THE BALLAD OF MEIKLE-MOUTHED MEG
Themoonbeam glints on tower and hill,It’s hey! for the bonny moonlight!“Go saddle my steed, I’ll ride betimes,The English Border to-night.”“Take tent, good lad, the Warder’s menAre riding over the land.”“Tuts! six Scotts lads will keep two scoreOf such feckless loons at a stand!”Oh! they were twenty stout and bold,Mounted on active naigs;Some armed wi’ guns and Jeddart staves,Wi’ iron round their craigs.Young Scott o’ Harden, led them onTo the lands o’ Elibank;“Good faith, I wat Sir GideonWill no his kindness thank.”He left his towers by Ettrick’s stream,His minnie’s proverb scorning;When Scotts set foot in the stirrup-ring,The blood will flow ere morning.Sir Gideon and young Willie ScottWere ever deadly foes;Ere they shall clasp each other’s hand,The Gowan shall grow on the Rose.
Themoonbeam glints on tower and hill,It’s hey! for the bonny moonlight!“Go saddle my steed, I’ll ride betimes,The English Border to-night.”“Take tent, good lad, the Warder’s menAre riding over the land.”“Tuts! six Scotts lads will keep two scoreOf such feckless loons at a stand!”Oh! they were twenty stout and bold,Mounted on active naigs;Some armed wi’ guns and Jeddart staves,Wi’ iron round their craigs.Young Scott o’ Harden, led them onTo the lands o’ Elibank;“Good faith, I wat Sir GideonWill no his kindness thank.”He left his towers by Ettrick’s stream,His minnie’s proverb scorning;When Scotts set foot in the stirrup-ring,The blood will flow ere morning.Sir Gideon and young Willie ScottWere ever deadly foes;Ere they shall clasp each other’s hand,The Gowan shall grow on the Rose.
Themoonbeam glints on tower and hill,It’s hey! for the bonny moonlight!“Go saddle my steed, I’ll ride betimes,The English Border to-night.”
Themoonbeam glints on tower and hill,
It’s hey! for the bonny moonlight!
“Go saddle my steed, I’ll ride betimes,
The English Border to-night.”
“Take tent, good lad, the Warder’s menAre riding over the land.”“Tuts! six Scotts lads will keep two scoreOf such feckless loons at a stand!”
“Take tent, good lad, the Warder’s men
Are riding over the land.”
“Tuts! six Scotts lads will keep two score
Of such feckless loons at a stand!”
Oh! they were twenty stout and bold,Mounted on active naigs;Some armed wi’ guns and Jeddart staves,Wi’ iron round their craigs.
Oh! they were twenty stout and bold,
Mounted on active naigs;
Some armed wi’ guns and Jeddart staves,
Wi’ iron round their craigs.
Young Scott o’ Harden, led them onTo the lands o’ Elibank;“Good faith, I wat Sir GideonWill no his kindness thank.”
Young Scott o’ Harden, led them on
To the lands o’ Elibank;
“Good faith, I wat Sir Gideon
Will no his kindness thank.”
He left his towers by Ettrick’s stream,His minnie’s proverb scorning;When Scotts set foot in the stirrup-ring,The blood will flow ere morning.
He left his towers by Ettrick’s stream,
His minnie’s proverb scorning;
When Scotts set foot in the stirrup-ring,
The blood will flow ere morning.
Sir Gideon and young Willie ScottWere ever deadly foes;Ere they shall clasp each other’s hand,The Gowan shall grow on the Rose.
Sir Gideon and young Willie Scott
Were ever deadly foes;
Ere they shall clasp each other’s hand,
The Gowan shall grow on the Rose.
Theygained the lands o’ Elibank,And gathered the gear together;They counted tens, and came to scores,And drove them out the heather.There was not a Murray on the lea,Young Scott his heart was light;“There’ll be a dry breakfast at Elibank,At Oakwood, a meal to-night.”They got half way to Ettrick stream,When they heard a sleuth-hound yell,And Scott well kenned his mortal foe,Pursued him o’er the fell.Sir Gideon was a doure fierce man,A terror to a foe;He had a wife and daughters three,Well dowered they were I trow.He let young Harden steal his cows,And, oh! his arm was slack;But the grim old Knight was looking onWi’ fifty men at his back.“I have thee now like a thief in a mill,”Sir Gideon o’ Elibank said;He gave the word to loose the hounds;And the hot pursuit he led.“Young Scott, yield quietly to me,”Sir Gideon loudly cried,“Or a thief’s death shall ye die,If ye the onset bide.“Ye’ve driven off my cows and sheep,And byre and fold are toom,The corbies and ye shall be acquaint,For what this night ye’ve done.”“Brag on! brag on! ye old greybeard!While Scott o’ Harden stands,No power on earth shall make him yieldTo any o’ Murray’s bands.“So do your best, and do your worst,Here’s a hand and sword to fight;I trow a Scott ne’er turned his backWhilst a Murray was in sight.”“Small mercy after what ye’ve stol’n,I had designed for thee;But, callant, after what ye’ve said,I’ll prove your enemy.”“Thou old man, measure weapons then,And I would have ye leaveYour well-faured daughters to the world,For your loss must they grieve.”“Before sunrise,” quoth Gideon,“You’ll speak less vauntingly;Say what ye like of me, you dog,But leave my bairnies be.”The strife went high and bloodily,They grappled at the throat;And many was the Elibank,The reavers deadly smote.The guns banged off, the sleuth-hounds yelled,The cattle rowted sore;And many wights lay on the ground,That up rose never more.The fray went hard wi’ Willie Scott,His horse fell wi’ a bound,And many Murrays wi’ their swordsBore him unto the ground.
