H

Buchan's MSS, II, 174; Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 212.

1Seven years the king he staidInto the land of Spain,And seven years True Thomas wasHis daughter's chamberlain.2But it fell ance upon a dayThe king he did come home;She baked and she benjed ben,And did him there welcome.3'What aileth you, my daughter Janet,You look sae pale and wan?There is a dreder in your heart,Or else you love a man.'4'There is no dreder in my heart,Nor do I love a man;But it is for your lang bydingInto the land of Spain.'5'Ye'll cast aff your bonny brown gown,And lay it on a stone,And I'll tell you, my jelly Janet,If ever ye lovd a man.'6She's cast aff her bonny brown gown,And laid it on a stone;Her belly was big, her twa sides high,Her colour it was quite gane.7'Is it to a man o the might, Janet,Or is it till a man o the main?Or is it to one o my poor soldiers,That I brought hame frae Spain?'8'It's not till a man o the might,' she says,'Nor yet to a man o the main;But it's to Thomas o Winsbury,That cannot longer len.'9'O where are all my wall-wight men,That I pay meat and fee,That will go for him True Thomas,And bring him in to me?For the morn, ere I eat or drink,High hanged shall he be.'10She's turnd her right and round about,The tear blinded her ee:'If ye do any ill to True Thomas,Ye's never get gude o me.'11When Thomas came before the kingHe glanced like the fire;His hair was like the threads o gold,His eyes like crystal clear.12'It was nae wonder, my daughter Janet,Altho ye loved this man;If he were a woman, as he is a man,My bed-fellow he would been.13'O will ye marry my daughter Janet?The truth's in your right hand;Ye's hae some o my gold, and some o my gear,And the twalt part o my land.'14'It's I will marry your daughter Janet;The truth's in my right hand;I'll hae nane o your gold, nor nane o your gear,I've enough in my own land.15'But I will marry your daughter JanetWith thirty ploughs and three,And four and twenty bonny breast-mills,And a' on the water o Dee.'

1Seven years the king he staidInto the land of Spain,And seven years True Thomas wasHis daughter's chamberlain.

2But it fell ance upon a dayThe king he did come home;She baked and she benjed ben,And did him there welcome.

3'What aileth you, my daughter Janet,You look sae pale and wan?There is a dreder in your heart,Or else you love a man.'

4'There is no dreder in my heart,Nor do I love a man;But it is for your lang bydingInto the land of Spain.'

5'Ye'll cast aff your bonny brown gown,And lay it on a stone,And I'll tell you, my jelly Janet,If ever ye lovd a man.'

6She's cast aff her bonny brown gown,And laid it on a stone;Her belly was big, her twa sides high,Her colour it was quite gane.

7'Is it to a man o the might, Janet,Or is it till a man o the main?Or is it to one o my poor soldiers,That I brought hame frae Spain?'

8'It's not till a man o the might,' she says,'Nor yet to a man o the main;But it's to Thomas o Winsbury,That cannot longer len.'

9'O where are all my wall-wight men,That I pay meat and fee,That will go for him True Thomas,And bring him in to me?For the morn, ere I eat or drink,High hanged shall he be.'

10She's turnd her right and round about,The tear blinded her ee:'If ye do any ill to True Thomas,Ye's never get gude o me.'

11When Thomas came before the kingHe glanced like the fire;His hair was like the threads o gold,His eyes like crystal clear.

12'It was nae wonder, my daughter Janet,Altho ye loved this man;If he were a woman, as he is a man,My bed-fellow he would been.

13'O will ye marry my daughter Janet?The truth's in your right hand;Ye's hae some o my gold, and some o my gear,And the twalt part o my land.'

14'It's I will marry your daughter Janet;The truth's in my right hand;I'll hae nane o your gold, nor nane o your gear,I've enough in my own land.

15'But I will marry your daughter JanetWith thirty ploughs and three,And four and twenty bonny breast-mills,And a' on the water o Dee.'

Kinloch's Scottish Ballads, p. 92.

1It fell upon a time, when the proud king of FranceWent a hunting for five months and more,That his dochter fell in love with Thomas of Winesberrie,From Scotland newly come oer.2Whan her father cam hame frae hunting the deer,And his dochter before him cam,Her belly it was big, and her twa sides round,And her fair colour was wan.3'What ails thee, what ails thee, my dochter Janet?What maks thee to look sae wan?Ye've either been sick, and very, very sick,Or else ye hae lain wi a man.'4'Ye're welcome, ye're welcome, dear father,' she says,'Ye're welcome hame to your ain,For I hae been sick, and very, very sick,Thinking lang for your coming hame.5'O pardon, O pardon, dear father,' she says,'A pardon ye'll grant me:''Na pardon, na pardon, my dochter,' he says,'Na pardon I'll grant thee.6'O is it to a man of micht,Or to a man of mean?Or is it to onie of thae rank robbersThat I sent hame frae Spain?'7'It is not to a man of micht,Nor to a man of mean;But it is to Thomas o Winesberrie,And for him I suffer pain.'8'If it be to Thomas o' Winesberrie,As I trust well it be,Before I either eat or drink,Hie hangit sall he be.'9When this bonnie boy was brought afore the king,His claithing was o the silk,His fine yellow hair hang dangling doun,And his skin was like the milk.10'Na wonder, na wonder, Lord Thomas,' he says,'My dochter fell in love wi thee,For if I war a woman, as I am a man,My bed-fellow ye shoud be.11'Then will ye marry my dochter Janet,To be heir to a' my land?O will ye marry my dochter Janet,Wi the truth o your richt hand?'12'I will marry your dochter Janet,Wi the truth o my richt hand;I'll hae nane o your gowd, nor yet o your gear,I've eneuch in fair Scotland.13'But I will marry your dochter Janet,I care na for your land,For she's be a queen, and I a king,Whan we come to fair Scotland.'

