A.

Now pay the miller for his payne,And let him bee gone in the divel's name.

SwedishFhas an entirely perverted and feeble conclusion. "A good man" takes the younger sister from the water, carries her to his house, revives her, and nurses her till the morrow, and then restores her to her father, who asks why she is so pale, and why she had not come back with her sister. She explains that she had been pushed into the water, "and we may thank this good man that I came home at all." The father tells the elder that she is a disgrace to her country, and condemns her to the "blue tower." But her sister intercedes, and a cheerful and handsome wedding follows.

SwedishCand nearly all the Norwegian ballads[138]restore the drowned girl to life, but not by those processes of the Humane Society which are successfully adopted by the "arlig man" in SwedishF. The harp is dashed against a stone, or upon the floor, and the girl stands forth "as good as ever." As Landstad conceives the matter (484, note 7), the elder sister is a witch, and is in the end burnedas such. The white body of the younger is made to take on the appearance of a crooked log, which the fishermen (who, by the way, are angels inC,E) innocently shape into a harp, and the music, vibrating from her hair "through all her limbs, marrow and bone," acts as a disenchantment. However this may be, the restoration of the younger sister, like all good endings foisted on tragedies, emasculates the story.

EnglishF9 has the peculiarity, not noticed elsewhere, that the drowning girl catches at a broom-root, and the elder sister forces her to let go her hold.[139]In SwedishGshe is simply said to swim to an alder-root. In EnglishG8 the elder drives the younger from the land with a switch, inI8 pushes her off with a silver wand.

EnglishOintroduces theghostof the drowned sister as instructing her father's fiddler to make a string of her hair and a peg of her little finger bone, which done, the first spring the fiddle plays, it says,

'Ye'll drown my sister as she's dune me.'

P, which is disordered at the end, seems to have agreed withO. InQthe ghost sends, by the medium of the miller and his daughter, respects to father, mother, and true-love, adding a lock of yellow hair for the last. The ghost is found inN, Pinkerton's copy, as well, but there appears to the lover at dead of night, two days after the drowning. It informs him of the murder, and he makes search for the body. This is a wide departure from the original story, and plainly a modern perversion. Another variation, entirely wantingin ancient authority, appears inR,S. The girl is not dead when she has floated down to the mill-dam, and, being drawn out of the water by the miller, offers him a handsome reward to take her back to her father [S, to throw her in again!]. The miller takes the reward, and pushes the girl in again, for which he is hanged.[140]

Qhas a burden partly Gaelic,

... ohone and aree (alack and O Lord),On the banks of the Banna (White River), ohone and aree,

which may raise a question whether the Scotch burden Binnorie (pronounced Bínnorie, as well as Binnórie) is corrupted from it, or the corruption is on the other side. Mr Campbell notices as quaint the reply in stanza 9:

'I did not put you in with the designJust for to pull you out again.'

We have had a similar reply, made under like circumstances, in Polish versions of No 4: seep. 40,note.

All the Norse versions of this ballad are in two-line stanzas, and all the English, exceptL band in partL a.

Some of the traits of the English and Norse story are presented by an Esthonian ballad, 'The Harp,' Neus, Ehstnische Volkslieder, No 13, p. 56. Another version is given in Rosenplänter's Beiträge zur genauern Kenntniss der ehstnischen Sprache, Heft 4, 142, and a third, says Neus, in Ch. H. J. Schlegel's Reisen in mehrere russische Gouvernements,V, 140. A young woman, who tells her own story, is murdered by her sisters-in-law and buried in a moor. She comes up as a birch, from which, with the jaw-bone of a salmon, the teeth of a pike, and her own hair (the account is somewhat confused) a harp is made. The harp is taken to the hall by the murdered girl's brother, and responds to his playing with tones of sorrow like those of the bride who leaves father and mother for the house of a husband.[141]

A Slovak ballad often translated (Talvj, Historical View, etc., p. 392; Wenzig's Slawische Volkslieder, p. 110, Westslawischer Märchenschatz, 273, and Bibliothek Slavischer Poesien, p. 134; Lewestam, Polnische Volksagen und Märchen, p. 151) comes nearer in some respects. A daughter is cursed by her mother for not succeeding in drawing water in frosty weather. Her bucket turns to stone, but she to a maple. Two fiddlers come by, and, seeing a remarkably fine tree, propose to make of it fiddles and fiddle-sticks. When they cut into the tree, blood spirts out. The tree bids them go on, and when they have done, play before the mother's door, and sing, Here is your daughter, that you cursed to stone. At the first notes the mother runs to the window, and begs them to desist, for she has suffered much since she lost her daughter.

