"Nay frowne not, if it hath bin told unto mee,I am like your lordship, as ever may bee;And if you will but lend me your gowne,There is none shall knowe us at fair London towne."
"Now horses and serving men thou shalt have,With sumptuous array most gallant and brave;With crosier, and miter, and rochet, and cope,Fit to appear 'fore our fader the pope."
"Now welcome, sire abbot," the king he did say,"'Tis well thou'rt come back to keepe thy day;For and if thou canst answer my questions three,Thy life and thy living both saved shall bee.
"And first, when thou seest me here in this stead,With my crown of golde so faire on my head,Among all my liege men so noble of birthe,Tell me to one penny what I am worth."
"For thirty pence our Savior was soldAmonge the false Jewes, as I have bin told;And twenty-nine is the worth of thee,For I thinke, thou art one penny worser than hee."
The king he laughed, and swore by St. Bittel,"I did not think I had been worth so littel!—Now secondly tell me, without any doubt,How soone I may ride this whole world about."
"You must rise with the sun, and ride with the same,Until the next morning he riseth againe;And then your grace need not make any doubt,But in twenty-four hours you'll ride it about."
The king lie laughed, and swore "by St. Jone,I did not think it could be gone so soone!—Now from the third question thou must not shrinke,But tell me here truly what I do thinke."
"Yea, that shall I do, and make your grace merry:You thinke I'm the abbot of Canterbury;But I'm his poor shepheard, as plain you may see,That am come to beg pardon for him and for mee."
The king he laughed, and swore "by the masse,Ile make thee lord abbot this day in his place!""Now naye, my liege, be not in such speede;For alacke I can neither write ne reade."
"Four nobles a week, then, I will give thee,For this merry jest thou hast shown unto mee;And tell the old abbot, when thou comest home,Thou hast brought him a pardon from good king John."
* * * * *
There are twelve months in all the year,As I hear many say,But the merriest month in all the yearIs the merry month of May.
Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone,With a link a down and a day,And there he met a silly old woman,Was weeping on the way.
"What news? what news, thou silly old woman?What news hast thou for me?"Said she, "There's my three sons in Nottingham townTo-day condemned to die."
"O, have they parishes burnt?" he said,"Or have they ministers slain?Or have they robbed any virgin?Or other men's wives have ta'en?"
"They have no parishes burnt, good sir,Nor yet have ministers slain,Nor have they robbed any virgin,Nor other men's wives have ta'en."
"O, what have they done?" said Robin Hood,"I pray thee tell to me.""It's for slaying of the king's fallow-deer,Bearing their long bows with thee."
"Dost thou not mind, old woman," he said,"How thou madest me sup and dine?By the truth of my body," quoth bold Robin Hood,"You could not tell it in better time."
Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone,With a link a down and a day,And there he met with a silly old palmer,Was walking along the highway.
"What news? what news, thou silly old man?What news, I do thee pray?"Said he, "Three squires in Nottingham townAre condemned to die this day."
"Come change thy apparel with me, old man,Come change thy apparel for mine;Here is forty shillings in good silvèr,Go drink it in beer or wine."
"O, thine apparel is good," he said,"And mine is ragged and torn;Wherever you go, wherever you ride,Laugh ne'er an old man to scorn."
"Come change thy apparel with me, old churl,Come change thy apparel with mine;Here are twenty pieces of good broad gold,Go feast thy brethren with wine."
Then he put on the old man's hat,It stood full high on the crown:"The first bold bargain that I come at,It shall make thee come down."
Then he put on the old man's cloak,Was patched black, blew, and red;He thought it no shame all the day long,To wear the bags of bread.
Then he put on the old man's breeks,Was patched from leg to side:"By the truth of my body," bold Robin can say,"This man loved little pride."
Then he put on the old man's hose,Were patched from knee to wrist:"By the truth of my body," said bold Robin Hood,"I'd laugh if I had any list."
Then he put on the old man's shoes,Were patched both beneath and aboon;Then Robin Hood swore a solemn oath,"It's good habit that makes a man."
Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone,With a link a down and a down,And there he met with the proud sheriff,Was walking along the town.
"O Christ you save, O sheriff!" he said;"O Christ you save and see!And what will you give to a silly old manTo-day will your hangman be?"
"Some suits, some suits," the sheriff he said,"Some suits I'll give to thee;Some suits, some suits, and pence thirteen,To-day's a hangman's fee."
Then Robin he turns him round about,And jumps from stock to stone:"By the truth of my body," the sheriff he said,"That's well jumpt, thou nimble old man."
"I was ne'er a hangman in all my life,Nor yet intends to trade;But curst be he," said bold Robin,"That first a hangman was made!
"I've a bag for meal, and a bag for malt,And a bag for barley and corn;A bag for bread, and a bag for beef,And a bag for my little small horn.
"I have a horn in my pocket,I got it from Robin Hood,And still when I set it to my mouth,For thee it blows little good."
"O, wind thy horn, thou proud fellow,Of thee I have no doubt.I wish that thou give stich a blast,Till both thy eyes fall out."
The first loud blast that he did blow,He blew both loud and shrill;A hundred and fifty of Robin Hood's menCame riding over the hill.
The next loud blast that he did give,He blew both loud and amain,And quickly sixty of Robin Hood's menCame shining over the plain.
"O, who are these," the sheriff he said,"Come tripping over the lee?""They're my attendants," brave Robin did say;"They'll pay a visit to thee."
They took the gallows from the slack,They set it in the glen,They hanged the proud sheriff on that,Released their own three men.
* * * * *
Come listen to me, you gallants so free,All you that love mirth for to hear,And I will tell you of a bold outlaw,That lived in Nottinghamshire.
