204JAMIE DOUGLAS

A.‘Lord Douglas,’ or, ‘The Laird of Blackwood,’ Kinloch MSS, I, 93.

B.‘Jamie Douglas,’ Kinloch MSS, V, 387.

C.‘Lady Douglas and Blackwood,’ Kinloch MSS, V, 207, I, 103.

D.‘Jamie Douglas,’ Kinloch MSS, I, 107.

E.‘The Laird o Blackwood,’ Kinloch MSS, VII, 127; Kinloch’s Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 58.

F.‘Jamie Douglas,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 507.

G.‘Lord Jamie Douglas,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 345.

H.‘Jamie Douglas,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 297.

I.‘Jamie Douglas,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 500.

J.‘Jamie Douglas,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 299.

K.‘Jamie Douglas,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 302.

L.‘Jamie Douglas,’ Finlay’s Scottish Ballads, II, 4.

M.Herd’s MSS, I, 54; Herd’s Scottish Songs, 1776, I, 144.

N.‘Lord Jamie Douglas,’ Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. v, the last three stanzas.

O.‘Jamie Douglas,’ Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xvii, IX, one stanza.

This ballad first appeared in print in the second edition of Herd’s Scottish Songs, 1776, but only as a fragment of five stanzas. Pinkerton repeats three stanzas from Herd, very slightly “polished by the editor,” Tragic Ballads, 1781, pp. 83, 119. A stall-copy, says Motherwell, was printed in 1798, under the title of ‘Fair Orange Green.’AandCwere used by Aytoun for the copy given in his second edition, 1859, I, 133, andDfor Part Fourth of Chambers’s compilation, Scottish Ballads, p. 157. The “traditionary version,” in thirty-four stanzas, given in the Appendix to Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, p. v (see his Introduction, p. lxiii, note 5), is made up, all but the fifth stanza and the three last, fromF-JandO: see note toN.

Lady Barbara Erskine, eldest daughter of John, Earl of Mar, was married to James, second Marquis of Douglas, near the end of the year 1670. The marriage did not prove to be happy, and the parties were formally separated in 1681. They had had one child, James, Earl of Angus, and he having been killed in battle in the Netherlands in 1692, the Marquis of Douglas married again, and had two sons and a daughter. The second of the sons was Archibald, the third marquis, and first and only duke of Douglas.

In an affectionate letter of December, 1676 (succeeding several others to which no answer had been returned), the Marchioness of Douglas writes to her husband: “I am not such a stranger to myself to pretend to the exactness of obedience and duty that my humor or frowardness may not have offended you, and all I can say is, that hereafter I shall so study yours and what may please you that I shall endeavor a conformity to your good will so near as I can. This only I must (most) complain of, that you should retain those in your service or company who takes the liberty of talking so much to the prejudice of your honor and mine. Sure I am I never give the least occasion for it, neither do I think, my dear, that you really believe it. If religion and virtue were not ties strong enough, sense of your honor and mine own, and of that noble family of yours and our posterity, could not but prevail against such base thoughts,and God, who knows my heart, knows my innocence and the malice of those who wounds us both by such base calumnies.” In February, 1677, the marchioness (not for the first time, as it appears) invokes the interposition of the Privy Council in her domestic affairs, and applies for an “aliment” on which she may live apart from her husband, whom she charges with shunning her company and treating her with contempt. The marquis in his reply alleges that his wife had not treated him with due respect, but seems to be averse to a separation. Four years after, a separation was mutually agreed to, and in the contract to this effect the ground is expressed to be “great animosities, mistakes and differences betwixt the said marquis and his lady, which have risen to a great height, so as neither of them are satisfied longer to continue together.”[70]

The blame of the alienation of Douglas from his wife is imputed by tradition to William Lawrie, the marquis’s principal chamberlain or factor, who was appointed to that place in 1670, the year of the marriage. Lawrie married Marion Weir, of the family of Blackwood, then a widow. He is often styled the laird of Blackwood, a title which belonged to his son by this marriage, his own proper designation being, after that event, the Tutor of Blackwood. “The belief that Blackwood was the chief cause of this unhappy quarrel was current at the time among the Douglas tenantry, with whom he was very unpopular, and it is corroborated by letters and other documents in the Douglas charter-chest. The marchioness, indeed, evinces temper, but the marquis appears to have been morose and peevish, and incapable of managing his own affairs. In this matter he consulted, and was advised by, Blackwood at every step, sending him copies of the letters he wrote to his wife, and subscribing whatever document Blackwood thought fit to prepare. Members of the family and dependents alike characterized Lawrie as hypocritical and double-dealing; but on the other hand, it is only fair to mention that on two occasions, Charles, Earl of Mar, wrote to Blackwood thanking him for his kindness to his sister, and assuring him of his esteem.”[71]

John, Earl of Mar, the father of Lady Barbara Erskine, died in 1668, before his daughter’s marriage, and it would have been her brother Charles, the next earl, who took her home. He was colonel of a regiment of foot at the time of the separation, whence, probably, the drums, trumpets, and soldiers in the ballad. Barbara Douglas died in 1690, two years before the marquis’s second marriage.

