B

a.The Tea-Table Miscellany, IV, 46, ed. 1740; here from the London edition of 1763, p. 343.b.Percy's Reliques, III, 131, ed. 1765, "with a few conjectural emendations from a written copy."

1It was in and about the Martinmas time,When the green leaves were a falling,That Sir John Græme, in the West Country,Fell in love with Barbara Allan.2He sent his men down through the town,To the place where she was dwelling:'O haste and come to my master dear,Gin ye be Barbara Allan.'3O hooly, hooly rose she up,To the place where he was lying,And when she drew the curtain by,'Young man, I think you're dying.'4'O it's I'm sick, and very, very sick,And 'tis a' for Barbara Allan:''O the better for me ye's never be,Tho your heart's blood were a spilling.5'O dinna ye mind, young man,' said she,'When ye was in the tavern a drinking,That ye made the healths gae round and round,And slighted Barbara Allan?'6He turnd his face unto the wall,And death was with him dealing:'Adieu, adieu, my dear friends all,And be kind to Barbara Allan.'7And slowly, slowly raise she up,And slowly, slowly left him,And sighing said, she coud not stay,Since death of life had reft him.8She had not gane a mile but twa,When she heard the dead-bell ringing,And every jow that the dead-bell geid,It cry'd, Woe to Barbara Allan!9'O mother, mother, make my bed!O make it saft and narrow!Since my love died for me to-day,I'll die for him to-morrow.'

1It was in and about the Martinmas time,When the green leaves were a falling,That Sir John Græme, in the West Country,Fell in love with Barbara Allan.

2He sent his men down through the town,To the place where she was dwelling:'O haste and come to my master dear,Gin ye be Barbara Allan.'

3O hooly, hooly rose she up,To the place where he was lying,And when she drew the curtain by,'Young man, I think you're dying.'

4'O it's I'm sick, and very, very sick,And 'tis a' for Barbara Allan:''O the better for me ye's never be,Tho your heart's blood were a spilling.

5'O dinna ye mind, young man,' said she,'When ye was in the tavern a drinking,That ye made the healths gae round and round,And slighted Barbara Allan?'

6He turnd his face unto the wall,And death was with him dealing:'Adieu, adieu, my dear friends all,And be kind to Barbara Allan.'

7And slowly, slowly raise she up,And slowly, slowly left him,And sighing said, she coud not stay,Since death of life had reft him.

8She had not gane a mile but twa,When she heard the dead-bell ringing,And every jow that the dead-bell geid,It cry'd, Woe to Barbara Allan!

9'O mother, mother, make my bed!O make it saft and narrow!Since my love died for me to-day,I'll die for him to-morrow.'

a.Roxburghe Ballads, II, 25; reprint of the Ballad Society, III, 433.b.Roxburghe Ballads, III, 522.c.A broadside formerly belonging to Bishop Percy,d.Percy's Reliques, 1765, III, 125.

1In Scarlet Town, where I was bound,There was a fair maid dwelling,Whom I had chosen to be my own,And her name it was Barbara Allen.2All in the merry month of May,When green leaves they was springing,This young man on his death-bed lay,For the love of Barbara Allen.3He sent his man unto her then,To the town where she was dwelling:'You must come to my master dear,If your name be Barbara Allen.4'For death is printed in his face,And sorrow's in him dwelling,And you must come to my master dear,If your name be Barbara Allen.'5'If death be printed in his face,And sorrow's in him dwelling,Then little better shall he beFor bonny Barbara Allen.'6So slowly, slowly she got up,And so slowly she came to him,And all she said when she came there,Young man, I think you are a dying.7He turnd his face unto her then:'If you be Barbara Allen,My dear,' said he, 'come pitty me,As on my death-bed I am lying.'8'If on your death-bed you be lying,What is that to Barbara Allen?I cannot keep you from [your] death;So farewell,' said Barbara Allen.9He turnd his face unto the wall,And death came creeping to him:'Then adieu, adieu, and adieu to all,And adieu to Barbara Allen!'10And as she was walking on a day,She heard the bell a ringing,And it did seem to ring to her'Unworthy Barbara Allen.'11She turnd herself round about,And she spy'd the corps a coming:'Lay down, lay down the corps of clay,That I may look upon him.'12And all the while she looked on,So loudly she lay laughing,While all her friends cry'd [out] amain,'Unworthy Barbara Allen!'13When he was dead, and laid in grave,Then death came creeping to she:'O mother, mother, make my bed,For his death hath quite undone me.14'A hard-hearted creature that I was,To slight one that lovd me so dearly;I wish I had been more kinder to him,The time of his life when he was near me.'15So this maid she then did dye,And desired to be buried by him,And repented her self before she dy'd,That ever she did deny him.

1In Scarlet Town, where I was bound,There was a fair maid dwelling,Whom I had chosen to be my own,And her name it was Barbara Allen.

2All in the merry month of May,When green leaves they was springing,This young man on his death-bed lay,For the love of Barbara Allen.

3He sent his man unto her then,To the town where she was dwelling:'You must come to my master dear,If your name be Barbara Allen.

4'For death is printed in his face,And sorrow's in him dwelling,And you must come to my master dear,If your name be Barbara Allen.'

5'If death be printed in his face,And sorrow's in him dwelling,Then little better shall he beFor bonny Barbara Allen.'

6So slowly, slowly she got up,And so slowly she came to him,And all she said when she came there,Young man, I think you are a dying.