Theygained the lands o’ Elibank,And gathered the gear together;They counted tens, and came to scores,And drove them out the heather.There was not a Murray on the lea,Young Scott his heart was light;“There’ll be a dry breakfast at Elibank,At Oakwood, a meal to-night.”They got half way to Ettrick stream,When they heard a sleuth-hound yell,And Scott well kenned his mortal foe,Pursued him o’er the fell.Sir Gideon was a doure fierce man,A terror to a foe;He had a wife and daughters three,Well dowered they were I trow.He let young Harden steal his cows,And, oh! his arm was slack;But the grim old Knight was looking onWi’ fifty men at his back.“I have thee now like a thief in a mill,”Sir Gideon o’ Elibank said;He gave the word to loose the hounds;And the hot pursuit he led.“Young Scott, yield quietly to me,”Sir Gideon loudly cried,“Or a thief’s death shall ye die,If ye the onset bide.“Ye’ve driven off my cows and sheep,And byre and fold are toom,The corbies and ye shall be acquaint,For what this night ye’ve done.”“Brag on! brag on! ye old greybeard!While Scott o’ Harden stands,No power on earth shall make him yieldTo any o’ Murray’s bands.“So do your best, and do your worst,Here’s a hand and sword to fight;I trow a Scott ne’er turned his backWhilst a Murray was in sight.”“Small mercy after what ye’ve stol’n,I had designed for thee;But, callant, after what ye’ve said,I’ll prove your enemy.”“Thou old man, measure weapons then,And I would have ye leaveYour well-faured daughters to the world,For your loss must they grieve.”“Before sunrise,” quoth Gideon,“You’ll speak less vauntingly;Say what ye like of me, you dog,But leave my bairnies be.”The strife went high and bloodily,They grappled at the throat;And many was the Elibank,The reavers deadly smote.The guns banged off, the sleuth-hounds yelled,The cattle rowted sore;And many wights lay on the ground,That up rose never more.The fray went hard wi’ Willie Scott,His horse fell wi’ a bound,And many Murrays wi’ their swordsBore him unto the ground.
Theygained the lands o’ Elibank,And gathered the gear together;They counted tens, and came to scores,And drove them out the heather.
Theygained the lands o’ Elibank,
And gathered the gear together;
They counted tens, and came to scores,
And drove them out the heather.
There was not a Murray on the lea,Young Scott his heart was light;“There’ll be a dry breakfast at Elibank,At Oakwood, a meal to-night.”
There was not a Murray on the lea,
Young Scott his heart was light;
“There’ll be a dry breakfast at Elibank,
At Oakwood, a meal to-night.”
They got half way to Ettrick stream,When they heard a sleuth-hound yell,And Scott well kenned his mortal foe,Pursued him o’er the fell.
They got half way to Ettrick stream,
When they heard a sleuth-hound yell,
And Scott well kenned his mortal foe,
Pursued him o’er the fell.
Sir Gideon was a doure fierce man,A terror to a foe;He had a wife and daughters three,Well dowered they were I trow.
Sir Gideon was a doure fierce man,
A terror to a foe;
He had a wife and daughters three,
Well dowered they were I trow.
He let young Harden steal his cows,And, oh! his arm was slack;But the grim old Knight was looking onWi’ fifty men at his back.
He let young Harden steal his cows,
And, oh! his arm was slack;
But the grim old Knight was looking on
Wi’ fifty men at his back.
“I have thee now like a thief in a mill,”Sir Gideon o’ Elibank said;He gave the word to loose the hounds;And the hot pursuit he led.
“I have thee now like a thief in a mill,”
Sir Gideon o’ Elibank said;
He gave the word to loose the hounds;
And the hot pursuit he led.
“Young Scott, yield quietly to me,”Sir Gideon loudly cried,“Or a thief’s death shall ye die,If ye the onset bide.
“Young Scott, yield quietly to me,”
Sir Gideon loudly cried,
“Or a thief’s death shall ye die,
If ye the onset bide.
“Ye’ve driven off my cows and sheep,And byre and fold are toom,The corbies and ye shall be acquaint,For what this night ye’ve done.”
“Ye’ve driven off my cows and sheep,
And byre and fold are toom,
The corbies and ye shall be acquaint,
For what this night ye’ve done.”
“Brag on! brag on! ye old greybeard!While Scott o’ Harden stands,No power on earth shall make him yieldTo any o’ Murray’s bands.
“Brag on! brag on! ye old greybeard!
While Scott o’ Harden stands,
No power on earth shall make him yield
To any o’ Murray’s bands.
“So do your best, and do your worst,Here’s a hand and sword to fight;I trow a Scott ne’er turned his backWhilst a Murray was in sight.”
“So do your best, and do your worst,
Here’s a hand and sword to fight;
I trow a Scott ne’er turned his back
Whilst a Murray was in sight.”
“Small mercy after what ye’ve stol’n,I had designed for thee;But, callant, after what ye’ve said,I’ll prove your enemy.”
“Small mercy after what ye’ve stol’n,
I had designed for thee;
But, callant, after what ye’ve said,
I’ll prove your enemy.”
“Thou old man, measure weapons then,And I would have ye leaveYour well-faured daughters to the world,For your loss must they grieve.”
“Thou old man, measure weapons then,
And I would have ye leave
Your well-faured daughters to the world,
For your loss must they grieve.”
“Before sunrise,” quoth Gideon,“You’ll speak less vauntingly;Say what ye like of me, you dog,But leave my bairnies be.”
“Before sunrise,” quoth Gideon,
“You’ll speak less vauntingly;
Say what ye like of me, you dog,
But leave my bairnies be.”
The strife went high and bloodily,They grappled at the throat;And many was the Elibank,The reavers deadly smote.
The strife went high and bloodily,
They grappled at the throat;
And many was the Elibank,
The reavers deadly smote.
The guns banged off, the sleuth-hounds yelled,The cattle rowted sore;And many wights lay on the ground,That up rose never more.
The guns banged off, the sleuth-hounds yelled,
The cattle rowted sore;
And many wights lay on the ground,
That up rose never more.
The fray went hard wi’ Willie Scott,His horse fell wi’ a bound,And many Murrays wi’ their swordsBore him unto the ground.
The fray went hard wi’ Willie Scott,
His horse fell wi’ a bound,
And many Murrays wi’ their swords
Bore him unto the ground.
