Gude Lord Græme is to Carlisle gane,Sir Robert Bewick there met he,And arm in arm to the wine they did go,And they drank till they were baith merrie.Gude Lord Græme has ta'en up the cup,5"Sir Robert Bewick, and here's to thee!And here's to our twae sons at hame!For they like us best in our ain countrie."—"O were your son a lad like mine,And learn'd some books that he could read,10They might hae been twae brethren bauld,And they might hae bragged the Border side."But your son's a lad, and he is but bad,And billie to my son he canna be;"* * * * * * *"I senthim to the schools, and he wadna learn;15I boughthim books, and he wadna read;But my blessing shall he never earn,Till I see how his arm can defend his head."—Gude Lord Græme has a reckoning call'd,A reckoning then called he;20And he paid a crown, and it went roun',It was all for the gude wineand free.And he has to the stable gane,Where there stude thirty steeds and three;He's ta'en his ain horse amang them a',25And hame he rade sae manfullie."Welcome, my auld father!" said Christie Græme,"But where sae lang frae hame were ye?"—"It's I hae been at Carlisle town,And a baffled man by thee I be.30"I hae been at Carlisle town,Where Sir Robert Bewick, he met me;He says ye're a lad, and ye are but bad,And billie to his son ye canna be."I sent ye to the schools, and ye wadna learn;35I bought ye books, and ye wadna read;Therefore my blessing ye shall never earn,Till I see with Bewick thou save thy head.""Now, God forbid, my auld father,That ever sic a thing suld be!40Billie Bewick was my master, and I was his scholar,And aye sae weel as he learned me.""O hald thy tongue, thou limmer loon,And of thy talking let me be!If thou does na end me this quarrel soon,45There is my glove, I'll fight wi' thee."Then Christie Græme he stooped lowUnto the ground, you shall understand;—"O father, put on your glove again,The wind has blown it from your hand?"50"What's that thou says, thou limmer loon?How dares thou stand to speak to me?If thou do not end this quarrel soon,There's my right hand thou shalt fight with me."—Then Christie Græme's to his chamber gane,55To consider weel what then should be;Whether he should fight with his auld father,Or with his billie Bewick, he."If I suld kill my billie dear,God's blessing I shall never win;60But if I strike at my auld father,I think 'twald be a mortal sin."But if I kill my billie dear,It is God's will, so let it be;But I make a vow, ere I gang frae hame,65That I shall be the next man's die."—Then he's put on's back a gude auld jack,And on his head a cap of steel,And sword and buckler by his side;O gin he did not become them weel!70We'll leave off talking of Christie Græme,And talk of him again belive;And we will talk of bonny Bewick,Where he was teaching his scholars five.When he had taught them well to fence,75And handle swords without any doubt,He took his sword under his arm,And he walk'd his father's close about.He look'd atween him and the sun,And a' to see what there might be,80Till he spied a man in armour bright,Was riding that way most hastilie."O wha is yon, that came this way,Sae hastilie that hither came?I think it be my brother dear,85I think it be young Christie Græme."Ye're welcome here, my billie dear,And thrice ye're welcome unto me!"—"But I'm wae to say, I've seen the day,When I am come to fight wi' thee.90"My father's gane to Carlisle town,Wi' your father Bewick there met he:He says I'm a lad, and I am but bad,And a baffled man I trow I be."He sent me to schools, and I wadna learn;95He gae me books, and I wadna read;Sae my father's blessing I'll never earn,Till he see how my arm can guard my head.""O God forbid, my billie dear,That ever such a thing suld be!100We'll take three men on either side,And see if we can our fathers agree.""O hald thy tongue, now, billie Bewick,And of thy talking let me be!But if thou'rt a man, as I'm sure thou art,105Come o'er the dyke, and fight wi' me.""But I hae nae harness, billie, on my back,As weel I see there is on thine."—"But as little harness as is on thy back,As little, billie, shall be on mine."—110Then he's thrown aff his coat o' mail,His cap of steel away flung he;He stuck his spear into the ground,And he tied his horse unto a tree.Then Bewick has thrown aff his cloak,115And's psalter-book frae's hand flung he;He laid his hand upon the dyke,And ower he lap most manfullie.O they hae fought for twae lang hours;When twae lang hours were come and gane,120The sweat drapp'd fast frae aff them baith,But a drap of blude could not be seen.Till Græme gae Bewick an ackward stroke,Ane ackward stroke strucken sickerlie;He has hit him under the left breast,125And dead-wounded to the ground fell he."Rise up, rise up, now, billie dear,Arise and speak three words to me!Whether thou's gotten thy deadly wound,Or if God and good leeching may succour thee?""O horse, O horse, now, billie Græme,131And get thee far from hence with speed;And get thee out of this country,That none may know who has done the deed."