure kynge gan say; 
 ■ Be my trouthe," seid Litull Jo 
 " I [e dyi d aftur the way." 
 
 The kyng gaf Moche and Litul Jon 
 
 xx pound in sertan, 
 And made thcim zemen of the crowne, 
 And bade theim &o agayn. 
 203
 
 Ballads 
 
 He gaf Johne the seel in hand, 
 The scheref for to bere, 
 
 To brynge Robyn hym to, 
 And no man do hym dere. 
 
 Johne toke his leve at onre kyng, 
 The sothe as I yovv say ; 
 
 The next way to Notyngham 
 To take lie zede the wav. 
 
 When Johne came to Notyngham 
 The zatis were sparred ychone ; 
 
 Johne callid vp the porter, 
 He answerid sone anon. 
 
 "What is the cause," seid Litul John, 
 "Thou span is the zates so fast ? " 
 
 "Because of Robyn Ilode," seid [the] 
 porter, 
 " In depe prison is cast. 
 
 "Johne, and Mochc, and Wylle Scathlok, 
 
 For sothe as I yow say, 
 Thir slew oure men vpon oure wallis, 
 
 And sawtene vs euery day." 
 
 Litulle Johne spyrred aftur the schereff, 
 
 And sone he hym fonde ; 
 He oppyned the kyngtis prive seelle, 
 
 And gaf hym in his honde. 
 
 When the schereft saw the kyngus seelle, 
 
 He did of his hode anon ; 
 " Wher is the munke that bare the 
 letturs?" 
 He seid to Litulle Johne. 
 204
 
 Ballads 
 
 "He is so fayn of hym," seid Litulle 
 
 Johne, 
 ' ' Vox sothc as I yow soy, 
 He has made hym abot of Westmynstcr, 
 A lorde of that abbay." 
 
 The scheref made John gode chere, 
 And gaf hym wine of the l>est ; 
 
 At nyzt thei went to her bedde, 
 And euery man to His rest. 
 
 When (lie sclieref was on-slepe 
 
 Dronken of wine and ale, 
 Litu! Johne and Moche for sothc 
 
 'I'oke the way vnto the jale. 
 
 Litul Johne callid vp the jayler, 
 
 And bade him ryse anon ; 
 He seid Robyn Hode had brokyn preson, 
 
 And out of hit was gon. 
 
 The portcre rose anon scrtan, 
 As sone as he herd John calle ; 
 
 Litul Joline was redy with a swerd, 
 And bare hym to the walla 
 
 " Nowwill I be porter," seid Litul Johm 
 "And take the keyes in honde ; " 
 
 He toke the way to Robyn Hode, 
 And sone he hym vnbonde. 
 
 He gaf hym a gode swerd in his bond, 
 
 His hed with for to kepe, 
 And ther as the walle was lowyst 
 
 Anon down can thei lepe. 
 
 Be that the cok began to crow, 
 
 The day I legan to sprynge, 
 Tlie scherel fond the jaylier ded, 
 
 1 he comyn belle m ide he rvnge. 
 205
 
 Ballads 
 
 He made a crye tlioroowt al the tow[n], 
 Whedur he be zonian or knave, 
 
 That cowthe brynge hym Robyn Hode, 
 His warisone he shuld haue. 
 
 " For I dar neuer," said the seheref, 
 
 ' ' Cum before oure kyngc, 
 For if I do, I wot serten, 
 
 For sothe he wil me hengc." 
 
 The seheref made to seke Notyngham, 
 
 I Sothe be strete and stye, 
 And Robyn was in mery Scherwode 
 
 As lizt as lef on lynde. 
 
 Then bespake gode Litulle Johne, 
 To Robyn Hode can he say, 
 
 "I haue done the a gode turne for an 
 euylle, 
 Quyte me whan thou may. 
 
 " I haue done the a gode turne," said 
 Litulle Johne, 
 
 ' ' For sothe as I you saie ; 
 I haue brouzt the vnder grene wode lyne ; 
 
 Fare wel, and haue gode day." 
 
 " Nay, be my trouthe," seid Robyn Hode, 
 
 " So shalle hit neuer be ; 
 I make the maister," seid Robyn Hode, 
 
 " Offalle my men and me." 
 
 " Nay.be my trouthe," seid Litulle Johne, 
 
 " So shall hit neuer be, 
 But latmebeafelow,"seid Litulle Johne, 
 
 " Non odur kepe I'll be." 
 206
 
 Ballads 
 
 Thus Johne "..it'- Robyn Hod'- oul <>f 
 pi r one, 
 
 Sertan withoutyn layne; 
 When his men .saw byin hoi and sound e, 
 
 For sothe they were ful fayne. 
 
 They filled in wyne, and made him glad, 
 
 Vnder the levys smale, 
 And zete pastes ol venysone, 
 
 That godc was with ale. 
 
 I lian wordc came to ourc kynge, 
 How Robyn I [ode was gone, 
 
 And how the scheref of Notyngham 
 1 hirst neuer lokc hyme vpone. 
 
 Then bespake oure cumly kynge, 
 
 In an angui bye, 
 " Litulle [ohne base begyled tin- c h< i< If. 
 
 In Faith so hase he me. 
 
 " Litulle Johne ha I ■ gyled vs bothe, 
 
 And ili it i til K - wel I se, 
 i »i . His the scheref) oi Notj ngham 
 
 I lye hongut shuld he be. 
 
 •' I made hem zemen of the crowne, 
 
 And gaf hem fee with my bond, 
 
 I gaf hem grithe, 1 seid oure kyng, 
 
 I horowout alle niery Inglond. 
 
 " I gaf hem grithe," then scide oure kyng, 
 
 " I say, SO mol I the, 
 For sothe soche a zeman as he is on 
 
 In alle Ingland ar not thre. 
 
 "lie is trew to his maister," seide oure 
 kynge, 
 " I say, be swete seynt Johne ; 
 207
 
 Ballads 
 
 He louys bettur Rohyn Hode, 
 Then he dose vs ychone. 
 
 " Robyne Hode is euer bond to him, 
 
 Rothe in strete and stalle ; 
 Speke no more of this matter," seid oure 
 kynge, 
 
 " But John has begyled vs alle." 
 
 Thus endys the talkyng of the munke 
 
 And Robyne Hode i-wysse ; 
 God, that is euer a crowned kyng, 
 
 Bryng vs alle to his blisse. 
 
 2o3
 
 ROBIN HOOD AND THE TOTTER 
 
 In schomer, when the leves spryng, 
 The bloschems on every bowe, 
 
 So in' i>\ doyl the berdys 
 Yn wodys merey now. 
 
 Herkens, god yemen, 
 Coniley, corteysse, and god, 
 
 On of the best that yever bar bou, 
 lies nam I Loben Hode. 
 
 Kol)en Hood was the yemans name. 
 
 That was boyt corteys and fire ; 
 i • i the loffe ol owr lade) , 
 
 All wemen werschep he. 
 
 Hot as the god yemen stod on a day, 
 
 Among hes mery maney, 
 I le was war of a prowd potter, 
 
 Cam dryfyng owyr the ley. 
 
 "Yonder comet a prod potter," seyde 
 Robcn, 
 
 " That long hayt hantyd this wey ; 
 1 le was never so corteys a man 
 
 i in peney of pawagc to p 
 
 "Y met hem hot at Wentbreg," sej le 
 Lytyll [ohn, 
 ■■ And thei foi yeffell m< il he the, 
 
 u trokes he me gafe, 
 Yet the) i leffe by my seyd) - 
 
 209 i'
 
 Ballads 
 
 " Y ley forty shillings," seyde Lytyll John, 
 
 ' ' To pay het thes same day, 
 Ther ys nat a man among bus all 
 
 A wed schall make hem ley." 
 
 '■ Her ys forty shillings," seyde Roben, 
 
 " Mor, and thow dar say, 
 That y schall make that prowde potter, 
 
 A wed to me schall he ley." 
 
 Ther thes money they leyde, 
 They toke het a yeman to kepe ; 
 
 Roben befor the potter he breyde, 
 And bad hem stond stell. 
 
 Handys apon lies horse he leyde, 
 And hail the potter stonde toll stell ; 
 
 The potter schorteley to hem seyde, 
 •■ Felow, what ys they well?" 
 
 "All thes th re yer, and mor, potter," he 
 seyde, 
 
 •• Thow hast hantyd thes wey, 
 Yet wer tow never so cortys a man 
 
 One peney of pauage to pay." 
 
 "What ys they name," seyde the potter, 
 " For pauage thow ask of me ? " 
 
 " Roben Hod ys mey name, 
 A wed schall thow leffe me." 
 
 " Wed well y non leffe," seyde the potter, 
 " Nor pavag well y non pay ; 
 
 Away they honde fro mey horse, 
 V well the tene eyls, be me lay." 
 
 I he potter to lies cart he went, 
 ! i, was ii"i to seke ; 
 ;od to-hande staffe therowt he hent, 
 jjefoi Roben he lepe. 
 2IO
 
 Ballads 
 
 n howt with a swerd bent, 
 A bokeler en hes honde [therto] ; 
 1 he potter to Roben he went, 
 And seyde, " Felow, let mey horse go." 
 
 der then unit thes two yemen, 
 I [el was a god sej i to se ; 
 1 herof low Robyn lies men, 
 Ther they stod onder a tre. 
 