As Robin Hood in the forest stood,All under the green-wood tree,There he was aware of a brave young man,As fine as fine might be.
The youngster was cloathed in scarlet red,In scarlet fine and gay;And he did frisk it over the plain,And chanted a roundelay.
As Robin Hood next morning stood,Amongst the leaves so gay,There did he espy the same young manCome drooping along the way.
The scarlet he wore the day before,It was clean cast away;And at every step he fetcht a sigh,"Alack and a well a day!"
Then stepped forth brave Little John,And Midge the miller's son,Which made the young man bend his bow,When as he see them come.
"Stand off, stand off," the young man said,"What is your will with me?""You must come before our master straight,Under yon green-wood tree."
And when he came bold Robin before,Robin askt him courteously,"O hast thou any money to spareFor my merry men and me?"
"I have no money," the young man said,"But five shillings and a ring;And that I have kept this seven long years,To have it at my wedding.
"Yesterday I should have married a maid,But she is now from me tane,And chosen to be an old knight's delight,Whereby my poor heart is slain."
"What is thy name?" then said Robin Hood,"Come tell me, without any fail:""By the faith of my body," then said the young man,"My name it is Allin a Dale."
"What wilt thou give me," said Robin Hood,"In ready gold or fee,To help thee to thy true love again,And deliver her unto thee?"
"I have no money," then quoth the young man,"No ready gold nor fee,But I will swear upon a bookThy true servant for to be."
"How many miles is it to thy true love?Come tell me without any guile:""By the faith of my body," then said the young man,"It is but five little mile."
Then Robin he hasted over the plain,He did neither stint nor lin,Until he came unto the church,Where Allin should keep his wedding.
"What hast thou here?" the bishop he said,"I prithee now tell unto me:""I am a bold harper," quoth Robin Hood,"And the best in the north country."
"O welcome, O welcome," the bishop he said,"That musick best pleaseth me;""You shall have no musick," quoth Robin Hood,"Till the bride and the bridegroom I see."
With that came in a wealthy knight,Which was both grave and old,And after him a finikin lass,Did shine like the glistering gold.
"This is not a fit match," quoth bold Robin Hood,"That you do seem to make here;For since we are come into the church,The bride shall chuse her own dear."
Then Robin Hood put his horn to his mouth,And blew blasts two or three;When four and twenty bowmen boldCame leaping over the lee.
And when they came into the church-yard,Marching all on a row,The first man was Allin a Dale,To give bold Robin his bow.
"This is thy true love," Robin he said,"Young Allin, as I hear say;And you shall be married at this same time,Before we depart away."
"That shall not be," the bishop he said,"For thy word shall not stand;They shall be three times askt in the church,As the law is of our land."
Robin Hood pulld off the bishop's coat,And put it upon Little John;"By the faith of my body," then Robin said,"This cloath does make thee a man."
When Little John went into the quire,The people began for to laugh;He askt them seven times in the church,Lest three times should not be enough.
"Who gives me this maid?" then said Little John;Quoth Robin Hood, "That do I,And he that takes her from Allin, a DaleFull dearly he shall her buy."
And thus having ende of this merry wedding,The bride lookt like a queen,And so they returned to the merry green-wood,Amongst the leaves so green.
* * * * *
When Robin Hood and Little John,Down a down, a down, a down,Went o'er yon bank of broom,Said Robin Hood to Little John,"We have shot for many a pound:"Hey down, a down, a down.
"But I am not able to shoot one shot more,My arrows will not flee;But I have a cousin lives down below,Please God, she will bleed me."
Now Robin is to fair Kirkley gone,As fast as he can win;But before he came there, as we do hear,He was taken very ill.
And when that he came to fair Kirkley-hall,He knocked all at the ring,But none was so ready as his cousin herselfFor to let bold Robin in.
"Will you please to sit down, cousin Robin," she said,"And drink some beer with me?""No, I will neither eat nor drink,Till I am blooded by thee."
"Well, I have a room, cousin Robin," she said,"Which you did never see,And if you please to walk therein,You blooded by me shall be."
She took him by the lily-white hand,And led him to a private room,And there she blooded bold Robin Hood,Whilst one drop of blood would run.
She blooded him in the vein of the arm,And locked him up in the room;There did he bleed all the livelong day,Untilt the next day at noon.
He then bethought him of a casement door,Thinking for to be gone;He was so weak he could not leap,Nor he could not get down.
He then bethought him of his bugle-horn,Which hung low down to his knee;He set his horn unto his mouth,And blew out weak blasts three.
Then Little John, when hearing him,As he sat under the tree,"I fear my master is near dead,He blows so wearily."
Then Little John to fair Kirkley is gone,As fast as he can dri'e;But when he came to Kirkley-hall,He broke locks two or three:
Untilt he came bold Robin to,Then he fell on his knee:"A boon, a boon," cries Little John,"Master, I beg of thee."
"What is that boon," quoth Robin Hood,"Little John, thou begs of me?""It is to burn fair Kirkley-hall,And all their nunnery."
"Now nay, now nay," quoth Robin Hood,"That boon I'll not grant thee;I never hurt woman in all my life,Nor man in woman's company.
"I never hurt fair maid in all my time,Nor at my end shall it be;But give me my bent bow in my hand,And a broad arrow I'll let flee;And where this arrow is taken up,There shall my grave digg'd be.
"Lay me a green sod under my head,And another at my feet;And lay my bent bow by my side,Which was my music sweet;And make my grave of gravel and green,Which is most right and meet.
"Let me have length and breadth enough,With under my head a green sod;That they may say, when I am dead,Here lies bold Robin Hood."