—"O I have slain thee, billie Bewick,135If this be true thou tellest to me;But I made a vow, ere I came frae hame,That aye the next man I wad be."He has pitch'd his sword in a moodie-hill,And he has leap'd twenty lang feet and three,And on his ain sword's point he lap,141And dead upon the ground fell he.'Twas then came up Sir Robert Bewick,And his brave son alive saw he;"Rise up, rise up, my son," he said,145"For I think ye hae gotten the victorie.""O hald your tongue, my father dear,Of your prideful talking let me be!Ye might hae drunken your wine in peace,And let me and my billie be.150"Gae dig a grave, baith wide and deep,And a grave to hald baith him and me;But lay Christie Græme on the sunny side,For I'm sure he wan the victorie.""Alack! a wae!" auld Bewick cried,155"Alack! was I not much to blame?I'm sure I've lost the liveliest ladThat e'er was born unto my name.""Alack! a wae!" quo' gude Lord Græme,"I'm sure I hae lost the deeper lack!160I durst hae ridden the Border through,Had Christie Græme been at my back."Had I been led through Liddesdale,And thirty horsemen guarding me,And Christie Græme been at my back,165Sae soon as he had set me free!"I've lost my hopes, I've lost my joy,I've lost the key but and the lock;I durst hae ridden the world round,Had Christie Græme been at my back."170
Gude Lord Græme is to Carlisle gane,Sir Robert Bewick there met he,And arm in arm to the wine they did go,And they drank till they were baith merrie.
Gude Lord Græme has ta'en up the cup,5"Sir Robert Bewick, and here's to thee!And here's to our twae sons at hame!For they like us best in our ain countrie."—
"O were your son a lad like mine,And learn'd some books that he could read,10They might hae been twae brethren bauld,And they might hae bragged the Border side.
"But your son's a lad, and he is but bad,And billie to my son he canna be;"* * * * * * *
"I senthim to the schools, and he wadna learn;15I boughthim books, and he wadna read;But my blessing shall he never earn,Till I see how his arm can defend his head."—
Gude Lord Græme has a reckoning call'd,A reckoning then called he;20And he paid a crown, and it went roun',It was all for the gude wineand free.
And he has to the stable gane,Where there stude thirty steeds and three;He's ta'en his ain horse amang them a',25And hame he rade sae manfullie.
"Welcome, my auld father!" said Christie Græme,"But where sae lang frae hame were ye?"—"It's I hae been at Carlisle town,And a baffled man by thee I be.30
"I hae been at Carlisle town,Where Sir Robert Bewick, he met me;He says ye're a lad, and ye are but bad,And billie to his son ye canna be.
"I sent ye to the schools, and ye wadna learn;35I bought ye books, and ye wadna read;Therefore my blessing ye shall never earn,Till I see with Bewick thou save thy head."
"Now, God forbid, my auld father,That ever sic a thing suld be!40Billie Bewick was my master, and I was his scholar,And aye sae weel as he learned me."
"O hald thy tongue, thou limmer loon,And of thy talking let me be!If thou does na end me this quarrel soon,45There is my glove, I'll fight wi' thee."
Then Christie Græme he stooped lowUnto the ground, you shall understand;—"O father, put on your glove again,The wind has blown it from your hand?"50
"What's that thou says, thou limmer loon?How dares thou stand to speak to me?If thou do not end this quarrel soon,There's my right hand thou shalt fight with me."—
Then Christie Græme's to his chamber gane,55To consider weel what then should be;Whether he should fight with his auld father,Or with his billie Bewick, he.
"If I suld kill my billie dear,God's blessing I shall never win;60But if I strike at my auld father,I think 'twald be a mortal sin.
"But if I kill my billie dear,It is God's will, so let it be;But I make a vow, ere I gang frae hame,65That I shall be the next man's die."—
Then he's put on's back a gude auld jack,And on his head a cap of steel,And sword and buckler by his side;O gin he did not become them weel!70
We'll leave off talking of Christie Græme,And talk of him again belive;And we will talk of bonny Bewick,Where he was teaching his scholars five.
When he had taught them well to fence,75And handle swords without any doubt,He took his sword under his arm,And he walk'd his father's close about.
He look'd atween him and the sun,And a' to see what there might be,80Till he spied a man in armour bright,Was riding that way most hastilie.
"O wha is yon, that came this way,Sae hastilie that hither came?I think it be my brother dear,85I think it be young Christie Græme.
"Ye're welcome here, my billie dear,And thrice ye're welcome unto me!"—"But I'm wae to say, I've seen the day,When I am come to fight wi' thee.90
"My father's gane to Carlisle town,Wi' your father Bewick there met he:He says I'm a lad, and I am but bad,And a baffled man I trow I be.