The soul of a dead girl speaks through a tree, again, in a Lithuanian ballad, Nesselmann, Littauische Volkslieder, No 378, p. 320. The girl is drowned while attempting to cross a stream, carried down to the sea, and finally thrown ashore, where she grows up a linden. Her brother makes a pipe from a branch, and the pipe gives out sweet, sad tones. The mother says, That tone comes not from the linden; it is thy sister's soul, that hovers over the water. A like idea is met with in another Lithuanian ballad, Rhesa, Dainos, ed. Kurschat, No 85, p. 231. A sister plucks a bud from a rose-bush growing over the grave of her brother, who had died from disappointed love. How fragrant! she exclaims. But her mother answers, with tears, It is not the rosebud, but the soul of the youth that died of grief.

Though the range of the ballad proper is somewhat limited, popular tales equivalent as to the characteristic circumstances are very widely diffused.

A Polish popular tale, which is, indeed, half song, Wojcicki, Klechdy, ed. 1851,II, 15 (Lewestam, p. 105), Kolberg, Pieśni luduPolskiego, p. 292, No 40a,b,c, approaches very close to the English-Norse ballad. There were three sisters, all pretty, but the youngest far surpassing the others. A young man from the far-off Ukraine fell in with them while they were making garlands. The youngest pleased him best, and he chose her for his wife. This excited the jealousy of the eldest, and a few days after, when they were gathering berries in a wood, she killed the youngest, notwithstanding the resistance of the second sister, buried her, and gave out that she had been torn to pieces by wolves. When the youth came to ask after his love, the murderess told him this tale, and so won him by her devoted consolations that he offered her his hand. A willow grew out of the grave of the youngest, and a herdsman made a pipe from one of its boughs. Blow as he would, he could get no sound from the pipe but this:

'Blow on, herdsman, blow! God shall bless thee so.The eldest was my slayer, the second tried to stay her.'

The herdsman took the pipe to the house of the murdered girl. The mother, the father, and the second sister successively tried it, and the pipe always sang a like song, Blow, mother, blow, etc. The father then put the pipe into the eldest sister's hands. She had hardly touched it, when blood spattered her cheeks, and the pipe sang:

'Blow on, sister, blow: God shall wreak me now.Thou, sister, 't was didst slay me, the younger tried to stay thee,' etc.

The murderess was torn by wild horses.

Professor Bugge reports a Norwegian tale, Grundtvig,III, 878, which resembles the ballad at the beginning. There were in a family two daughters and a son. One sister was wasteful, the other saving. The second complained of the first to her parents, and was killed and buried by the other. Foliage covered the grave, so that it could not be seen, but on the trees under which the body lay, there grew "strings." These the brother cut off and adapted to his fiddle, and when he played, the fiddle said, My sister is killed. The father, having heard the fiddle's revelation, brought his daughter to confess her act.