1It fell upon a time, when the proud king of FranceWent a hunting for five months and more,That his dochter fell in love with Thomas of Winesberrie,From Scotland newly come oer.

2Whan her father cam hame frae hunting the deer,And his dochter before him cam,Her belly it was big, and her twa sides round,And her fair colour was wan.

3'What ails thee, what ails thee, my dochter Janet?What maks thee to look sae wan?Ye've either been sick, and very, very sick,Or else ye hae lain wi a man.'

4'Ye're welcome, ye're welcome, dear father,' she says,'Ye're welcome hame to your ain,For I hae been sick, and very, very sick,Thinking lang for your coming hame.

5'O pardon, O pardon, dear father,' she says,'A pardon ye'll grant me:''Na pardon, na pardon, my dochter,' he says,'Na pardon I'll grant thee.

6'O is it to a man of micht,Or to a man of mean?Or is it to onie of thae rank robbersThat I sent hame frae Spain?'

7'It is not to a man of micht,Nor to a man of mean;But it is to Thomas o Winesberrie,And for him I suffer pain.'

8'If it be to Thomas o' Winesberrie,As I trust well it be,Before I either eat or drink,Hie hangit sall he be.'

9When this bonnie boy was brought afore the king,His claithing was o the silk,His fine yellow hair hang dangling doun,And his skin was like the milk.

10'Na wonder, na wonder, Lord Thomas,' he says,'My dochter fell in love wi thee,For if I war a woman, as I am a man,My bed-fellow ye shoud be.

11'Then will ye marry my dochter Janet,To be heir to a' my land?O will ye marry my dochter Janet,Wi the truth o your richt hand?'

12'I will marry your dochter Janet,Wi the truth o my richt hand;I'll hae nane o your gowd, nor yet o your gear,I've eneuch in fair Scotland.

13'But I will marry your dochter Janet,I care na for your land,For she's be a queen, and I a king,Whan we come to fair Scotland.'

a.A stall copy printed by M. Randall, Stirling,b.A stall copy by C. Randall, Stirling.c.Buchan's Gleanings, p. 127.

1It fell upon a time that the proud king of FranceWent a hunting for five months and more;His daughter fell in love with Lord Winsberry,Who from Scotland was newly come oer.2'You're welcome, welcome, dear father,' she said,'You're welcome again to your own;For I have been sick, and very, very sick,Thinking long for your coming home.'3'Put off, put off your gown of green,' he says,'And spread it on yonder green,And tell them from me that in mourning you are,Or that ye have lain with a man.'4She's put off her gown of green,And spread it on the strand;Her haunches were round, and her belly was big,From her face the colour is gone.5'O is it to a man of might,' he says,'Or is it to a man that's mean?Or is it to one of those rank rebels,That lately from Scotland came?'6'O it is to a man of might,' she says,'It is not to one that is mean;It is to Lord Thomas of Winsberry,And for him I must suffer pain.'7The king called up his merry men all,By one, by two, and by three:'Go fetch me Lord Thomas of Winsberry,For tomorrow he shall die.'8They sought him up, they sought him down,As fast as fast could be;There they found Lord Thomas of Winsberry,Sitting under an orange tree.9'Get up, get up, Lord Thomas,' they said,'Get up, and bound your way;For the king has sworn by his honoured crownThat tomorrow is thy dying-day.'10'O what have I robbd, or what have I stolen,Or what have I killed or slain,That I should be afraid to speak to your king?For I have done him no wrong.'11Lord Thomas came tripping up the stair,His cloathing was of the silk;His fine yellow hair hung dangling down,His skin was white as the milk.12And when he came before the kingHe kneeled down on his knee;Says, What is your will with me, my liege,What is your will with me?13'I think no wonder, Lord Thomas,' he says,'That my daughter fell in love with thee;If thou wert a woman, as thou art a man,My bed-fellow thou wouldst be.14'Will ye marry my daughter Jean,By the faith of thy right hand?Thou'se have part of my gold, part of my gear,And a third part of my land.'15'Yes, I will marry thy daughter Jean,By the faith of my right hand;I'll have none of your gold, none of your gear;I have enough in fair Scotland.'16He has mounted her on a milk-white steed,Himself on a dapple-grey;He's got as much land in fair ScotlandAs they can ride in a summer's day.

1It fell upon a time that the proud king of FranceWent a hunting for five months and more;His daughter fell in love with Lord Winsberry,Who from Scotland was newly come oer.