Lady Murraycame forth at noon,To welcome her husband home;And there she spied young Scott o’ Harden,All bounden and his lone.They thrust the Scott in a darksome room,And left him to his thought;But neither bread nor yet red wineUnto the youth they brought.“And what, Lord Gideon,” said his dame,“Will ye do wi’ young Scott?”“Do ye see yonder branch o’ the elm,For that shall be his lot.”“O goodman,” quo’ his pitying dame,“Ye could not do this thing;For lifting a pickle o’ your nowt,So brave a lad to hing!”“What mercy did ever a Scott o’ themE’er show to me or mine?The reaving Scotts shall surely weep,The last of all their line.”She said, “But we have daughters three,And they are no well-faured,When ye’ve a husband to your hand,To hang him would be hard.”“Sooth, goodwife, faith, but ye are right!There’s wisdom in your say;This birkie Scott shall have his choice,To wed what one he may.“We’ll give him respite to the morn,Nor hang him ’gainst all law;To marry our daughter Meikle-Mouthed Meg,Or choke with the death-thraw.”Quo’ she, “To marry our daughter MegMore wiselike would it be,Than kill the hope of an old, old HouseAnd strap him to the tree.”Quo’ he, “If I were in his place,I would refuse I ween,And die a death upon the tree,Than wed what I’d ne’er seen.“Go ye, and tell our daughter Meg,That she’s be wived the morn;And I will to this young gallant,And see what he perform.”
Lady Murraycame forth at noon,To welcome her husband home;And there she spied young Scott o’ Harden,All bounden and his lone.They thrust the Scott in a darksome room,And left him to his thought;But neither bread nor yet red wineUnto the youth they brought.“And what, Lord Gideon,” said his dame,“Will ye do wi’ young Scott?”“Do ye see yonder branch o’ the elm,For that shall be his lot.”“O goodman,” quo’ his pitying dame,“Ye could not do this thing;For lifting a pickle o’ your nowt,So brave a lad to hing!”“What mercy did ever a Scott o’ themE’er show to me or mine?The reaving Scotts shall surely weep,The last of all their line.”She said, “But we have daughters three,And they are no well-faured,When ye’ve a husband to your hand,To hang him would be hard.”“Sooth, goodwife, faith, but ye are right!There’s wisdom in your say;This birkie Scott shall have his choice,To wed what one he may.“We’ll give him respite to the morn,Nor hang him ’gainst all law;To marry our daughter Meikle-Mouthed Meg,Or choke with the death-thraw.”Quo’ she, “To marry our daughter MegMore wiselike would it be,Than kill the hope of an old, old HouseAnd strap him to the tree.”Quo’ he, “If I were in his place,I would refuse I ween,And die a death upon the tree,Than wed what I’d ne’er seen.“Go ye, and tell our daughter Meg,That she’s be wived the morn;And I will to this young gallant,And see what he perform.”
Lady Murraycame forth at noon,To welcome her husband home;And there she spied young Scott o’ Harden,All bounden and his lone.
Lady Murraycame forth at noon,
To welcome her husband home;
And there she spied young Scott o’ Harden,
All bounden and his lone.
They thrust the Scott in a darksome room,And left him to his thought;But neither bread nor yet red wineUnto the youth they brought.
They thrust the Scott in a darksome room,
And left him to his thought;
But neither bread nor yet red wine
Unto the youth they brought.
“And what, Lord Gideon,” said his dame,“Will ye do wi’ young Scott?”“Do ye see yonder branch o’ the elm,For that shall be his lot.”
“And what, Lord Gideon,” said his dame,
“Will ye do wi’ young Scott?”
“Do ye see yonder branch o’ the elm,
For that shall be his lot.”
“O goodman,” quo’ his pitying dame,“Ye could not do this thing;For lifting a pickle o’ your nowt,So brave a lad to hing!”
“O goodman,” quo’ his pitying dame,
“Ye could not do this thing;
For lifting a pickle o’ your nowt,
So brave a lad to hing!”
“What mercy did ever a Scott o’ themE’er show to me or mine?The reaving Scotts shall surely weep,The last of all their line.”
“What mercy did ever a Scott o’ them
E’er show to me or mine?
The reaving Scotts shall surely weep,
The last of all their line.”
She said, “But we have daughters three,And they are no well-faured,When ye’ve a husband to your hand,To hang him would be hard.”
She said, “But we have daughters three,
And they are no well-faured,
When ye’ve a husband to your hand,
To hang him would be hard.”
“Sooth, goodwife, faith, but ye are right!There’s wisdom in your say;This birkie Scott shall have his choice,To wed what one he may.
“Sooth, goodwife, faith, but ye are right!
There’s wisdom in your say;
This birkie Scott shall have his choice,
To wed what one he may.
“We’ll give him respite to the morn,Nor hang him ’gainst all law;To marry our daughter Meikle-Mouthed Meg,Or choke with the death-thraw.”
“We’ll give him respite to the morn,
Nor hang him ’gainst all law;
To marry our daughter Meikle-Mouthed Meg,
Or choke with the death-thraw.”
Quo’ she, “To marry our daughter MegMore wiselike would it be,Than kill the hope of an old, old HouseAnd strap him to the tree.”
Quo’ she, “To marry our daughter Meg
More wiselike would it be,
Than kill the hope of an old, old House
And strap him to the tree.”
Quo’ he, “If I were in his place,I would refuse I ween,And die a death upon the tree,Than wed what I’d ne’er seen.
Quo’ he, “If I were in his place,
I would refuse I ween,
And die a death upon the tree,
Than wed what I’d ne’er seen.
“Go ye, and tell our daughter Meg,That she’s be wived the morn;And I will to this young gallant,And see what he perform.”
“Go ye, and tell our daughter Meg,
That she’s be wived the morn;
And I will to this young gallant,
And see what he perform.”