"He sent me to schools, and I wadna learn;95He gae me books, and I wadna read;Sae my father's blessing I'll never earn,Till he see how my arm can guard my head."
"O God forbid, my billie dear,That ever such a thing suld be!100We'll take three men on either side,And see if we can our fathers agree."
"O hald thy tongue, now, billie Bewick,And of thy talking let me be!But if thou'rt a man, as I'm sure thou art,105Come o'er the dyke, and fight wi' me."
"But I hae nae harness, billie, on my back,As weel I see there is on thine."—"But as little harness as is on thy back,As little, billie, shall be on mine."—110
Then he's thrown aff his coat o' mail,His cap of steel away flung he;He stuck his spear into the ground,And he tied his horse unto a tree.
Then Bewick has thrown aff his cloak,115And's psalter-book frae's hand flung he;He laid his hand upon the dyke,And ower he lap most manfullie.
O they hae fought for twae lang hours;When twae lang hours were come and gane,120The sweat drapp'd fast frae aff them baith,But a drap of blude could not be seen.
Till Græme gae Bewick an ackward stroke,Ane ackward stroke strucken sickerlie;He has hit him under the left breast,125And dead-wounded to the ground fell he.
"Rise up, rise up, now, billie dear,Arise and speak three words to me!Whether thou's gotten thy deadly wound,Or if God and good leeching may succour thee?"
"O horse, O horse, now, billie Græme,131And get thee far from hence with speed;And get thee out of this country,That none may know who has done the deed."—
"O I have slain thee, billie Bewick,135If this be true thou tellest to me;But I made a vow, ere I came frae hame,That aye the next man I wad be."
He has pitch'd his sword in a moodie-hill,And he has leap'd twenty lang feet and three,And on his ain sword's point he lap,141And dead upon the ground fell he.
'Twas then came up Sir Robert Bewick,And his brave son alive saw he;"Rise up, rise up, my son," he said,145"For I think ye hae gotten the victorie."
"O hald your tongue, my father dear,Of your prideful talking let me be!Ye might hae drunken your wine in peace,And let me and my billie be.150
"Gae dig a grave, baith wide and deep,And a grave to hald baith him and me;But lay Christie Græme on the sunny side,For I'm sure he wan the victorie."
"Alack! a wae!" auld Bewick cried,155"Alack! was I not much to blame?I'm sure I've lost the liveliest ladThat e'er was born unto my name."
"Alack! a wae!" quo' gude Lord Græme,"I'm sure I hae lost the deeper lack!160I durst hae ridden the Border through,Had Christie Græme been at my back.
"Had I been led through Liddesdale,And thirty horsemen guarding me,And Christie Græme been at my back,165Sae soon as he had set me free!
"I've lost my hopes, I've lost my joy,I've lost the key but and the lock;I durst hae ridden the world round,Had Christie Græme been at my back."170
15, Scott, Ye sent;16, Ye bought.22. Newcastle C. B., and hay.41, 42.Shall I venture my body in field to fightWith a man that's faith and troth to me?N. C. B.107-118. Instead of this passage, the Newcastle copy has the following stanzas:—He flang his cloak from off his shoulders,His psalm-book from his pouch flang he,He clapped his hand upon the hedge,And o'er lap he right wantonly.When Graham did see his bully come,The salt tears stood long in his ee;"Now needs must I say thou art a man,That dare venture thy body to fight with me."Nay, I have a harness on my back;I know that thou hast none on thine;But as little as thou hast on thy back,As little shall there be on mine."He flang his jacket from off his back,His cap of steel from his head flang he;He's taken his spear into his hand,He's ty'd his horse unto a tree.
15, Scott, Ye sent;
16, Ye bought.
22. Newcastle C. B., and hay.
41, 42.
Shall I venture my body in field to fightWith a man that's faith and troth to me?N. C. B.
Shall I venture my body in field to fightWith a man that's faith and troth to me?N. C. B.
107-118. Instead of this passage, the Newcastle copy has the following stanzas:—
He flang his cloak from off his shoulders,His psalm-book from his pouch flang he,He clapped his hand upon the hedge,And o'er lap he right wantonly.When Graham did see his bully come,The salt tears stood long in his ee;"Now needs must I say thou art a man,That dare venture thy body to fight with me."Nay, I have a harness on my back;I know that thou hast none on thine;But as little as thou hast on thy back,As little shall there be on mine."He flang his jacket from off his back,His cap of steel from his head flang he;He's taken his spear into his hand,He's ty'd his horse unto a tree.
He flang his cloak from off his shoulders,His psalm-book from his pouch flang he,He clapped his hand upon the hedge,And o'er lap he right wantonly.
When Graham did see his bully come,The salt tears stood long in his ee;"Now needs must I say thou art a man,That dare venture thy body to fight with me.