There is a series of tales which represent a king, or other personage, as being afflicted with a severe malady, and as promising that whichever of his children, commonly three sons, should bring him something necessary for his cure or comfort should be his heir: (1) 'La Flor del Lililá,' Fernan Caballero, Lágrimas, cap. 4; (2) 'La caña del riu de arenas,' Milá, Observaciones sobre la poesia popular, p. 178, No 3; (3) 'Es kommt doch einmal an den Tag,' Müllenhof, Sagen, u. s. w., p. 495, No 49; (4) 'Vom singenden Dudelsack,' Gonzenbach, Sicilianische Märchen,I, 329, No 51. Or the inheritance is promised to whichever of the children finds something lost, or rich and rare, a griffin's feather, a golden branch, a flower: (5) 'Die Greifenfeder,' Schneller, Märchen und Sagen aus Wälschtirol, p. 143, No 51; (6) 'La Flanuto,' Bladé, Contes et proverbes populaires recueillis en Armagnac, p. 3, No 1; (7) Wackernagel, in Haupt's Zeitschrift,III, 35, No 3, == 'Das Todtebeindli,' Colshorn, C. u. Th., Märchen u. Sagen, p. 193, No 71, == Sutermeister, Kinder-u.-Hausmärchen aus der Schweiz, p. 119, No 39. Or a king promises his daughter to the man who shall capture a dangerous wild beast, and the exploit is undertaken by three brothers [or two]: (8) 'Der singende Knochen,' Grimms, K. u. H. märchen,I, 149, No 28 (1857); (9) 'Die drei Brüder,' Curtze, Volksüberlieferungen aus dem Fürstenthum Waldeck, p. 53, No 11; (10) 'Der Rohrstengel,' Haltrich, Deutsche Volksmärchen aus dem Sachsenlande, u. s. w., p. 225, No 42. With these we may group, though divergent in some respects, (11) 'Der goldene Apfel,' Toeppen, Aberglauben aus Masuren, p. 139.[142]In all these tales the youngest child is successful, and is killed, out of envy, by the eldest or by the two elder. [There are only two children in (6), (7), (8); in (4) the second is innocent, as in the Polish tale.] Reeds grow over the spot where the body is buried (1), (2), (10), (11), or anelder bush (3), out of which a herdsman makes a pipe or flute; or a white bone is found by a herdsman, and he makes a pipe or horn of it (5-9); or a bag-pipe is made of the bones and skin of the murdered youth (4). The instrument, whenever it is played, attests the murder.

Among the tales of the South African Bechuana, there is one of a younger brother, who has been killed by an older, immediately appearing as a bird, and announcing what has occurred. The bird is twice killed, and the last time burnt and its ashes scattered to the winds, but still reappears, and proclaims that his body lies by a spring in the desert. Grimms, K. u. H. m.III, 361. Liebrecht has noted that the fundamental idea is found in a Chinese drama, 'The Talking Dish,' said to be based on a popular tale. An innkeeper and his wife kill one of their guests for his money, and burn the body. The innkeeper collects the ashes and pounds the bones, and makes a sort of mortar and a dish. This dish speaks very distinctly, and denounces the murderers. Journal Asiatique, 1851, 4th Series, vol. 18, p. 523.

DanishA,Eare translated by Prior,I, 381, 384. EnglishB, with use ofC, is translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, p. 104, No 15;C, by Afzelius,III, 22.C, by Talvj, Versuch, u. s. w., p. 532; by Schubart, p. 133; by Gerhard, p. 143; by Doenniges, p. 81; Arndt, p. 238.C, with use of Aytoun's compounded version, by R. Warrens, Schottische V. L. der Vorzeit, p. 65; Allingham's version by Knortz, Lieder u. Romanzen Alt-Englands, p. 180.

A. a.Broadside "printed for Francis Grove, 1656," reprinted in Notes and Queries, 1st S.,V, 591.b.Wit Restor'd, 1658, "p. 51," p. 153 of the reprint of 1817.c.Wit and Drollery, ed. 1682, p. 87, == Dryden's Miscellany, Part 3, p. 316, ed. 1716.d.Jamieson's Popular Ballads,I, 315.

1There were two sisters, they went playing,With a hie downe downe a downe-aTo see their father's ships come sayling in.With a hy downe downe a downe-a2And when they came unto the sea-brym,The elder did push the younger in.3'O sister, O sister, take me by the gowne,And drawe me up upon the dry ground.'4'O sister, O sister, that may not bee,Till salt and oatmeale grow both of a tree.'5Somtymes she sanke, somtymes she swam,Until she came unto the mill-dam.6The miller runne hastily downe the cliffe,And up he betook her withouten her life.7What did he doe with her brest-bone?He made him a violl to play thereupon.8What did he doe with her fingers so small?He made him peggs to his violl withall.9What did he doe with her nose-ridge?Unto his violl he made him a bridge.10What did he doe with her veynes so blew?He made him strings to his violl thereto.11What did he doe with her eyes so bright?Upon his violl he played at first sight.12What did he doe with her tongue so rough?Unto the violl it spake enough.13What did he doe with her two shinnes?Unto the violl they danc'd Moll Syms.14Then bespake the treble string,'O yonder is my father the king.'15Then bespake the second string,'O yonder sitts my mother the queen.'16And then bespake the strings all three,'O yonder is my sister that drowned mee.'17'Now pay the miller for his payne,And let him bee gone in the divel's name.'