7He turnd his face unto her then:'If you be Barbara Allen,My dear,' said he, 'come pitty me,As on my death-bed I am lying.'

8'If on your death-bed you be lying,What is that to Barbara Allen?I cannot keep you from [your] death;So farewell,' said Barbara Allen.

9He turnd his face unto the wall,And death came creeping to him:'Then adieu, adieu, and adieu to all,And adieu to Barbara Allen!'

10And as she was walking on a day,She heard the bell a ringing,And it did seem to ring to her'Unworthy Barbara Allen.'

11She turnd herself round about,And she spy'd the corps a coming:'Lay down, lay down the corps of clay,That I may look upon him.'

12And all the while she looked on,So loudly she lay laughing,While all her friends cry'd [out] amain,'Unworthy Barbara Allen!'

13When he was dead, and laid in grave,Then death came creeping to she:'O mother, mother, make my bed,For his death hath quite undone me.

14'A hard-hearted creature that I was,To slight one that lovd me so dearly;I wish I had been more kinder to him,The time of his life when he was near me.'

15So this maid she then did dye,And desired to be buried by him,And repented her self before she dy'd,That ever she did deny him.

Motherwell's MS., p. 288; from Mrs Duff, Kilbirnie, February 9, 1825.

1It fell about the Lammas time,When the woods grow green and yellow,There came a wooer out of the WestA wooing to Barbara Allan.2'It is not for your bonny face,Nor for your beauty bonny,But it is all for your tocher goodI come so far about ye.'3'If it be not for my comely face,Nor for my beauty bonnie,My tocher good ye'll never get paidDown on the board before ye.'4'O will ye go to the Highland hills,To see my white corn growing?Or will ye go to the river-side,To see my boats a rowing?'5O he's awa, and awa he's gone,And death's within him dealing,And it is all for the sake of her,His bonnie Barbara Allan.6O he sent his man unto the house,Where that she was a dwelling:'O you must come my master to see,If you be Barbara Allan.'7So slowly aye as she put on,And so stoutly as she gaed till him,And so slowly as she could say,'I think, young man, you're lying.'8'O I am lying in my bed,And death within me dwelling;And it is all for the love of thee,My bonny Barbara Allan.'9She was not ae mile frae the town,Till she heard the dead-bell ringing:'Och hone, oh hone, he's dead and gone,For the love of Barbara Allan!'

1It fell about the Lammas time,When the woods grow green and yellow,There came a wooer out of the WestA wooing to Barbara Allan.

2'It is not for your bonny face,Nor for your beauty bonny,But it is all for your tocher goodI come so far about ye.'

3'If it be not for my comely face,Nor for my beauty bonnie,My tocher good ye'll never get paidDown on the board before ye.'

4'O will ye go to the Highland hills,To see my white corn growing?Or will ye go to the river-side,To see my boats a rowing?'

5O he's awa, and awa he's gone,And death's within him dealing,And it is all for the sake of her,His bonnie Barbara Allan.

6O he sent his man unto the house,Where that she was a dwelling:'O you must come my master to see,If you be Barbara Allan.'

7So slowly aye as she put on,And so stoutly as she gaed till him,And so slowly as she could say,'I think, young man, you're lying.'

8'O I am lying in my bed,And death within me dwelling;And it is all for the love of thee,My bonny Barbara Allan.'

9She was not ae mile frae the town,Till she heard the dead-bell ringing:'Och hone, oh hone, he's dead and gone,For the love of Barbara Allan!'

A. b.

13. o the.44. awanting.51. Remember ye nat in the tavern, sir.52. Whan ye the cups wer fillan.53. How ye.64. Andwanting.71. Then hooly, hooly.72. And hooly, hooly.82. deid-bell knellan.83. thatwanting.84. Itwanting.94. I 'se.

13. o the.

44. awanting.

51. Remember ye nat in the tavern, sir.

52. Whan ye the cups wer fillan.

53. How ye.

64. Andwanting.

71. Then hooly, hooly.

72. And hooly, hooly.

82. deid-bell knellan.

83. thatwanting.

84. Itwanting.

94. I 'se.

B. a.

Barbara Allen's Cruelty, or, The Youngman's Tragedy. With Barbara Allen's Lamentation for her Unkindness to her Lover and her Self.... Printed for P. Brooksby, J. Deacon, J. Blare, J. Back. Black Letter.134. undone we.

134. undone we.

Barbara Allen's Cruelty, or, The Young Man's Tragedy.No name of printer.13. for my own.22. they were.24. the sake of.34. name is.44. thy name is.53. Thenwanting.61. she came to him.63. came to him.64. awanting.72. you are.74. As I am on my death-bed lying.81. If you are on your death-bed lying.83. from your.84. Then farewell: saidwanting.92. on him.93. andwanting: to you all.101. Andwanting: out one day.102. bells.103. And they.112. And saw.113. corps said she.123. cry'd out.131. in his.134. will quite undo me.141. Awanting.143. more kind.144. In time of life.153. eer.

Barbara Allen's Cruelty, or, The Young Man's Tragedy.No name of printer.

13. for my own.

22. they were.

24. the sake of.

34. name is.

44. thy name is.

53. Thenwanting.

61. she came to him.

63. came to him.

64. awanting.

72. you are.

74. As I am on my death-bed lying.

81. If you are on your death-bed lying.

83. from your.