The reciter ofA, who got her information from an old dey at Douglas castle, as far back as 1770, told Kinloch that the ballad was a great favorite with Archibald, Duke of Douglas, who lived till 1761. “The Duke used often to get the old dey to sing it to him while he wheeled round the room in a gilded chair ... and muttered anathemas against Lourie, saying, O that Blackwood must have been a damned soul!”[72]

The story of the ballad is very simple. A lady, daughter of the Earl of Mar,B,I, married to Lord James Douglas, Marquis of Douglas,D, lives happily with him until Blackwood (Blacklaywood, Blackly) makesher husband believe that she has trespassed (with one Lockhart,A). Her protestations of innocence and the blandishments with which she seeks to win back her lord’s affections are fruitless. Her father sends for her and takes her home. He offers to get a bill of divorce and make a better match for her, but she will listen to no such proposal.

The lady is daughter of the Earl of York,D; her brother is the Duke of York (a somewhat favorite personage in ballads),B; her mother is daughter of the Duke of York,G, and her father is the Lord of Murray. Her husband is the Earl of March,I(andF?). Had she foreseen the event of the marriage with Douglas, she would have staid at Lord Torchard’s gates (Argyle’s, Athol’s, Lord Orgul’s) and have been his lady,G,H,I,L, or in fair Orange green and have been his (Orange’s?)K. (Orange gate appears inD, also, and so it may be Orange wine, and not orange, that Jamie Douglas is invited to drink inI5.) A handsome nurse makes trouble inF6, but nowhere else. It is not Blackwood that whispers mischief into the husband’s ear inJ4, but a small bird; a black bird, fause bird, in two of Finlay’s three copies, a blackie in the other,L. InE7 the lady will not wash her face, comb her hair, or have fire or light in her bower: cf. Nos 69, 92, II, 156, 317. InI15, when the lady had returned to her father’s and the tenants came to see her, she could not speak, and “the buttons off her clothes did flee;” “an affecting image of overpowering grief,” says Chambers. See also ‘Andrew Lammie.’

D10–15,N, are palpable and vulgar tags to a complete story. James Douglas comes to his father-in-law’s house with his three children, and sends a soldier to the gate to bid his lady come down; he has hanged false Blackwood, and she is to come home:N. InDthe hanging of Blackwood is not mentioned; Douglas calls for wine to drink to his gay lady, she takes a cup in her hand, but her heart breaks.[73]

A-Mhave all from one stanza to four of a beautiful song, known from the first quarter of the eighteenth century, and printed fifty years earlier than any copy of the ballad.[74]This song is the lament of an unmarried woman for a lover who has proved false, and, as we find by the last stanza, has left her with an unborn babe.A,Chave this last stanza, although the lady in these copies has born three children (as she has in every version except the fragmentaryE).[75]

WALY, WALY, GIN LOVE BE BONY.

a.Ramsay’s Tea-Table Miscellany, the second volume, published before 1727; here from the Dublin edition of 1729, p. 176.b.Thomson’s Orpheus Caledonius, second edition, 1733, I, 71; four stanzas in the first edition, 1725, No 34.[76]

1O waly, waly up the bank!And waly, waly, down the brae!And waly, waly yon burn-side,Where I and my love wont to gae!2I leand my back unto an aik,I thought it was a trusty tree;But first it bowd, and syne it brak,Sae my true-love did lightly me.3O waly, waly! but love be bonyA little time, while it is new;But when ’tis auld, it waxeth cauld,And fades away like morning dew.4O wherefore shoud I busk my head?Or wherfore shoud I kame my hair?For my true-love has me forsook,And says he’ll never love me mair.5Now Arthur-Seat shall be my bed,The sheets shall neer be fyl’d by me;Saint Anton’s well shall be my drink,Since my true-love has forsaken me.6Martinmas wind, when wilt thou blaw,And shake the green leaves off the tree?O gentle death, when wilt thou come?For of my life I am weary.7’Tis not the frost that freezes fell,Nor blawing snaw’s inclemency;’Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry,But my love’s heart grown cauld to me.8When we came in by Glasgow town,We were a comely sight to see;My love was cled in the black velvet,And I my sell in cramasie.9But had I wist, before I kissd,That love had been sae ill to win,I’d lockd my heart in a case of gold,And pin’d it with a silver pin.10Oh, oh, if my young babe were born,And set upon the nurse’s knee,And I my sell were dead and gane!For a maid again I’ll never be.