1There were two sisters, they went playing,With a hie downe downe a downe-aTo see their father's ships come sayling in.With a hy downe downe a downe-a

2And when they came unto the sea-brym,The elder did push the younger in.

3'O sister, O sister, take me by the gowne,And drawe me up upon the dry ground.'

4'O sister, O sister, that may not bee,Till salt and oatmeale grow both of a tree.'

5Somtymes she sanke, somtymes she swam,Until she came unto the mill-dam.

6The miller runne hastily downe the cliffe,And up he betook her withouten her life.

7What did he doe with her brest-bone?He made him a violl to play thereupon.

8What did he doe with her fingers so small?He made him peggs to his violl withall.

9What did he doe with her nose-ridge?Unto his violl he made him a bridge.

10What did he doe with her veynes so blew?He made him strings to his violl thereto.

11What did he doe with her eyes so bright?Upon his violl he played at first sight.

12What did he doe with her tongue so rough?Unto the violl it spake enough.

13What did he doe with her two shinnes?Unto the violl they danc'd Moll Syms.

14Then bespake the treble string,'O yonder is my father the king.'

15Then bespake the second string,'O yonder sitts my mother the queen.'

16And then bespake the strings all three,'O yonder is my sister that drowned mee.'

17'Now pay the miller for his payne,And let him bee gone in the divel's name.'

a.Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 39.b.Wm. Tytler's Brown MS., No 15.c.Abbotsford MS., "Scottish Songs," fol. 21.d.Jamieson's Popular Ballads,I, 48.

1There was twa sisters in a bowr,Edinburgh, EdinburghThere was twa sisters in a bowr,Stirling for ayThere was twa sisters in a bowr,There came a knight to be their wooer.Bonny Saint Johnston stands upon Tay2He courted the eldest wi glove an ring,But he lovd the youngest above a' thing.3He courted the eldest wi brotch an knife,But lovd the youngest as his life.4The eldest she was vexed sair,An much envi'd her sister fair.5Into her bowr she could not rest,Wi grief an spite she almos brast.6Upon a morning fair an clear,She cried upon her sister dear:7'O sister, come to yon sea stran,An see our father's ships come to lan.'8She's taen her by the milk-white han,An led her down to yon sea stran.9The younges[t] stood upon a stane,The eldest came an threw her in.10She tooke her by the middle sma,An dashd her bonny back to the jaw.11'O sister, sister, tak my han,An Ise mack you heir to a' my lan.12'O sister, sister, tak my middle,An yes get my goud and my gouden girdle.13'O sister, sister, save my life,An I swear Ise never be nae man's wife.'14'Foul fa the han that I should tacke,It twin'd me an my wardles make.15'Your cherry cheeks an yallow hairGars me gae maiden for evermair.'16Sometimes she sank, an sometimes she swam,Till she came down yon bonny mill-dam.17O out it came the miller's son,An saw the fair maid swimmin in.18'O father, father, draw your dam,Here's either a mermaid or a swan.'19The miller quickly drew the dam,An there he found a drownd woman.20You coudna see her yallow hairFor gold and pearle that were so rare.21You coudna see her middle smaFor gouden girdle that was sae braw.22You coudna see her fingers white,For gouden rings that was sae gryte.23An by there came a harper fine,That harped to the king at dine.24When he did look that lady upon,He sighd and made a heavy moan.25He's taen three locks o her yallow hair,An wi them strung his harp sae fair.26The first tune he did play and sing,Was, 'Farewell to my father the king.'27The nextin tune that he playd syne,Was, 'Farewell to my mother the queen.'28The lasten tune that he playd then,Was, 'Wae to my sister, fair Ellen.'

2He courted the eldest wi glove an ring,But he lovd the youngest above a' thing.

3He courted the eldest wi brotch an knife,But lovd the youngest as his life.

4The eldest she was vexed sair,An much envi'd her sister fair.

5Into her bowr she could not rest,Wi grief an spite she almos brast.

6Upon a morning fair an clear,She cried upon her sister dear:

7'O sister, come to yon sea stran,An see our father's ships come to lan.'