"Nay, I have a harness on my back;I know that thou hast none on thine;But as little as thou hast on thy back,As little shall there be on mine."
He flang his jacket from off his back,His cap of steel from his head flang he;He's taken his spear into his hand,He's ty'd his horse unto a tree.
Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, iii. 94.
This fragment was obtained from recitation in Ettrick Forest, where it is said to refer to the execution of Cockburne, of Henderland, a freebooter, hanged by James V. over the gate of his own tower. There is another version in Johnson'sMuseum, (Oh Ono Chrio, p. 90,) which, Dr. Blacklock informed Burns, was composed on the massacre of Glencoe. But in fact, these verses seem to be, as Motherwell has remarked, only a portion (expanded, indeed,) ofThe Famous Flower of Serving Men: see vol. iv. p. 174.
There are some verbal differences between Scott's copy and the one in Chambers'sScottish Songs, i. 174.
My love he built me a bonny bower,And clad it a' wi' lilye flour,A brawer bower ye ne'er did see,Than my true love he built for me.There came a man, by middle day,5He spied his sport, and went away;And brought the King that very night,Who brake my bower, and slew my knight.He slew my knight, to me sae dear;He slew my knight, and poin'd his gear;10My servants all for life did flee,And left me in extremitie.I sew'd his sheet, making my mane;I watch'd the corpse, myself alane;I watch'd his body, night and day;15No living creature came that way.I tuk his body on my back,And whiles I gaed, and whiles I sat;I digg'd a grave, and laid him in,And happ'd him with the sod sae green.20But think na ye my heart was sair,When I laid the moul' on his yellow hair;O think na ye my heart was wae,When I turn'd about, away to gae?Nae living man I'll love again,25Since that my lovely knight is slain;Wi' ae lock of his yellow hairI'll chain my heart for ever mair.
My love he built me a bonny bower,And clad it a' wi' lilye flour,A brawer bower ye ne'er did see,Than my true love he built for me.
There came a man, by middle day,5He spied his sport, and went away;And brought the King that very night,Who brake my bower, and slew my knight.
He slew my knight, to me sae dear;He slew my knight, and poin'd his gear;10My servants all for life did flee,And left me in extremitie.
I sew'd his sheet, making my mane;I watch'd the corpse, myself alane;I watch'd his body, night and day;15No living creature came that way.
I tuk his body on my back,And whiles I gaed, and whiles I sat;I digg'd a grave, and laid him in,And happ'd him with the sod sae green.20
But think na ye my heart was sair,When I laid the moul' on his yellow hair;O think na ye my heart was wae,When I turn'd about, away to gae?
Nae living man I'll love again,25Since that my lovely knight is slain;Wi' ae lock of his yellow hairI'll chain my heart for ever mair.
First published on an octavo sheet, by Lady Jean Home, about the middle of the last century, and from this copy reprinted in Percy'sReliques, (ii. 227.) Buchan has a version (i. 15) twenty-five stanzas longer than the present, which is given in our Appendix. This ballad has been supposed to refer to the fate of the Earl of Murray, (seepost,The Bonny Earl of Murray.) The additional circumstances furnished by Buchan's copy, however, have led Chambers to suggest that the unfortunate hero was Walter Stuart, second son of the Duke of Albany. In support of his conjecture, he adduces "the name, which may be a corruption of Walter; the mention of the Heading (beheading) Hill of Stirling, which is known to have been the very scene of Walter Stuart's execution; the relationship which Young Waters claims with the king; and the sympathy expressed by the people, in the last verse, for the fate of the young knight, which exactly tallies with what is told us by the Scottish historians, regarding the popular feeling expressed in favour ofthe numerous nobles and princes of his own blood, whom the king saw it necessary to sacrifice." We do not consider these coincidences sufficient to establish the historical character of the piece.
About Zule, quhen the wind blew cule,And the round tables began,A'! there is cum to our kings courtMony a well-favourd man.The queen luikt owre the castle wa',5Beheld baith dale and down,And then she saw zoung WatersCum riding to the town.His footmen they did rin before,His horsemen rade behind;10Ane mantel of the burning gowdDid keip him frae the wind.Gowden graith'd his horse before,And siller shod behind;The horse zoung Waters rade upon15Was fleeter than the wind.But then spake a wylie lord,Unto the queen said he:"O tell me quha's the fairest faceRides in the company?"20"I've sene lord, and I've sene laird,And knights of high degree,Bot a fairer face than zoung WatersMine eyne did never see."Out then spaek the jealous king25(And an angry man was he):"O if he had been twice as fair,Zou micht have excepted me.""Zou're neither laird nor lord," she says,"Bot the king that wears the crown;30There is not a knight in fair Scotland,Bot to thee maun bow down."For a' that she could do or say,Appeasd he wade nae bee;Bot for the words which she had said,35Zoung Waters he maun dee.They hae taen zoung Waters, andPut fetters to his feet;They hae taen zoung Waters, andThrown him in dungeon deep.40"Aft I have ridden thro' Stirling town,In the wind bot and the weit;Bot I neir rade thro' Stirling townWi' fetters at my feet."Aft have I ridden thro' Stirling town,45In the wind bot and the rain;Bot I neir rade thro' Stirling townNeir to return again."They hae taen to the heiding-hillHis zoung son in his craddle;50And they hae taen to the heiding-hillHis horse bot and his saddle.They hae taen to the heiding-hillHis lady fair to see;And for the words the queen had spoke55Zoung Waters he did dee.