These words they readily promised him,Which did bold Robin please;And there they buried bold Robin Hood,Near to the fair Kirkleys.
* * * * *
"O wha will shoe my bonny feet?Or wha will glove my hand?Or wha will lace my middle jimp,Wi' a new-made London band?
"And wha will kame my yellow hair,Wi' a new-made siller kame?And wha will be my bairn's father,Till love Gregory come haine?"
"Your father'll shoe your bonny feet,Your mother glove your hand;Your sister lace your middle jimp,Wi' a new-made London band;
"Mysel' will kame your yellow hairWi' a new-made siller kame;And the Lord will be the bairn's fatherTill Gregory come hame."
"O gin I had a bonny ship,And men to sail wi' me,It's I wad gang to my true lore,Sin' he winna come to me!"
Her father's gi'en her a bonny ship,And sent her to the strand;She's ta'en her young son in her arms,And turn'd her back to land.
She hadna been on the sea sailing,About a month or more,Till landed has she her bonny ship,Near to her true love's door.
The night was dark, an' the wind was cauld,And her love was fast asleep,And the bairn that was in her twa arms,Fu' sair began to greet.
Lang stood she at her true love's doorAnd lang tirl'd at the pin;At length up gat his fause mother,Says, "Wha's that wad be in?"
"O it is Annie of Lochroyan,Your love, come o'er the sea,But and your young son in her arms,Sae open the door to me."
"Awa, awa, ye ill woman,Ye're nae come here for gude;Ye're but a witch, or a vile warlock,Or mermaiden o' the flood!"
"I'm nae a witch, nor vile warlock,Nor mermaiden," said she;"But I am Annie of Lochroyan;O open the door to me!"
"O gin ye be Annie of Lochroyan,As I trow not you be,Now tell me some o' the love-tokensThat pass'd 'tween thee and me."
"O dinna ye mind, love Gregory,When we sate at the wine,How we chang'd the napkins frae our necks,It's no sae lang sinsyne?
"And yours was gude, and gude eneugh,But nae sae gude as mine;For yours was o' the cambrick clear,But mine o' the silk sae fine.
"And dinna ye mind, love Gregory,As we twa sate at dine,How we chang'd the rings frae our fingers,And I can show thee thine?
"And yours was gude, and gude eneugh,Yet nae sae gude as mine;For yours was o' the gude red gold,But mine o' the diamonds fine.
"Sae open the door, love Gregory,And open it wi' speed;Or your young son, that is in my arms,For cauld will soon be dead!"
"Awa, awa, ye ill woman,Gae frae my door for shame;For I hae gotten anither fair love,Sae ye may hie ye hame!"
"O hae ye gotten anither fair love,For a' the oaths ye sware?Then fare ye weel, fause Gregory,For me ye'se never see mair!"
O hooly, hooly gaed she back,As the day began to peep;She set her foot on gude ship board,And sair, sair did she weep.
"Tak down, tak down that mast o' gowd,Set up the mast o' tree;Ill sets it a forsaken ladyTo sail sae gallantlie!"
Love Gregory started frae his sleep,And to his mother did say;"I dream'd a dream this night, mither,That maks my heart right wae.
"I dream'd that Annie of Lochroyan,The flower of a' her kin,Was standing mournin' at iny door,But nane wad let her in."
"Gin it be for Annie of Lochroyan,That ye mak a' this din;She stood a' last night at your door,But I trow she wan na in!"
"O wae betide ye, ill woman!An ill deid may ye die,That wadna open the door to her,Nor yet wad waken me!"
O quickly, quickly raise he up,And fast ran to the strand;And then he saw her, fair Annie,Was sailing frae the land.
And it's "Hey Annie!" and "How Annie!O Annie, winna ye bide?"But aye the mair that he cried "Annie!"The faster ran the tide.
And it's "Hey Annie!" and "How Annie!O Annie, speak to me!"But aye the louder that he cried "Annie!"The higher raise the sea.
The wind grew loud, and the sea grew rough,And the ship was rent in twain;And soon he saw her, fair Annie,Come floating through the faem.
He saw his young son in her arms,Baith toss'd abune the tide;He wrang his hands, and fast he ran,And plunged in the sea sae wide.
He catch'd her by the yellow hair,And drew her to the strand;But cauld and stiff was every limb,Afore he reach'd the land.
O first he kiss'd her cherry cheek,And syne he kiss'd her chin,And sair he kiss'd her bonny lips,But there was nae breath within.
And he has mourn'd o'er fair Annie,Till the sun was ganging down,Syne wi' a sigh his heart it brast,And his soul to heaven has flown.
* * * * *
Lord Thomas and fair AnnetSat a' day on a hill,When night was come, and the sun was set,They had na talk'd their fill.
Lord Thomas said a word in jest,Fair Annet took it ill;"O I will never wed a wife,Against my ain friends' will"
"Gif ye will never wed a wife,A wife will ne'er wed ye."Sae he is hame to tell his mither,And kneel'd upon his knee.
"O rede, O rede, mither," he says,"A gude rede gie to me;O sall I tak' the nut-brown bride,And let fair Annet be?"
"The nut-brown bride has gowd and gear,Fair Annet she's gat nane,And the little beauty fair Annet has,O it will soon be gane."
And he has to his brither gane;"Now, brither, rede ye me,O sall I marry the nut-brown bride,And let fair Annet be?"
"The nut-brown bride has owsen, brither,The nut-brown bride has kye;I wad hae you marry the nut-brown bride,And cast fair Annet by."