 Leytell John to hes felowhes seyde, 
 " Vend potter welle steffeley stonde : " 
 
 The potter, with an acward stroke, 
 Smol ili'- bokeler owl of Ins honde ; 
 
 And ar Roben meyt get hem ngen 
 
 Hes bokeler at hes fette, 
 The potter yn the neke hem toke, 
 
 1 o tlie gronde ■ roe he yede. 
 
 That saw Roben hes men, 
 
 A-, they stode ender a bow ; 
 ' I •■! ushelpeour ma ed Lytell 
 
 Jolin, 
 
 " Yonder potter els well hem solo." 
 
 yemen went with a bre 
 Yo ther master they earn. 
 
 I .e\tell John t<> lies 111. I !''l I \de, 
 
 ■• He haet the wager won ? 
 
 " Schall y haff your forty shillinj 
 de I .ytel [< 
 " < )i ye, ni.i i 1 1 iii.- mj ne : 
 
 ' Vel't" they wer a hundred," seyde Roben, 
 
 " Y ley I ho, the) ben all lle_\ ie . 
 21 I
 
 Ballads 
 
 " Het ys fol Leytell cortesey," seyde the 
 potter, 
 " As y haffe harde weyse men saye, 
 Yeff a por yeman com drywyng ovver the 
 wey, ' 
 To let hem of lies gomey. 
 
 " Be mey trowet, thow seys soyt," seyde 
 Roben, 
 
 ' ' Thow scys god yemenrey ; 
 And thow dreyffe forthe yevery day, 
 
 Thow schalt never be let for me. 
 
 " Y well prey the, god potter, 
 A felischepe well thow haffe? 
 
 Geffe mi' they elothyng, and thow schalt 
 hale myne ; 
 Y well go to Notynggam." 
 
 " Y grant therto," seyde the potter, 
 •' Thow schalt feynde me a felow gode ; 
 
 But thow can sell mey pottes well. 
 Come ayen as thow yode. " 
 
 " Nay, be mey trowt," seyde Roben, 
 ' ' And then y bescro mey hede 
 
 Yeffe y bryng eney pottes ayen, 
 And eney weyffe well hem chepe." 
 
 Than spake Leytell John, 
 
 And all lies felowhes heynd, 
 " Master, be well war of the screffe of 
 Notynggam, 
 
 For he ys leytell howr frende." 
 
 " Ileyt war howte," seyde Roben, 
 
 ' ' Felowhes, let me alone ; 
 Thorow the helpe of howr ladey, 
 
 To Notynggam well y gon." 
 212
 
 Ballads 
 
 Robyn went to Notynggam, 
 
 Tins pottes for to sell ; 
 The potter abode with Roberts men, 
 
 Ther lie fereel not eylle. 
 
 Tho Roben droffe on lies wey, 
 
 So merry n\M r tlic londe : 
 Heres mor and alitor ys to sa 
 I he best ys beheynde. 
 
 [the second fit. I 
 
 WHEN Roben cam to Netynggam, 
 
 The o) i yel y scholde sayi , 
 He set op hes horse anon, 
 
 And gaffe Item liotys and haye. 
 
 Yll the lurch S ut tin tOW II'-, 
 
 Ther he schowed hes wai ; 
 " Pottys ! pottys ! " he gan crey foil >oi 
 " Halle hansel! for the mar." 
 
 Foil effen agenest the screffeys gate 
 
 Schowed he hes chaffar ; 
 Weyffes and wedowes abowt hem drow, 
 
 And chepyd fast of hes war. 
 
 Yet," Pottys, grot chepe ! " creyed Robyn, 
 " Y loffe yetifell thes to stonde ; " 
 
 And all that saw hem sell, 
 
 Seyde he had be no potter long. 
 
 The pottys 'that wer werthe pens feyffe, 
 
 He sold tham for pens thre ; 
 1 teveley seyde man and weyffe, 
 
 " Ywnder potter schall never the. 
 
 213
 
 Ballads 
 
 Thos Roben solde foil fast, 
 Tell he had pottys bot feyffe ; 
 
 Op lie hem toke of his car, 
 
 And scnde hem to the screffeys weyffe. 
 
 Therof sche was foil fayne, 
 
 " Gramarsey, sir," than seyde sche ; 
 ' ' When ye com to thes contre ayen, 
 
 Y schall bey of they pottys, so mot y 
 the." 
 
 "Ye schall haffe of the best," seyde 
 Roben, 
 
 And swar be the treneyte ; 
 Foil corteysley she gan hem call, 
 
 " Com dcyne with the screfe and me." 
 
 " Godamarsey," seyde Roben, 
 " Yowr bedyng schalle be doyn ; " 
 
 A mayden yn the pottys gan ber, 
 
 Roben and the screffe weyffe folowcd 
 anon. 
 
 Whan Roben ynto the hall cam, 
 
 The screffe sone he met ; 
 The potter cowed of corteysey, 
 
 And sone the screffe he gret. 
 
 " Lokelh what thes potter hayt geffe yovv 
 and me ; 
 
 Feyffe pottys smalle and grete ! " 
 " 1 le ys fol wellcom," seyd the screffe, 
 
 " Let os was, and go to mete." 
 
 As they sat at her methe, 
 
 With a nobell cher, 
 Two of the screffes men gan speke 
 
 Off a gret wager, 
 214
 
 'ads 
 
 \\ i made the thothei daye, 
 < (ffa schotyng was god and feyne, 
 
 Oft" forty shillings, the soyt to saye, 
 Who scholde thcs wager win. 
 
 Styll than sat thes prowde potter, 
 
 Thos than thowt he ; 
 " As y am a trow Cerstyn man, 
 
 Thes schotyng well y se." 
 
 Whin they hail fared of the best, 
 With bred and ale and weyne, 
 
 To the bottys they made them prest, 
 With bovves and boltys full feyne. 
 
 The screffes men schot foil fast, 
 As archares that weren god>l<- , 
 
 Ther cam aon ner ney the marke 
 Bey halfe a god arehares bowe. 
 
 Stell then stod the prowde potter, 
 
 Thos than seyile he ; 
 " And y had a bow, be the rode, 
 
 On schot scholde yow se." 
 
 "Thow schall haffe a bow," seyde the 
 screli'\ 
 
 " I'lic be i ill Li ill"-., well eheysof thre ; 
 Thou semyst a stalward and a stronge, 
 
 \say sell. ill thow 1"'. 
 
 The serene commandyd i >■ m a that 
 stod hem 
 
 Afftei bowl 
 The be. a bow th it the yeman browthe 
 
 Roben set on a stryng. 
 
 215
 
 Ballads 
 
 " Now schall y wet and thow be god, 
 And polk: hot op to they ner ; " 
 
 "So god me helpe," seyde the prowde 
 potter, 
 " Thys ys bot rygzt weke ger." 
 
 To a quequer Roben went, 
 
 A god bolt owthe he toke ; 
 So ney on to the marke he went, 
 
 He fayled not a fothe. 
 
 All they sehot abowthe agen, 
 
 The screffes men and lie ; 
 Off the marke he weldc not fayle, 
 
 lie cleffed the preke on thre. 
 
 The screffes men thovvt gret schame, 
 
 The potter the raastry wan ; 
 The screffe lowe and made god game, 
 
 And seyde, " Potter, thow art a man ; 
 Thow art worthey to ber a bowe, 
 
 Yn what plas that thow gang." 
 
 '• Yn mey cart y haffe a bowe, 
 
 Forsoyt," he seyde, "and that a godde ; 
 Yn nicy cart ys the bow 
 
 That 1 had of Robyn Mode." 
 
 " Knowest thow Robyn Hodc?" seyde 
 the screffe, 
 
 " Potter, y prey the tell thou me ; " 
 ' ' A hundred torne y haffe schot with hem, 
 
 Under lies tortyll tree." 
 
 "Y had lever nar a hundred ponde," 
 seyde the screffe, 
 And swar be the trenite, 
 ! " Y had Uver nar a hundred ponde," he 
 ej de, I 
 " That the fals owtelawe stod be me. 
 216
 
 Balladi 
 
 "And ye well do afftyi mey red," seyde 
 the pottei , 
 
 " And boldeley ;;<> with me, 
 And to n >« . 01 we het bred, 
 
 Roben llodi wel we 
 
 "Y urll queyt the," kod the screffe, 
 
 Ami sun be god ol meythi 
 Schetyng thay left, and bom they went, 
 
 lln scopei was redey deythe. 
 
 Up m tin- morow, « ben bel was da)', 
 I [e boskyd hem forth to n yde ; 
 
 I he pottei hes carte forthe gan ray, 
 And wolde not [be] lefFe beheynde. 
 
 I [e toke !< IU- of the screffys w yffe, 
 And thankyd her <jf all thyng : 
 
 " I 'am, i"i up \ loflfe, and ye well thys 
 wei , 
 \ geffe yow Iter a guide ryng." 
 