2'You're welcome, welcome, dear father,' she said,'You're welcome again to your own;For I have been sick, and very, very sick,Thinking long for your coming home.'

3'Put off, put off your gown of green,' he says,'And spread it on yonder green,And tell them from me that in mourning you are,Or that ye have lain with a man.'

4She's put off her gown of green,And spread it on the strand;Her haunches were round, and her belly was big,From her face the colour is gone.

5'O is it to a man of might,' he says,'Or is it to a man that's mean?Or is it to one of those rank rebels,That lately from Scotland came?'

6'O it is to a man of might,' she says,'It is not to one that is mean;It is to Lord Thomas of Winsberry,And for him I must suffer pain.'

7The king called up his merry men all,By one, by two, and by three:'Go fetch me Lord Thomas of Winsberry,For tomorrow he shall die.'

8They sought him up, they sought him down,As fast as fast could be;There they found Lord Thomas of Winsberry,Sitting under an orange tree.

9'Get up, get up, Lord Thomas,' they said,'Get up, and bound your way;For the king has sworn by his honoured crownThat tomorrow is thy dying-day.'

10'O what have I robbd, or what have I stolen,Or what have I killed or slain,That I should be afraid to speak to your king?For I have done him no wrong.'

11Lord Thomas came tripping up the stair,His cloathing was of the silk;His fine yellow hair hung dangling down,His skin was white as the milk.

12And when he came before the kingHe kneeled down on his knee;Says, What is your will with me, my liege,What is your will with me?

13'I think no wonder, Lord Thomas,' he says,'That my daughter fell in love with thee;If thou wert a woman, as thou art a man,My bed-fellow thou wouldst be.

14'Will ye marry my daughter Jean,By the faith of thy right hand?Thou'se have part of my gold, part of my gear,And a third part of my land.'

15'Yes, I will marry thy daughter Jean,By the faith of my right hand;I'll have none of your gold, none of your gear;I have enough in fair Scotland.'

16He has mounted her on a milk-white steed,Himself on a dapple-grey;He's got as much land in fair ScotlandAs they can ride in a summer's day.

Ois added, in singing, to every second and fourth verse.12. oh.93. the reeds of,in my copy.112. of my.

Ois added, in singing, to every second and fourth verse.

12. oh.

93. the reeds of,in my copy.

112. of my.

Quhat, ze,etc., are printedwhat, ye.

9.Given thus in Kinloch's annotated copy of his Ancient Scottish Ballads; derived, from Motherwell:

The king called doun his merry men,By thirties and by three;Lord Thomas, that used to be the first.The hindmost man was he.

32.altered, wrongly, toBut lain with a.92. shrrill.

32.altered, wrongly, toBut lain with a.

92. shrrill.

Ois added, in singing, to every second and fourth verse.13, 4.Thus in Motherwell's Note-Book, p. 27:

Ois added, in singing, to every second and fourth verse.

13, 4.Thus in Motherwell's Note-Book, p. 27:

Seven long years was past and goneWhen our Scotish king came home. O

16.Given thus in Kinloch's annotated copy of his Ancient Scottish Ballads, as the concluding verse of Mr Motherwell's copies and that of Buchan:

He mounted her on a milk-white steed,Himself on a dapple-grey,And they've as muckle land in braid ScotlandAs can be rode in a lang simmer's day.

G.Some trifling changes are made by Buchan in printing.

84. ben,printed by Buchanlen.

I. a.

142. of my:sob.161. herwanting.

142. of my:sob.

161. herwanting.

23. and very sick.41, 2.wanting.52. that is.53. these.82. As fast as they.93. hiswanting.113. hang.134. should be.

23. and very sick.

41, 2.wanting.

52. that is.

53. these.

82. As fast as they.

93. hiswanting.

113. hang.

134. should be.

22. You are.31. Put off your.52. that is.53. these.74. Sitting under an orange tree.8.wanting.142. of my.143. Thou'llt.

22. You are.

31. Put off your.

52. that is.

53. these.

74. Sitting under an orange tree.

8.wanting.

142. of my.

143. Thou'llt.

FOOTNOTES:[166]"A William Wynnesbury, who was yeoman of the Guard at the time of Henry VIII, used generally to act as Lord of Misrule in the years 1508-19, and he was Friar Tuck at Greenwich in May, 1515 (see Collier's Annals of the Stage, and J. S. Brewer's Letters and Papers of Henry VIII), and this, no doubt, made the name popular with the ballad-makers." Ward, Catalogue of Romances, etc., I, 532. Undeniably the Lord Winsbury of our ballad might be said to have acted as a lord of misrule, but it was hardly an English (or Scots) ballad-maker of the sixteenth century that made this ballad; and Mr. Ward, probably, did not intend so to be understood.

[166]"A William Wynnesbury, who was yeoman of the Guard at the time of Henry VIII, used generally to act as Lord of Misrule in the years 1508-19, and he was Friar Tuck at Greenwich in May, 1515 (see Collier's Annals of the Stage, and J. S. Brewer's Letters and Papers of Henry VIII), and this, no doubt, made the name popular with the ballad-makers." Ward, Catalogue of Romances, etc., I, 532. Undeniably the Lord Winsbury of our ballad might be said to have acted as a lord of misrule, but it was hardly an English (or Scots) ballad-maker of the sixteenth century that made this ballad; and Mr. Ward, probably, did not intend so to be understood.