1O waly, waly up the bank!And waly, waly, down the brae!And waly, waly yon burn-side,Where I and my love wont to gae!

O waly, waly up the bank!

And waly, waly, down the brae!

And waly, waly yon burn-side,

Where I and my love wont to gae!

2I leand my back unto an aik,I thought it was a trusty tree;But first it bowd, and syne it brak,Sae my true-love did lightly me.

I leand my back unto an aik,

I thought it was a trusty tree;

But first it bowd, and syne it brak,

Sae my true-love did lightly me.

3O waly, waly! but love be bonyA little time, while it is new;But when ’tis auld, it waxeth cauld,And fades away like morning dew.

O waly, waly! but love be bony

A little time, while it is new;

But when ’tis auld, it waxeth cauld,

And fades away like morning dew.

4O wherefore shoud I busk my head?Or wherfore shoud I kame my hair?For my true-love has me forsook,And says he’ll never love me mair.

O wherefore shoud I busk my head?

Or wherfore shoud I kame my hair?

For my true-love has me forsook,

And says he’ll never love me mair.

5Now Arthur-Seat shall be my bed,The sheets shall neer be fyl’d by me;Saint Anton’s well shall be my drink,Since my true-love has forsaken me.

Now Arthur-Seat shall be my bed,

The sheets shall neer be fyl’d by me;

Saint Anton’s well shall be my drink,

Since my true-love has forsaken me.

6Martinmas wind, when wilt thou blaw,And shake the green leaves off the tree?O gentle death, when wilt thou come?For of my life I am weary.

Martinmas wind, when wilt thou blaw,

And shake the green leaves off the tree?

O gentle death, when wilt thou come?

For of my life I am weary.

7’Tis not the frost that freezes fell,Nor blawing snaw’s inclemency;’Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry,But my love’s heart grown cauld to me.

’Tis not the frost that freezes fell,

Nor blawing snaw’s inclemency;

’Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry,

But my love’s heart grown cauld to me.

8When we came in by Glasgow town,We were a comely sight to see;My love was cled in the black velvet,And I my sell in cramasie.

When we came in by Glasgow town,

We were a comely sight to see;

My love was cled in the black velvet,

And I my sell in cramasie.

9But had I wist, before I kissd,That love had been sae ill to win,I’d lockd my heart in a case of gold,And pin’d it with a silver pin.

But had I wist, before I kissd,

That love had been sae ill to win,

I’d lockd my heart in a case of gold,

And pin’d it with a silver pin.

10Oh, oh, if my young babe were born,And set upon the nurse’s knee,And I my sell were dead and gane!For a maid again I’ll never be.

Oh, oh, if my young babe were born,

And set upon the nurse’s knee,

And I my sell were dead and gane!

For a maid again I’ll never be.

A stanza closely resembling the third of this song occurs in a Yule medley in Wood’s MSS, about 1620.[77]

Hey trollie lollie, love is jollyA qhyll qhill it is new;Qhen it is old, it grows full cold,Woe worth the love untrew!

Hey trollie lollie, love is jolly

A qhyll qhill it is new;

Qhen it is old, it grows full cold,

Woe worth the love untrew!

The Orpheus Caledonius has for the fourth stanza this, which is found (with variations) inA-M, excepting the imperfect copyE:

When cockle-shells turn siller bells,And mussles grows on evry tree,When frost and snaw shall warm us a’,Then shall my love prove true to me.

When cockle-shells turn siller bells,

And mussles grows on evry tree,

When frost and snaw shall warm us a’,

Then shall my love prove true to me.

Ed. 1725.

Several stanzas occur in a song with the title ‘Arthur’s Seat shall be my bed,’ etc., which is thought to have been printed as early as the Tea-Table Miscellany, or even considerably earlier. This song is given in an appendix.

Aytoun’s ballad, 1859, I, 135, is loosely translated by Knortz, Schottische Balladen, p. 59.

Kinloch MSS, I, 93; from the recitation of Mary Barr, Lesmahago, Lanarkshire, May, 1827, and learned by her about sixty years before from an old dey at Douglas Castle.