 I it imai ey," seyde the w< yffi , 
 ■■ Sir, god eylde het i 1 
 
 crefFes hart was never so leythe, 
 The feyr forest to se. 
 
 And when he earn ynto the foreyst, 
 
 Yonder the leffes grene, 
 I lei dys thei mge on bowhes prest, 
 
 I let was gret joy to sene. 
 
 1 [er het ys mercy to be," seyde Roben, 
 •• Foi a man that bad hawt to spende , 
 I le mi y lun ne wi schall aw< I 
 Wit Roben Eiode he nei hande. 
 217
 
 Ballads 
 
 Roben set hes home to hes niowthe, 
 And blow a blast that was full god, 
 
 That herde hes men that ther stode, 
 Fer downe yn the wodde ; 
 
 " I her mey master," seyde Leytell John ; 
 They ran as thay wer wode. 
 
 Whan thay to thar master cam, 
 
 Leytell John wold not spar ; 
 " Master, how haffe yow far yn Notyng- 
 gam? 
 
 How haffe yow solde yowr war ? " 
 
 "Ye, be mey trowthe, Leytyll John, 
 
 Loke thow take no car ; 
 Y haffe browt the screffe of Notynggara, 
 
 For all howr chaffar. " 
 
 " He ys foil wellcom," seyde Lytyll John, 
 "Thes tydyng ys foil godde ; " 
 
 The screffe had lever nar a hundred ponde 
 [He had never sene Roben Hode. ] 
 
 " Had I west that beforen, 
 At Notynggam when we wer, 
 
 Thow scholde not com yn feyr forest 
 Of all thes thowsande eyr." 
 
 "That wot y well," seyde Roben, 
 " Y thankc god that ye be her ; 
 
 Therfor schall ye leffe yowr horse with ho 
 And all your hother ger." 
 
 "That fend I godys forbode," kod the 
 screffe, 
 " So to lese mey godde ; " 
 " Hether ye cam on horse foil hey, 
 And horn schall ye go on fote ; 
 218
 
 
 And grot well they weyffe at home, 
 The woman ys foil godde. 
 
 "V schall her sende .1 wheyt palflVey, 
 Het hambellel as the weynde ; 
 
 Ner for the loffe of yowr weyffe, 
 Off mor sorow scholde yow seyng." 
 
 Thes parted Robyn Hodeand thescreffe, 
 To Notynggam he toke the wayc ; 
 
 Hes weyffe feyr welcomed hem horn, 
 And to hem gan sche saye : 
 
 "Seyr, how haffe yow fared yn grene 
 foreyst ? 
 1 [affe ye brovvt Roben horn ? " 
 ' ' 1 lam, the deyell spedc him, bothc bodey 
 and bon, 
 Y haffe hade a foil grete skorne. 
 
 " Of all the god that y haffe lade to grene 
 wod, 
 
 He hayt take het f 1 o me, 
 All bo I this feyr palffrey, 
 
 That he hayt sende to the." 
 
 With that sche toke op a Iowde lawbyng, 
 
 And swhar be hem that deyed on tre, 
 " Now haffe yow payed for all the petty 
 That Roben gaffe to me. 
 
 " Now ye be com horn to Notynggam, 
 
 Yc schall haffe god ynowe ; " 
 Now speke we of Roben 1 lode, 
 And of the pottyr onder the gr 
 bow he. 
 
 " Potter, what was they pottys worthe 
 To Notynggam that y ledde with me?" 
 219
 
 Ballads 
 
 " They wer worth two nobellys," seyd he, 
 
 " So mot y treyffe or the ; 
 So cowde y had tor tham, 
 
 And y had ther be." 
 
 "I how schalt hafe ten ponde," seyde 
 Roben, 
 
 " Of money feyr and fre ; 
 And yever whan thou comest to grene wod, 
 
 Wellcom, potter to me." 
 
 Thes partyd Robyn, the serene, and the 
 potter, 
 
 Ondernethe the grene-wod tie ; 
 God haffe mersey on Robyn Hotlys solle, 
 
 And saffe all god yemanrey ! 
 
 220
 
 RUBIN HOOD AND THE 
 BUTCHER 
 
 i OME, all you brave gallants, and listen awhile, 
 II 'ith fu down, an a ,i 
 
 1 hat arc in the bowers within ; 
 For of Robin Hood, that arch 
 
 A song I intend fur to sing. 
 
 Upon a time it chain ed o, 
 
 Hold Robin in forrest did 'spy 
 A jolly butcher, with a bonny hue mare, 
 
 With his flesh to the market did hye. 
 
 "Good morrow, good fellow," said jolly 
 kobin, 
 " What food hast [thou]? tell unto me ; 
 Thy trade to me tell, and when- thou do I 
 dwell, 
 For I like well thy company." 
 
 The butcher he answer'd jolly Robin, 
 
 " No matter where I dwell ; 
 For a butcher 1 am, and to Nottingham 
 
 I am going, my flesh to 
 
 "What's [the] price of thy flesh?" said , 
 Robin, 
 "Come, tell it soon unto me ; 
 And the price of thy mare, be she never so 
 de u , 
 For i butcher fain would i I - 
 
 221
 
 Ballads 
 
 " The price of my flesh," the butcher repli'd, 
 
 " I soon will tell unto thee; 
 With my bonny mare, and they are not too 
 dear, 
 
 Four mark thou must give unto me." 
 
 " Four mark I will give thee," saith jolly Robin, 
 
 " Four mark it shall be thy fee ; 
 The mony come count, and let me mount, 
 
 For a butcher I fain would be." 
 
 Now Robin he is to Nottingham gone, 
 
 His butchers trade to begin ; 
 With good intent to the sheriff he went, 
 
 And there he took up his inn. 
 
 When other butchers did open their meat, 
 
 Bold Robin he then begun ; 
 But how for to sell he knew not well, 
 
 For a butcher he was but young. 
 
 When other butchers no meat could sell, 
 
 Robin got both gold and fee ; 
 For he sold more meat for one peny 
 
 Then others could do for three. 
 
 But when he sold his meat so fast, 
 No butcher by him could thrive ; 
 
 For he sold more meat for one peny 
 Than others could do for five. 
 
 Which made the butchers of Nottingham 
 
 To study as they did stand, 
 Saying, "Surely he ' is' some prodigal, 
 
 That hath sold his fathers land.' 
 222
 
 Ballads 
 
 The butchers stepped to jolly Robin, 
 
 A< quainted with him for io be ; 
 "Conic, brother," one said, "we be nil of 
 one trade, 
 
 ( ome, will you go dine with me ? ' 
 
 " Accurst of his heart," said jolly Robin, 
 
 " That a butchei doth deny ; 
 I will fto with you, my brethren true, 
 
 As fast as 1 can hie." 
 
 But when to the sheriffs house they came, 
 
 To dinner they hied apace, 
 And Robin Hood he the man must be 
 
 Before them all to say grace. 
 
 " Pray God bless us all," said jolly Robin, 
 " And OUT meat within this place ; 
 
 A cup of sack so good will noui ish our blood, 
 And so do I end my g 
 
 "Come fill us more wine," said jolly Robin, 
 
 " I .' t u I"- merry while we do \ tay ; 
 For wine and good chi e , 1'.- it never so dear, 
 
 I vow I the reckoning will pay. 
 
 "Come, ' I. ! others,' be merry," said jolly 
 Robin, 
 " I .it us drink, and never give ore ; 
 For the shot I will pay, ere I go mj way, 
 
 II it cost me live pounds and mo 
 
 " This is a mad blade," the butchers then said ; 
 
 Saies the shei iff, "He i i ome | lig J 
 
 'I'll. it some land lias sold foi ilvei and gold, 
 
 And now lie doth mean to spend all. 
 223
 
 ] nil lads 
 
 "Hast thou any horn beasts," the sheriff 
 repli'd, 
 
 " Good fellow, to sell unto me ? " 
 " Yes, that I have, good master sheriff, 
 
 I have hundreds two or three ; 
 
 " And a hundred aker of good free land, 
 
 If you please it to see : 
 And He make you as good assurance of it, 
 
 As ever my father made me." 
 
 The sheriff he saddled his good palfrey, 
 
 And, with three hundred pound in gold, 
 Away he went with bold Robin Hood, 
 His horned beasts to behold. 
 
 Away then the sheriff and Robin did ride, 
 To the forrest of merry Sherwood ; 
 
 Then the sheriff did say, " (Jod bless us this 
 day 
 From a man they call Robin J food ! 
 
 ! ! 
 
 But when a little farther they came, 
 
 Hold Robin he chanced to spy 
 A hundred head of good red deer, 
 
 Come tripping the sheriff lull nigh. 
 
 " How like you my hoin'd beasts, good in tei 
 sheriff? 
 
 They be fat and fair for to see ; " 
 ' ' I tell thee, good fellow, I would I were gone, 
 
 For I like not thy company." 
 
 Then Robin set his horn to his mouth, 
 
 And blew but blasts three ; 
 Then quickly anon there came Little John, 
 
 And all his company. 
 224
 
 liallads 
 
 "What is your will, master?" then 
 Little John, 
 " ( iood master come tell unto me ;" 
 " I have brought hither the sheriff of Notting- 
 ham 
 This day to dine with thee." 
 