84. Then farewell: saidwanting.

92. on him.

93. andwanting: to you all.

101. Andwanting: out one day.

102. bells.

103. And they.

112. And saw.

113. corps said she.

123. cry'd out.

131. in his.

134. will quite undo me.

141. Awanting.

143. more kind.

144. In time of life.

153. eer.

16.As she was lying down to die,A sad feud she fell in;She said, I pray take warning byHard-hearted Barbara Allen.

Title the same as ina.Printed and sold at the Printing-office in Bow-Church-Yard, London.13. for my own.22. they wore.34. name is.43. And thou.44. thy name is.53. O little.61. she came to him.63. came to him.64. awanting.72. you are.74. As I am on my death-bed lying.83. from your.84. Then farewell: saidwanting.92. on him.93. to you all.101. Andwanting: out one day.102. bells.103. And they.112. And espy'd.113. corps said she.123. cry'd out.134. will quite undo me.141. Awanting.143. more kind.144. In time of life.154. eer.16as inb.dwas "given, with some corrections, from an old printed copy in the editor's possession." That these corrections were considerable, we know from the [asterism] at the end. The old printed copy is very likely to have beenc, and, if so, the ballad was simply written over. It does not seem necessary to give the variations under the circumstances. In 23Percy hasYong Jemmye Grove.

Title the same as ina.Printed and sold at the Printing-office in Bow-Church-Yard, London.

13. for my own.

22. they wore.

34. name is.

43. And thou.

44. thy name is.

53. O little.

61. she came to him.

63. came to him.

64. awanting.

72. you are.

74. As I am on my death-bed lying.

83. from your.

84. Then farewell: saidwanting.

92. on him.

93. to you all.

101. Andwanting: out one day.

102. bells.

103. And they.

112. And espy'd.

113. corps said she.

123. cry'd out.

134. will quite undo me.

141. Awanting.

143. more kind.

144. In time of life.

154. eer.

16as inb.

dwas "given, with some corrections, from an old printed copy in the editor's possession." That these corrections were considerable, we know from the [asterism] at the end. The old printed copy is very likely to have beenc, and, if so, the ballad was simply written over. It does not seem necessary to give the variations under the circumstances. In 23Percy hasYong Jemmye Grove.

21. bonnyshould perhaps becomely, as in 31.42.Originally writtenTo see my white... courting.52.Originallydwelling.53.Originallyit's.54. Theis written overHis, probably as a conjecture.72.Afterstoutly,slowly?as a conjectural emendation.74. lying.'An ingenious friend' of Percy's suggested the transposition oflyinganddyinginA32, 4.

21. bonnyshould perhaps becomely, as in 31.

42.Originally writtenTo see my white... courting.

52.Originallydwelling.

53.Originallyit's.

54. Theis written overHis, probably as a conjecture.

72.Afterstoutly,slowly?as a conjectural emendation.

74. lying.'An ingenious friend' of Percy's suggested the transposition oflyinganddyinginA32, 4.

FOOTNOTES:[143]Pepys is cited by James Farquhar Graham, The Scottish Songs, II, 157, and Goldsmith by Chappell, The Roxburghe Ballads, III, 433.

[143]Pepys is cited by James Farquhar Graham, The Scottish Songs, II, 157, and Goldsmith by Chappell, The Roxburghe Ballads, III, 433.

A.'Lady Alice.'a.Bell's Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England, p. 127.b.Notes and Queries, Second Series, I, 418.c.Notes and Queries, Second Series, I, 354.B.'Giles Collins and Proud Lady Anna,' Gammer Gurton's Garland, p. 38, ed. 1810.

A.'Lady Alice.'a.Bell's Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England, p. 127.b.Notes and Queries, Second Series, I, 418.c.Notes and Queries, Second Series, I, 354.

B.'Giles Collins and Proud Lady Anna,' Gammer Gurton's Garland, p. 38, ed. 1810.

This little ballad, which is said to be still of the regular stock of the stalls, is a sort of counterpart to 'Lord Lovel.' A writer in Notes and Queries, Second Series, I, 418, says: This old song was refined and modernized by the late Richard Westall, R. A.

a.Bell's Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England, p. 127, a stall copy.b.Edward Hawkins, in Notes and Queries, Second Series, I, 418.c.Notes and Queries, Second Series, I, 354, as heard sung forty years before 1856, "Uneda," Philadelphia.

1Lady Alice was sitting in her bower-window,Mending her midnight quoif,And there she saw as fine a corpseAs ever she saw in her life.2'What bear ye, what bear ye, ye six men tall?What bear ye on your shoulders?''We bear the corpse of Giles Collins,An old and true lover of yours.'3'O lay him down gently, ye six men tall,All on the grass so green,And tomorrow, when the sun goes down,Lady Alice a corpse shall be seen.4'And bury me in Saint Mary's church,All for my love so true,And make me a garland of marjoram,And of lemon-thyme, and rue.'5Giles Collins was buried all in the east,Lady Alice all in the west,And the roses that grew on Giles Collins's grave,They reached Lady Alice's breast.6The priest of the parish he chanced to pass,And he severed those roses in twain;Sure never were seen such true lovers before,Nor eer will there be again.

1Lady Alice was sitting in her bower-window,Mending her midnight quoif,And there she saw as fine a corpseAs ever she saw in her life.

2'What bear ye, what bear ye, ye six men tall?What bear ye on your shoulders?''We bear the corpse of Giles Collins,An old and true lover of yours.'