She went unto her daughter Meg,Who had a meikle mouth;But her teeth were pearls, and her honey breathWas like the wind from the South.The mother sat by her daughter’s side;“Sweet Meg, come tell me this,Wouldst thou the rather be a bride,Then live in singleness?“Before I was your age, I trow,I was in a bride her place.”“Aye, mother,” quo’ Meg, and sighed full sore,“But ye had a well-faured face.“But you shall see the Ettrick streamRun thro’ the dells o’ Yarrow,Before ye hear o’ an offer to me,Or a man to be my marrow.“My face is foul, my heart is large,A kinder none there is;And must I pass away my days,In sullen loneliness?”The mother told her of young Scott,And waited her reply;“O Mother, I’d rather marry himThan ever he should die!”But the tears rose welling from their spring,And filled her cushat eyes;“But, Mother, how if when we’re wed,He should my heart despise?”“Oh, marriage,” quo’ the wily dame,“Is not that hard to snoove,If ye should marry Willie Scott,Ye’ll be like hand and glove.”
She went unto her daughter Meg,Who had a meikle mouth;But her teeth were pearls, and her honey breathWas like the wind from the South.The mother sat by her daughter’s side;“Sweet Meg, come tell me this,Wouldst thou the rather be a bride,Then live in singleness?“Before I was your age, I trow,I was in a bride her place.”“Aye, mother,” quo’ Meg, and sighed full sore,“But ye had a well-faured face.“But you shall see the Ettrick streamRun thro’ the dells o’ Yarrow,Before ye hear o’ an offer to me,Or a man to be my marrow.“My face is foul, my heart is large,A kinder none there is;And must I pass away my days,In sullen loneliness?”The mother told her of young Scott,And waited her reply;“O Mother, I’d rather marry himThan ever he should die!”But the tears rose welling from their spring,And filled her cushat eyes;“But, Mother, how if when we’re wed,He should my heart despise?”“Oh, marriage,” quo’ the wily dame,“Is not that hard to snoove,If ye should marry Willie Scott,Ye’ll be like hand and glove.”
She went unto her daughter Meg,Who had a meikle mouth;But her teeth were pearls, and her honey breathWas like the wind from the South.
She went unto her daughter Meg,
Who had a meikle mouth;
But her teeth were pearls, and her honey breath
Was like the wind from the South.
The mother sat by her daughter’s side;“Sweet Meg, come tell me this,Wouldst thou the rather be a bride,Then live in singleness?
The mother sat by her daughter’s side;
“Sweet Meg, come tell me this,
Wouldst thou the rather be a bride,
Then live in singleness?
“Before I was your age, I trow,I was in a bride her place.”“Aye, mother,” quo’ Meg, and sighed full sore,“But ye had a well-faured face.
“Before I was your age, I trow,
I was in a bride her place.”
“Aye, mother,” quo’ Meg, and sighed full sore,
“But ye had a well-faured face.
“But you shall see the Ettrick streamRun thro’ the dells o’ Yarrow,Before ye hear o’ an offer to me,Or a man to be my marrow.
“But you shall see the Ettrick stream
Run thro’ the dells o’ Yarrow,
Before ye hear o’ an offer to me,
Or a man to be my marrow.
“My face is foul, my heart is large,A kinder none there is;And must I pass away my days,In sullen loneliness?”
“My face is foul, my heart is large,
A kinder none there is;
And must I pass away my days,
In sullen loneliness?”
The mother told her of young Scott,And waited her reply;“O Mother, I’d rather marry himThan ever he should die!”
The mother told her of young Scott,
And waited her reply;
“O Mother, I’d rather marry him
Than ever he should die!”
But the tears rose welling from their spring,And filled her cushat eyes;“But, Mother, how if when we’re wed,He should my heart despise?”
But the tears rose welling from their spring,
And filled her cushat eyes;
“But, Mother, how if when we’re wed,
He should my heart despise?”
“Oh, marriage,” quo’ the wily dame,“Is not that hard to snoove,If ye should marry Willie Scott,Ye’ll be like hand and glove.”
“Oh, marriage,” quo’ the wily dame,
“Is not that hard to snoove,
If ye should marry Willie Scott,
Ye’ll be like hand and glove.”
Sir Gideon entered young Scott’s dungeon;“Thy death is at my hand,Ye came as a thief in the dead o’ night,And stole my cows from my land.“But I’ll give ye a chance for life,For all ye have said of me,Either to marry my daughter Meg,Or hang upon yonder tree.“And the boldest Scott on the Border March,Shall never take ye down,Until your skeleton is seenAnd ye drop away bone by bone.”“And ye would spare my life,” he said,“For all ye come so gleg,If I would stoop and give my handTo your bonny daughter Meg?“Ye are the Murray of Elibank,I Scott of Oakwood Tower,I would not marry your daughter Meg,Tho’ a kingdom were her dower;“But little I fear to meet my death,As I do to tell you this;An ye had fallen in my hands,Such were your fate, I wiss.“Ye think that your winsome daughter Meg,”Oh! he spoke so scornfully,—“Will get a husband at the last,But, faith, my lad, ye lie,“I rather choose upon the gallowsTo render up my breath;I trow there will be Scots enoughLeft to revenge my death.”“There is my thumb, thou young braggart,”Sir Gideon chafing cried,“I wouldn’t hinder ye your choiceFor death shall be your bride.“And let the Scots o’ a’ the BorderRevenge your death that dare.”He left young Scott unto himself,And quit his dungeon stair.
Sir Gideon entered young Scott’s dungeon;“Thy death is at my hand,Ye came as a thief in the dead o’ night,And stole my cows from my land.“But I’ll give ye a chance for life,For all ye have said of me,Either to marry my daughter Meg,Or hang upon yonder tree.“And the boldest Scott on the Border March,Shall never take ye down,Until your skeleton is seenAnd ye drop away bone by bone.”“And ye would spare my life,” he said,“For all ye come so gleg,If I would stoop and give my handTo your bonny daughter Meg?“Ye are the Murray of Elibank,I Scott of Oakwood Tower,I would not marry your daughter Meg,Tho’ a kingdom were her dower;“But little I fear to meet my death,As I do to tell you this;An ye had fallen in my hands,Such were your fate, I wiss.“Ye think that your winsome daughter Meg,”Oh! he spoke so scornfully,—“Will get a husband at the last,But, faith, my lad, ye lie,“I rather choose upon the gallowsTo render up my breath;I trow there will be Scots enoughLeft to revenge my death.”“There is my thumb, thou young braggart,”Sir Gideon chafing cried,“I wouldn’t hinder ye your choiceFor death shall be your bride.“And let the Scots o’ a’ the BorderRevenge your death that dare.”He left young Scott unto himself,And quit his dungeon stair.