"Her owsen may dee in the house, billie,And her kye into the byre,And I sall hae naething to mysel,But a fat fadge by the fire."
And he has to his sister gane;"Now, sister, rede to me;O sall I marry the nut-brown bride,And set fair Annet free?"
"I'se rede ye tak' fair Annet, Thomas,And let the brown bride alane,Lest ye sould sigh, and say, Alace,What is this we brought hame?"
"No! I will tak' my mither's counsel,And marry me out o' hand;And I will tak' the nut-brown bride,Fair Annet may leave the land."
Up then rose fair Annet's father,Twa hours or it were day,And he has gane into the bower,Wherein fair Annet lay.
"Rise up, rise up, fair Annet," he says,"Put on your silken sheen,Let us gae to Saint Marie's kirk,And see that rich weddin'."
"My maids, gae to my dressing-roomAnd dress to me my hair,Where'er ye laid a plait before,See ye lay ten times mair.
"My maids, gae to my dressing-roomAnd dress to me my smock,The ae half is o' the holland fine,The ither o' needle-work."
The horse fair Annet rade upon,He amblit like the wind,Wi' siller he was shod before,Wi' burning gowd behind.
Four-and-twenty siller bells,Were a' tied to his mane,Wi' ae tift o' the norlan' wind,They tinkled ane by ane.
Four-and-twenty gay gude knights,Rade by fair Annet's side,And four-and-twenty fair ladies,As gin she had been a bride.
And when she cam' to Marie's kirk,She sat on Marie's stane;The cleiding that fair Annet had on,It skinkled in their e'en.
And when she cam' into the kirk,She skimmer'd like the sun;The belt that was about her waist,Was a' wi' pearls bedone.
She sat her by the nut-brown bride,And her e'en they were sae clear,Lord Thomas he clean forgot the bride,When fair Annet drew near.
He had a rose into his hand,He gave it kisses three,And reaching by the nut-brown bride,Laid it on Annet's knee.
Up then spak' the nut-brown bride,She spak' wi' meikle spite;"Where gat ye that rose-water, Annet,That does mak' ye sae white?"
"O I did get the rose-water,Where ye'll get never nane,For I did get that rose-water,Before that I was born.
"Where I did get that rose-water,Ye'll never get the like;For ye've been washed in Dunnie's well,And dried on Dunnie's dyke.
"Tak' up and wear your rose, Thomas,And wear't wi' meikle care;For the woman sall never bear a sonThat will mak' my heart sae sair."
When night was come, and day was gane,And a' men boune to bed,Lord Thomas and the nut-brown brideIn their chamber were laid.
They were na weel lyen down,And scarcely fa'en asleep,When up and stands she, fair Annet,Just at Lord Thomas' feet.
"Weel bruik ye o' your nut-brown bride,Between ye and the wa';And sae will I o' my winding-sheet,That suits me best of a'.
"Weel bruik ye o' your nut-brown bride,Between ye and the stock;And sae will I o' my black, black kist,That has neither key nor lock!"
Lord Thomas rase, put on his claes,Drew till him hose and shoon;And he is to fair Annet's bower,By the lee light o' the moon.
The firsten bower that he cam' till,There was right dowie wark;Her mither and her three sisters,Were making fair Annet a sark.
The nexten bower that he cam' tillThere was right dowie cheer;Her father and her seven brethren,Were making fair Annet a bier.
The lasten bower that he cam' till,O heavy was his care,The deid candles were burning bright,Fair Annet was streekit there.
"O I will kiss your cheek, Annet,And I will kiss your chin;And I will kiss your clay-cauld lip,But I'll ne'er kiss woman again.
"This day ye deal at Annet's wake,The bread but and the wine;Before the morn at twal' o'clock,They'll deal the same at mine."
The tane was buried in Marie's kirk,The tither in Marie's quire,And out o' the tane there grew a birk,And out o' the tither a brier.
And ay they grew, and ay they drew,Until they twa did meet,And every ane that pass'd them by,Said, "Thae's been lovers sweet!"
* * * * *
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.
"What though ye be my sister's lord,We'll cross our swords to-morrow.""What though my wife your sister be,I'll meet ye then on Yarrow."
"O stay at hame, my ain gude lord!O stay, my ain dear marrow!My cruel brither will you betrayOn the dowie banks o' Yarrow."
"O fare ye weel, my lady dear!And put aside your sorrow;For if I gae, I'll sune returnFrae the bonny banks o' Yarrow."
She kiss'd his cheek, she kaim'd his hair,As oft she'd dune before, O;She belted him wi' his gude brand,And he's awa' to Yarrow.
When he gaed up the Tennies bank,As he gaed mony a morrow,Nine armed men lay in a den,On the dowie braes o' Yarrow.
"O come ye here to hunt or hawkThe bonny Forest thorough?Or come ye here to wield your brandUpon the banks o' Yarrow?"
"I come not here to hunt or hawk,As oft I've dune before, O,But I come here to wield my brandUpon the banks o' Yarrow.
"If ye attack me nine to ane,Then may God send ye sorrow!—Yet will I fight while stand I may,On the bonny banks o' Yarrow."
Two has he hurt, and three has slain,On the bloody braes o' Yarrow;But the stubborn knight crept in behind,And pierced his body thorough.
"Gae hame, gae hame, you brither John,And tell your sister sorrow,—To come and lift her leafu' lordOn the dowie banks o' Yarrow."
Her brither John gaed ower yon hill,As oft he'd dune before, O;There he met his sister dear,Cam' rinnin' fast to Yarrow.
"I dreamt a dream last night," she says,"I wish it binna sorrow;I dreamt I pu'd the heather greenWi' my true love on Yarrow."