 " He is welcome tome," then said Little John, 
 
 " I hope he will honestly pay; 
 I know he has gold, if it be but well told, 
 
 Will serve us to drink a whole i! y." 
 
 Then Robin took his mantle from his back, 
 
 And laid it upon the ground : 
 And out of the sheriffs portmantle 
 
 He told three hundred pound. 
 
 Then Robin he brought him thorow the wood, 
 And set him on his dapple gray ; 
 
 " O have me commended to your wife at 
 home ; " 
 So Robin went laughing away. 
 
 225
 
 NOTES
 
 NOTKS 
 
 Sn< Patrj ns.— p. i. 
 
 Mr, tun n funis the first published version of "the 
 old ballad ol Sir Patrick Spen ,' as ( oleridge 
 calls it, in Bi ;hop Percy's Reliques. Here the name is 
 "Spence," and the middle rhyme 
 
 " Haf owre, hafowrc to Aberdour," 
 
 is not of early date. The "Cork-heeled Shoon," too, 
 cannot be early, but ballads aie subject, in oral tra- 
 dition, to such modern interpolations. The verse about 
 the Indies waiting vainly is anticipated in a populai 
 song "i thi fourteenth century, on a defeat of the 
 noblesse in Inlanders — 
 
 "Their ladies them may abide in bower and hall well 
 long ! " 
 
 If there be historical foundation for the ballad, it is 
 probably a blending of the voyage of Margaret, 
 daughter of Alexander III., to wed Eric, King of 
 Norway, in 1281 (some of her escort were drowned or 
 their way home . with the rather mysterious death, or 
 disappearance) <>f Margaret's daughter, "The Maid of 
 to marry the son of Edward 
 
 1., in 1290. A woman, who alleged that she was the 
 Maid of Norway, was later burned at the stake. The 
 great number and variety of versions sufficiently in- 
 dicate the antiquity of this ballad, wherein exact history 
 is not to be expected. 
 
 229
 
 Notes 
 
 The Battle of Otterburn. — p. 5. 
 
 From The Border Minstrelsy, Sir Walter Scott's 
 latest edition of 1833: the copy in the edition of 1S02 
 is less complete. The gentle and joyous passage of 
 arms here recorded, took place in August 1388. We 
 have an admirable account of Otterburn fight from 
 Froissart, who revels in a gallant encounter, fairly 
 fought out hand to hand, with no intervention of archery 
 or artillery, and for no wretched practical purpose. 
 In such a combat the Scots, never renowned for suc- 
 cess at long bowls, and led by a Douglas, were likely 
 to prove victorious, even against long odds, and when 
 taken by surprise. 
 
 Choosing an advantage in the discordant days of 
 Richard II., the Scots mustered a very large force near 
 Jedburgh, merely to break lances on English ground, 
 and take ioot. Learning that, as they advanced by the 
 Carlisle route, the English intended to invade Scotland 
 by Berwick and the east coast, the Scots sent three or 
 four hundred men-at-arms, with a few thousand mounted 
 archers and pikemen, who should harry Northumber- 
 land to the walls of Newcastle. These were led by 
 James, Earl of Douglas, March, and Murray. In a 
 fight at Newcastle, Douglas took Harry Percy's pen- 
 non, which Hotspur vowed to recover. The retreat 
 began, but the Scots waited at Otterburn, partly to 
 besiege the castle, partly to abide Hotspur's challenge. 
 He made his attack by moonlight, with overwhelming 
 odds, but was hampered by a marsh, and incommoded 
 by a flank attack of the Scots. Then it came to who 
 would pound longest, with axe and sword. Douglas 
 cut his way through the English, axe in hand, and was 
 overthrown, but his men protected his body. The 
 Sinclairs and Lindsay raised hi:, banner, with his cry; 
 March and Dunbar came up; Hotspur was taken by 
 Montgomery, and the English were routed with heavy 
 loss. Douglas was buried in Melrose Abbey ; very 
 many years later the English defiled his grave, but 
 were punished at Ancram Moor. There is an English 
 poem on the fight of "about 1550"; it has many 
 analogies witli our Scottish version, and, doubtless, 
 ours descends from a ballad almost contemporary. The 
 ballad was a great favourite of Scott's. In a severe 
 2}0
 
 Notes 
 
 illness, thinking of Lockhart, no( yet his son-in-law, he 
 quoted — 
 
 " My wound is deep ( I fain would sleep, 
 Take thou the vanguard of the three." 
 
 Mr. Child thinks the command to 
 
 "yield to the hracken-bush " 
 
 unmartial. This does not seem a strung objection, in 
 Froissart's time. It is explained in an oral fragment — 
 
 " Tor there lies aneth yon bracken-bush 
 Wha aft has conquered mair than thee." 
 
 Mr. Child also thinks that the "dreary dream" muv 1 i 
 . . ■{ . i . - « 1 frnin I Inini' of Godscroft. It is at least as pro 
 bable that Godscroft borrowed from the ballad which 
 he cites. The embroidered gauntlet of the Percy is in 
 the possession of Douglas of Cavers to this day. 
 
 I i Lin, or Tamlane. — p. 10. 
 
 Burns's version, in Johnson's Museum (1792). 
 Scott' version is made up of this copy, Riddell' 
 II rd' , and oral recitations, and contains feeble literary 
 interpolati of course, by Sir Walter. The Com- 
 
 plaint of Scotland (1549) mentions the "Tale of the 
 Voung Tamlene" as then popular. It is needless here- 
 to enter into the Subjei t of fairyland, and captures of 
 mortals by Fairies; the Editor has said his say in his 
 edition of Kirk's .'»'• 1 ret ( 'omntonwealth. The Neri 
 in Modi in Gn ■ 1 1 , practise fairy cantrips, and the same 
 beliefs exist in i 1 New Caledonia. Themeta- 
 
 morpho • are found in thi Boole iv., in 
 
 the winning of Thetis, the Pit id, or Fairy Bride, 
 by Peleus, in a modem Cretan fairy tale, and so on. 
 There is a similar ini idl nl in /'. 
 gambian ballad (Conies Pofulaires de /ii Stnegambie, 
 Berenger Ferand, Paris, 1885). The dipping of Tarn 
 lane has precedents in Old Deccan Days, in a 
 Hottentot tale by Bleek, and in Lcs Deux Frires, 
 the Egyptian story. I bj Ma pero (the Editor 
 
 has already given t! dlels in a note to Border 
 
 Ballads, by Graham R. Tomson). Mr. Child also 
 cites Mannhardt, " Wald und Feldkulte," ii. I . 
 
 231
 
 Notes 
 
 Carterhaugh, tlie scene of the ballad, is at the junction 
 of Ettrick and Yarrow, between Bowhill and Philip- 
 haugh. 
 
 Thomas Rymer— p. 16. 
 
 From The Border Minstrelsy ; the original was 
 derived from a lady living near Erceldoune (Earlston), 
 and from Mrs. Brown's MSS. That Thomas of 
 Erceldoune had some popular fame as a rhymer and 
 soothsayer as early as 1320-1350, seems to be established. 
 As late as the Forty Five, nay, even as late as the 
 expected Napoleonic invasion, sayings attributed to 
 Thomas were repeated with some measure of belief. 
 A real Thomas Rymer of Erceldoune witnessed an 
 undated deed of Peter de Haga, early in the thirteenth 
 century. The dc Hagas, or Haigs of Bemcrsyde, were 
 the subjects of the prophecy attributed to Thomas, 
 
 "Betide, betide, whate'er betide, 
 There will aye be a Haig in Bemersyde," 
 
 and a Haig still owns that ancient chateau on the 
 Tweed, which has a singular set of traditions. Lear- 
 mont is usually given as the Erceldoune family name ; 
 a branch of the family owned Dairsie in Fifeshire, and 
 were a kind of hereditary provosts of St. Andrews. 
 If Thomas did predict the death of Alexander III., or 
 rather report it by dint of clairvoyance, he must have 
 lived till 1206. The date of the poem on the Fairy 
 Queen, attributed to Thomas, is uncertain, the story 
 itself is a variant of " Ogier the Dane." The scene is 
 Huntly Bank, under Eildon Hill, and was part of the 
 lands acquired, at fantastic prices, by Sir Walter Scott. 
 His passion for land was really part of his passion for 
 collecting antiquities. The theory of Fairyland here 
 (as in many other Scottish legends and witch trials) is 
 borrowed from the Pre-Christian Hades, and the Fairy 
 Queen is a late refraction from Persephone. Not to 
 eat, in the realm of the dead, is a regular precept of 
 savage belief, all the world over. Mr. Robert Kirk's 
 Secret Commonwealth of Elves, Fauns, and Fairies 
 may be consulted, or the Editor's Perrault, p. xxxv. 
 (Oxford, 1888). Of the later legends about Thomas, 
 Scott gives plenty, in The Border Minstrelsy. The 
 232
 
 Notes 
 
 long .mi km romantic poem on the subject is probably 
 
 the Minn e uf the ballad, though a local ballad may have 
 preceded tbe long poem. Scott named the glen through 
 which the Bogle Burn flow.-, to Chiefs wood, " The 
 Rhymer's Glen." 
 