Sir Gideon entered young Scott’s dungeon;“Thy death is at my hand,Ye came as a thief in the dead o’ night,And stole my cows from my land.
Sir Gideon entered young Scott’s dungeon;
“Thy death is at my hand,
Ye came as a thief in the dead o’ night,
And stole my cows from my land.
“But I’ll give ye a chance for life,For all ye have said of me,Either to marry my daughter Meg,Or hang upon yonder tree.
“But I’ll give ye a chance for life,
For all ye have said of me,
Either to marry my daughter Meg,
Or hang upon yonder tree.
“And the boldest Scott on the Border March,Shall never take ye down,Until your skeleton is seenAnd ye drop away bone by bone.”
“And the boldest Scott on the Border March,
Shall never take ye down,
Until your skeleton is seen
And ye drop away bone by bone.”
“And ye would spare my life,” he said,“For all ye come so gleg,If I would stoop and give my handTo your bonny daughter Meg?
“And ye would spare my life,” he said,
“For all ye come so gleg,
If I would stoop and give my hand
To your bonny daughter Meg?
“Ye are the Murray of Elibank,I Scott of Oakwood Tower,I would not marry your daughter Meg,Tho’ a kingdom were her dower;
“Ye are the Murray of Elibank,
I Scott of Oakwood Tower,
I would not marry your daughter Meg,
Tho’ a kingdom were her dower;
“But little I fear to meet my death,As I do to tell you this;An ye had fallen in my hands,Such were your fate, I wiss.
“But little I fear to meet my death,
As I do to tell you this;
An ye had fallen in my hands,
Such were your fate, I wiss.
“Ye think that your winsome daughter Meg,”Oh! he spoke so scornfully,—“Will get a husband at the last,But, faith, my lad, ye lie,
“Ye think that your winsome daughter Meg,”
Oh! he spoke so scornfully,—
“Will get a husband at the last,
But, faith, my lad, ye lie,
“I rather choose upon the gallowsTo render up my breath;I trow there will be Scots enoughLeft to revenge my death.”
“I rather choose upon the gallows
To render up my breath;
I trow there will be Scots enough
Left to revenge my death.”
“There is my thumb, thou young braggart,”Sir Gideon chafing cried,“I wouldn’t hinder ye your choiceFor death shall be your bride.
“There is my thumb, thou young braggart,”
Sir Gideon chafing cried,
“I wouldn’t hinder ye your choice
For death shall be your bride.
“And let the Scots o’ a’ the BorderRevenge your death that dare.”He left young Scott unto himself,And quit his dungeon stair.
“And let the Scots o’ a’ the Border
Revenge your death that dare.”
He left young Scott unto himself,
And quit his dungeon stair.
Itwas about the midnight time,When his dungeon door ga’ed back;And the sentinel who guarded itLet in a woman in black.“What want ye wi’ me, fair Maiden?”The Scott o’ Harden said.“I come to ask if thy dying wishCan be by me obeyed?“I am a lassie o’ the house,And wait on Sir Gideon’s dame;And tho’ ye have refused poor Meg,Her prayers will be the same.”“Why has Dame Murray sent thee here?”—“She has a woman’s heart.Ye have a mother and sisters twain,From whom full soon ye part.“If ye have anything to say,Ye would have carried there,I swear by all that’s good on earth,To be your messenger.”“Maiden,” quo’ he, and his voice was low,“Of my mother do not speak;I wish to die as my father’s son,And yet her heart I break.”“It cannot be,” then said the girl,“Ye have rejected Meg,Without the looking on her face?I’m sure your life she’d beg.”“I have not seen, but I have heardHer face described to me;And, by my faith, between the two,I’ll chose the gallows-tree.”The tears fell from that poor girl’s eyes,In anger or in spleen?—And ever and anon she sighed,And deep sobs came between.“Belike,” quo’ she, “they’ve painted herFar worse than she may look;Many a man has an ugly wife,That the gallows could not brook.”“I have no wish to see her face,Far less to marry her;But ye seem o’ a kindly heart,And aiblins are as fair.“So let me see your face, my joy,And by your countenance,I’ll see if I dare trust you withA letter for my chance?”She threw the veil from off her face,“I’m no well faured I know;But kernels lie inside hard shells,And gold in the earth below.”“So sweet and sensible ye speak,Ye almost make me wish,Meikle-Mouthed Meg was like to you,So kind, so young, so lish.”He held the light within the cruseClose to the maiden’s face,Wi’ loof o’er e’en, he earnestlyPerused each simple grace.He saw her face was fair and round,Her lips like a large rose-leaf;And her snow-white teeth so even showed,Like ivory from their sheath.There stood a tear in her dove-blue eye,Her eye so mild and meek,A large tear slowly left the lid,And trickled down her cheek.“Ye have the look that never lied,And tho’ no fine your face,Ye’ve pleasing sense and kindlinessWi’ every modest grace.“So bring to me the writing ink,The paper and pen so fine;And tho’ ye abide wi’ my enemy,Ye’ll take my mother a line.”She rolled it up so carefully,The letter he writ so fair;She had no silk, but she tied it withA lock o’ her golden hair.