3'O lay him down gently, ye six men tall,All on the grass so green,And tomorrow, when the sun goes down,Lady Alice a corpse shall be seen.

4'And bury me in Saint Mary's church,All for my love so true,And make me a garland of marjoram,And of lemon-thyme, and rue.'

5Giles Collins was buried all in the east,Lady Alice all in the west,And the roses that grew on Giles Collins's grave,They reached Lady Alice's breast.

6The priest of the parish he chanced to pass,And he severed those roses in twain;Sure never were seen such true lovers before,Nor eer will there be again.

Gammer Gurton's Garland, p. 38, ed. 1810.

1Giles Collins he said to his old mother,Mother, come bind up my head,And send to the parson of our parish,For tomorrow I shall be dead. dead,For tomorrow I shall be dead.2His mother she made him some water-gruel,And stirrd it round with a spoon;Giles Collins he ate up his water-gruel,And died before 't was noon.3Lady Anna was sitting at her window,Mending her night-robe and coif;She saw the very prettiest corpseShe'd seen in all her life.4'What bear ye there, ye six strong men,Upon your shoulders so high?''We bear the body of Giles Collins,Who for love of you did die.'5'Set him down, set him down,' Lady Anna she cry'd,'On the grass that grows so green;Tomorrow, before the clock strikes ten,My body shall lye by hisn.'6Lady Anna was buried in the east,Giles Collins was buried in the west;There grew a lilly from Giles CollinsThat touchd Lady Anna's breast.7There blew a cold north-easterly wind,And cut this lilly in twain,Which never there was seen before,And it never will again.

1Giles Collins he said to his old mother,Mother, come bind up my head,And send to the parson of our parish,For tomorrow I shall be dead. dead,For tomorrow I shall be dead.

2His mother she made him some water-gruel,And stirrd it round with a spoon;Giles Collins he ate up his water-gruel,And died before 't was noon.

3Lady Anna was sitting at her window,Mending her night-robe and coif;She saw the very prettiest corpseShe'd seen in all her life.

4'What bear ye there, ye six strong men,Upon your shoulders so high?''We bear the body of Giles Collins,Who for love of you did die.'

5'Set him down, set him down,' Lady Anna she cry'd,'On the grass that grows so green;Tomorrow, before the clock strikes ten,My body shall lye by hisn.'

6Lady Anna was buried in the east,Giles Collins was buried in the west;There grew a lilly from Giles CollinsThat touchd Lady Anna's breast.

7There blew a cold north-easterly wind,And cut this lilly in twain,Which never there was seen before,And it never will again.

A. a.

12. At midnight mending her quoif.

12. Mending her midnight coif.33. before the sun.4.wanting.53. grow,misprinted.61. pass by.62. And severd these.64. ever there will.

12. Mending her midnight coif.

33. before the sun.

4.wanting.

53. grow,misprinted.

61. pass by.

62. And severd these.

64. ever there will.

11. at her.12. A mending her midnight coif.13. the finest corpse.14. That ever.22. Upon your shoulders strong.23. Sir Giles.3, 4.wanting.51. Lady Alice was.52. Giles Collins all.53. A lily grew out of.54. And touched.6.wanting.

11. at her.

12. A mending her midnight coif.

13. the finest corpse.

14. That ever.

22. Upon your shoulders strong.

23. Sir Giles.

3, 4.wanting.

51. Lady Alice was.

52. Giles Collins all.

53. A lily grew out of.

54. And touched.

6.wanting.

A.'Young Benjie,' Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, III, 251, ed. 1803; III, 10, ed. 1833.B.'Bondsey and Maisry,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 265.

A.'Young Benjie,' Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, III, 251, ed. 1803; III, 10, ed. 1833.

B.'Bondsey and Maisry,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 265.

'Verkel Vejemandsøn,' Grundtvig, IV, 151, No 198, invites a comparison with 'Young Benjie,' although the ballads, in the form in which they are now extant, are widely divergent. Verkel Vejemandsøn, seeing maid Gundelild shining in her virgin crown, makes a fiendish vow to rob her of it. He rides up to her house and asks where her father and mother are. They are away from home. He carries her off on his horse into the thickest of a wood, and bids her hold the beast while he makes a bed of leaves. He loses her in the thicket, and cannot find her, though he looks for her a day and two days. She goes to the strand and throws herself into the sea, saying, It was a very different bride-bed that my mother meant me to have. She is drawn out in a fisherman's net. Verkel swears that he has not seen her for eight years, but he is convicted of his crime, on evidence not given, and "clothes three stakes;" that is, he is hanged, and parts of his body are exposed on the wheels which crown the three posts of a gallows.

Sir Walter Scott's observations on the passage in which the drowned maid reveals the author of her death are too interesting to be spared:

"In this ballad the reader will find traces of a singular superstition, not yet altogether discredited in the wilder parts of Scotland. The lykewake, or watching a dead body, in itself a melancholy office, is rendered, in the idea of the assistants, more dismally awful by the mysterious horrors of superstition. In the interval betwixt death and interment, the disembodied spirit is supposed to hover round its mortal habitation, and, if invoked by certain rites, retains the power of communicating, through its organs, the cause of its dissolution. Such inquiries, however, are always dangerous, and never to be resorted to unless the deceased is suspected to have sufferedfoul play, as it is called. It is the more unsafe to tamper with this charm in an unauthorized manner, because the inhabitants of the infernal regions are, at such periods, peculiarly active. One of the most potent ceremonies in the charm, for causing the dead body to speak, is setting the door ajar, or half open. On this account the peasants of Scotland sedulously avoid leaving the door ajar while a corpse lies in the house. The door must either be left wide open or quite shut; but the first is always preferred, on account of the exercise of hospitality usual on such occasions. The attendants must be likewise careful never to leave the corpse for a moment alone, or, if it is left alone, to avoid, with a degree of superstitious horror, the first sight of it.