A.'Willy o Douglass-dale,' Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 8.B. a.'Dame Oliphant, or, Willie o Douglass Dale,' Buchan MSS, II, 117.b.'The Earl of Douglas and Dame Oliphant,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 181; 'Lord Willie Douglas,' Motherwell's MS., p. 619.C.'Douglass Dale,' Kinloch MSS, V, 327.

A.'Willy o Douglass-dale,' Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 8.

B. a.'Dame Oliphant, or, Willie o Douglass Dale,' Buchan MSS, II, 117.b.'The Earl of Douglas and Dame Oliphant,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 181; 'Lord Willie Douglas,' Motherwell's MS., p. 619.

C.'Douglass Dale,' Kinloch MSS, V, 327.

Awas among the fifteen ballads furnished by Mrs Brown to William Tytler in 1783, No 8. The first stanza is cited by Dr Anderson in Nichols's Illustrations, VII, 177. There is a copy in the Abbotsford MS. "Scottish Songs," fol. 16, in which the text is considerably altered; stanzas 7, 12, 19, 22-24 are omitted, and 25 is inserted between 30 and 31.B binserts two stanzas afterB a15, and adds one at the end. The copy in Christie's Traditional Ballad Airs, II, 32, is an abridgment ofB bas made over in The Ballad Minstrelsy of Scotland, Glasgow, 1871, p. 63.Chas an appendage of two stanzas which belong to another ballad, and are transferred accordingly.

The first part of the story of this ballad, or down to the birth of the boy, is repeated in 'Willie and Earl Richard's Daughter' (hitherto called 'The Birth of Robin Hood'), which immediately follows. This portion of the ballad has resemblances to 'Leesome Brand,' No 15.[167]

A9,B15, is a popular passage the like of which is found in many ballads: as 'Child Waters,'A2, 3; 'Lady Maisry,'H7, 8; 'Willie o Winsbury,'A5,C5,D3;'Willie and Earl Richard's Daughter,'A4; 'Der Ritter und die Magd,' Düntzer u. Herder, Briefe Goethe's, I, 157, st. 6; Nicolai, I, 40, No 2, st. 6; Wunderhorn, 1806, I, 50, st. 11, Erk, IV, 304, st. 5; Erk's Liederhort, p. 81, st. 10; Hoffmann u. Richter, No. 4, st. 4; Meier, Schwäbische Volkslieder, No 177, st. 9; Ditfurth, II, Nos 6, 7, 8, st. 5; Uhland, No 97A, st. 5; Mittler, No 91, st. 6; 'Schön Elselein,' 'Das Schwabentöchterlein,' Böhme, No 51a, st. 11, No 51b, st. 8 (=Mittler, No 218; Uhland, No 257); 'Þiðriks kvæði konúngs,' Íslenzk fornkvæði, II, 218, No 57, st. 6; Haupt u. Schmaler, V. l. der Wenden, I, 160, No 136, st. 7; Sakellarios,Τα Κυπριακα, III, 52, No 20, vv 5-9; Guillon, Ch. p. de l'Ain, 'La Fille d'un Boulanger,' p. 201, sts 1, 2; Milá, Romancerillo, 'La infanta seducida,' p. 249, No 258, l. 4; 'De la infanta y el hijo del rey de Francia,' Wolf y Hofmann, Primavera, II, 91, No 158, verses 5, 6; Aigner, Ungarische Volksdichtungen, p. 86, st. 1, p. 215, st. 2.

The very ill-timed question inB20 occurs in 'Young Hunting,' No 68,K8, 'Clerk Saunders,' No 69,F5, Buchan, Ballads of the North of Scotland, 'Auld Matrons,' II, 238, st. 4, and 'Willie's Fatal Visit,' II, 260, st. 7.For others in this passage see 'Rose the Red and White Lily.' The bribe of gowns inB29 is found in 'Young Hunting,'B9,C7,K13.

The historical foundation for this ballad suggested in The Ballad Minstrelsy of Scotland, Glasgow, 1871, p. 63, cannot be seriously entertained.

Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 8.