"I'll read your dream, sister," he says,"I'll read it into sorrow;Ye're bidden go take up your love,He's sleeping sound on Yarrow."
She's torn the ribbons frae her headThat were baith braid and narrow;She's kilted up her lang claithing,And she's awa' to Yarrow.
She's ta'en him in her arms twa,And gien him kisses thorough;She sought to bind his mony wounds,But he lay dead on Yarrow.
"O haud your tongue," her father says"And let be a' your sorrow;I'll wed you to a better lordThan him ye lost on Yarrow."
"O haud your tongue, father," she says,"Far warse ye mak' my sorrow;A better lord could never beThan him that lies on Yarrow."
She kissed his lips, she kaim'd his hair.As oft she'd dune before, O;And there wi' grief her heart did breakUpon the banks o' Yarrow.
* * * * *
"Rise up, rise up, now, Lord Douglas," she says,"And put on your armour so bright;Lord William will hae Lady Margret awaBefore that it be light."
"Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons,And put on your armour so bright,And take better care of your youngest sister,For your eldest's awa the last night."
He's mounted her on a milk-white steed,And himself on a dapple gray,With a bugelet horn hung down by his side,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,Come riding over the lee.
"Light down, light down, Lady Margret," he said,"And hold my steed in your hand,Until that against your seven brethren bold,And your father, I mak' a stand."
She held his steed in her milk-white hand,And never shed one tear,Until that she saw her seven brethren fa',And her father hard fighting, who lov'd her so dear.
"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 I 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 Margret," he said,"O whether will ye gang or bide?""I'll gang, I'll gang, Lord William," she said,"For ye have left me nae other guide."
He's lifted her on a milk-white steed,And himself on a dapple gray,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 drinkOf 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."
O 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,"Get up, and let me in!Get up, get up, lady mother," he says,"For this night my fair lady I've win.
"O mak' my bed, lady mother," he says,"O mak' it braid and deep,And lay Lady Margret close at my back,And the sounder I will sleep."
Lord William was dead lang ere midnight,Lady Margret lang ere day,And all true lovers that go thegither,May they have mair luck than they!
Lord William was buried in St. Mary's kirk,Lady Margret in Mary's quire;Out o' the lady's grave grew a bonny red rose,And out o' the knight's a briar.
And they twa met, and they twa plat,And fain they wad be near;And a' the warld might ken right weelThey were twa lovers dear.
But by and rade the Black Douglas,And wow but he was rough!For he pull'd up the bonny briar,And flang't in St. Mary's Loch.
* * * * *
There were three sisters in a ha',(Fine flowers i' the valley;)There came three lords amang them a',(The red, green, and the yellow.)
The first o' them was clad in red,(Fine flowers i' the valley;)"O lady, will ye be my bride?"(Wi' the red, green, and the yellow.)
The second o' them was clad in green,(Fine flowers i' the valley;)"O lady, will ye be my queen?"(Wi' the red, green, and the yellow.)
The third o' them was clad in yellow,(Fine flowers i' the valley;)"O lady, will ye be my marrow?"(Wi' the red, green, and the yellow.)
"O ye maun ask my father dear,(Fine flowers i' the valley;)Likewise the mother that did me bear;"(Wi' the red, green, and the yellow.)
"And ye maun ask my sister Ann,(Fine flowers i' the valley;)And not forget my brother John;"(Wi' the red, green, and the yellow.)
"O I have ask'd thy father dear,(Fine flowers i' the valley;)Likewise the mother that did thee bear;"(Wi' the red, green, and the yellow.)
"And I have ask'd your sister Ann,(Fine flowers i' the valley;)But I forgot your brother John;"(Wi' the red, green, and the yellow.)
Now when the wedding day was come,(Fine flowers i' the valley;)The knight would take his bonny bride home,(Wi' the red, green, and the yellow.)
And mony a lord, and mony a knight,(Fine flowers i' the valley;)Cam' to behold that lady bright,(Wi' the red, green, and the yellow.)
There was nae man that did her see,(Fine flowers i' the valley;)But wished himsell bridegroom to be,(Wi' the red, green, and the yellow.)
Her father led her down the stair,(Fine flowers i' the valley;)And her sisters twain they kiss'd her there;(Wi' the red, green, and the yellow.)
Her mother led her through the close,(Fine flowers i' the valley;)Her brother John set her on her horse;(Wi' the red, green, and the yellow.)
"You are high, and I am low,(Fine flowers i' the valley;)Give me a kiss before you go,"(Wi' the red, green, and the yellow.)
She was touting down to kiss him sweet,(Fine flowers i' the valley;)When wi' his knife he wounded her deep,(Wi' the red, green, and the yellow.)
She hadna ridden through half the town,(Fine flowers i' the valley;)Until her heart's blood stained her gown,(Wi' the red, green, and the yellow.)
"Ride saftly on," said the best young man,(Fine flowers i' the valley;)"I think our bride looks pale and wan!"(Wi' the red, green, and the yellow.)
"O lead me over into yon stile,(Fine flowers i' the valley;)That I may stop and breathe awhile,"(Wi' the red, green, and the yellow.)
"O lead me over into yon stair,(Fine flowers i' the valley;)For there I'll lie and bleed nae mair,"(Wi' the red, green, and the yellow.)
"O what will you leave to your father dear?"(Fine flowers i' the valley;)"The siller-shod steed that brought me here,"(Wi' the red, green, and the yellow.)
"What will you leave to your mother dear?"(Fine flowers i' the valley;)"My wedding shift which I do wear,"(Wi' the red, green, and the yellow.)