8She's taen her by the milk-white han,An led her down to yon sea stran.

9The younges[t] stood upon a stane,The eldest came an threw her in.

10She tooke her by the middle sma,An dashd her bonny back to the jaw.

11'O sister, sister, tak my han,An Ise mack you heir to a' my lan.

12'O sister, sister, tak my middle,An yes get my goud and my gouden girdle.

13'O sister, sister, save my life,An I swear Ise never be nae man's wife.'

14'Foul fa the han that I should tacke,It twin'd me an my wardles make.

15'Your cherry cheeks an yallow hairGars me gae maiden for evermair.'

16Sometimes she sank, an sometimes she swam,Till she came down yon bonny mill-dam.

17O out it came the miller's son,An saw the fair maid swimmin in.

18'O father, father, draw your dam,Here's either a mermaid or a swan.'

19The miller quickly drew the dam,An there he found a drownd woman.

20You coudna see her yallow hairFor gold and pearle that were so rare.

21You coudna see her middle smaFor gouden girdle that was sae braw.

22You coudna see her fingers white,For gouden rings that was sae gryte.

23An by there came a harper fine,That harped to the king at dine.

24When he did look that lady upon,He sighd and made a heavy moan.

25He's taen three locks o her yallow hair,An wi them strung his harp sae fair.

26The first tune he did play and sing,Was, 'Farewell to my father the king.'

27The nextin tune that he playd syne,Was, 'Farewell to my mother the queen.'

28The lasten tune that he playd then,Was, 'Wae to my sister, fair Ellen.'

Scott's Minstrelsy, 1802,II; 143. Compounded fromB band a fragment of fourteen stanzas transcribed from the recitation of an old woman by Miss Charlotte Brooke.

1There were two sisters sat in a bour;Binnorie, O BinnorieThere came a knight to be their wooer.By the bonny mill-dams of Binnorie2He courted the eldest with glove and ring,But he loed the youngest aboon a' thing.3He courted the eldest with broach and knife,But he loed the youngest aboon his life.4The eldest she was vexed sair,And sore envied her sister fair.5The eldest said to the youngest ane,'Will ye go and see our father's ships come in?'6She's taen her by the lilly hand,And led her down to the river strand.7The youngest stude upon a stane,The eldest came and pushed her in.8She took her by the middle sma,And dashed her bonnie back to the jaw.9'O sister, sister, reach your hand,And ye shall be heir of half my land.'10'O sister, I'll not reach my hand,And I'll be heir of all your land.11'Shame fa the hand that I should take,It's twin'd me and my world's make.'12'O sister, reach me but your glove,And sweet William shall be your love.'13'Sink on, nor hope for hand or glove,And sweet William shall better be my love.14'Your cherry cheeks and your yellow hairGarrd me gang maiden evermair.'15Sometimes she sunk, and sometimes she swam,Until she came to the miller's dam.16'O father, father, draw your dam,There's either a mermaid or a milk-white swan.'17The miller hasted and drew his dam,And there he found a drowned woman.18You could not see her yellow hair,For gowd and pearls that were sae rare.19You could na see her middle sma,Her gowden girdle was sae bra.20A famous harper passing by,The sweet pale face he chanced to spy.21And when he looked that ladye on,He sighed and made a heavy moan.22He made a harp of her breast-bone,Whose sounds would melt a heart of stone.23The strings he framed of her yellow hair,Whose notes made sad the listening ear.24He brought it to her father's hall,And there was the court assembled all.25He laid this harp upon a stone,And straight it began to play alone.26'O yonder sits my father, the king,And yonder sits my mother, the queen.27'And yonder stands my brother Hugh,And by him my William, sweet and true.'28But the last tune that the harp playd then,Was 'Woe to my sister, false Helen!'

1There were two sisters sat in a bour;Binnorie, O BinnorieThere came a knight to be their wooer.By the bonny mill-dams of Binnorie

2He courted the eldest with glove and ring,But he loed the youngest aboon a' thing.

3He courted the eldest with broach and knife,But he loed the youngest aboon his life.

4The eldest she was vexed sair,And sore envied her sister fair.

5The eldest said to the youngest ane,'Will ye go and see our father's ships come in?'

6She's taen her by the lilly hand,And led her down to the river strand.