1I was a lady of high renownAs lived in the north countrie;I was a lady of high renownWhan Earl Douglas loved me.2Whan we came through Glasgow toun,We war a comely sight to see;My gude lord in velvet green,And I mysel in cramasie.3Whan we cam to Douglas toun,We war a fine sight to behold;My gude lord in cramasie,And I myself in shining gold.4Whan that my auld son was born,And set upon the nurse’s knee,I was as happy a woman as eer was born,And my gude lord he loved me.5But oh, an my young son was born,And set upon the nurse’s knee,And I mysel war dead and gane,For a maid again I’ll never be!6There cam a man into this house,And Jamie Lockhart was his name,And it was told to my gude lordThat I was in the bed wi him.7There cam anither to this house,And a bad friend he was to me;He put Jamie’s shoon below my bed-stock,And bade my gude lord come and see.8O wae be unto thee, Blackwood,And ae an ill death may ye dee!For ye was the first and the foremost manThat parted my gude lord and me.9Whan my gude lord cam in my room,This grit falsehood for to see,He turnd about, and, wi a gloom,He straucht did tak farewell o me.10‘O fare thee well, my once lovely maid!O fare thee well, once dear to me!O fare thee well, my once lovely maid!For wi me again ye sall never be.’11‘Sit doun, sit doun, Jamie Douglas,Sit thee doun and dine wi me,And Ill set thee on a chair of gold,And a silver towel on thy knee.’12‘Whan cockle-shells turn silver bells,And mussels they bud on a tree,Whan frost and snaw turns fire to burn,Then I’ll sit down and dine wi thee.’13O wae be unto thee, Blackwood,And ae an ill death may ye dee!Ye war the first and the foremost manThat parted my gude lord and me.14Whan my father he heard wordThat my gude lord had forsaken me,He sent fifty o his brisk dragoonsTo fesh me hame to my ain countrie.15That morning before I did go,My bonny palace for to leave,I went into my gude lord’s room,But alas! he wad na speak to me.16‘Fare thee well, Jamie Douglas!Fare thee well, my ever dear to me!Fare thee well, Jamie Douglas!Be kind to the three babes I’ve born to thee.’

1I was a lady of high renownAs lived in the north countrie;I was a lady of high renownWhan Earl Douglas loved me.

I was a lady of high renown

As lived in the north countrie;

I was a lady of high renown

Whan Earl Douglas loved me.

2Whan we came through Glasgow toun,We war a comely sight to see;My gude lord in velvet green,And I mysel in cramasie.

Whan we came through Glasgow toun,

We war a comely sight to see;

My gude lord in velvet green,

And I mysel in cramasie.

3Whan we cam to Douglas toun,We war a fine sight to behold;My gude lord in cramasie,And I myself in shining gold.

Whan we cam to Douglas toun,

We war a fine sight to behold;

My gude lord in cramasie,

And I myself in shining gold.

4Whan that my auld son was born,And set upon the nurse’s knee,I was as happy a woman as eer was born,And my gude lord he loved me.

Whan that my auld son was born,

And set upon the nurse’s knee,

I was as happy a woman as eer was born,

And my gude lord he loved me.

5But oh, an my young son was born,And set upon the nurse’s knee,And I mysel war dead and gane,For a maid again I’ll never be!

But oh, an my young son was born,

And set upon the nurse’s knee,

And I mysel war dead and gane,

For a maid again I’ll never be!

6There cam a man into this house,And Jamie Lockhart was his name,And it was told to my gude lordThat I was in the bed wi him.

There cam a man into this house,

And Jamie Lockhart was his name,

And it was told to my gude lord

That I was in the bed wi him.

7There cam anither to this house,And a bad friend he was to me;He put Jamie’s shoon below my bed-stock,And bade my gude lord come and see.

There cam anither to this house,

And a bad friend he was to me;

He put Jamie’s shoon below my bed-stock,

And bade my gude lord come and see.

8O wae be unto thee, Blackwood,And ae an ill death may ye dee!For ye was the first and the foremost manThat parted my gude lord and me.

O wae be unto thee, Blackwood,

And ae an ill death may ye dee!

For ye was the first and the foremost man

That parted my gude lord and me.

9Whan my gude lord cam in my room,This grit falsehood for to see,He turnd about, and, wi a gloom,He straucht did tak farewell o me.

Whan my gude lord cam in my room,

This grit falsehood for to see,

He turnd about, and, wi a gloom,

He straucht did tak farewell o me.

10‘O fare thee well, my once lovely maid!O fare thee well, once dear to me!O fare thee well, my once lovely maid!For wi me again ye sall never be.’

‘O fare thee well, my once lovely maid!

O fare thee well, once dear to me!

O fare thee well, my once lovely maid!

For wi me again ye sall never be.’

11‘Sit doun, sit doun, Jamie Douglas,Sit thee doun and dine wi me,And Ill set thee on a chair of gold,And a silver towel on thy knee.’

‘Sit doun, sit doun, Jamie Douglas,

Sit thee doun and dine wi me,

And Ill set thee on a chair of gold,

And a silver towel on thy knee.’

12‘Whan cockle-shells turn silver bells,And mussels they bud on a tree,Whan frost and snaw turns fire to burn,Then I’ll sit down and dine wi thee.’

‘Whan cockle-shells turn silver bells,

And mussels they bud on a tree,

Whan frost and snaw turns fire to burn,

Then I’ll sit down and dine wi thee.’