 Sir Hugh. — p. 19. 
 
 The date of the Martyrdom of Hugh is attributed 
 by Matthew Paris to 1225. Chancer puts a version in 
 the mouth of his Prioress. No doubt the story must 
 have linn a mere excuse fur Jew-baiting. In America 
 tin lew !><-< Him "The l>ul.e"in aversion picked up 
 by Mr. Newells, from the recitation of a street boy in 
 New York. The daughter of a Jew is not more likely 
 than the daughter of a duke to have been concerned 
 in the cruel and blasphemous imitation of the horrors 
 attributed by Horace to the witch Canidia. Bui some 
 such survivals of pagan sorcery did survive in the 
 Middle Ages, under the influence of "Satanism." 
 
 Son Davii-:. — p. 22. 
 
 Motherwell's version. One of many ballads on 
 fratricide, instigated by the mother: or inquired into 
 by her, as the case may be. "Edward" is another 
 example of this gloomy situation. 
 
 The Wife of Usher's Well.— p. 24. 
 Here 
 
 " The cock doth craw, the day doth daw," 
 
 having a middle rhyme, can scarcely be of extreme 
 antiquity. Probably, in the original poem, the dead 
 return to rebuke the extreme grief of the Mother, but 
 the poem is perhaps really more affecting in the absence 
 of a didactic motive. Scott obtained it from an old 
 woman in West Lothian. Probably the reading 
 "fashes" (troubles), "in the flood" is correct, not 
 "fishes," or "freshes." The mother desires that the 
 sea may never cease to be troubled till her sons return 
 (verse 4, line 2). The peculiar doom of women dead in 
 child bearing occurs even in Aztec mythol 
 
 233
 
 Notes 
 
 The Twa Corbies.— p. 26. 
 
 From the third volume of Border Minstrelsy, derived 
 by Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpc from a traditional 
 version. The English version, "Three Ravens," was 
 published in Me/ismata, by T. Ravensworth (1611). 
 In Scots, the lady "has ta'en another mate" his hawk 
 and hound have deserted the dead knight. In the 
 English song, the hounds watch by him, the hawks 
 keep off carrion birds, as for the lady — 
 
 " She buried him before the prime, 
 She was dead herselfe ere evensong time." 
 
 Probably the English is the earlier version. 
 
 The Bonnie Earl of Murray. — p. 27. 
 
 Huntly had a commission to apprehend the Earl, 
 who was in the disgrace of James VI. Huntly, as an 
 ally of Bothwell, asked him to surrender at Donibristlc, 
 in Fife ; he would not yield to his private enemy, the 
 house was burned, and Murray was slain, Huntly 
 gashing his face. "You have spoiled a better face 
 than your own," said the dying Earl (1592). James 
 Melville mentions contemporary ballads on the murder. 
 Ramsay published the ballad in his Tea Table Miscel- 
 lany, and it is often sung to this day. 
 
 Clerk Saunders. — p. 30. 
 
 First known as published in Border Minstrelsy 
 (1802). The apparition of the lover is borrowed from 
 " Sweet Willie's Ghost." The evasions practised by 
 the lady, and the austerities vowed by her have many 
 Norse, French, and Spanish parallels in folk-poetry. 
 Scott's version is "made up" from several sources, but 
 is, in any case, verse most satisfactory as poetry. 
 
 Waly, Wai.y. — p. 35. 
 
 From Ramsay's Tea Table Miscellany, a curiously 
 composite gathering of verses. There is a verse, obvi- 
 ously a variant, in a sixteenth eentury song, cited by 
 
 234
 
 Not, i 
 
 len. St Anthon's Well is on a liill slope of Arthur's 
 Seat, near Holyrood. Herejeanii Di in trystedwith 
 her sister's seducer, in The Heart pf Midlothian. 
 The Cairn ofNichol Mushat, the wife-murderer, i 
 far olf. The ruins of Anthony's Chapel are still extant 
 
 Lovi G ■.. — p. 37. 
 I here are French ami Romaic variants uf tins ballad. 
 
 I ochroyal," where the ballad is localized, is in \\ ig 
 townshire, but the localization varies. The "tol 
 are as old as the Return of ( Idysseus, in the Odyssey: 
 his 1 iken is the singular construction <>f his bridal I" d, 
 attached by him toa living tree trunk. A similar legend 
 occurs in Chinese. See Gerland's Att-Griechische 
 M&rchen. 
 
 The Qi ben's Makik— Mary Hamilton.— p. 41. 
 
 A made-up copy from Si 'It's edition of 1833. This 
 ballad has caused a great deal of controversy. Queen 
 Mary had no Mary Hamilton among her Four Maries. 
 No Marie was executed for child-murder, liut we 
 know, from Knox, that ballads were recited against the 
 
 Maries, and that one of Mary's chamberwomen was 
 hanged, with her lover, a pottinger, or apothecary, foi 
 
 getting rid of her infant. 'I hose last facts weie certainly 
 quit< ba -i^ 1 nough for a ballad, the ballad echoing, not 
 hi tory-but rumour, and rumour adapted to the popular 
 taste. Thus the ballad might ha ' i^ed, 
 
 iurvival) more 01 I in time, of Queen 
 
 M.n \ 5 period. But in 1719 a Mary Hamilton, a Maid 
 of I lonour, of Sc >tti> h di cenl • in Russia, 
 
 for infantii id Ch I Kirl patrii 1. Sh ived 
 
 that this affair was the ori in of the ballad, ai 
 followed by Mi. Child. 
 
 We reply (1) The ballad has almost lb 
 number of variants on record. This is .1 
 antiquity. Variants so many, differing in all sorts of 
 points, could not have arisen between 1719, and the 
 age of Burns, who quoti ; the poem. 
 
 (2) This is especially improbable, because, in 1719, 
 the old vein of ballad poetry had run dry, popular song 
 
 235
 
 Notes 
 
 had chosen other forms, and no literary imitator could 
 have written Mary Hamilton in 1719. 
 
 (3) There is no example of a popular hallad in which 
 a contemporary event, interesting just because it is 
 contemporary, is thrown back into a remote age. 
 
 (4) The name, Mary Hamilton, is often not given 
 to the heroine in variants of the ballad. She is of 
 several names and ranks in the variants. 
 
 (5) As Mr. Child himself remarked, the "pottingcr" 
 of the real story of Queen Mary's time occurs in one 
 variant. There was no " pottingcr " in the Russian 
 affair. . , , 
 
 All these arguments, to which others might be added, 
 seem fatal to the late date and modern origin of the 
 ballad, and Mr. Child's own faith in the hypothesis was 
 shaken, if not overthrown. 
 
 Kinmont Willie.— p. 45. 
 
 From The Border Minstrelsy. The account in 
 Satchells has either been based on the ballad, or the 
 ballad is based on Satchells. After a meeting, on the 
 Border of Salkeld of Corby, and Scott of Plaining, 
 Kinmont Willie was seized by the English as he rode 
 home from the tryst. Being "wanted," he was lodged 
 in Carlisle Castle, and this was a breach of the dayjs 
 truce. IJuccleugh, as warder, tried to obtain Willie's 
 release by peaceful means. These failing, IJuccleugh 
 did what the ballad reports, April 13, 1596. Harden 
 and Goudilands were with Buccleugh, being his neigh- 
 bours near Branxholme. Dicky of Dryhope, with 
 others, Armstrongs, was also true to the call of 
 duty. A few verses in the ballad are clearly by met 
 Gualtcrus aut diabolus, and none the worse for that. 
 Salkeld, of course, was not really slain ; and, if the 
 men were " left for dead," probably they were not long 
 in that debatable condition. In the rising of 1745 
 Prince Charlie's men forded Eden as boldly as Buc- 
 cleuch, the Prince saving a drowning Highlander with 
 his own hand. 
 
 Jamie Telfer.— p. s 2 - 
 
 Scott, for once, was wrong in his localities. The 
 Dodhead of the poem is not that near Singlee, in 
 236
 
 .\ 
 
 Kttrick, but a place of the same name, near Skelfhill, 
 on the southern side of Teviot, within three mile oi 
 Stobs, where Telfer vainly seeks help from Klliot. 
 The other Dodhead is at a great distance from Stobs, 
 
 lip Boithwiclc Water, over the tableland, past Clcarburn 
 Loch and Buccleugh, and so down Kttrick, past Tushie- 
 law. The Catslockhill is not that on Yarrow, near 
 Ladhope, but another near Branxholme, whence it is 
 no far cry to Branxholme Hall. Borthwick Water, 
 Goudilands [below Branxholme , Commonside (a little 
 farther up Teviot), Allanhaugh, and the other places 
 of the Scotts, were all easily "warned." There are 
 traces of a modern hand in this excellent ballad. The 
 topography is here corrected from .MS. notes in a lirst 
 edition of the Minstrelsy, in the library of Mr. Charles 
 Grieve at Branxholme Park, a scion of "auld Jock 
 Grieve" of the Coidtarl Cleugh. Names linger long in 
 pleasant Teviotdale. 
 