7The youngest stude upon a stane,The eldest came and pushed her in.

8She took her by the middle sma,And dashed her bonnie back to the jaw.

9'O sister, sister, reach your hand,And ye shall be heir of half my land.'

10'O sister, I'll not reach my hand,And I'll be heir of all your land.

11'Shame fa the hand that I should take,It's twin'd me and my world's make.'

12'O sister, reach me but your glove,And sweet William shall be your love.'

13'Sink on, nor hope for hand or glove,And sweet William shall better be my love.

14'Your cherry cheeks and your yellow hairGarrd me gang maiden evermair.'

15Sometimes she sunk, and sometimes she swam,Until she came to the miller's dam.

16'O father, father, draw your dam,There's either a mermaid or a milk-white swan.'

17The miller hasted and drew his dam,And there he found a drowned woman.

18You could not see her yellow hair,For gowd and pearls that were sae rare.

19You could na see her middle sma,Her gowden girdle was sae bra.

20A famous harper passing by,The sweet pale face he chanced to spy.

21And when he looked that ladye on,He sighed and made a heavy moan.

22He made a harp of her breast-bone,Whose sounds would melt a heart of stone.

23The strings he framed of her yellow hair,Whose notes made sad the listening ear.

24He brought it to her father's hall,And there was the court assembled all.

25He laid this harp upon a stone,And straight it began to play alone.

26'O yonder sits my father, the king,And yonder sits my mother, the queen.

27'And yonder stands my brother Hugh,And by him my William, sweet and true.'

28But the last tune that the harp playd then,Was 'Woe to my sister, false Helen!'

Kinloch's MSS,II, 49. From the recitation of Mrs Johnston, a North-country lady.

1There lived three sisters in a bouer,Edinbruch, EdinbruchThere lived three sisters in a bouer,Stirling for ayeThere lived three sisters in a bouer,The youngest was the sweetest flowr.Bonnie St Johnston stands upon Tay2There cam a knicht to see them a',And on the youngest his love did fa.3He brought the eldest ring and glove,But the youngest was his ain true-love.4He brought the second sheath and knife,But the youngest was to be his wife.5The eldest sister said to the youngest ane,'Will ye go and see our father's ships come in?'6And as they walked by the linn,The eldest dang the youngest in.7'O sister, sister, tak my hand,And ye'll be heir to a' my land.'8'Foul fa the hand that I wad take,To twin me o my warld's make.'9'O sister, sister, tak my glove,And yese get Willie, my true-love.'10'Sister, sister, I'll na tak your glove,For I'll get Willie, your true-love.'11Aye she swittert, and aye she swam,Till she cam to yon bonnie mill-dam.12The miller's dochter cam out wi speed,It was for water, to bake her bread.13'O father, father, gae slack your dam;There's in't a lady or a milk-white swan.'* * * * *14They could na see her coal-black eyesFor her yellow locks hang oure her brees.15They could na see her weel-made middleFor her braid gowden girdle.* * * * *16And by there cam an auld blind fiddler,And took three tets o her bonnie yellow hair.* * * * *17The first spring that the bonnie fiddle playd,'Hang my cruel sister, Alison,' it said.

2There cam a knicht to see them a',And on the youngest his love did fa.

3He brought the eldest ring and glove,But the youngest was his ain true-love.

4He brought the second sheath and knife,But the youngest was to be his wife.

5The eldest sister said to the youngest ane,'Will ye go and see our father's ships come in?'

6And as they walked by the linn,The eldest dang the youngest in.

7'O sister, sister, tak my hand,And ye'll be heir to a' my land.'

8'Foul fa the hand that I wad take,To twin me o my warld's make.'

9'O sister, sister, tak my glove,And yese get Willie, my true-love.'

10'Sister, sister, I'll na tak your glove,For I'll get Willie, your true-love.'

11Aye she swittert, and aye she swam,Till she cam to yon bonnie mill-dam.

12The miller's dochter cam out wi speed,It was for water, to bake her bread.

13'O father, father, gae slack your dam;There's in't a lady or a milk-white swan.'

* * * * *

14They could na see her coal-black eyesFor her yellow locks hang oure her brees.

15They could na see her weel-made middleFor her braid gowden girdle.

* * * * *

16And by there cam an auld blind fiddler,And took three tets o her bonnie yellow hair.