"But she must wash it very clean,(Fine flowers i' the valley;)For my heart's blood sticks in every seam."(Wi' the red, green, and the yellow.)
"What will you leave to your sister Ann?"(Pine flowers i' the valley;)"My silken gown that stands its lane,"(Wi' the red, green, and the yellow.)
"And what will you leave to your brother John?"(Fine flowers i' the valley;)"The gates o' hell to let him in,"(Wi' the red, green, and the yellow.)
* * * * *
"O well is me, my gay goss-hawk,That ye can speak and flee;For ye shall carry a love-letterTo my true-love frae me.
"O how shall I your true-love find,Or how should I her knaw?I bear a tongue ne'er wi' her spake,An eye that ne'er her saw."
"O well shall you my true-love ken,Sae soon as her ye see,For of a' the flowers o' fair England,The fairest flower is she.
"And when ye come to her castle,Light on the bush of ash,And sit ye there, and sing our loves,As she comes frae the mass.
"And when she goes into the house,Light ye upon the whin;And sit ye there, and sing our loves,As she gaes out and in."
Lord William has written a love-letter,Put in under the wing sae grey;And the bird is awa' to southern land,As fast as he could gae.
And when he flew to that castle,He lighted on the ash,And there he sat, and sang their loves,As she came frae the mass.
And when she went into the house,He flew unto the whin;And there he sat, and sang their loves,As she gaed out and in.
"Feast on, feast on, my maidens a',The wine flows you amang,Till I gae to the west-window,And hear a birdie's sang."
She's gane into the west-window,And fainly aye it drew,And soon into her white silk lapThe bird the letter threw.
"Ye're bidden send your love a send,For he has sent you three;And tell him where he can see you,Or for your love he'll die."
"I send him the rings from my white fingers,The garlands aff my hair,I send him the heart that's in my breast,What would my love hae mair?And at the fourth kirk in fair Scotland,Ye'll bid him meet me there."
She's gane until her father dear,As fast as she could hie,"An asking, an asking, my father dear,An asking grant ye me!That if I die in merry England,In Scotland you'll bury me.
"At the first kirk o' fair Scotland,Ye'll cause the bells be rung;At the neist kirk o' fair ScotlandYe'll cause the mass be sung.
"At the third kirk o' fair Scotland,Ye'll deal the gowd for me;At the fourth kirk o' fair Scotland,It's there you'll bury me."
She has ta'en her to her bigly bower,As fast as she could hie;And she has drapped down like deid,Beside her mother's knee;Then out and spak' an auld witch-wife,By the fire-side sate she.
Says,—"Drap the het lead on her cheek,And drap it on her chin,And drap it on her rose-red lips,And she will speak again;O meikle will a maiden do,To her true love to win!"
They drapt the het lead on her cheek,They drapt it on her chin,They drapt it on her rose-red lips,But breath was nane within.
Then up arose her seven brothers,And made for her a bier;The boards were of the cedar wood,The plates o' silver clear.
And up arose her seven sisters,And made for her a sark;The claith of it was satin fine,The steeking silken wark.
The first Scots kirk that they cam' to,They gar'd the bells be rung;The neist Scots kirk that they cam' to,They gar'd the mass be sung.
The third Scots kirk that they cam' to,They dealt the gowd for her;The fourth Scots kirk that they cam' to,Her true-love met them there.
"Set down, set down the bier," he quoth,Till I look on the dead;The last time that I saw her face,Her cheeks were rosy red."
He rent the sheet upon her face,A little abune the chin;And fast he saw her colour come,And sweet she smiled on him.
"O give me a chive of your bread, my love,And ae drap o' your wine;For I have fasted for your sake,These weary lang days nine!
"Gae hame, gae hame, my seven brothers;Gae hame an' blaw your horn!I trow ye wad hae gi'en me the skaith,But I've gi'ed you the scorn.
"I cam' not here to fair Scotland,To lie amang the dead;But I cam' here to fair Scotland,Wi' my ain true-love to wed."
* * * * *
Fair Catherine from her bower-windowLooked over heath and wood;She heard a smit o' bridle-reins,And the sound did her heart good.
"Welcome, young Redin, welcome!And welcome again, my dear!Light down, light down from your horse," she"It's long since you were here."
"O gude morrow, lady, gude morrow, lady;God mak' you safe and free!I'm come to tak' my last fareweel,And pay my last visit to thee.
"I mustna light, and I canna light,I winna stay at a';For a fairer lady than ten of theeIs waiting at Castleswa'."
"O if your love be changed, my dear,Since better may not be,Yet, ne'ertheless, for auld lang syne,Bide this ae night wi' me."
She birl'd him wi' the ale and wine,As they sat down to sup;A living man he laid him down,But I wot he ne'er rose up.
"Now lie ye there, young Redin," she says,"O lie ye there till morn,—Though a fairer lady than ten of meIs waiting till you come home!
"O lang, lang is the winter night,Till day begins to daw;There is a dead man in my bower,And I would he were awa'."
She cried upon her bower-maiden,Aye ready at her ca':"There is a knight into my bower,'Tis time he were awa'."
They've booted him and spurred him,As he was wont to ride,A hunting-horn tied round his waist,A sharp sword by his side;And they've flung him into the wan water,The deepest pool in Clyde.
Then up bespake a little birdThat sate upon the tree,"Gae hame, gae hame, ye fause lady,And pay your maid her fee."
"Come down, come down, my pretty bird,That sits upon the tree;I have a cage of beaten gold,I'll gie it unto thee."
"Gae hame, gae hame, ye fause lady;I winna come down to thee;For as ye have done to young Redin,Ye'd do the like to me."