 The Douglas Tragedy.— p. 59. 
 
 The ballad has Norse analogues, but is here localized 
 on the Dougla Turn, a tributary of yarrow, on the 
 left bank. The St. Mary's Kill; would be that now 
 ruinous, on St. Mary's Lo< h, the chapel burned by the 
 Lady of IJranxhohue when 
 
 " gathered a band 
 Of the best that would ride at her command, 
 
 in the Lay 0/ the Lust Minstrel. The ancient keep 
 of Blackhou • on Dou las Burn may have been the 
 home of the heroine, if we are to localize. 
 
 The Bonny Hind. — p. 62. 
 
 Herd got this tragic ballad from a milkmaid, in 1771. 
 Mr. Child quotes a verse parallel, preserved in Faroe, 
 ami 111 the b elandic. There is a similar incident in the 
 cycle of Kullervo, in the Finnish Kalevala. Scott >\ 
 that similar ti immon in Scotch popular 
 
 poetry ; such cases are I ) ie Wan," and "The King's 
 Dochter, Lady Jeai \ 
 
 in the Freni h " Ah!! White D a brother kills his 
 
 r, metamorphosed into v»lui< leer, "The Bridge 
 j * —
 
 Notes 
 
 of Death" (French) seems to hint at something of the 
 same kind ; Or rather the Editor finds thai he lias aria 
 trarily read "The Bonny Hind" into "Le Pont des 
 Morts," in Puymaigre's Chants Populates du Pays 
 \1, tsin, p. 60. {Ballads and Lyrics o f Old France, 
 p. 63.) 
 
 Young Beichan, or Young Hicham.— p. 65. 
 
 This is the original of the Cockney Loving Ballad of 
 Lord Battman, illustrated by Cruikshank, and by 
 Thackeray. There is a vast number of variants, 
 evidence to the antiquity of the story. The earliest 
 known trace is in the familiar legend of the Saracen 
 lady, who sought and found her lover, Gilbert Bccket, 
 father of Thomas a Becket, in London (see preface to 
 Life of Bccket, or Beket), Percy Society, 1845. The 
 date may be circ. 1300. The kind of story, the loving 
 daughter of the cruel captor, isas old as Medea and Jason, 
 and her search for her lover comes in such Marchen as 
 "The Black Bull o' Norraway." No story is more 
 widely diffused (see A Far Travelled Tale, in the 
 Editor's Custom and Myth). The appearance of the 
 "True Love," just at her lover's wedding, is common 
 in the Marchen of the world, and occurs in a Romaic 
 ballad, as well as in many from Northern Europe. 
 The "local colour"— the Moor or Saracen— is derived 
 from Crusading times, perhaps. Motherwell found the 
 ballad recited with intervals of prose narrative, as in 
 Aucassin and Nicolette. The notes to Cruikshank s 
 Loving Ballad arc, obviously, by Thackeray. 
 
 The Bonny House o' Airly.— p. 73- 
 
 Lord Airly's houses were destroyed by Argyll, re- 
 presenting the Covenanters, and also in pursuance of 
 a private feud, in [639, or 1640. There are erroneous 
 versions of this ballad, in which Lochiel appears, and 
 the date is, apparently, transferred to 1745. Montrose, 
 in his early Covenanting days, was not actually con- 
 cerned in the burning of the Bonnie House, which he 
 when a Royalist, revenged on the possessions of 
 "gleyed Argyll." The reference to " Charlie ' is out 
 of keeping; no one, perhaps, ever called Charles 1. 
 238
 
 Notes 
 
 by th it affectionate name. Lady Ogilvie had nol the 
 large family attributed to her: her son, Lord Ogilvie, 
 escaped f'r • mi prison in th I >l St. Andrews, after 
 
 Philiphaugh. A Ix>rd Ogilvie was OUl in 1745, and, 
 later, had a regiment in the French Service. Few 
 families have a record so consistently loyal. 
 
 Rob Roy.— p. 75. 
 
 The abductors of the widowed young heiress of 
 Edenhelly were Rob's sons, Robin <>u, who went 
 through a form of marriage with the girl, and James 
 Mohr, a good soldier, but a double-dyed spy and 
 scoundrel. Robin Oig was hanged in 1753. James 
 Mohr, a detected traitor to Prince Charles, died 
 miserably in Paris, in r7S4. Readers of Mr. Steven- 
 son's Catriona know James well : information as to 
 his villanies is extant in Additional MSS. (British 
 .Museum). This is probably the latest ballad in the 
 collection. It occurs in several variants, some "I 
 which, copied out by Burns, derive thence a certain 
 accidental interest. In Mr. Stevenson's Catriona, the 
 heroine of that name takes a thoroughly Highland 
 view of the abduction, Robin Oig, in any case, was 
 " nane the waur o' a hanging," foi he shot a Maclaren 
 at tlir plough tail, before the Forty Five. The trial of 
 thi 1 on "i Alpi-n was published shortly aftei Si 
 AW' Roy. 
 
 Kll l.IECRANKIK.— p. 77. 
 
 Fought on July vj, i68p. Not on the haugh near 
 the modern road by the railway, but higher up the hill, 
 in the grounds ol (Jrrard House. Twosheltei trenchi . 
 whence Dundee's men charged, are -till visible, high 
 on the hillside above Urrard. There is said, by Mr. 
 Child, to have been a contemporary hi ol the 
 
 ballad, which is an example of the evolution of 
 popular ballads from the old traditional mo, lei. There 
 is .mother song, by, or attributed to, Bums, and of 
 remarkable spirit an. I vigour. 
 
 239
 
 Notes 
 
 Annan_Water.— p. 79. 
 
 ' From The Border Minstrelsy. Scott says that these 
 are the original words of the tune of "Allan Water," 
 and that he has added two verses from a variant with 
 a fortunate conclusion. "Allan Water "is a common 
 river name ; the stream so called joins Teviot above 
 Branxholme. Annan is the large stream that flows 
 into the Solway Frith. The Gate-slack, in Annandale, 
 fixes the locality. 
 
 The Elphin Nourrice. — p. 81. 
 
 This curious poem is taken from the reprint of 
 Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe's tiny Ballad Hook, itself 
 now almost introuvable. It does not, to the Editor's 
 knowledge, occur elsewhere, but is probably authentic. 
 The view of the Faery Queen is more pleasing and 
 sympathetic than usual. Why mortal women were 
 desired as nurses (except to attend on stolen mortal 
 children, kept to "pay the Kane to hell") is not 
 obvious. Irish beliefs are precisely similar ; in England 
 they are of frequent occurrence. 
 
 Johnnie Armstrang.— p. 87. 
 
 Armstrang of Gilnockie was a brother of the laird of 
 Mangertoun. He had a kind of Robin Hood reputa- 
 tion on the Scottish Border, as one who only robbed 
 the English. Pitscottie's account of his slaying by 
 James V. (1529) reads as if the ballad were his authority, 
 and an air for the subject is mentioned in the Coin- 
 plaint 0/ Scotland. In Sir Herbert Maxwell's History 
 of Dumfries ami Calloway is an excellent account of 
 the historical facts of the case. 
 
 Edom o' Gordon. — p. 92. 
 
 Founded on an event in the war-- between Kingsmen 
 and Queensmen, in the minority of James VI., while 
 Queen Mary was imprisoned in England. " Edom 
 was Adam ( lordon of Auchindown, brother of Huntley, 
 and a Queen's man. He, by his retainer, Car, or Ker. 
 240
 
 Notes 
 burned Towic House, a seat of the Forbes's. Ker 
 
 recurs in the long and more or less literary ballad of 
 The Battle o/ Balritmes. In variants the localities 
 arc much altered, and, in one version, the SI cue is 
 transferred to Ayrshire, and Loudoun Castle. All the 
 ballads of tire-raising, a very usual practice, have 
 points in common, and transference was easy. 
 
 Lady Anne Bothwki.l's Lament.— p. 98. 
 Tradition has confused the heroine of this piece with 
 
 the wife of Bothwelhaugb, who slew the Regent 
 
 Murray. That his motive was 11.. t mere political 
 
 assassination, but to avenge the ill-treatment and death 
 
 of his wife, seems to be disproved bj M.iidmcnt. I he 
 affair, however, is still obscure. This descried 1 ,id\ 
 Anne of the ballad was, in fact, not the wiii 
 Bothwelhaugh, but the daughter of the Bishop of 
 
 Orkney; hei I r is said to have been her cousin, 
 
 Alexander Erskine, son of the Earl of Mar. Part oi 
 the poem (Mr. Child points out) occurs in Bro 
 play, The Northern /.ass (1632). Though .1 popular 
 favourite, the piece- is clearly of literary origin, and 
 h.is been severely "edited" by 1 literary hand. This 
 version is Allan Ramsay's, 
 
 Joe k o' nil Side.— p. 101. 
 