1O Willy was as brave a lordAs ever saild the sea,And he has gane to the English court,To serve for meat and fee.2He had nae been at the kingis courtA twelvemonth and a day,Till he longd for a sight o the king's daughter,But ane he coud never see.3O it fell ance upon a dayTo the green wood she has gane,An Willy he has followd her,With the clear light o the moon.4He looted him low, by her did go,Wi his hat intill his hand:'O what's your will wi me, Sir Knight?I pray keep your hat on.'5'O I am not a knight, Madam,Nor never thinks to be;For I am Willy o Douglassdale,An I serve for meat and fee.'6'O I'll gang to my bowr,' she says,'An sigh baith even an mornThat ever I saw your face, Willy,Or that ever ye was born.7'O I'll gang to my bowr,' she says,'An I'll pray baith night an day,To keep me frae your tempting looks,An frae your great beauty.'8O in a little after thatHe keepit Dame Oliphant's bowr,An the love that passd between this twa,It was like paramour.9'O narrow, narrow's my gown, Willy,That wont to be sae wide;An short, short is my coats, Willy,That wont to be sae side;An gane is a' my fair colour,An low laid is my pride.10'But an my father get word of this,He'll never drink again;An gin my mother get word of this,In her ain bowr she'll go brain;An gin my bold brothers get word this,I fear, Willy, you'll be slain.'11'O will you leave your father's court,An go along wi me?I'll carry you unto fair Scotland,And mak you a lady free.'12She pat her han in her pocketAn gae him five hunder poun:'An take you that now, Squire Willy,Till awa that we do won.'13Whan day was gane, and night was come,She lap the castle-wa;But Willy kepit his gay lady,He was laith to let her fa.14Whan night was gane, an day come in,An lions gaed to their dens,An ay the lady followd him,An the tears came hailing down.15'O want ye ribbons to your hair?Or roses to your shoone?Or want ye as meickle dear bought loveAs your ain heart can contain?'16'I want nae ribbons to my hair,Nor roses till my shoone;An Ohone, alas, for dear bought love!I have mair nor I can contain.'17O he's pu'd the oak in good green wood,An he's made to her a fire;He coverd it oer wi withred leaves,An gard it burn thro ire.18He made a bed i the good green wood,An he's laid his lady down,An he's coverd her oer wi fig-tree leaves,But an his ain night-gown.19'O had I a bunch o yon red roddins,That grows in yonder wood,But an a drink o water clear,I think it woud do me good.'20He's pu'd her a bunch o yon red roddins,That grew beside yon thorn,But an a drink o water clear,Intill his hunting-horn.21He's bent his bow, and shot the deer,An thro the green wood gane,An ere that he came back againHis lady took travailing.22'O up ye tak that horn,' she says,'An ye blaw a blast for me;Gin my father be in good green wood,Sae seen's he'll come me ti.'23'O gin there be a man on earthThat ye loo better nor me,Ye blaw the horn yoursel,' he says,'For it's never be blawn by me.'24O he's bent his bow, an shot the deer,An thro the green wood has he gane,An lang or he came back againHis lady bare him a son.25O up has he tane his bonny young son,An washn him wi the milk,An up has he tane his gay lady,An rowd her i the silk.26He's bent his bow, and shot the deer,An thro the green wood has he gane,Till he met wi a well-fard may,Her father's flock feeding.27'Ye leave your father's flock feeding,An go along wi me;I'll carry you to a lady fair,Will gi you both meat and fee.'28O whan she came the lady before,She's fa'n down on her knee:'O what's your will wi me, my dame?An a dame you seem to be.'29'O I'm Dame Oliphant, the king's daughter,Nae doubt but ye've heard o me;Will you leave your father's flock feeding,An go to Scotlan wi me?30'An ye sal get a nourishipIntill an earldome,An I will gar provide for theTo marry some brave Scotsman.'31The may she keepit the bonny boy,An Willy led his lady,Untill they took their fair shippin,Then quikly hame came they.32The win was fair, an the sea was clear,An they a' wan safe to lan;He's haild her lady of Douglassdale,Himsel the lord within.

1O Willy was as brave a lordAs ever saild the sea,And he has gane to the English court,To serve for meat and fee.

2He had nae been at the kingis courtA twelvemonth and a day,Till he longd for a sight o the king's daughter,But ane he coud never see.

3O it fell ance upon a dayTo the green wood she has gane,An Willy he has followd her,With the clear light o the moon.

4He looted him low, by her did go,Wi his hat intill his hand:'O what's your will wi me, Sir Knight?I pray keep your hat on.'

5'O I am not a knight, Madam,Nor never thinks to be;For I am Willy o Douglassdale,An I serve for meat and fee.'

6'O I'll gang to my bowr,' she says,'An sigh baith even an mornThat ever I saw your face, Willy,Or that ever ye was born.

7'O I'll gang to my bowr,' she says,'An I'll pray baith night an day,To keep me frae your tempting looks,An frae your great beauty.'

8O in a little after thatHe keepit Dame Oliphant's bowr,An the love that passd between this twa,It was like paramour.

9'O narrow, narrow's my gown, Willy,That wont to be sae wide;An short, short is my coats, Willy,That wont to be sae side;An gane is a' my fair colour,An low laid is my pride.

10'But an my father get word of this,He'll never drink again;An gin my mother get word of this,In her ain bowr she'll go brain;An gin my bold brothers get word this,I fear, Willy, you'll be slain.'

11'O will you leave your father's court,An go along wi me?I'll carry you unto fair Scotland,And mak you a lady free.'

12She pat her han in her pocketAn gae him five hunder poun:'An take you that now, Squire Willy,Till awa that we do won.'

13Whan day was gane, and night was come,She lap the castle-wa;But Willy kepit his gay lady,He was laith to let her fa.

14Whan night was gane, an day come in,An lions gaed to their dens,An ay the lady followd him,An the tears came hailing down.