"The following story, which is frequently related by the peasants of Scotland, will illustrate the imaginary danger of leaving the door ajar. In former times a man and his wife lived in a solitary cottage on one of the extensive Border fells. One day the husband died suddenly, and his wife, who was equally afraid of staying alone by the corpse, or leaving the dead body by itself, repeatedly went to the door, and looked anxiously over the lonely moor for the sight of some person approaching. In her confusion and alarm she accidentally left the door ajar, when the corpse suddenly started up and sat in the bed, frowning and grinning at her frightfully. She sat alone, crying bitterly, unable to avoid the fascinationof the dead man's eye, and too much terrified to break the sullen silence, till a Catholic priest, passing over the wild, entered the cottage. He first set the door quite open, then put his little finger in his mouth, and said the paternoster backwards; when the horrid look of the corpse relaxed, it fell back on the bed, and behaved itself as a dead man ought to do.

"The ballad is given from tradition. I have been informed by a lady of the highest literary eminence [Miss Joanna Baillie], that she has heard a ballad on the same subject, in which the scene was laid upon the banks of the Clyde. The chorus was,

O Bothwell banks bloom bonny,

and the watching of the dead corpse was said to have taken place in Bothwell church."

Ais translated by Schubart, p. 164; by Gerhard, p. 88; by Knortz, Schottische Balladen, No 31.

Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, III, 251, ed. 1803; III, 10, ed. 1833. From tradition.

1Of a' the maids o fair ScotlandThe fairest was Marjorie,And Young Benjie was her ae true-love,And a dear true-love was he.2And wow! but they were lovers dear,And loved fu constantlie;But ay the mair, when they fell out,The sairer was their plea.3And they hae quarrelled on a day,Till Marjorie's heart grew wae,And she said she'd chuse another luve,And let Young Benjie gae.4And he was stout, and proud-hearted,And thought o't bitterlie,And he's gaen by the wan moon-lightTo meet his Marjorie.5'O open, open, my true-love,O open, and let me in!''I dare na open, Young Benjie,My three brothers are within.'6'Ye lied, ye lied, ye bonny burd,Sae loud 's I hear ye lie;As I came by the Lowden banks,They bade gude een to me.7'But fare ye weel, my ae fause love,That I hae loved sae lang!It sets ye chuse another love,And let Young Benjie gang.'8Then Marjorie turned her round about,The tear blinding her ee:'I darena, darena let thee in,But I'll come down to thee.'9Then saft she smiled, and said to him,O what ill hae I done?He took her in his armis twa,And threw her oer the linn.10The stream was strang, the maid was stout,And laith, laith to be dang,But ere she wan the Lowden banksHer fair colour was wan.11Then up bespak her eldest brother,'O see na ye what I see?'And out then spak her second brother,'It's our sister Marjorie!'12Out then spak her eldest brother,'O how shall we her ken?'And out then spak her youngest brother,'There's a honey-mark on her chin.'13Then they've taen up the comely corpse,And laid it on the grund:'O wha has killed our ae sister,And how can he be found?14'The night it is her low lykewake,The morn her burial day,And we maun watch at mirk midnight,And hear what she will say.'15Wi doors ajar, and candle-light,And torches burning clear,The streikit corpse, till still midnight,They waked, but naething hear.16About the middle o the nightThe cocks began to craw,And at the dead hour o the nightThe corpse began to thraw.17'O wha has done the wrang, sister,Or dared the deadly sin?Wha was sae stout, and feared nae dout,As thraw ye oer the linn?'18'Young Benjie was the first ae manI laid my love upon;He was sae stout and proud-hearted,He threw me oer the linn.'19'Sall we Young Benjie head, sister?Sall we Young Benjie hang?Or sall we pike out his twa gray een,And punish him ere he gang?'20'Ye mauna Benjie head, brothers,Ye mauna Benjie hang,But ye maun pike out his twa gray een,And punish him ere he gang.21'Tie a green gravat round his neck,And lead him out and in,And the best ae servant about your houseTo wait Young Benjie on.22'And ay, at every seven year's end,Ye'll tak him to the linn;For that's the penance he maun drie,To scug his deadly sin.'

1Of a' the maids o fair ScotlandThe fairest was Marjorie,And Young Benjie was her ae true-love,And a dear true-love was he.

2And wow! but they were lovers dear,And loved fu constantlie;But ay the mair, when they fell out,The sairer was their plea.

3And they hae quarrelled on a day,Till Marjorie's heart grew wae,And she said she'd chuse another luve,And let Young Benjie gae.

4And he was stout, and proud-hearted,And thought o't bitterlie,And he's gaen by the wan moon-lightTo meet his Marjorie.

5'O open, open, my true-love,O open, and let me in!''I dare na open, Young Benjie,My three brothers are within.'

6'Ye lied, ye lied, ye bonny burd,Sae loud 's I hear ye lie;As I came by the Lowden banks,They bade gude een to me.