About Zule, quhen the wind blew cule,And the round tables began,A'! there is cum to our kings courtMony a well-favourd man.
The queen luikt owre the castle wa',5Beheld baith dale and down,And then she saw zoung WatersCum riding to the town.
His footmen they did rin before,His horsemen rade behind;10Ane mantel of the burning gowdDid keip him frae the wind.
Gowden graith'd his horse before,And siller shod behind;The horse zoung Waters rade upon15Was fleeter than the wind.
But then spake a wylie lord,Unto the queen said he:"O tell me quha's the fairest faceRides in the company?"20
"I've sene lord, and I've sene laird,And knights of high degree,Bot a fairer face than zoung WatersMine eyne did never see."
Out then spaek the jealous king25(And an angry man was he):"O if he had been twice as fair,Zou micht have excepted me."
"Zou're neither laird nor lord," she says,"Bot the king that wears the crown;30There is not a knight in fair Scotland,Bot to thee maun bow down."
For a' that she could do or say,Appeasd he wade nae bee;Bot for the words which she had said,35Zoung Waters he maun dee.
They hae taen zoung Waters, andPut fetters to his feet;They hae taen zoung Waters, andThrown him in dungeon deep.40
"Aft I have ridden thro' Stirling town,In the wind bot and the weit;Bot I neir rade thro' Stirling townWi' fetters at my feet.
"Aft have I ridden thro' Stirling town,45In the wind bot and the rain;Bot I neir rade thro' Stirling townNeir to return again."
They hae taen to the heiding-hillHis zoung son in his craddle;50And they hae taen to the heiding-hillHis horse bot and his saddle.
They hae taen to the heiding-hillHis lady fair to see;And for the words the queen had spoke55Zoung Waters he did dee.
Motherwell'sMinstrelsy, p. 44.
This, says Motherwell, "is probably a lament for one of the adherents of the house of Argyle, who fell in the battle of Glenlivat, stricken on Thursday, the third day of October, 1594 years." It is printed, somewhat differently, in Smith'sScottish Minstrel, v. 42. Finlay gives eight lines of this ballad in the Preface to his first volume, p. xxxiii.
Hie upon Hielands,And low upon Tay,Bonnie George CampbellRade out on a day.Saddled and bridled5And gallant rade he;Hame cam his gude horse,But never cam he!Out cam his auld mitherGreeting fu' sair,10And out cam his bonnie brideRivin' her hair.Saddled and bridledAnd booted rade he;Toom hame cam the saddle,15But never cam he!"My meadow lies green,And my corn is unshorn;My barn is to big,And my babie's unborn."20Saddled and bridledAnd booted rade he;Toom hame cam the saddle,But never cam he!
Hie upon Hielands,And low upon Tay,Bonnie George CampbellRade out on a day.Saddled and bridled5And gallant rade he;Hame cam his gude horse,But never cam he!
Out cam his auld mitherGreeting fu' sair,10And out cam his bonnie brideRivin' her hair.Saddled and bridledAnd booted rade he;Toom hame cam the saddle,15But never cam he!
"My meadow lies green,And my corn is unshorn;My barn is to big,And my babie's unborn."20Saddled and bridledAnd booted rade he;Toom hame cam the saddle,But never cam he!
The following is believed to be a correct account of the various printed forms of this extremely popular ballad. In the second edition of Herd'sScottish Songs(1776) appeared a fragment of eighteen stanzas, calledLammikin, embellished in a puerile style by some modern hand. Jamieson published the story in a complete and authentic shape in hisPopular Ballads, in 1806. Finlay's collection (1808) furnishes us with two more copies, the first of which (ii. 47) is made up in part of Herd's fragment, and the second (ii. 57) taken from a MS. "written by an old lady." Another was given, from recitation, in Motherwell'sMinstrelsy, (1827,) with the more intelligible title ofLambert Linkin. An English fragment, calledLong Lonkin, taken down from the recitation of an old woman, is said to have been inserted by Miss Landon, in theDrawing-Room Scrap-Book, for 1837. This was republished in Richardson'sBorderer's Table-Book, 1846, vol. viii. 410, and the editor of that miscellany, who ought to have learned to be skeptical in such matters, urges the circumstantial character of local tradition as strong evidence that the real scene of the cruel history was in Northumberland.Lastly, we have to note a version resembling Motherwell's, styledBold Rankin, printed inA New Book of Old Ballads, (p. 73,) and in Whitelaw'sBook of Scottish Ballads, (p. 246,) and an imperfect ballad (Long Lankyn) inNotes and Queries, New Series, ii. 324.