Itwas about the midnight time,When his dungeon door ga’ed back;And the sentinel who guarded itLet in a woman in black.“What want ye wi’ me, fair Maiden?”The Scott o’ Harden said.“I come to ask if thy dying wishCan be by me obeyed?“I am a lassie o’ the house,And wait on Sir Gideon’s dame;And tho’ ye have refused poor Meg,Her prayers will be the same.”“Why has Dame Murray sent thee here?”—“She has a woman’s heart.Ye have a mother and sisters twain,From whom full soon ye part.“If ye have anything to say,Ye would have carried there,I swear by all that’s good on earth,To be your messenger.”“Maiden,” quo’ he, and his voice was low,“Of my mother do not speak;I wish to die as my father’s son,And yet her heart I break.”“It cannot be,” then said the girl,“Ye have rejected Meg,Without the looking on her face?I’m sure your life she’d beg.”“I have not seen, but I have heardHer face described to me;And, by my faith, between the two,I’ll chose the gallows-tree.”The tears fell from that poor girl’s eyes,In anger or in spleen?—And ever and anon she sighed,And deep sobs came between.“Belike,” quo’ she, “they’ve painted herFar worse than she may look;Many a man has an ugly wife,That the gallows could not brook.”“I have no wish to see her face,Far less to marry her;But ye seem o’ a kindly heart,And aiblins are as fair.“So let me see your face, my joy,And by your countenance,I’ll see if I dare trust you withA letter for my chance?”She threw the veil from off her face,“I’m no well faured I know;But kernels lie inside hard shells,And gold in the earth below.”“So sweet and sensible ye speak,Ye almost make me wish,Meikle-Mouthed Meg was like to you,So kind, so young, so lish.”He held the light within the cruseClose to the maiden’s face,Wi’ loof o’er e’en, he earnestlyPerused each simple grace.He saw her face was fair and round,Her lips like a large rose-leaf;And her snow-white teeth so even showed,Like ivory from their sheath.There stood a tear in her dove-blue eye,Her eye so mild and meek,A large tear slowly left the lid,And trickled down her cheek.“Ye have the look that never lied,And tho’ no fine your face,Ye’ve pleasing sense and kindlinessWi’ every modest grace.“So bring to me the writing ink,The paper and pen so fine;And tho’ ye abide wi’ my enemy,Ye’ll take my mother a line.”She rolled it up so carefully,The letter he writ so fair;She had no silk, but she tied it withA lock o’ her golden hair.
Itwas about the midnight time,When his dungeon door ga’ed back;And the sentinel who guarded itLet in a woman in black.
Itwas about the midnight time,
When his dungeon door ga’ed back;
And the sentinel who guarded it
Let in a woman in black.
“What want ye wi’ me, fair Maiden?”The Scott o’ Harden said.“I come to ask if thy dying wishCan be by me obeyed?
“What want ye wi’ me, fair Maiden?”
The Scott o’ Harden said.
“I come to ask if thy dying wish
Can be by me obeyed?
“I am a lassie o’ the house,And wait on Sir Gideon’s dame;And tho’ ye have refused poor Meg,Her prayers will be the same.”
“I am a lassie o’ the house,
And wait on Sir Gideon’s dame;
And tho’ ye have refused poor Meg,
Her prayers will be the same.”
“Why has Dame Murray sent thee here?”—“She has a woman’s heart.Ye have a mother and sisters twain,From whom full soon ye part.
“Why has Dame Murray sent thee here?”—
“She has a woman’s heart.
Ye have a mother and sisters twain,
From whom full soon ye part.
“If ye have anything to say,Ye would have carried there,I swear by all that’s good on earth,To be your messenger.”
“If ye have anything to say,
Ye would have carried there,
I swear by all that’s good on earth,
To be your messenger.”
“Maiden,” quo’ he, and his voice was low,“Of my mother do not speak;I wish to die as my father’s son,And yet her heart I break.”
“Maiden,” quo’ he, and his voice was low,
“Of my mother do not speak;
I wish to die as my father’s son,
And yet her heart I break.”
“It cannot be,” then said the girl,“Ye have rejected Meg,Without the looking on her face?I’m sure your life she’d beg.”
“It cannot be,” then said the girl,
“Ye have rejected Meg,
Without the looking on her face?
I’m sure your life she’d beg.”
“I have not seen, but I have heardHer face described to me;And, by my faith, between the two,I’ll chose the gallows-tree.”
“I have not seen, but I have heard
Her face described to me;
And, by my faith, between the two,
I’ll chose the gallows-tree.”
The tears fell from that poor girl’s eyes,In anger or in spleen?—And ever and anon she sighed,And deep sobs came between.
The tears fell from that poor girl’s eyes,
In anger or in spleen?—
And ever and anon she sighed,
And deep sobs came between.
“Belike,” quo’ she, “they’ve painted herFar worse than she may look;Many a man has an ugly wife,That the gallows could not brook.”
“Belike,” quo’ she, “they’ve painted her
Far worse than she may look;
Many a man has an ugly wife,
That the gallows could not brook.”
“I have no wish to see her face,Far less to marry her;But ye seem o’ a kindly heart,And aiblins are as fair.
“I have no wish to see her face,
Far less to marry her;
But ye seem o’ a kindly heart,
And aiblins are as fair.
“So let me see your face, my joy,And by your countenance,I’ll see if I dare trust you withA letter for my chance?”
“So let me see your face, my joy,
And by your countenance,
I’ll see if I dare trust you with
A letter for my chance?”
She threw the veil from off her face,“I’m no well faured I know;But kernels lie inside hard shells,And gold in the earth below.”
She threw the veil from off her face,
“I’m no well faured I know;
But kernels lie inside hard shells,
And gold in the earth below.”
“So sweet and sensible ye speak,Ye almost make me wish,Meikle-Mouthed Meg was like to you,So kind, so young, so lish.”
“So sweet and sensible ye speak,
Ye almost make me wish,
Meikle-Mouthed Meg was like to you,
So kind, so young, so lish.”
He held the light within the cruseClose to the maiden’s face,Wi’ loof o’er e’en, he earnestlyPerused each simple grace.
He held the light within the cruse
Close to the maiden’s face,
Wi’ loof o’er e’en, he earnestly
Perused each simple grace.
He saw her face was fair and round,Her lips like a large rose-leaf;And her snow-white teeth so even showed,Like ivory from their sheath.
He saw her face was fair and round,
Her lips like a large rose-leaf;
And her snow-white teeth so even showed,
Like ivory from their sheath.