13O wae be unto thee, Blackwood,And ae an ill death may ye dee!Ye war the first and the foremost manThat parted my gude lord and me.

O wae be unto thee, Blackwood,

And ae an ill death may ye dee!

Ye war the first and the foremost man

That parted my gude lord and me.

14Whan my father he heard wordThat my gude lord had forsaken me,He sent fifty o his brisk dragoonsTo fesh me hame to my ain countrie.

Whan my father he heard word

That my gude lord had forsaken me,

He sent fifty o his brisk dragoons

To fesh me hame to my ain countrie.

15That morning before I did go,My bonny palace for to leave,I went into my gude lord’s room,But alas! he wad na speak to me.

That morning before I did go,

My bonny palace for to leave,

I went into my gude lord’s room,

But alas! he wad na speak to me.

16‘Fare thee well, Jamie Douglas!Fare thee well, my ever dear to me!Fare thee well, Jamie Douglas!Be kind to the three babes I’ve born to thee.’

‘Fare thee well, Jamie Douglas!

Fare thee well, my ever dear to me!

Fare thee well, Jamie Douglas!

Be kind to the three babes I’ve born to thee.’

Kinloch MSS, V, 387, in the handwriting of John Hill Burton when a youth.

1Waly, waly up the bank!And waly, waly down the brae!And waly, waly to yon burn-side,Where me and my love wunt to gae!2As I lay sick, and very sick,And sick was I, and like to die,And Blacklaywood put in my love’s earsThat he staid in bower too lang wi me.3As I lay sick, and very sick,And sick was I, and like to die,And walking into my garden green,I heard my good lord lichtlie me.4Now woe betide ye, Blacklaywood!I’m sure an ill death you must die;Ye’ll part me and my ain good lord,And his face again I’ll never see.5‘Come down stairs now, Jamie Douglas,Come down stairs and drink wine wi me;I’ll set thee into a chair of gold,And not one farthing shall it cost thee.’6‘When cockle-shells turn silver bells,And muscles grow on every tree,When frost and snaw turn fiery baas,I’ll come down the stair and drink wine wi thee.’7‘What’s needs me value you, Jamie Douglas,More than you do value me?The Earl of Mar is my father,The Duke of York is my brother gay.8‘But when my father gets word o this,I trow a sorry man he’ll be;He’ll send four score o his soldiers braveTo tak me hame to mine ain countrie.’9As I lay owre my castell-wa,I beheld my father comin for me,Wi trumpets sounding on every side;But they werena music at a’ for me.10‘And fare ye weel now, Jamie Douglas!And fare ye weel, my children three!And fare ye weel, my own good lord!For my face again ye shall never see.11‘And fare ye weel now, Jamie Douglas!And fare ye weel, my children three!And fare ye weel now, Jamie Douglas!But my youngest son shall gae wi me.’12‘What ails ye at yer youngest son,Sits smilin at the nurse’s knee?I’m sure he never knew any harm,Except it was from his nurse or thee.’13. . . . . . .. . . . . . .And when I was into my coaches set,He made his trumpets a’ to soun.14I’ve heard it said, and it’s oft times seen,The hawk that flies far frae her nest;And a’ the world shall plainly seeIt’s Jamie Douglas that I love best.15Ive heard it said, and [it’s] oft times seen,The hawk that flies from tree to tree;And a’ the world shall plainly seeIt’s for Jamie Douglas I maun die.

1Waly, waly up the bank!And waly, waly down the brae!And waly, waly to yon burn-side,Where me and my love wunt to gae!

Waly, waly up the bank!

And waly, waly down the brae!

And waly, waly to yon burn-side,

Where me and my love wunt to gae!

2As I lay sick, and very sick,And sick was I, and like to die,And Blacklaywood put in my love’s earsThat he staid in bower too lang wi me.

As I lay sick, and very sick,

And sick was I, and like to die,

And Blacklaywood put in my love’s ears

That he staid in bower too lang wi me.

3As I lay sick, and very sick,And sick was I, and like to die,And walking into my garden green,I heard my good lord lichtlie me.

As I lay sick, and very sick,

And sick was I, and like to die,

And walking into my garden green,

I heard my good lord lichtlie me.

4Now woe betide ye, Blacklaywood!I’m sure an ill death you must die;Ye’ll part me and my ain good lord,And his face again I’ll never see.

Now woe betide ye, Blacklaywood!

I’m sure an ill death you must die;

Ye’ll part me and my ain good lord,

And his face again I’ll never see.

5‘Come down stairs now, Jamie Douglas,Come down stairs and drink wine wi me;I’ll set thee into a chair of gold,And not one farthing shall it cost thee.’

‘Come down stairs now, Jamie Douglas,

Come down stairs and drink wine wi me;

I’ll set thee into a chair of gold,

And not one farthing shall it cost thee.’