We have printed Jamieson's,Motherwell's,the longer of Finlay's versions, andthe English fragment: the last two in the Appendix. The following is from Jamieson'sPopular Ballads, i. 176. "This piece was transmitted to the Editor by Mrs. Brown."
"O pay me now, Lord Wearie;Come, pay me out o' hand.""I canna pay you, Lamkin,Unless I sell my land.""O gin ye winna pay me,5I here sall mak a vow,Before that ye come hame again,Ye sall ha'e cause to rue."Lord Wearie got a bonny ship,To sail the saut sea faem;10Bade his lady weel the castle keep,Ay till he should come hame.But the nourice was a fause limmerAs e'er hung on a tree;She laid a plot wi' Lamkin,15Whan her lord was o'er the sea.She laid a plot wi' Lamkin,When the servants were awa';Loot him in at a little shot window,And brought him to the ha'.20"O whare's a' the men o' this house,That ca' me Lamkin?""They're at the barn well thrashing,'Twill be lang ere they come in.""And whare's the women o' this house,25That ca' me Lamkin?""They're at the far well washing;'Twill be lang ere they come in.""And whare's the bairns o' this house,That ca' me Lamkin?"30"They're at the school reading;'Twill be night or they come hame."O whare's the lady o' this house,That ca's me Lamkin?""She's up in her bower sewing,35But we soon can bring her down."Then Lamkin's tane a sharp knife,That hang down by his gaire,And he has gi'en the bonny babeA deep wound and a sair.40Then Lamkin he rocked,And the fause nourice sang,Till frae ilkae bore o' the cradleThe red blood out sprang.Then out it spak the lady,45As she stood on the stair,"What ails my bairn, nourice,That he's greeting sae sair?"O still my bairn, nourice;O still him wi' the pap!"50"He winna still, lady,For this, nor for that.""O still my bairn, nourice;"O still him wi' the wand!""He winna still, lady,55For a' his father's land.""O still my bairn, nourice,O still him wi' the bell!""He winna still, lady,Till ye come down yoursel."60O the firsten step she steppit,She steppit on a stane;But the neisten step she steppit,She met him, Lamkin."O mercy, mercy, Lamkin!65Ha'e mercy upon me!Though you've ta'en my young son's life,Ye may let mysel be.""O sall I kill her, nourice?Or sall I lat her be?"70"O kill her, kill her, Lamkin,For she ne'er was good to me.""O scour the bason, nourice,And mak it fair and clean,For to keep this lady's heart's blood,75For she's come o' noble kin.""There need nae bason, Lamkin;Lat it run through the floor;What better is the heart's bloodO' the rich than o' the poor?"80But ere three months were at an end,Lord Wearie came again;But dowie dowie was his heartWhen first he came hame."O wha's blood is this," he says,85"That lies in the châmer?""It is your lady's heart's blood;'Tis as clear as the lamer.""And wha's blood is this," he says,"That lies in my ha'?"90"It is your young son's heart's blood;'Tis the clearest ava."O sweetly sang the black-birdThat sat upon the tree;But sairer grat Lamkin,95When he was condemn'd to die.And bonny sang the mavisOut o' the thorny brake;But sairer grat the nourice,When she was tied to the stake.100
"O pay me now, Lord Wearie;Come, pay me out o' hand.""I canna pay you, Lamkin,Unless I sell my land."
"O gin ye winna pay me,5I here sall mak a vow,Before that ye come hame again,Ye sall ha'e cause to rue."
Lord Wearie got a bonny ship,To sail the saut sea faem;10Bade his lady weel the castle keep,Ay till he should come hame.
But the nourice was a fause limmerAs e'er hung on a tree;She laid a plot wi' Lamkin,15Whan her lord was o'er the sea.
She laid a plot wi' Lamkin,When the servants were awa';Loot him in at a little shot window,And brought him to the ha'.20
"O whare's a' the men o' this house,That ca' me Lamkin?""They're at the barn well thrashing,'Twill be lang ere they come in."
"And whare's the women o' this house,25That ca' me Lamkin?""They're at the far well washing;'Twill be lang ere they come in."
"And whare's the bairns o' this house,That ca' me Lamkin?"30"They're at the school reading;'Twill be night or they come hame."