15'O want ye ribbons to your hair?Or roses to your shoone?Or want ye as meickle dear bought loveAs your ain heart can contain?'

16'I want nae ribbons to my hair,Nor roses till my shoone;An Ohone, alas, for dear bought love!I have mair nor I can contain.'

17O he's pu'd the oak in good green wood,An he's made to her a fire;He coverd it oer wi withred leaves,An gard it burn thro ire.

18He made a bed i the good green wood,An he's laid his lady down,An he's coverd her oer wi fig-tree leaves,But an his ain night-gown.

19'O had I a bunch o yon red roddins,That grows in yonder wood,But an a drink o water clear,I think it woud do me good.'

20He's pu'd her a bunch o yon red roddins,That grew beside yon thorn,But an a drink o water clear,Intill his hunting-horn.

21He's bent his bow, and shot the deer,An thro the green wood gane,An ere that he came back againHis lady took travailing.

22'O up ye tak that horn,' she says,'An ye blaw a blast for me;Gin my father be in good green wood,Sae seen's he'll come me ti.'

23'O gin there be a man on earthThat ye loo better nor me,Ye blaw the horn yoursel,' he says,'For it's never be blawn by me.'

24O he's bent his bow, an shot the deer,An thro the green wood has he gane,An lang or he came back againHis lady bare him a son.

25O up has he tane his bonny young son,An washn him wi the milk,An up has he tane his gay lady,An rowd her i the silk.

26He's bent his bow, and shot the deer,An thro the green wood has he gane,Till he met wi a well-fard may,Her father's flock feeding.

27'Ye leave your father's flock feeding,An go along wi me;I'll carry you to a lady fair,Will gi you both meat and fee.'

28O whan she came the lady before,She's fa'n down on her knee:'O what's your will wi me, my dame?An a dame you seem to be.'

29'O I'm Dame Oliphant, the king's daughter,Nae doubt but ye've heard o me;Will you leave your father's flock feeding,An go to Scotlan wi me?

30'An ye sal get a nourishipIntill an earldome,An I will gar provide for theTo marry some brave Scotsman.'

31The may she keepit the bonny boy,An Willy led his lady,Untill they took their fair shippin,Then quikly hame came they.

32The win was fair, an the sea was clear,An they a' wan safe to lan;He's haild her lady of Douglassdale,Himsel the lord within.

a.Buchan MSS, II, 117.b.Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 181; Motherwell's MS., p. 619.

1Willie was an earl's ae son,And an earl's ae son was he,But he thought his father lack to sair,And his mother of low degree.2But he is on to fair England,To sair for meat an fee,And all was for Dame Oliphant,A woman of great beauty.3He hadna been in fair EnglandA month but barely ane,Ere he dreamd that fair Dame OliphantGied him a gay gold ring.4He hadna been in fair EnglandA month but barely four,Ere he dreamd that fair Dame OliphantGied him a red rose flower,Well set about with white lilies,Like to the paramour.5It fell ance upon a dayDame Oliphant thought lang,And she gaed on to good green wood,As fast as she could gang.6As Willie stood in his chamber-door,And as he thought it good,There he beheld Dame Oliphant,As she came thro the wood.7He's taen his bow his arm oer,His sword into his hand,And he is on to good green wood,As fast as he could gang.8And there he found Dame Oliphant,Was lying sound asleep,And aye the sounder she did sleepThe nearer he did creep.9But when she wakend from her sleepAn angry maid was she,Crying, Had far away frae me, young man,Had far away frae me!For I fear ye are the Scottish knightThat beguiles young ladies free.10'I am not the Scottish knight,Nor ever thinks to be;I am but Willie o Douglass Dale,That serves for meat an fee.'11'If ye be Willie o Douglass Dale,Ye're dearly welcome to me;For oft in my sleep have I thought onYou and your merry winking ee.'12But the cocks they crew, and the horns blew,And the lions took the hill,And Willie he gaed hame again,To his hard task and till;And likewise did Dame Oliphant,To her book and her seam.13Till it fell ance upon a dayDame Oliphant thought lang,And she went on to Willie's bower-yates,As fast as she could gang.14'O are ye asleep now, Squire Willie?O are you asleep?' said she;O waken, waken, Squire Willie,O waken, and speak to me.15'For the gowns that were oer wide, Willie,They winna meet on me,And the coats that were oer side, Willie,They winna come to my knee;And if the knights of my father's court get word,I'm sure they'll gar you die.'* * * * *16But she's taen a web of the scarlet,And she tare it fine an sma,And even into Willie's armsShe leapt the castle-wa;And Willie was wight and well able,And he keept her frae a fa.17But the cocks they crew, and the horns blew,And the lions took the hill,And Willie's ladie followed him,And the tears did twinkle still.18'O want ye ribbons to your hair?Or roses to your sheen?Or want ye chains about your neck?Ye'se get mair ere that be deen.'19'I want not ribbons to my hair,Nor roses to my sheen,And there's mair chains about my neckNor ever I'll see deen;But I have as much dear bought loveAs my heart can contain.'20'Will ye go to the cards or dice?Or to the table ee?Or to a bed, so well down spread,And sleep till it be day?'21'I've mair need of the roddins, Willie,That grow on yonder thorn;Likewise a drink o Marywell water,Out of your grass-green horn.22'I've mair need of a fire, Willie,To had me frae the cauld;Likewise a glass of your red wine,Ere I bring my son to the fauld.'23He's got a bush o roddins till her,That grows on yonder thorn;Likewise a drink o Marywell water,Out of his grass-green horn.24He carried the match in his pocketThat kindled to her the fire,Well set about wi oaken spells,That learnd oer Lincolnshire.25And he has bought to his ladyThe white bread and the wine;And the milk he milked from the goats,He fed his young son on.26Till it fell ance upon a dayDame Oliphant thought lang:'O gin ye hae a being, Willie,I pray ye hae me hame.'27He's taen his young son in his arms,His lady by the hand,And they're down thro good green wood,As fast as they could gang.28Till they came to a shepherd-may,Was feeding her flocks alone;Said, Will ye gae alang wi me,And carry my bonny young son?29The gowns that were shapen for my back,They shall be sewd for thine;And likewise I'll gar Squire WillieGie you a braw Scotsman.30When they came on to Willie's bower-yates,And far beyont the sea,She was haild the lady o Douglass Dale,And Willie an earl to be:Likewise the maid they brought awa,She got a braw Scotsman.