* * * * *

17The first spring that the bonnie fiddle playd,'Hang my cruel sister, Alison,' it said.

Sharpe's Ballad Book, No 10, p. 30.

1There livd twa sisters in a bower,Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch!There lived twa sisters in a bower,Stirling for aye!The youngest o them O she was a flower!Bonny Sanct Johnstoune that stands upon Tay!2There cam a squire frae the west,He loed them baith, but the youngest best.3He gied the eldest a gay gold ring,But he loed the youngest aboon a' thing.4'O sister, sister, will ye go to the sea?Our father's ships sail bonnilie.'5The youngest sat down upon a stane;The eldest shot the youngest in.6'O sister, sister, lend me your hand,And you shall hae my gouden fan.7'O sister, sister, save my life,And ye shall be the squire's wife.'8First she sank, and then she swam,Untill she cam to Tweed mill-dam.9The millar's daughter was baking bread,She went for water, as she had need.10'O father, father, in our mill-damThere's either a lady, or a milk-white swan.'11They could nae see her fingers small,Wi diamond rings they were coverd all.12They could nae see her yellow hair,Sae mony knots and platts were there.13They could nae see her lilly feet,Her gowden fringes war sae deep.14Bye there cam a fiddler fair,And he's taen three taits o her yellow hair.

1There livd twa sisters in a bower,Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch!There lived twa sisters in a bower,Stirling for aye!The youngest o them O she was a flower!Bonny Sanct Johnstoune that stands upon Tay!

2There cam a squire frae the west,He loed them baith, but the youngest best.

3He gied the eldest a gay gold ring,But he loed the youngest aboon a' thing.

4'O sister, sister, will ye go to the sea?Our father's ships sail bonnilie.'

5The youngest sat down upon a stane;The eldest shot the youngest in.

6'O sister, sister, lend me your hand,And you shall hae my gouden fan.

7'O sister, sister, save my life,And ye shall be the squire's wife.'

8First she sank, and then she swam,Untill she cam to Tweed mill-dam.

9The millar's daughter was baking bread,She went for water, as she had need.

10'O father, father, in our mill-damThere's either a lady, or a milk-white swan.'

11They could nae see her fingers small,Wi diamond rings they were coverd all.

12They could nae see her yellow hair,Sae mony knots and platts were there.

13They could nae see her lilly feet,Her gowden fringes war sae deep.

14Bye there cam a fiddler fair,And he's taen three taits o her yellow hair.

Motherwell's MS., p. 383. From the recitation of Agnes Lyle, Kilbarchan, 27th July, 1825.

1There was two ladies livd in a bower,Hey with a gay and a grinding OThe youngest o them was the fairest flowerAbout a' the bonny bows o London.2There was two ladies livd in a bower,An wooer unto the youngest did go.3The oldest one to the youngest did say,'Will ye take a walk with me today,And we'll view the bonny bows o London.4'Thou'll set thy foot whare I set mine,Thou'll set thy foot upon this stane.'5'I'll set my foot where thou sets thine:'The old sister dang the youngest in,At, etc.6'O sister dear, come tak my hand,Take my life safe to dry land,'At, etc.7'It's neer by my hand thy hand sall come in,It's neer by my hand thy hand sall come in,At, etc.8'It's thy cherry cheeks and thy white briest baneGars me set a maid owre lang at hame.'9She clasped her hand[s] about a brume rute,But her cruel sister she lowsed them out.10Sometimes she sank, and sometimes she swam,Till she cam to the miller's dam.11The miller's bairns has muckle need,They were bearing in water to bake some breid.12Says, 'Father, dear father, in our mill-dam,It's either a fair maid or a milk-white swan.'13The miller he's spared nae his hose nor his shoonTill he brocht this lady till dry land.14I wad he saw na a bit o her feet,Her silver slippers were made so neat.15I wad he saw na a bit o her skin,For ribbons there was mony a ane.16He laid her on a brume buss to dry,To see wha was the first wad pass her by.17Her ain father's herd was the first manThat by this lady gay did gang.18He's taen three links of her yellow hair,And made it a string to his fiddle there.19He's cut her fingers long and smallTo be fiddle-pins that neer might fail.20The very first spring that the fiddle did play,'Hang my auld sister,' I wad it did say.21'For she drowned me in yonder sea,God neer let her rest till she shall die,'At the bonny bows o London.