7'But fare ye weel, my ae fause love,That I hae loved sae lang!It sets ye chuse another love,And let Young Benjie gang.'

8Then Marjorie turned her round about,The tear blinding her ee:'I darena, darena let thee in,But I'll come down to thee.'

9Then saft she smiled, and said to him,O what ill hae I done?He took her in his armis twa,And threw her oer the linn.

10The stream was strang, the maid was stout,And laith, laith to be dang,But ere she wan the Lowden banksHer fair colour was wan.

11Then up bespak her eldest brother,'O see na ye what I see?'And out then spak her second brother,'It's our sister Marjorie!'

12Out then spak her eldest brother,'O how shall we her ken?'And out then spak her youngest brother,'There's a honey-mark on her chin.'

13Then they've taen up the comely corpse,And laid it on the grund:'O wha has killed our ae sister,And how can he be found?

14'The night it is her low lykewake,The morn her burial day,And we maun watch at mirk midnight,And hear what she will say.'

15Wi doors ajar, and candle-light,And torches burning clear,The streikit corpse, till still midnight,They waked, but naething hear.

16About the middle o the nightThe cocks began to craw,And at the dead hour o the nightThe corpse began to thraw.

17'O wha has done the wrang, sister,Or dared the deadly sin?Wha was sae stout, and feared nae dout,As thraw ye oer the linn?'

18'Young Benjie was the first ae manI laid my love upon;He was sae stout and proud-hearted,He threw me oer the linn.'

19'Sall we Young Benjie head, sister?Sall we Young Benjie hang?Or sall we pike out his twa gray een,And punish him ere he gang?'

20'Ye mauna Benjie head, brothers,Ye mauna Benjie hang,But ye maun pike out his twa gray een,And punish him ere he gang.

21'Tie a green gravat round his neck,And lead him out and in,And the best ae servant about your houseTo wait Young Benjie on.

22'And ay, at every seven year's end,Ye'll tak him to the linn;For that's the penance he maun drie,To scug his deadly sin.'

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 265.

1'O come along wi me, brother,Now come along wi me;And we'll gae seek our sister Maisry,Into the water o Dee.'2The eldest brother he stepped in,He stepped to the knee;Then out he jumpd upo the bank,Says, This water's nae for me.3The second brother he stepped in,He stepped to the quit;Then out he jumpd upo the bank,Says, This water's wondrous deep.4When the third brother stepped in,He stepped to the chin;Out he got, and forward wade,For fear o drowning him.5The youngest brother he stepped in,Took's sister by the hand;Said, Here she is, my sister Maisry,Wi the hinny-draps on her chin.6'O if I were in some bonny ship,And in some strange countrie,For to find out some conjurer,To gar Maisry speak to me!'7Then out it speaks an auld woman,As she was passing by:'Ask of your sister what you want,And she will speak to thee.'8'O sister, tell me who is the manThat did your body win?And who is the wretch, tell me, likewise,That threw you in the lin?'9'O Bondsey was the only manThat did my body win;And likewise Bondsey was the manThat threw me in the lin.'10'O will we Bondsey head, sister?Or will we Bondsey hang?Or will we set him at our bow-end,Lat arrows at him gang?'11'Ye winna Bondsey head, brothers,Nor will ye Bondsey hang;But ye'll take out his twa grey een,Make Bondsey blind to gang.12'Ye'll put to the gate a chain o gold,A rose garland gar make,And ye'll put that in Bondsey's head,A' for your sister's sake.'

1'O come along wi me, brother,Now come along wi me;And we'll gae seek our sister Maisry,Into the water o Dee.'

2The eldest brother he stepped in,He stepped to the knee;Then out he jumpd upo the bank,Says, This water's nae for me.

3The second brother he stepped in,He stepped to the quit;Then out he jumpd upo the bank,Says, This water's wondrous deep.

4When the third brother stepped in,He stepped to the chin;Out he got, and forward wade,For fear o drowning him.

5The youngest brother he stepped in,Took's sister by the hand;Said, Here she is, my sister Maisry,Wi the hinny-draps on her chin.

6'O if I were in some bonny ship,And in some strange countrie,For to find out some conjurer,To gar Maisry speak to me!'

7Then out it speaks an auld woman,As she was passing by:'Ask of your sister what you want,And she will speak to thee.'

8'O sister, tell me who is the manThat did your body win?And who is the wretch, tell me, likewise,That threw you in the lin?'

9'O Bondsey was the only manThat did my body win;And likewise Bondsey was the manThat threw me in the lin.'

10'O will we Bondsey head, sister?Or will we Bondsey hang?Or will we set him at our bow-end,Lat arrows at him gang?'

11'Ye winna Bondsey head, brothers,Nor will ye Bondsey hang;But ye'll take out his twa grey een,Make Bondsey blind to gang.

12'Ye'll put to the gate a chain o gold,A rose garland gar make,And ye'll put that in Bondsey's head,A' for your sister's sake.'

A.'Prince Robert,' Scott's Minstrelsy, II, 124, ed. 1802; III, 269, ed. 1833.B.'Earl Robert,' Motherwell's MS., p. 149; Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 200.C.'Lord Robert and Mary Florence,' Motherwell's MS., p. 321.D.'Prince Robert,' Harris MS., fol. 29.