1Willie was an earl's ae son,And an earl's ae son was he,But he thought his father lack to sair,And his mother of low degree.

2But he is on to fair England,To sair for meat an fee,And all was for Dame Oliphant,A woman of great beauty.

3He hadna been in fair EnglandA month but barely ane,Ere he dreamd that fair Dame OliphantGied him a gay gold ring.

4He hadna been in fair EnglandA month but barely four,Ere he dreamd that fair Dame OliphantGied him a red rose flower,Well set about with white lilies,Like to the paramour.

5It fell ance upon a dayDame Oliphant thought lang,And she gaed on to good green wood,As fast as she could gang.

6As Willie stood in his chamber-door,And as he thought it good,There he beheld Dame Oliphant,As she came thro the wood.

7He's taen his bow his arm oer,His sword into his hand,And he is on to good green wood,As fast as he could gang.

8And there he found Dame Oliphant,Was lying sound asleep,And aye the sounder she did sleepThe nearer he did creep.

9But when she wakend from her sleepAn angry maid was she,Crying, Had far away frae me, young man,Had far away frae me!For I fear ye are the Scottish knightThat beguiles young ladies free.

10'I am not the Scottish knight,Nor ever thinks to be;I am but Willie o Douglass Dale,That serves for meat an fee.'

11'If ye be Willie o Douglass Dale,Ye're dearly welcome to me;For oft in my sleep have I thought onYou and your merry winking ee.'

12But the cocks they crew, and the horns blew,And the lions took the hill,And Willie he gaed hame again,To his hard task and till;And likewise did Dame Oliphant,To her book and her seam.

13Till it fell ance upon a dayDame Oliphant thought lang,And she went on to Willie's bower-yates,As fast as she could gang.

14'O are ye asleep now, Squire Willie?O are you asleep?' said she;O waken, waken, Squire Willie,O waken, and speak to me.

15'For the gowns that were oer wide, Willie,They winna meet on me,And the coats that were oer side, Willie,They winna come to my knee;And if the knights of my father's court get word,I'm sure they'll gar you die.'

* * * * *

16But she's taen a web of the scarlet,And she tare it fine an sma,And even into Willie's armsShe leapt the castle-wa;And Willie was wight and well able,And he keept her frae a fa.

17But the cocks they crew, and the horns blew,And the lions took the hill,And Willie's ladie followed him,And the tears did twinkle still.

18'O want ye ribbons to your hair?Or roses to your sheen?Or want ye chains about your neck?Ye'se get mair ere that be deen.'

19'I want not ribbons to my hair,Nor roses to my sheen,And there's mair chains about my neckNor ever I'll see deen;But I have as much dear bought loveAs my heart can contain.'

20'Will ye go to the cards or dice?Or to the table ee?Or to a bed, so well down spread,And sleep till it be day?'

21'I've mair need of the roddins, Willie,That grow on yonder thorn;Likewise a drink o Marywell water,Out of your grass-green horn.

22'I've mair need of a fire, Willie,To had me frae the cauld;Likewise a glass of your red wine,Ere I bring my son to the fauld.'

23He's got a bush o roddins till her,That grows on yonder thorn;Likewise a drink o Marywell water,Out of his grass-green horn.

24He carried the match in his pocketThat kindled to her the fire,Well set about wi oaken spells,That learnd oer Lincolnshire.

25And he has bought to his ladyThe white bread and the wine;And the milk he milked from the goats,He fed his young son on.

26Till it fell ance upon a dayDame Oliphant thought lang:'O gin ye hae a being, Willie,I pray ye hae me hame.'

27He's taen his young son in his arms,His lady by the hand,And they're down thro good green wood,As fast as they could gang.

28Till they came to a shepherd-may,Was feeding her flocks alone;Said, Will ye gae alang wi me,And carry my bonny young son?