6‘When cockle-shells turn silver bells,And muscles grow on every tree,When frost and snaw turn fiery baas,I’ll come down the stair and drink wine wi thee.’

‘When cockle-shells turn silver bells,

And muscles grow on every tree,

When frost and snaw turn fiery baas,

I’ll come down the stair and drink wine wi thee.’

7‘What’s needs me value you, Jamie Douglas,More than you do value me?The Earl of Mar is my father,The Duke of York is my brother gay.

‘What’s needs me value you, Jamie Douglas,

More than you do value me?

The Earl of Mar is my father,

The Duke of York is my brother gay.

8‘But when my father gets word o this,I trow a sorry man he’ll be;He’ll send four score o his soldiers braveTo tak me hame to mine ain countrie.’

‘But when my father gets word o this,

I trow a sorry man he’ll be;

He’ll send four score o his soldiers brave

To tak me hame to mine ain countrie.’

9As I lay owre my castell-wa,I beheld my father comin for me,Wi trumpets sounding on every side;But they werena music at a’ for me.

As I lay owre my castell-wa,

I beheld my father comin for me,

Wi trumpets sounding on every side;

But they werena music at a’ for me.

10‘And fare ye weel now, Jamie Douglas!And fare ye weel, my children three!And fare ye weel, my own good lord!For my face again ye shall never see.

‘And fare ye weel now, Jamie Douglas!

And fare ye weel, my children three!

And fare ye weel, my own good lord!

For my face again ye shall never see.

11‘And fare ye weel now, Jamie Douglas!And fare ye weel, my children three!And fare ye weel now, Jamie Douglas!But my youngest son shall gae wi me.’

‘And fare ye weel now, Jamie Douglas!

And fare ye weel, my children three!

And fare ye weel now, Jamie Douglas!

But my youngest son shall gae wi me.’

12‘What ails ye at yer youngest son,Sits smilin at the nurse’s knee?I’m sure he never knew any harm,Except it was from his nurse or thee.’

‘What ails ye at yer youngest son,

Sits smilin at the nurse’s knee?

I’m sure he never knew any harm,

Except it was from his nurse or thee.’

13. . . . . . .. . . . . . .And when I was into my coaches set,He made his trumpets a’ to soun.

. . . . . . .

And when I was into my coaches set,

He made his trumpets a’ to soun.

14I’ve heard it said, and it’s oft times seen,The hawk that flies far frae her nest;And a’ the world shall plainly seeIt’s Jamie Douglas that I love best.

I’ve heard it said, and it’s oft times seen,

The hawk that flies far frae her nest;

And a’ the world shall plainly see

It’s Jamie Douglas that I love best.

15Ive heard it said, and [it’s] oft times seen,The hawk that flies from tree to tree;And a’ the world shall plainly seeIt’s for Jamie Douglas I maun die.

Ive heard it said, and [it’s] oft times seen,

The hawk that flies from tree to tree;

And a’ the world shall plainly see

It’s for Jamie Douglas I maun die.

Kinloch MSS, V, 207, I, 103; from John Rae, Lesmahago.

1O wally, wally up yon bank!And wally down yon brae!And wally, wally up yon burn-side,Where me and my lord wont to gae!2I leand me on yon saugh sae sweet,I leand me on yon saugh sae sour,And my gude lord has forsaken me,And he swears he’ll never loe me more.3There came a young man to this town,And Jamie Lockhart was his name;Fause Blackwood lilted in my lord’s earThat I was in the bed wi him.4‘Come up, come up, Jamie Douglas,Come up, come up and dine wi me,And I’ll set thee in a chair of gold,And use you kindly on my knee.’5‘When cockle-shells turn silver bells,And mussels hing on every tree,When frost and snow turn fire-brands,Then I’ll come up and dine wi thee.’6When my father and mother they got wordThat my good lord had forsaken me,They sent fourscore of soldiers braveTo bring me hame to my ain countrie.7That day that I was forc’d to go,My pretty palace for to leave,I went to the chamber were my lord lay,But alas! he wad na speak to me.8‘O fare ye weel, Jamie Douglas!And fare ye weel, my children three!I hope your father will prove mair kindTo you than he has been to me.9‘You take every one to be like yoursel,You take every one that comes unto thee;But I could swear by the heavens highThat I never knew anither man but thee.10‘O foul fa ye, fause Blackwood,And an ill death now may ye die!For ye was the first occasionerOf parting my gude lord and me.’11Whan we gaed in by Edinburgh town,My father and mither they met me,Wi trumpets sounding on every side;But alas! they could na cherish me.12‘Hold your tongue, daughter,’ my father said,‘And with your weeping let me be;And we’ll get out a bill of divorce,And I’ll get a far better lord to thee.’13‘O hold your tongue, father,’ she says,‘And with your talking let me be;I wad na gie a kiss o my ain lord’s lipsFor a’ the men in the west country.’14Oh an I had my baby born,And set upon the nurse’s knee,And I myself were dead and gone!For a maid again I will never be.