A.'Prince Robert,' Scott's Minstrelsy, II, 124, ed. 1802; III, 269, ed. 1833.

B.'Earl Robert,' Motherwell's MS., p. 149; Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 200.

C.'Lord Robert and Mary Florence,' Motherwell's MS., p. 321.

D.'Prince Robert,' Harris MS., fol. 29.

Prince Robert's mother poisons him because he has married against her will. He sends for his bride to come, but she is in time only for the funeral. The mother will give her nothing of her son's, not even the ring on his finger, all that she asks for. The bride's heart breaks before the mother's face.

There are other ballad-stories of a mother's poisoning because of displeasure at a son's match, but I know of none which demands comparison with this very slender tale.

Ais translated by Schubart, p. 122; by Doenniges, p. 57;AandBcombined by Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder, No 36.

Scott's Minstrelsy, II, 124, ed. 1802; III, 269, ed. 1833: from the recitation of Miss Christian Rutherford.

1Prince Robert has wedded a gay ladye,He has wedded her with a ring;Prince Robert has wedded a gay ladye,But he daur na bring her hame.2'Your blessing, your blessing, my mother dear,Your blessing now grant to me!''Instead of a blessing ye sall have my curse,And you'll get nae blessing frae me.'3She has called upon her waiting-maid,To fill a glass of wine;She has called upon her fause steward,To put rank poison in.4She has put it to her roudes lip,And to her roudes chin;She has put it to her fause, fause mouth,But the never a drop gaed in.5He has put it to his bonny mouth,And to his bonny chin,He's put it to his cherry lip,And sae fast the rank poison ran in.6'O ye hae poisoned your ae son, mother,Your ae son and your heir;O ye hae poisoned your ae son, mother,And sons you'll never hae mair.7'O where will I get a little boy,That will win hose and shoon,To rin sae fast to Darlinton,And bid Fair Eleanor come?'8Then up and spake a little boy,That wad win hose and shoon,'O I'll away to Darlinton,And bid Fair Eleanor come.'9O he has run to Darlinton,And tirled at the pin;And wha was sae ready as Eleanor's sellTo let the bonny boy in?10'Your gude-mother has made ye a rare dinour,She's made it baith gude and fine;Your gude-mother has made ye a gay dinour,And ye maun cum till her and dine.'11It's twenty lang miles to Sillertoun town,The langest that ever were gane;But the steed it was wight, and the ladye was light,And she cam linkin in.12But when she came to Sillertoun town,And into Sillertoun ha,The torches were burning, the ladies were mourning,And they were weeping a'.13'O where is now my wedded lord,And where now can he be?O where is now my wedded lord?For him I canna see.'14'Your wedded lord is dead,' she says,'And just gane to be laid in the clay;Your wedded lord is dead,' she says,'And just gane to be buried the day.15'Ye'se get nane o his gowd, ye 'se get nane o his gear,Ye'se get nae thing frae me;Ye'se na get an inch o his gude broad land,Tho your heart suld burst in three.'16'I want nane o his gowd, I want nane o his gear,I want nae land frae thee;But I'll hae the ring that's on his finger,For them he did promise to me.'17'Ye'se na get the ring that's on his finger,Ye'se na get them frae me;Ye'se na get the ring that's on his finger,An your heart suld burst in three.'18She's turn'd her back unto the wa,And her face unto a rock,And there, before the mother's face,Her very heart it broke.19The tane was buried in Marie's kirk,The tother in Marie's quair,And out o the tane there sprang a birk,And out o the tother a brier.20And thae twa met, and thae twa plat,The birk but and the brier,And by that ye may very weel kenThey were twa lovers dear.

1Prince Robert has wedded a gay ladye,He has wedded her with a ring;Prince Robert has wedded a gay ladye,But he daur na bring her hame.

2'Your blessing, your blessing, my mother dear,Your blessing now grant to me!''Instead of a blessing ye sall have my curse,And you'll get nae blessing frae me.'

3She has called upon her waiting-maid,To fill a glass of wine;She has called upon her fause steward,To put rank poison in.

4She has put it to her roudes lip,And to her roudes chin;She has put it to her fause, fause mouth,But the never a drop gaed in.

5He has put it to his bonny mouth,And to his bonny chin,He's put it to his cherry lip,And sae fast the rank poison ran in.

6'O ye hae poisoned your ae son, mother,Your ae son and your heir;O ye hae poisoned your ae son, mother,And sons you'll never hae mair.

7'O where will I get a little boy,That will win hose and shoon,To rin sae fast to Darlinton,And bid Fair Eleanor come?'

8Then up and spake a little boy,That wad win hose and shoon,'O I'll away to Darlinton,And bid Fair Eleanor come.'

9O he has run to Darlinton,And tirled at the pin;And wha was sae ready as Eleanor's sellTo let the bonny boy in?

10'Your gude-mother has made ye a rare dinour,She's made it baith gude and fine;Your gude-mother has made ye a gay dinour,And ye maun cum till her and dine.'

11It's twenty lang miles to Sillertoun town,The langest that ever were gane;But the steed it was wight, and the ladye was light,And she cam linkin in.

12But when she came to Sillertoun town,And into Sillertoun ha,The torches were burning, the ladies were mourning,And they were weeping a'.

13'O where is now my wedded lord,And where now can he be?O where is now my wedded lord?For him I canna see.'

14'Your wedded lord is dead,' she says,'And just gane to be laid in the clay;Your wedded lord is dead,' she says,'And just gane to be buried the day.