O there came seeking young RedinMony a lord and knight,And there came seeking young RedinMony a lady bright.
They've called on Lady Catherine,But she sware by oak and thornThat she saw him not, young Redin,Since yesterday at morn.
The lady turned her round about,Wi' mickle mournfu' din:"It fears me sair o' Clyde waterThat he is drowned therein."
Then up spake young Redin's mither,The while she made her mane:"My son kenn'd a' the fords o' Clyde,He'd ride them ane by ane."
"Gar douk, gar douk!" his father he cried,"Gar douk for gold and fee!O wha will douk for young Redin's sake,And wha will douk for me?"
They hae douked in at ae weil-head,And out again at the ither:"We'll douk nae mair for young Redin,Although he were our brither."
Then out it spake a little birdThat sate upon the spray:"What gars ye seek him, young Redin,Sae early in the day?
"Leave aff your douking on the day,And douk at dark o' night;Aboon the pool young Redin lies in,The candles they'll burn bright."
They left aff their douking on the day,They hae douked at dark o' night;Aboon the pool where young Redin lay,The candles they burned bright.
The deepest pool in a' the streamThey found young Redin in;Wi' a great stone tied across his breastTo keep his body down.
Then up and spake the little bird,Says, "What needs a' this din?It was Lady Catherine took his life,And hided him in the linn."
She sware her by the sun and moon,She sware by grass and corn,She hadna seen him, young Redin,Since Monanday at morn.
"It's surely been my bower-woman,—O ill may her betide!I ne'er wad hae slain my young Redin,And thrown him in the Clyde."
Now they hae cut baith fern and thorn,The bower-woman to brin;And they hae made a big balefire,And put this maiden in;But the fire it took na on her cheek,It took na on her chin.
Out they hae ta'en the bower-woman,And put her mistress in;The flame took fast upon her cheek,Took fast upon her chin,Took fast upon her fair bodie,Because of her deadly sin.
* * * * *
Willie stands in his stable,A-clapping of his steed;And over his white fingersHis nose began to bleed.
"Gie corn to my horse, mither;Gie meat unto my man;For I maun gang to Margaret's bower,Before the night comes on."
"O stay at home, my son Willie!The wind blaws cold and stour;The night will be baith mirk and late,Before ye reach her bower."
"O tho' the night were ever sae dark,O the wind blew never sae cauld,I will be in May Margaret's bowerBefore twa hours be tauld."
"O bide this night wi' me, Willie,O bide this night wi' me!The bestan fowl in a' the roostAt your supper, my son, shall be."
"A' your fowls, and a' your roosts,I value not a pin;I only care for May Margaret;And ere night to her bower I'll win."
"O an ye gang to May MargaretSae sair against my will,In the deepest pot o' Clyde's waterMy malison ye's feel!"
He mounted on his coal-black steed,And fast he rade awa';But ere he came to Clyde's waterFu' loud the wind did blaw.
As he rade over yon hie hie hill,And doun yon dowie den,There was a roar in Clyde's waterWad feared a hundred men.
But Willie has swam through Clyde's water,Though it was wide and deep;And he came to May Margaret's doorWhen a' were fast asleep.
O he's gane round and round about,And tirled at the pin,But doors were steeked and windows barred,And nane to let him in.
"O open the door to me, Margaret!O open and let me in!For my boots are fu' o' Clyde's water,And frozen to the brim."
"I daurna open the door to you,I daurna let you in;For my mither she is fast asleep,And I maun mak' nae din."
"O gin ye winna open the door,Nor be sae kind to me,Now tell me o' some out-chamber,Where I this night may be."
"Ye canna win in this night, Willie,Nor here ye canna be;For I've nae chambers out nor in,Nae ane but barely three.
"The tane is fu' to the roof wi' corn,The tither is fu' wi' hay;The third is fu' o' merry young men,They winna remove till day."
"O fare ye weel, then, May Margaret,Sin' better it mauna be.I have won my mither's malison,Coming this night to thee."
He's mounted on his coal-black steed,O but his heart was wae!But e'er he came to Clyde's water,'Twas half-way up the brae.
When down he rade to the river-flood,'Twas fast flowing ower the brim;The rushing that was in Clyde's waterTook Willie's rod frae him.
He leaned him ower his saddle-bowTo catch his rod again;The rushing that was in Clyde's waterTook Willie's hat frae him.
He leaned him ower his saddle-bowTo catch his hat by force;The rushing that was in Clyde's waterTook Willie frae his horse.
O I canna turn my horse's head;I canna strive to sowm;I've gotten my mither's malison,And it's here that I maun drown!"
The very hour this young man sankInto the pot sae deep,Up wakened his love, May Margaret,Out of her heavy sleep.
"Come hither, come hither, my minnie dear,Come hither read my dream;I dreamed my love Willie was at our gates,And nane wad let him in."
"Lie still, lie still, dear Margaret,Lie still and tak' your rest;Your lover Willie was at the gates,'Tis but two quarters past."
Nimbly, nimbly rase she up,And quickly put she on;While ever against her windowThe louder blew the win'.
Out she ran into the night,And down the dowie den;The strength that was in Clyde's waterWad drown five hundred men.
She stepped in to her ankle,She stepped free and bold;"Ohone, alas!" said that ladye,"This water is wondrous cold."
The second step that she waded,She waded to the knee;Says she, "I'd fain wade farther in,If I my love could see."
The neistan step that she waded,She waded to the chin;'Twas a whirlin' pot o' Clyde's waterShe got sweet Willie in.
"O ye've had a cruel mither, Willie!And I have had anither;But we shall sleep in Clyde's waterLike sister and like brither."