29The gowns that were shapen for my back,They shall be sewd for thine;And likewise I'll gar Squire WillieGie you a braw Scotsman.

30When they came on to Willie's bower-yates,And far beyont the sea,She was haild the lady o Douglass Dale,And Willie an earl to be:Likewise the maid they brought awa,She got a braw Scotsman.

Kinloch MSS, V, 327, in the handwriting of Dr John Hill Burton.

1Sweet Sir William of Douglas Dale,A knight's ae son was he;He dreamed of dear Dame Oliphant,Lang ere he did her see.2He dreamed a woman of great beautyGave him a red rose flower,Well busket about wi the lillies white,Just like the paramour.3O sweet Sir William of Douglas Dale,A knight's ae son was he,And he is on to the king's high court,To serve for meat and fee.* * * * *4Five hundred pounds of Spanish gold,Tied in a towal so white,And that she has given her Lord William,Out oer the castle-dyke.5Five hundred pounds of Spanish gold,Tied in a towel sae sma,And that she has given her own true-love,Out ore the castle-wa.6She rowed hersell in a robe o silk,To loup the castle-wa;He ceppet her in his armes twa,And he let not her get a fa.* * * * *7The cocks do craw, and the day does daw,And the wild fowl bodes on hill;The lassie she followed her Sweet William,And let the tears down fall.* * * * *8'O want you ribbons to your hair?Or roses to your sheen?Or want ye as much of feel daft loveAs your heart can contain?'9'I want nor ribbons to my hair,Nor roses to my sheen;I've got as much o dear bought loveAs my heart can contain.'* * * * *10He carried a flint in his pocket,And he strack to her a fire,And he buskit it roun wi the leaves o oak,And gart it burn wi ire.11He's taen his big coat him about,And his gun into his hand,And he has gone to good green wood,To kill some venison.12He's taen his big coat him about,And his gun into his han,But lang ere he came back againShe bare his dear young son.13He rowed her in his muckle coat,But in his good night-gown,And he fed her wi the good goat-milk,Till she was well able to gang.14He's taen his young son in his arm,His lady in his hand,And they are down thro good green wood,As fast as they can gang.15And they came to a shepherd's daughter,Was feeding at her sheep;Says, Will ye go to Douglass Dale,Wi my yong son to keep?16O I will gee you gold, maiden,And I will gee you fee,Gin ye will go to Douglas Dale,Wi my yong son and me.17She's taen his young son in her arm,And kissed baith cheek and chin;Says, I will go to Douglas Dale,As fast as I can win.18He's taen his big coat him about,And his lady in his hand,And they are off to Douglas Dale,As fast as they can gang.19And when they came to Douglas DaleA happy man was he,For his lady, and his young son,And his nurse, a' three.

1Sweet Sir William of Douglas Dale,A knight's ae son was he;He dreamed of dear Dame Oliphant,Lang ere he did her see.

2He dreamed a woman of great beautyGave him a red rose flower,Well busket about wi the lillies white,Just like the paramour.

3O sweet Sir William of Douglas Dale,A knight's ae son was he,And he is on to the king's high court,To serve for meat and fee.

* * * * *

4Five hundred pounds of Spanish gold,Tied in a towal so white,And that she has given her Lord William,Out oer the castle-dyke.

5Five hundred pounds of Spanish gold,Tied in a towel sae sma,And that she has given her own true-love,Out ore the castle-wa.

6She rowed hersell in a robe o silk,To loup the castle-wa;He ceppet her in his armes twa,And he let not her get a fa.

* * * * *

7The cocks do craw, and the day does daw,And the wild fowl bodes on hill;The lassie she followed her Sweet William,And let the tears down fall.

* * * * *

8'O want you ribbons to your hair?Or roses to your sheen?Or want ye as much of feel daft loveAs your heart can contain?'

9'I want nor ribbons to my hair,Nor roses to my sheen;I've got as much o dear bought loveAs my heart can contain.'

* * * * *

10He carried a flint in his pocket,And he strack to her a fire,And he buskit it roun wi the leaves o oak,And gart it burn wi ire.

11He's taen his big coat him about,And his gun into his hand,And he has gone to good green wood,To kill some venison.

12He's taen his big coat him about,And his gun into his han,But lang ere he came back againShe bare his dear young son.

13He rowed her in his muckle coat,But in his good night-gown,And he fed her wi the good goat-milk,Till she was well able to gang.

14He's taen his young son in his arm,His lady in his hand,And they are down thro good green wood,As fast as they can gang.

15And they came to a shepherd's daughter,Was feeding at her sheep;Says, Will ye go to Douglass Dale,Wi my yong son to keep?

16O I will gee you gold, maiden,And I will gee you fee,Gin ye will go to Douglas Dale,Wi my yong son and me.

17She's taen his young son in her arm,And kissed baith cheek and chin;Says, I will go to Douglas Dale,As fast as I can win.

18He's taen his big coat him about,And his lady in his hand,And they are off to Douglas Dale,As fast as they can gang.

19And when they came to Douglas DaleA happy man was he,For his lady, and his young son,And his nurse, a' three.

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