There stood a tear in her dove-blue eye,Her eye so mild and meek,A large tear slowly left the lid,And trickled down her cheek.
There stood a tear in her dove-blue eye,
Her eye so mild and meek,
A large tear slowly left the lid,
And trickled down her cheek.
“Ye have the look that never lied,And tho’ no fine your face,Ye’ve pleasing sense and kindlinessWi’ every modest grace.
“Ye have the look that never lied,
And tho’ no fine your face,
Ye’ve pleasing sense and kindliness
Wi’ every modest grace.
“So bring to me the writing ink,The paper and pen so fine;And tho’ ye abide wi’ my enemy,Ye’ll take my mother a line.”
“So bring to me the writing ink,
The paper and pen so fine;
And tho’ ye abide wi’ my enemy,
Ye’ll take my mother a line.”
She rolled it up so carefully,The letter he writ so fair;She had no silk, but she tied it withA lock o’ her golden hair.
She rolled it up so carefully,
The letter he writ so fair;
She had no silk, but she tied it with
A lock o’ her golden hair.
Itwas by cock-crowing the morn,When Meg wi’ crippled feet,Like one that had a long way walkedCame in, her sire to greet.“Grant me another day,” she cried,“For young Willie Scott his life;And throw not by the chance, your MegHas to become a wife.”Sir Gideon rubbed his hands in glee,“I grant it for your sake;But if he then refuse your hand,He shall his own way take.”Much wondered the Laird o’ Oakwood Tower,As fell the evening gloom,They did not hang him in the morn,As he had heard his doom.He heard the sentry shoot the bolt,And a kind o’ murmuring;And then his mother and sisters twoWi’ loud outcries break in.And, “O my Son!” the mother cried,“Is there no other way,To save thee from a cruel death,At the hands o’ a fierce Murray?“Marry his daughter, Willie dear,And save thy mother’s life;Tho’ she be ugly—what of that?She’ll make a frugal wife.”“Mother, I will not take his terms.Who brought ye here?” he said.“Who, but your messenger so good,That kind and sonsy maid.”They passed the time in grief and woe,Throughout the dead of night;Nor ever they ceased to weep wi’ him,Until the morning’s light.The loud horn blew out o’er the lea,Sir Gideon stood him before;“What is thy choice, young man?” he cried,“Or ere this deed be o’er.”“The gallows still before the wife,”Young Harden stoutly said.“And wi’ the hemp around my throat,I’ll spit on the ground ye tread.”They led him forth to the gallows-tree;When he saw that maiden there,Who at her risk, unto his motherCarried his last letter;The thoughts o’ the gallows could not stirThe heart o’ that dauntless Chief,But the weeping look of that young girl,It pierced his soul wi’ grief.And while the tear hung in her eye,He took her lily hand;And said, “Thy heart is far too meek,For such a ruffian band.“Hear me, Murray, speak my mind,I care not for thy word,I’d rather marry this poor maiden,If should my life be spared,“Then ever I’d wed thy daughter Meg.”—Sir Gideon clapped his hand;“A bargain! I take thee at thy word,Young Scott where dost thou stand.”
Itwas by cock-crowing the morn,When Meg wi’ crippled feet,Like one that had a long way walkedCame in, her sire to greet.“Grant me another day,” she cried,“For young Willie Scott his life;And throw not by the chance, your MegHas to become a wife.”Sir Gideon rubbed his hands in glee,“I grant it for your sake;But if he then refuse your hand,He shall his own way take.”Much wondered the Laird o’ Oakwood Tower,As fell the evening gloom,They did not hang him in the morn,As he had heard his doom.He heard the sentry shoot the bolt,And a kind o’ murmuring;And then his mother and sisters twoWi’ loud outcries break in.And, “O my Son!” the mother cried,“Is there no other way,To save thee from a cruel death,At the hands o’ a fierce Murray?“Marry his daughter, Willie dear,And save thy mother’s life;Tho’ she be ugly—what of that?She’ll make a frugal wife.”“Mother, I will not take his terms.Who brought ye here?” he said.“Who, but your messenger so good,That kind and sonsy maid.”They passed the time in grief and woe,Throughout the dead of night;Nor ever they ceased to weep wi’ him,Until the morning’s light.The loud horn blew out o’er the lea,Sir Gideon stood him before;“What is thy choice, young man?” he cried,“Or ere this deed be o’er.”“The gallows still before the wife,”Young Harden stoutly said.“And wi’ the hemp around my throat,I’ll spit on the ground ye tread.”They led him forth to the gallows-tree;When he saw that maiden there,Who at her risk, unto his motherCarried his last letter;The thoughts o’ the gallows could not stirThe heart o’ that dauntless Chief,But the weeping look of that young girl,It pierced his soul wi’ grief.And while the tear hung in her eye,He took her lily hand;And said, “Thy heart is far too meek,For such a ruffian band.“Hear me, Murray, speak my mind,I care not for thy word,I’d rather marry this poor maiden,If should my life be spared,“Then ever I’d wed thy daughter Meg.”—Sir Gideon clapped his hand;“A bargain! I take thee at thy word,Young Scott where dost thou stand.”
Itwas by cock-crowing the morn,When Meg wi’ crippled feet,Like one that had a long way walkedCame in, her sire to greet.
Itwas by cock-crowing the morn,
When Meg wi’ crippled feet,
Like one that had a long way walked
Came in, her sire to greet.
“Grant me another day,” she cried,“For young Willie Scott his life;And throw not by the chance, your MegHas to become a wife.”
“Grant me another day,” she cried,
“For young Willie Scott his life;
And throw not by the chance, your Meg
Has to become a wife.”
Sir Gideon rubbed his hands in glee,“I grant it for your sake;But if he then refuse your hand,He shall his own way take.”
Sir Gideon rubbed his hands in glee,
“I grant it for your sake;
But if he then refuse your hand,
He shall his own way take.”
Much wondered the Laird o’ Oakwood Tower,As fell the evening gloom,They did not hang him in the morn,As he had heard his doom.