* * * * *
In London was young Beichan born,He longed strange countries for to see,But he was ta'en by a savage Moor,Who handled him right cruellie.
For he viewed the fashions of that land,Their way of worship viewed he,But to Mahound or TermagantWould Beichan never bend a knee.
So in every shoulder they've putten a bore,In every bore they've putten a tree,And they have made him trail the wineAnd spices on his fair bodie.
They've casten him in a dungeon deep,Where he could neither hear nor see,For seven years they've kept him there,Till he for hunger's like to dee.
This Moor he had but ae daughter,Her name was called Susie Pye,And every day as she took the air,Near Beichan's prison she passed by.
And so it fell upon a day,About the middle time of Spring,As she was passing by that way,She heard young Beichan sadly sing.
All night long no rest she got,Young Beichan's song for thinking on;She's stown the keys from her father's head,And to the prison strang is gone.
And she has opened the prison doors,I wot she opened two or three,Ere she could come young Beichan at,He was locked up so curiouslie.
But when she cam' young Beichan till,Sore wondered he that may to see;He took her for some fair captive:"Fair lady, I pray, of what countrie?"
"O have ye any lands," she said,"Or castles in your own countrie,That ye could give to a lady fair,From prison strang to set you free?"
"Near London town I have a hall,And other castles two or three;I'll give them all to the lady fairThat out of prison will set me free."
"Give me the truth of your right hand,The truth of it give unto me,That for seven years ye'll no lady wed,Unless it be alang with me."
"I'll give thee the truth of my right hand,The truth of it I'll freely gie,That for seven years I'll stay unwed,For the kindness thou dost show to me."
And she has brib'd the proud warder,Wi' mickle gold and white monie,She's gotten the keys of the prison strang,And she has set young Beichan free.
She's gi'en him to eat the good spice-cake,She's gi'en him to drink the blude-red wine,She's bidden him sometimes think on her,That sae kindly freed him out o' pine.
And she has broken her finger-ring,And to Beichan half of it gave she:"Keep it, to mind you in foreign landOf the lady's love that set you free.
"And set your foot on good ship-board,And haste ye back to your ain countrie,And before that seven years have an end,Come back again, love, and marry me."
But lang ere seven years had an end,She longed full sore her love to see,So she's set her foot on good ship-board,And turned her back on her ain countrie.
She sailèd east, she sailèd west,Till to fair England's shore she came,Where a bonny shepherd she espied,Was feeding his sheep upon the plain.
"What news, what news, thou bonny shepherd?What news hast thou to tell to me?""Such news I hear, ladie," he says,"The like was never in this countrie.
"There is a wedding in yonder hall,And ever the bells ring merrilie;It is Lord Beichan's wedding-dayWi' a lady fair o' high degree."
She's putten her hand into her pocket,Gi'en him the gold and white monie;"Hay, take ye that, my bonny boy,All for the news thou tell'st to me."
When she came to young Beichan's gate,She tirlèd saftly at the pin;So ready was the proud porterTo open and let this lady in.
"Is this young Beichan's hall," she said,"Or is that noble lord within?""Yea, he's in the hall among them all,And this is the day o' his weddin."
"And has he wed anither love?And has he clean forgotten me?"And sighin said that ladie gay,"I wish I were in my ain countrie."
And she has ta'en her gay gold ringThat with her love she brake sae free;Says, "Gie him that, ye proud porter,And bid the bridegroom speak wi' me."
When the porter came his lord before,He kneeled down low upon his knee:"What aileth thee, my proud porter,Thou art so full of courtesie?"
"I've been porter at your gates,It's now for thirty years and three;But the lovely lady that stands thereat,The like o' her did I never see.
"For on every finger she has a ring,And on her mid-finger she has three,And meikle gold aboon her brow.Sae fair a may did I never see."
It's out then spak the bride's mother,And an angry woman, I wot, was she:"Ye might have excepted our bonny bride,And twa or three of our companie."
"O hold your tongue, thou bride's mother,Of all your folly let me be;She's ten times fairer nor the bride,And all that's in your companie.
"And this golden ring that's broken in twa,This half o' a golden ring sends she:'Ye'll carry that to Lord Beichan,' she says,'And bid him come an' speak wi' me.'
"She begs one sheave of your white bread,But and a cup of your red wine,And to remember the lady's loveThat last relieved you out of pine."
"O well-a-day!" said Beichan then,"That I so soon have married me!For it can be none but Susie Pye,That for my love has sailed the sea."
And quickly hied he down the stair;Of fifteen steps he made but three;He's ta'en his bonny love in his armsAnd kist and kist her tenderlie.
"O hae ye ta'en anither bride?And hae ye clean forgotten me?And hae ye quite forgotten herThat gave you life and libertie?"
She lookit o'er her left shoulder,To hide the tears stood in her ee:"Now fare thee well, young Beichan," she says,"I'll try to think no more on thee."
"O never, never, Susie Pye,For surely this can never be,Nor ever shall I wed but herThat's done and dreed so much for me."
Then out and spak the forenoon bride:"My lord, your love it changeth soon.This morning I was made your bride,And another chose ere it be noon."
"O hold thy tongue, thou forenoon bride,Ye're ne'er a whit the worse for me,And whan ye return to your ain land,A double dower I'll send with thee."
He's ta'en Susie Pye by the milkwhite hand,And led her thro' the halls sae hie,And aye as he kist her red-rose lips,"Ye're dearly welcome, jewel, to me."
He's ta'en her by the milkwhite hand,And led her to yon fountain-stane;He's changed her name from Susie Pye,And call'd her his bonny love, Lady Jane.
* * * * *