O whare's the lady o' this house,That ca's me Lamkin?""She's up in her bower sewing,35But we soon can bring her down."
Then Lamkin's tane a sharp knife,That hang down by his gaire,And he has gi'en the bonny babeA deep wound and a sair.40
Then Lamkin he rocked,And the fause nourice sang,Till frae ilkae bore o' the cradleThe red blood out sprang.
Then out it spak the lady,45As she stood on the stair,"What ails my bairn, nourice,That he's greeting sae sair?
"O still my bairn, nourice;O still him wi' the pap!"50"He winna still, lady,For this, nor for that."
"O still my bairn, nourice;"O still him wi' the wand!""He winna still, lady,55For a' his father's land."
"O still my bairn, nourice,O still him wi' the bell!""He winna still, lady,Till ye come down yoursel."60
O the firsten step she steppit,She steppit on a stane;But the neisten step she steppit,She met him, Lamkin.
"O mercy, mercy, Lamkin!65Ha'e mercy upon me!Though you've ta'en my young son's life,Ye may let mysel be."
"O sall I kill her, nourice?Or sall I lat her be?"70"O kill her, kill her, Lamkin,For she ne'er was good to me."
"O scour the bason, nourice,And mak it fair and clean,For to keep this lady's heart's blood,75For she's come o' noble kin."
"There need nae bason, Lamkin;Lat it run through the floor;What better is the heart's bloodO' the rich than o' the poor?"80
But ere three months were at an end,Lord Wearie came again;But dowie dowie was his heartWhen first he came hame.
"O wha's blood is this," he says,85"That lies in the châmer?""It is your lady's heart's blood;'Tis as clear as the lamer."
"And wha's blood is this," he says,"That lies in my ha'?"90"It is your young son's heart's blood;'Tis the clearest ava."
O sweetly sang the black-birdThat sat upon the tree;But sairer grat Lamkin,95When he was condemn'd to die.
And bonny sang the mavisOut o' the thorny brake;But sairer grat the nourice,When she was tied to the stake.100
"The present copy is given from recitation, and though it could have received additions, and perhaps improvements, from another copy, obtained from a similar source, and of equal authenticity, in his possession, the Editor did not like to use a liberty which is liable to much abuse. To some, the present set of the ballad may be valuable, as handing down both name and nickname of the revengeful builder of Prime Castle; for there can be little doubt that the epithetLinkinMr. Lambert acquired from the secrecy and address with which he insinuated himself into that notable strength. Indeed, all the names of Lammerlinkin, Lammikin, Lamkin, Lankin, Linkin, Belinkin, can easily be traced out as abbreviations of Lambert Linkin. In the present set of the ballad, Lambert Linkin and Belinkin are used indifferently, as the measure of the verse may require; in the other recited copy, to which reference has been made, it is Lammerlinkin and Lamkin; and the nobleman for whom he "built a house" is stated to be "Lord Arran." No allusion, however, is made here to the name of theowner of Prime Castle. Antiquaries, peradventure, may find it as difficult to settle the precise locality of this fortalice, as they have found it to fix the topography of Troy." Motherwell'sMinstrelsy, p. 291.
In Finlay's second copy, the murderer's name is Balcanqual, "which," observes the editor, "is an ancient Scottish surname, and is sometimes corrupted, for the more agreeable sound, into Beluncan." It is more likely that Belinkin has suggested Balcanqual, than that Balcanqual has been corrupted into Lamkin.