1There was two ladies livd in a bower,Hey with a gay and a grinding OThe youngest o them was the fairest flowerAbout a' the bonny bows o London.

2There was two ladies livd in a bower,An wooer unto the youngest did go.

3The oldest one to the youngest did say,'Will ye take a walk with me today,And we'll view the bonny bows o London.

4'Thou'll set thy foot whare I set mine,Thou'll set thy foot upon this stane.'

5'I'll set my foot where thou sets thine:'The old sister dang the youngest in,At, etc.

6'O sister dear, come tak my hand,Take my life safe to dry land,'At, etc.

7'It's neer by my hand thy hand sall come in,It's neer by my hand thy hand sall come in,At, etc.

8'It's thy cherry cheeks and thy white briest baneGars me set a maid owre lang at hame.'

9She clasped her hand[s] about a brume rute,But her cruel sister she lowsed them out.

10Sometimes she sank, and sometimes she swam,Till she cam to the miller's dam.

11The miller's bairns has muckle need,They were bearing in water to bake some breid.

12Says, 'Father, dear father, in our mill-dam,It's either a fair maid or a milk-white swan.'

13The miller he's spared nae his hose nor his shoonTill he brocht this lady till dry land.

14I wad he saw na a bit o her feet,Her silver slippers were made so neat.

15I wad he saw na a bit o her skin,For ribbons there was mony a ane.

16He laid her on a brume buss to dry,To see wha was the first wad pass her by.

17Her ain father's herd was the first manThat by this lady gay did gang.

18He's taen three links of her yellow hair,And made it a string to his fiddle there.

19He's cut her fingers long and smallTo be fiddle-pins that neer might fail.

20The very first spring that the fiddle did play,'Hang my auld sister,' I wad it did say.

21'For she drowned me in yonder sea,God neer let her rest till she shall die,'At the bonny bows o London.

Motherwell's MS., p. 104. From Mrs King, Kilbarchan.

1There were three sisters lived in a bouir,Hech, hey, my Nannie OAnd the youngest was the fairest flouir.And the swan swims bonnie O2'O sister, sister, gang down to yon sand,And see your father's ships coming to dry land.'3O they have gane down to yonder sand,To see their father's ships coming to dry land.4'Gae set your fit on yonder stane,Till I tye up your silken goun.'5She set her fit on yonder stane,And the auldest drave the youngest in.6'O sister, sister, tak me by the hand,And ye'll get a' my father's land.7'O sister, sister, tak me by the gluve,An ye'll get Willy, my true luve.'8She had a switch into her hand,And ay she drave her frae the land.9O whiles she sunk, and whiles she swam,Until she swam to the miller's dam.10The miller's daughter gade doun to Tweed,To carry water to bake her bread.11'O father, O father, what's yon in the dam?It's either a maid or a milk-white swan.'12They have tane her out till yonder thorn,And she has lain till Monday morn.13She hadna, hadna twa days lain,Till by there came a harper fine.14He made a harp o her breast-bane,That he might play forever thereon.

1There were three sisters lived in a bouir,Hech, hey, my Nannie OAnd the youngest was the fairest flouir.And the swan swims bonnie O

2'O sister, sister, gang down to yon sand,And see your father's ships coming to dry land.'

3O they have gane down to yonder sand,To see their father's ships coming to dry land.

4'Gae set your fit on yonder stane,Till I tye up your silken goun.'

5She set her fit on yonder stane,And the auldest drave the youngest in.

6'O sister, sister, tak me by the hand,And ye'll get a' my father's land.

7'O sister, sister, tak me by the gluve,An ye'll get Willy, my true luve.'

8She had a switch into her hand,And ay she drave her frae the land.

9O whiles she sunk, and whiles she swam,Until she swam to the miller's dam.

10The miller's daughter gade doun to Tweed,To carry water to bake her bread.

11'O father, O father, what's yon in the dam?It's either a maid or a milk-white swan.'

12They have tane her out till yonder thorn,And she has lain till Monday morn.

13She hadna, hadna twa days lain,Till by there came a harper fine.

14He made a harp o her breast-bane,That he might play forever thereon.

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