Much wondered the Laird o’ Oakwood Tower,
As fell the evening gloom,
They did not hang him in the morn,
As he had heard his doom.
He heard the sentry shoot the bolt,And a kind o’ murmuring;And then his mother and sisters twoWi’ loud outcries break in.
He heard the sentry shoot the bolt,
And a kind o’ murmuring;
And then his mother and sisters two
Wi’ loud outcries break in.
And, “O my Son!” the mother cried,“Is there no other way,To save thee from a cruel death,At the hands o’ a fierce Murray?
And, “O my Son!” the mother cried,
“Is there no other way,
To save thee from a cruel death,
At the hands o’ a fierce Murray?
“Marry his daughter, Willie dear,And save thy mother’s life;Tho’ she be ugly—what of that?She’ll make a frugal wife.”
“Marry his daughter, Willie dear,
And save thy mother’s life;
Tho’ she be ugly—what of that?
She’ll make a frugal wife.”
“Mother, I will not take his terms.Who brought ye here?” he said.“Who, but your messenger so good,That kind and sonsy maid.”
“Mother, I will not take his terms.
Who brought ye here?” he said.
“Who, but your messenger so good,
That kind and sonsy maid.”
They passed the time in grief and woe,Throughout the dead of night;Nor ever they ceased to weep wi’ him,Until the morning’s light.
They passed the time in grief and woe,
Throughout the dead of night;
Nor ever they ceased to weep wi’ him,
Until the morning’s light.
The loud horn blew out o’er the lea,Sir Gideon stood him before;“What is thy choice, young man?” he cried,“Or ere this deed be o’er.”
The loud horn blew out o’er the lea,
Sir Gideon stood him before;
“What is thy choice, young man?” he cried,
“Or ere this deed be o’er.”
“The gallows still before the wife,”Young Harden stoutly said.“And wi’ the hemp around my throat,I’ll spit on the ground ye tread.”
“The gallows still before the wife,”
Young Harden stoutly said.
“And wi’ the hemp around my throat,
I’ll spit on the ground ye tread.”
They led him forth to the gallows-tree;When he saw that maiden there,Who at her risk, unto his motherCarried his last letter;
They led him forth to the gallows-tree;
When he saw that maiden there,
Who at her risk, unto his mother
Carried his last letter;
The thoughts o’ the gallows could not stirThe heart o’ that dauntless Chief,But the weeping look of that young girl,It pierced his soul wi’ grief.
The thoughts o’ the gallows could not stir
The heart o’ that dauntless Chief,
But the weeping look of that young girl,
It pierced his soul wi’ grief.
And while the tear hung in her eye,He took her lily hand;And said, “Thy heart is far too meek,For such a ruffian band.
And while the tear hung in her eye,
He took her lily hand;
And said, “Thy heart is far too meek,
For such a ruffian band.
“Hear me, Murray, speak my mind,I care not for thy word,I’d rather marry this poor maiden,If should my life be spared,
“Hear me, Murray, speak my mind,
I care not for thy word,
I’d rather marry this poor maiden,
If should my life be spared,
“Then ever I’d wed thy daughter Meg.”—Sir Gideon clapped his hand;“A bargain! I take thee at thy word,Young Scott where dost thou stand.”
“Then ever I’d wed thy daughter Meg.”—
Sir Gideon clapped his hand;
“A bargain! I take thee at thy word,
Young Scott where dost thou stand.”
They buckled them in holy bonds,The priest he prayed the while;And when the marriage knot was tied,Sir Gideon blithe did smile.His mother fell upon his neck,“God bless my bairn, he’s free!And bless the bonny lassie yet,Who brought the word to me!”“I give thee a father’s blessing, sir,”The Murray blithely cried;“For what?”—The lassie modest said,“Meikle-Mouthed Meg’s your bride.”Oh! then sore shame fell on the Scott,And tears came in his eyes;“And is my bride the scorned Meg,That I did so despise?“Let no man hate what he’s not seen,The shame on me doth lay:—I rose this morning for my death,And it ends in my bridal day!”
They buckled them in holy bonds,The priest he prayed the while;And when the marriage knot was tied,Sir Gideon blithe did smile.His mother fell upon his neck,“God bless my bairn, he’s free!And bless the bonny lassie yet,Who brought the word to me!”“I give thee a father’s blessing, sir,”The Murray blithely cried;“For what?”—The lassie modest said,“Meikle-Mouthed Meg’s your bride.”Oh! then sore shame fell on the Scott,And tears came in his eyes;“And is my bride the scorned Meg,That I did so despise?“Let no man hate what he’s not seen,The shame on me doth lay:—I rose this morning for my death,And it ends in my bridal day!”
They buckled them in holy bonds,The priest he prayed the while;And when the marriage knot was tied,Sir Gideon blithe did smile.
They buckled them in holy bonds,
The priest he prayed the while;
And when the marriage knot was tied,
Sir Gideon blithe did smile.
His mother fell upon his neck,“God bless my bairn, he’s free!And bless the bonny lassie yet,Who brought the word to me!”
His mother fell upon his neck,
“God bless my bairn, he’s free!
And bless the bonny lassie yet,
Who brought the word to me!”
“I give thee a father’s blessing, sir,”The Murray blithely cried;“For what?”—The lassie modest said,“Meikle-Mouthed Meg’s your bride.”
“I give thee a father’s blessing, sir,”
The Murray blithely cried;
“For what?”—The lassie modest said,
“Meikle-Mouthed Meg’s your bride.”
Oh! then sore shame fell on the Scott,And tears came in his eyes;“And is my bride the scorned Meg,That I did so despise?
Oh! then sore shame fell on the Scott,
And tears came in his eyes;
“And is my bride the scorned Meg,
That I did so despise?
“Let no man hate what he’s not seen,The shame on me doth lay:—I rose this morning for my death,And it ends in my bridal day!”
“Let no man hate what he’s not seen,
The shame on me doth lay:—
I rose this morning for my death,
And it ends in my bridal day!”
(Englished. Condensed)