1O wally, wally up yon bank!And wally down yon brae!And wally, wally up yon burn-side,Where me and my lord wont to gae!

O wally, wally up yon bank!

And wally down yon brae!

And wally, wally up yon burn-side,

Where me and my lord wont to gae!

2I leand me on yon saugh sae sweet,I leand me on yon saugh sae sour,And my gude lord has forsaken me,And he swears he’ll never loe me more.

I leand me on yon saugh sae sweet,

I leand me on yon saugh sae sour,

And my gude lord has forsaken me,

And he swears he’ll never loe me more.

3There came a young man to this town,And Jamie Lockhart was his name;Fause Blackwood lilted in my lord’s earThat I was in the bed wi him.

There came a young man to this town,

And Jamie Lockhart was his name;

Fause Blackwood lilted in my lord’s ear

That I was in the bed wi him.

4‘Come up, come up, Jamie Douglas,Come up, come up and dine wi me,And I’ll set thee in a chair of gold,And use you kindly on my knee.’

‘Come up, come up, Jamie Douglas,

Come up, come up and dine wi me,

And I’ll set thee in a chair of gold,

And use you kindly on my knee.’

5‘When cockle-shells turn silver bells,And mussels hing on every tree,When frost and snow turn fire-brands,Then I’ll come up and dine wi thee.’

‘When cockle-shells turn silver bells,

And mussels hing on every tree,

When frost and snow turn fire-brands,

Then I’ll come up and dine wi thee.’

6When my father and mother they got wordThat my good lord had forsaken me,They sent fourscore of soldiers braveTo bring me hame to my ain countrie.

When my father and mother they got word

That my good lord had forsaken me,

They sent fourscore of soldiers brave

To bring me hame to my ain countrie.

7That day that I was forc’d to go,My pretty palace for to leave,I went to the chamber were my lord lay,But alas! he wad na speak to me.

That day that I was forc’d to go,

My pretty palace for to leave,

I went to the chamber were my lord lay,

But alas! he wad na speak to me.

8‘O fare ye weel, Jamie Douglas!And fare ye weel, my children three!I hope your father will prove mair kindTo you than he has been to me.

‘O fare ye weel, Jamie Douglas!

And fare ye weel, my children three!

I hope your father will prove mair kind

To you than he has been to me.

9‘You take every one to be like yoursel,You take every one that comes unto thee;But I could swear by the heavens highThat I never knew anither man but thee.

‘You take every one to be like yoursel,

You take every one that comes unto thee;

But I could swear by the heavens high

That I never knew anither man but thee.

10‘O foul fa ye, fause Blackwood,And an ill death now may ye die!For ye was the first occasionerOf parting my gude lord and me.’

‘O foul fa ye, fause Blackwood,

And an ill death now may ye die!

For ye was the first occasioner

Of parting my gude lord and me.’

11Whan we gaed in by Edinburgh town,My father and mither they met me,Wi trumpets sounding on every side;But alas! they could na cherish me.

Whan we gaed in by Edinburgh town,

My father and mither they met me,

Wi trumpets sounding on every side;

But alas! they could na cherish me.

12‘Hold your tongue, daughter,’ my father said,‘And with your weeping let me be;And we’ll get out a bill of divorce,And I’ll get a far better lord to thee.’

‘Hold your tongue, daughter,’ my father said,

‘And with your weeping let me be;

And we’ll get out a bill of divorce,

And I’ll get a far better lord to thee.’

13‘O hold your tongue, father,’ she says,‘And with your talking let me be;I wad na gie a kiss o my ain lord’s lipsFor a’ the men in the west country.’

‘O hold your tongue, father,’ she says,

‘And with your talking let me be;

I wad na gie a kiss o my ain lord’s lips

For a’ the men in the west country.’

14Oh an I had my baby born,And set upon the nurse’s knee,And I myself were dead and gone!For a maid again I will never be.

Oh an I had my baby born,

And set upon the nurse’s knee,

And I myself were dead and gone!

For a maid again I will never be.

Kinloch MSS, I, 107: “West-Country version.”