15'Ye'se get nane o his gowd, ye 'se get nane o his gear,Ye'se get nae thing frae me;Ye'se na get an inch o his gude broad land,Tho your heart suld burst in three.'

16'I want nane o his gowd, I want nane o his gear,I want nae land frae thee;But I'll hae the ring that's on his finger,For them he did promise to me.'

17'Ye'se na get the ring that's on his finger,Ye'se na get them frae me;Ye'se na get the ring that's on his finger,An your heart suld burst in three.'

18She's turn'd her back unto the wa,And her face unto a rock,And there, before the mother's face,Her very heart it broke.

19The tane was buried in Marie's kirk,The tother in Marie's quair,And out o the tane there sprang a birk,And out o the tother a brier.

20And thae twa met, and thae twa plat,The birk but and the brier,And by that ye may very weel kenThey were twa lovers dear.

Motherwell's MS. p. 149; Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 200; from the recitation of Mrs Thomson, Kilbarchan, a native of Bonhill, Dumbartonshire, aged betwixt sixty and seventy.

1It's fifty miles to Sittingen's Rocks,As eer was ridden or gane;And Earl Robert has wedded a wife,But he dare na bring her hame.And Earl Robert has wedded a wife,But he dare na bring her hame.2His mother, she called to her waiting-maid,To bring her a pint o wine:'For I dinna weel ken what hour of the dayThat my son Earl Robert shall dine.'3She's put it to her fause, fause cheek,But an her fause, fause chin;She's put it to her fause, fause lips,But never a drap went in.4But he's put it to his bonny cheek,Aye and his bonny chin;He's put it to his red rosy lips,And the poison went merrily doun.5'O where will I get a bonny boy,That will win hose and shoon,That will gang quickly to Sittingen's Rocks,And bid my lady come?'6It's out then speaks a bonny boy,To Earl Robert was something akin:'Many a time have I ran thy errand,But this day wi the tears I'll rin.'7Bat when he came to Sittingin's Rocks,To the middle of a' the ha,There were bells a ringing, and music playing,And ladies dancing a'.8'What news, what news, my bonny boy?What news have ye to me?Is Earl Robert in very good health,And the ladies of your countrie?'9'O Earl Robert's in very good health,And as weel as a man can be;But his mother this night has a drink to be druken,And at it you must be.'10She called to her waiting-maid,To bring her a riding-weed,And she called to her stable-groom,To saddle her milk-white steed.11But when she came to Earl Robert's bouir,To the middle of a' the ha,There were bells a ringing, and sheets doun hinging,And ladies mourning a'.12'I've come for none of his gold,' she said,'Nor none of his white monie,Excepting a ring of his smallest finger,If that you will grant me.'13'Thou'll not get none of his gold,' she said,'Nor none of his white monie;Thou'll not get a ring of his smallest finger,Tho thy heart should break in three.'14She set her foot unto a stane,Her back unto a tree;She set her foot unto a stane,And her heart did break in three.15The one was buried in Mary's kirk,The other in Mary's quire;Out of the one there grew a birk,From the other a bonnie brier.16And these twa grew, and these twa threw,Till their twa craps drew near;So all the warld may plainly seeThat they loved each other dear.

1It's fifty miles to Sittingen's Rocks,As eer was ridden or gane;And Earl Robert has wedded a wife,But he dare na bring her hame.And Earl Robert has wedded a wife,But he dare na bring her hame.

2His mother, she called to her waiting-maid,To bring her a pint o wine:'For I dinna weel ken what hour of the dayThat my son Earl Robert shall dine.'

3She's put it to her fause, fause cheek,But an her fause, fause chin;She's put it to her fause, fause lips,But never a drap went in.

4But he's put it to his bonny cheek,Aye and his bonny chin;He's put it to his red rosy lips,And the poison went merrily doun.

5'O where will I get a bonny boy,That will win hose and shoon,That will gang quickly to Sittingen's Rocks,And bid my lady come?'

6It's out then speaks a bonny boy,To Earl Robert was something akin:'Many a time have I ran thy errand,But this day wi the tears I'll rin.'

7Bat when he came to Sittingin's Rocks,To the middle of a' the ha,There were bells a ringing, and music playing,And ladies dancing a'.

8'What news, what news, my bonny boy?What news have ye to me?Is Earl Robert in very good health,And the ladies of your countrie?'

9'O Earl Robert's in very good health,And as weel as a man can be;But his mother this night has a drink to be druken,And at it you must be.'

10She called to her waiting-maid,To bring her a riding-weed,And she called to her stable-groom,To saddle her milk-white steed.

11But when she came to Earl Robert's bouir,To the middle of a' the ha,There were bells a ringing, and sheets doun hinging,And ladies mourning a'.

12'I've come for none of his gold,' she said,'Nor none of his white monie,Excepting a ring of his smallest finger,If that you will grant me.'

13'Thou'll not get none of his gold,' she said,'Nor none of his white monie;Thou'll not get a ring of his smallest finger,Tho thy heart should break in three.'

14She set her foot unto a stane,Her back unto a tree;She set her foot unto a stane,And her heart did break in three.

15The one was buried in Mary's kirk,The other in Mary's quire;Out of the one there grew a birk,From the other a bonnie brier.

16And these twa grew, and these twa threw,Till their twa craps drew near;So all the warld may plainly seeThat they loved each other dear.

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