Belinkin was as gude a masonAs e'er pickt a stane;He built up Prime Castle,But payment gat nane.The lord said to his lady,5When he was going abroad,"O beware of Belinkin,For he lyes in the wood."The gates they were bolted,Baith outside and in;10At the sma' peep of a windowBelinkin crap in."Gude morrow, gude morrow,"Said Lambert Linkin."Gude morrow to yoursell, sir,"15Said the fause nurse to him."O whare is your gude lord?"Said Lambert Linkin."He's awa to New England,To meet with his king."20"O where is his auld son?"Said Lambert Linkin."He's awa to buy pearlings,Gin our lady ly in.""Then she'll never wear them,"25Said Lambert Linkin."And that is nae pity,"Said the fause nurse to him."O where is your lady?"Said Lambert Linkin.30"She's in her bouir sleepin',"Said the fause nurse to him."How can we get at her?"Said Lambert Linkin."Stab the babe to the heart35Wi' a silver bo'kin.""That wud be a pity,"Said Lambert Linkin."Nae pity, nae pity,"Said the fause nurse to him.40Belinkin he rocked,And the fause nurse she sang,Till a' thetoreso' the cradleWi' the red blude down ran."O still my babe, nurice,45O still him wi' the knife.""He'll no be still, lady,Tho' I lay down my life.""O still my babe, nurice,O still him wi' the kame."50"He'll no be still, lady,Till his daddy come hame.""O still my babe, nurice,O still him wi' the bell.""He'll no be still, lady,55Till ye come down yoursell.""It's how can I come doun,This cauld frosty nicht,Without e'er a coalOr a clear candle licht?"60"There's twa smocks in your coffer,As white as a swan;Put ane o' them about you,It will shew you licht doun."She took ane o' them about her,65And came tripping doun;But as soon as she viewed,Belinkin was in."Gude morrow, gude morrow,"Said Lambert Linkin.70"Gude morrow to yoursell, sir,"Said the lady to him."O save my life, Belinkin,Till my husband come back,And I'll gie ye as much red gold75As ye'll haud in your hat.""I'll not save your life, lady,Till your husband come back,Tho' you wud gie me as much red goldAs I could haud in a sack.80"Will I kill her?" quo' Belinkin,"Will I kill her, or let her be?""You may kill her," said the fause nurse,"She was ne'er gude to me;And ye'll be laird o' the Castle,85And I'll be ladye."Then he cut aff her headFra her lily breast bane,And he hung 't up in the kitchen,It made a' the ha' shine.90The lord sat in EnglandA-drinking the wine:"I wish a' may be weelWi' my lady at hame;For the rings o' my fingers95They're now burst in twain!"He saddled his horse,And he came riding doun;But as soon as he viewed,Belinkin was in.100He hadna weel steppedTwa steps up the stair,Till he saw his pretty young sonLying dead on the floor.He hadna weel stepped105Other twa up the stair,Till he saw his pretty ladyLying dead in despair.He hanged BelinkinOut over the gate;110And he burnt the fause nurice,Being under the grate.
Belinkin was as gude a masonAs e'er pickt a stane;He built up Prime Castle,But payment gat nane.
The lord said to his lady,5When he was going abroad,"O beware of Belinkin,For he lyes in the wood."
The gates they were bolted,Baith outside and in;10At the sma' peep of a windowBelinkin crap in.
"Gude morrow, gude morrow,"Said Lambert Linkin."Gude morrow to yoursell, sir,"15Said the fause nurse to him.
"O whare is your gude lord?"Said Lambert Linkin."He's awa to New England,To meet with his king."20
"O where is his auld son?"Said Lambert Linkin."He's awa to buy pearlings,Gin our lady ly in."
"Then she'll never wear them,"25Said Lambert Linkin."And that is nae pity,"Said the fause nurse to him.
"O where is your lady?"Said Lambert Linkin.30"She's in her bouir sleepin',"Said the fause nurse to him.
"How can we get at her?"Said Lambert Linkin."Stab the babe to the heart35Wi' a silver bo'kin."
"That wud be a pity,"Said Lambert Linkin."Nae pity, nae pity,"Said the fause nurse to him.40
Belinkin he rocked,And the fause nurse she sang,Till a' thetoreso' the cradleWi' the red blude down ran.
"O still my babe, nurice,45O still him wi' the knife.""He'll no be still, lady,Tho' I lay down my life."
"O still my babe, nurice,O still him wi' the kame."50"He'll no be still, lady,Till his daddy come hame."
"O still my babe, nurice,O still him wi' the bell.""He'll no be still, lady,55Till ye come down yoursell."
"It's how can I come doun,This cauld frosty nicht,Without e'er a coalOr a clear candle licht?"60
"There's twa smocks in your coffer,As white as a swan;Put ane o' them about you,It will shew you licht doun."
She took ane o' them about her,65And came tripping doun;But as soon as she viewed,Belinkin was in.
"Gude morrow, gude morrow,"Said Lambert Linkin.70"Gude morrow to yoursell, sir,"Said the lady to him.
"O save my life, Belinkin,Till my husband come back,And I'll gie ye as much red gold75As ye'll haud in your hat."
"I'll not save your life, lady,Till your husband come back,Tho' you wud gie me as much red goldAs I could haud in a sack.80
"Will I kill her?" quo' Belinkin,"Will I kill her, or let her be?""You may kill her," said the fause nurse,"She was ne'er gude to me;And ye'll be laird o' the Castle,85And I'll be ladye."
Then he cut aff her headFra her lily breast bane,And he hung 't up in the kitchen,It made a' the ha' shine.90
The lord sat in EnglandA-drinking the wine:"I wish a' may be weelWi' my lady at hame;For the rings o' my fingers95They're now burst in twain!"
He saddled his horse,And he came riding doun;But as soon as he viewed,Belinkin was in.100
He hadna weel steppedTwa steps up the stair,Till he saw his pretty young sonLying dead on the floor.
He hadna weel stepped105Other twa up the stair,Till he saw his pretty ladyLying dead in despair.
He hanged BelinkinOut over the gate;110And he burnt the fause nurice,Being under the grate.