 A Liddesdale chant. Jock flourished about 1550- 
 1570, and is commemorated as a reiver by Sir Richard 
 Mankind in a poem often quoted. The analogies of 
 this ballad with that of " Kinmonl Willii are very 
 
 The reference to a punch bowl sound- 1 1, 1 n , 
 
 and the tale is nun b less plausible th in 1I1 U of " Kia- 
 mont Willie," which, however, bears a few obvious 
 marks of Sir Walter's own hand. A sceptical editor 
 must choose between two theories: cither Scotl ol 
 Satchells founded Ins account of the affaii ol " Kin- 
 mont Willie" on .1 pre-existing ballad ol thai name, 
 or the ballad printed by Scotl 1 based on the pn.se 
 ion itive oi Scotl of Satchi II . I he formi 1 hypothesis, 
 everything considered, is the more probable. 
 
 -'I'
 
 Notes 
 
 Lord Thomas and Fair Annet. — p. 107. 
 
 Published in Percy's Reliques, from a Scotch manu- 
 script, "with some corrections." The situation, with 
 various differences in detail and conclusion, is popular 
 in Norse and Romaic ballads, and also in many Marchen 
 of the type of The Black Bull of Norraway. 
 
 Fair Annie — p. in. 
 
 From The Border Minstrelsy. There are Danish, 
 Swedish, Dutch, and German versions, and the theme 
 enters artistic poetry as early as Marie de France (Le 
 Lai del Frame). In Scotch the Earl of Wemyss is a 
 recent importation : the earldom dates from 1633. Of 
 course this process of attaching a legend or Marchen 
 t r > a well-known name, or place, is one of the most 
 common in mythological evolution, and by itself in- 
 validates the theory which would explain myths by a 
 philological analysis of the proper names in the tale. 
 These may not be, and probably are not, the original 
 names. 
 
 The Dowie Dens of Yarrow. — p. 116. 
 
 From The Border Minstrelsy. Scott thought that 
 the hero was Walter Scott, third son of Thirlestane, 
 slain by Scott of Tushielaw. The " monument " (a 
 standing stone near Yarrow) is really of a very early, 
 rather post-Roman date, and refers to no feud of 
 Thirlestane, Oakwood, Kirkhope, or Tushielaw. Tin- 
 stone is not far from Yarrow Kirk, near a place called 
 Warrior's Rest. Hamilton of I'angour's version is 
 beautiful and well known. Quite recently a very 
 early interment of a corpse, in the curved position, was 
 discovered not far from the standing stone with the 
 inscription. Ballad, stone, and interment may all '•■ 
 distinct and separate. 
 
 Sir Roland. — p. 119. 
 
 From Motherwell's Minstrelsy. The authenticity 
 of the ballad is dubious, but, if a forgery, it is a very 
 242
 
 Not, i 
 
 skilled one for the early nineteenth century. Poi I 
 like Mr. Swinburne, Mr. kossclti, and Mrs. Marriol 
 Watson have imitated the genuine popular ballad, hut 
 never so closely a ■ the author of " Sir Roland." 
 
 vii Red i -. White Lily. — p. 123. 
 
 From the Tamieson-Brown M iginally written 
 
 out by Mrs. Brown in 1783: Sir Walter mad 
 
 in The Bordtr Minstrelsy. The ballad is clearly a 
 
 composite aiT.iir. Robert Chambers regarded Mrs. 
 Brown as the Mrs. Harris of ballad lore, but Mr. 
 Norval Clyne's reply was absolutely crushing and 
 iii factory. 
 
 The Battle of Harlaw, — p. 131. 
 
 Fought on July 24, 1411. This fight broke the High- 
 land force in Scotland. The first version is, of course, 
 literary, perhaps a composition of 1550, or even earlier. 
 The second version is traditional, and was procured 
 by Aytoun from Lady John Scott, herself the author 
 of some beautiful son^s. But the best ballad on the 
 
 Red llai law is thai placed by Scott in the mouth of 
 Elspeth, in The Antiquary. This, indeed, is beyond 
 all rivalry the most splendid modem imitation of the 
 ancient popular Muse. 
 
 Dickie Mactiialion-.— p. 142. 
 
 A great favourite of Scott's, who heard it sung at 
 
 l\d _;e worth's, during his tour in Ireland (1825). 
 
 One verse recurs in a Jacobite chant, probably of 
 
 1745-1760, but the bibliography of Jacobite songs is 
 
 i.dly obscure. 
 
 A Lyke-wakf. Dirge.— p. 143. 
 
 From the Border Minstrelsy. The ideas are mainly 
 pre-Christian ; the Hrig o' Oread occurs in Islamite and 
 Iroquois belief, and in almo t ill mythologies the 
 have to cross a River. Music for this .iven 
 
 in Mr. Harold I '•••niton's and Miss Macleods Songs 0/ 
 
 •rt/:. 
 
 243
 
 Notes 
 
 The Laird of Waristoun.— p. 145. 
 
 This version was taken down by Sir Walter Scott 
 from his mother's recitation, for Jamieson's book of 
 ballads. Jamieson later quarrelled bitterly with Sir 
 Walter, as letters at Abbotsford prove. A variant is 
 given by Kinloch, and a longer, less poetical, but more 
 historically accurate version is given by Buchan. The 
 House of Waristoun is, or lately was, a melancholy 
 place hanging above a narrow lake, in the northern 
 suburbs of Edinburgh, near the Water of Leith. 
 Kincaid was the name of the Laird; according to 
 Chambers, the more famous lairds of Covenanting 
 times were Johnstons. Kincaid is said to have treated 
 his wife cruelly, wherefore she, or her nurse, engaged 
 one Robert Weir, an old servant of her father (Living- 
 stone of Dunipace), to strangle the unhappy man in his 
 own bedroom (July 2, 1600). The lady was beheaded, 
 the nurse was burned, and, later, Weir was also 
 executed The line 
 
 " I wish that ye may sink for sin " 
 
 occur-* in an earlier ballad on Edinburgh Castle — 
 
 " And that all for the black dinner 
 Earl Douglas got therein." 
 
 May Colven. — p. 147. 
 
 From Herd's MS. Versions occur in Polish, German, 
 .Magyar, Portuguese, Scandinavian, and in French. 
 The ballad is here localised on the Carrick coast, near 
 Girvan. The lady is regarded as a Kennedy of Culzean. 
 Prof. Bugge regards this widely diffused ballad as 
 based on the Apocryphal legend of Judith and Holo- 
 fernes. If so, the legend is diablement change en 
 route. More probably the origin is a Marchen of a 
 kind of Rakshasa fatal to women. Mr. Child has 
 collected a vast mass of erudition on the subject, and 
 by no means acquiesces in Prof. Bugge's ingenious 
 hypothesis. 
 
 Johnie Faa.— p. 150. 
 
 From Pinkerton's Scottish Ballads. The event 
 narrated is a legend of the house of Cassilis (Kennedy), 
 244
 
 Noles 
 
 but i> wholly unhistorical. "Sir John K.ia," in the 
 fable, i^ aided by Gypsies, hut, apparently, is not one 
 
 of the Earls of Kgypt, on whom Mr. Crockett's novel, 
 The Raiders, may be consulted. The ballad was lirst 
 printed, as far as is known, in Ramsay's Tea 'Table 
 Miscellany. 
 
 Hohhie Noble. — p. 152. 
 
 The hero recurs in Jock o the Side, and Jock o' the 
 Main, is an historical character, that i>, finds mention 
 in authentic records, as Scott points out. The Arm- 
 itrongs were deported in great numbers, a> "an ill 
 colony," to Ulster, by James I. Sir Herbert Maxwell's 
 Jlistory 0/ Dumfries and Galloway may be consulted 
 tor these and similar reivers. 
 
 The Twa Sisters. — p. 157. 
 
 A version of " Binnorie." The ballad here ends 
 abruptly ; doubtless the tiddler made fiddle-strings of 
 the lady's hair, and a fiddle of her breasi-bone, while 
 the instrument probably revealed the cruelty of the 
 sister. ( Hlier extant versions are composite or inter- 
 polated, so this fragment [Sharpe's) has been preferred 
 in this place. 
 
 Mary Ambree. — p. 160. 
 
 Taken by Percy from a piece in the Pepys Collection. 
 The girl warrior is a favourite figure in popular romance. 
 < >ften .-die slays a treacherous lover, as in Billy Taylor. 
 Nothing is known of Mary Ambree as an historical 
 personage ; she may be as legendary as fair maiden 
 Lilias, of Liharid's Edge, who "fought upon her 
 stumps." In that case the local name is demonstrably 
 earlier than the mythical Lilias, who fought with such 
 tenacity. 
 
 Alison Gross. — p. 165. 
 
 Jamieson gave this ballad from a manuscript, altering 
 the spelling in conformity with Seots orthography. 
 Mi Child prints the manuscript . here Jamieson's more 
 
 245
 
 Notes 
 
 familiar spelling is retained. The idea of the romance 
 occurs in a Romaic Mdrchen, but, in place of the 
 Queen of Faery, a more beautiful girl than the sorceress 
 (Nereid in Romaic), restores the youth to his true 
 shape. Mr. Child regarded the tale as " one of the 
 numerous wild growths " from Beauty and the Beast. 
 It would be more correct to say that Beauty and the 
 Beast is a late, courtly, French adaptation and ampli- 
 fication of the original popular "wild growth" which 
 first appears (in literary form) as Cupid and Psyche, 
 in Apuleius. Except for the metamorphosis, however, 
 there is little analogy in this case. The friendly act of 
 the Fairy Queen is without parallel in British Folklore, 
 but Mr. Child points out that the Nereid Queen, in 
 Greece, is still as kind as Thetis of old, not a sepulchral 
 siren, the shadow of the pagan " Fairy Queen Proser- 
 pina, as Campion calls her. 
 
 The Heir of Lynne.- p. 167. 
 
 From Percy's Folio Manuscript. There is a cognate 
 Greek epigram — 
 
 Xpvcxbi' aprjs evptnv HKnre fip6\ov at/Tap o xpvaov 
 'Ov \Cwev, ovx tupui/. rjtf/ei/ tw iivpe fipo\ov. 
 
 Gordon of Brackley. — p. 172. 
 
 This, though probably not the most authentic, is 
 decidedly the most pleasing version ; it is from Mac- 
 kay's collection, perhaps from his pen. 
 
 Edward. — p. 175. 
 
 Percy got this piece from Lord Hailes, with pseudo- 
 antiquated spelling. Mr. Swinburne has published a 
 parallel ballad " From the Finnish." There are a 
 number of parallel ballads on Cruel Brothers, and Cruel 
 Sisters, such as Sou Davie, which may be compared. 
 Fratricides and unconscious incests were motives dear 
 to popular poetry. 
 
 246
 
 \ 
 
 \ —p. 177. 
 
 1: (/<■>• Minstrelsy. That 1 • 
 
 begin to " thraw," if carelessly watched, was a prevalent 
 n. Scott gives an example: the following 
 may be added, as less well known. I he watchers bad 
 left thi . and were dining in the adjou 
 
 room, when a terrible noise was heard in the chamber 
 of ileath. None dared enter ; the minister was sent 
 for, ami passed into the room, II'.' emerged, asked for 
 a pair of tongs, and returned, bearing in the ton 
 bloody giove, and the noise ceased. I [e always declined 
 to say what be had witnessed. Ministers were > 
 cists in the last century, and the father of James Thom- 
 son, the poet, died suddenly in an interview with a 
 guest, in a haunted house. The house was pulled 
 down, as being uninhabitable. 
 
 Aui.i" Maitlanu. — p. 180. 
 
 From The Border Minstrelsy. This ballad i: inserted, 
 
 not for its merit, still less lor its authenticity, but for the 
 problem of its puzzling history. Si ott certainly got it 
 from the mother of the Enrich Shepherd, in 1801. The 
 Shepherd's father had been a grown-up man in 1745, and 
 his mother also was of great age, and unlikely to be able 
 to learn a new-forged ballad by heart. The Shepherd 
 himself (then a must unsophisticated person) said, in a 
 letter of June 30, 1001, that he was ''surprized to bear 
 this song is suspected by some to be a modern forgery : 
 the contrary will lie lust proved by most of the old 
 le, here about, having a great part of it by heart." 
 The two last lines of verse :dlv, 
 
 added by Hogg, to till a lacuna. They are especially 
 modern in style. Now thus in till up sham lacuna in 
 sham ballads of bis own, witli lines manifestly modern, 
 was a favourite trick of Surtees of Mainslorlh. He 
 u . 1 the device in " Barthram's Dirge," which entirely 
 
 took in Sir Walter, and was guilty ol many other 
 supercheries, especially of the " Fray of Suport Mill. " 
 Could the unlettered Shepherd, fond of hoaxes a 
 
 was, have invented tins stratagem, sixteen years before 
 
 he joined the Blackwood set? And is it conceivable 
 
 that his old mother, entering into the joke, would 
 
 247
 
 Notes 
 
 commit her son's fraudulent verses to memory, and 
 recite them to Sir Walter as genuine tradition? She 
 said to Scott, that the ballad " never was printed i' the 
 world, for my brothers and me learned it and many 
 mae frae auld Andrew Moore, and he learned it frae 
 auld Baby Mettlin" (Maitland?) " wha was house- 
 keeper to the first laird o' Tushilaw." (On Ettrick, 
 near Thirlestane. She doubtless meant the first of the 
 Andersons of Tushielaw, who succeeded the old lairds, 
 the Scotts.) "She was said to hae been another or a 
 guid ane, and there are many queer stories about 
 hersel', but O, she had been a grand singer o' auld 
 songs an' ballads." (Hogg's Domestic Manners of 
 Sir Walter Scott, p. 61, 1834.) 
 
 "Maitland upon auld beird gray" is mentioned by 
 Gawain Douglas, in his Pa/ice of ffonour, which the 
 Shepherd can hardly have read, and Scott identified 
 this Maitland with the ancestor of Lethington ; his 
 date was 1250-1296. On the whole, even the astute 
 Shepherd, in his early days of authorship, could hardly 
 have laid a plot so insidious, and the question of the 
 authenticity and origin of the ballad (obvious inter- 
 polations apart) remains a mystery. Who could have 
 forged it? It is, as an exercise in imitation, far beyond 
 Ifardykmite, and at least on a level with Sir Roland. 
 The possibility of such forgeries is now very slight 
 indeed, but vitiates early collections. 
 
 If we suspect Leyden, who alone had the necessary 
 knowledge of antiquities, we are still met by the im- 
 probability of old Mrs. Hogg being engaged in the 
 hoax. Moreover, Leyden was probably too keen an 
 antiquary to take part in one of the deceptions which 
 Ritson wished to punish so severely. Mr. Child 
 expresses his strong and natural suspicions of the 
 authenticity of the ballad, and Hogg is, certainly, a 
 dubious source. He took in Jeffrey with the song of 
 " Donald Macgillavray," and instantly boasted of his 
 triumph. He could not have kept his secret, after the 
 death of Scott. These considerations must not be 
 neglected, however suspicious "Auld Maitland" may 
 appear. 
 
 248
 
 \ 
 
 Tm: Broompibld Hill.— p. iSo.. 
 
 From Buchan's Ballad* of the North of Scotland. 
 There are Elizabethan references to tile poem, anil a 
 twelfth century romance turns on the main idea of sleep 
 magically induced. The lover therein is more fortunate 
 than the hero of the ballad, and, finally, overcomes the 
 spell. The idea recurs in the Norse poetry. 
 
 Willie's Lauve.— p. 193. 
 
 Scott took this hall. id from Mrs. Brown's celebrated 
 Manuscript. The kind of spell Indicated wis practised 
 
 by Hera upon Alcmena, before the birth of Heracles. 
 
 Analogous is the spell by binding writi b-knots, practised 
 
 by Simaetha on her lover, in the second Idyll of 
 
 Theocritus. Montaigne has some curious remarks on 
 these enchantment-,, explaining their power by what 1 . 
 now called "suggestion." There is a Danish parallel 
 
 to "Willie's l.ailye," translated by Jamieson. 
 
 Robin Hood- Ballads. — p. 196. 
 
 There is plentiful " learning '' about Robin Hood, 
 but no real knowledge. He is first mentioned in 
 literature, as the subject of "rhymes, ' in Piers I'. 
 man {fiirt. 1377). As a topic of ballads he must be 
 much older than that date. In i.| ;u his name was a 
 synonym for a bandit. Wyntoun, the Scots chronicler, 
 dales the outlaw in the time of Edward I. Major, the 
 Scots philosopher and master of John Knox, makes a 
 guess (taken up by Scott in Ivanhoe) at the imh.h1 
 of Richard I. Kuhn seeks to show that Hood is a 
 -.111 rival of Woden, nr of his // 'ooden, " wooden horse," 
 or hobby horse. The Robin Hood play was parallsl 
 
 with the May games, which, as Mr. Frazer shows in 
 his Golden Bough, were really survivals of a world- 
 wide religious practice. But Robin Hood need not bi 
 confused with the legendary May King. Mi. (lull 
 judiciously rejects t!" > mythologii d conjectu 
 based, as they are, on farfetched etymologies and 
 analogies. Robin is an idealized bandit, reiver, or 
 Kli-pht, as in modem Romaic ballads, and his adven 
 tures are precisely such as popular fancy everywhere 
 249
 
 Notes 
 
 attaches to such popular heroes. An historical Robin 
 there may have been, but /'remit no.r alta. 
 
 RoniN IIood and THE Monk. — p. 190. 
 
 This copy follows in Mr. Chilli's early edition, "from 
 the second edition of Ritson's Robin Hood, as collated 
 by Sir Frederic Madden." It is conjectured to be 
 "possibly as old as the reign of Edward II." That 
 the murder of a monk should be pardoned in the facile 
 way described is manifestly improbable. Kven in the 
 lawless Galloway of 1508, McGhie of Phumpton was 
 fined six merks for " throwing William Schankis, monk, 
 from his horse." (History of Dumfries and Galloway^ 
 by Sir Herbert Maxwell, p. 155.) 
 
 RoniN Hood and the Potter. — p. 209. 
 
 Published by Ritson, from a Cambridge MS., probably 
 of the reign of Henry VII. 
 
 Robin Hood and the Butcher. — p. 221. 
 
 Published by Ritson, from a Plack Letter copy in 
 the collection of Anthony Wood, the Oxford antiquary. 
 
 250
 
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