1I fell sick, and very, very sick,Sick I was, and like to dee;A friend o mine cam frae the west,A friend o mine came me to see,And the black told it to my gude lordHe was oure lang in the chamber wi me.* * * * * *2‘Come doun the stair, Jamie Douglas,Come doun and drink wine wi me;I’ll set ye on a chair of gold,And not ae farthing will it cost thee.’3‘Whan cockle-shells turn siller bells,And fishes flee frae tree to tree,Whan frost and snaw turn fire-beams,I’ll come doun and drink wine wi thee.’* * * * * *4‘What ails ye at your young son James,That sits upo the nurse’s knee?I’m sure he never did ye no harm,If it war na for the nurse or me.5‘What care I for you, Jamie Douglas?Not a small pin I value thee;For my father he is the Earl of York,And of that my mither’s the gay ladie;They will send fourscore of his soldiers boldFor to tak me hame to my ain countrie.’* * * * * *6Whan I was set in my coach and six,Taking fareweel o my babies three,‘I beg your father’s grace to be kind,For your face again I’ll never see.’* * * * * *7As I was walking up London streets,My father was coming to meet me,Wi trumpets sounding on every side;But that was na music at a’ for me.8‘Hold your tongue, my dochter dear,And of your weeping let abee;A bill o divorcement I’ll send to him,A far better match I’ll get for thee.’9‘Hold your tongue, my father dear,And with your folly let abee;There’ll never man sleep in my twa arms,Sin my gude lord has forsaken me.’* * * * * *10As I was sitting at my bouer-window,What a blythe sicht did I see!I saw four score of his soldiers bold,And I wishd that they were coming for me.11Out bespeaks the foremost man,And what a weel-spoken man was he!‘If the Marquis o Douglas’s lady be within,You’ll bid her come doun and speak to me.’12It’s out bespak my auld father then,I wat an angry man was he;‘Ye may gang back the road ye cam,For her face again ye’ll never see.’13‘Hold your tongue, my father dear,And with your folly let abee;For I’ll ga back, and I’ll ne’er return;Do ye think I love you as weel as he?’14As I cam in by the Orange gate,What a blythe sicht did I see!I saw Jamie Douglas coming me to meet,And at his foot war his babies three.15‘Ga fetch, ga fetch a bottle of wine,That I may drink to my gay ladie;’She took the cup into her hand,But her bonnie heart it broke in three.

I fell sick, and very, very sick,

Sick I was, and like to dee;

A friend o mine cam frae the west,

A friend o mine came me to see,

And the black told it to my gude lord

He was oure lang in the chamber wi me.

* * * * * *

2‘Come doun the stair, Jamie Douglas,Come doun and drink wine wi me;I’ll set ye on a chair of gold,And not ae farthing will it cost thee.’

‘Come doun the stair, Jamie Douglas,

Come doun and drink wine wi me;

I’ll set ye on a chair of gold,

And not ae farthing will it cost thee.’

3‘Whan cockle-shells turn siller bells,And fishes flee frae tree to tree,Whan frost and snaw turn fire-beams,I’ll come doun and drink wine wi thee.’

‘Whan cockle-shells turn siller bells,

And fishes flee frae tree to tree,

Whan frost and snaw turn fire-beams,

I’ll come doun and drink wine wi thee.’

* * * * * *

4‘What ails ye at your young son James,That sits upo the nurse’s knee?I’m sure he never did ye no harm,If it war na for the nurse or me.

‘What ails ye at your young son James,

That sits upo the nurse’s knee?

I’m sure he never did ye no harm,

If it war na for the nurse or me.

5‘What care I for you, Jamie Douglas?Not a small pin I value thee;For my father he is the Earl of York,And of that my mither’s the gay ladie;They will send fourscore of his soldiers boldFor to tak me hame to my ain countrie.’

‘What care I for you, Jamie Douglas?

Not a small pin I value thee;

For my father he is the Earl of York,

And of that my mither’s the gay ladie;

They will send fourscore of his soldiers bold

For to tak me hame to my ain countrie.’

* * * * * *

6Whan I was set in my coach and six,Taking fareweel o my babies three,‘I beg your father’s grace to be kind,For your face again I’ll never see.’

Whan I was set in my coach and six,

Taking fareweel o my babies three,

‘I beg your father’s grace to be kind,

For your face again I’ll never see.’

* * * * * *

7As I was walking up London streets,My father was coming to meet me,Wi trumpets sounding on every side;But that was na music at a’ for me.

As I was walking up London streets,

My father was coming to meet me,

Wi trumpets sounding on every side;

But that was na music at a’ for me.

8‘Hold your tongue, my dochter dear,And of your weeping let abee;A bill o divorcement I’ll send to him,A far better match I’ll get for thee.’

‘Hold your tongue, my dochter dear,

And of your weeping let abee;

A bill o divorcement I’ll send to him,

A far better match I’ll get for thee.’

9‘Hold your tongue, my father dear,And with your folly let abee;There’ll never man sleep in my twa arms,Sin my gude lord has forsaken me.’

‘Hold your tongue, my father dear,

And with your folly let abee;

There’ll never man sleep in my twa arms,

Sin my gude lord has forsaken me.’

* * * * * *

10As I was sitting at my bouer-window,What a blythe sicht did I see!I saw four score of his soldiers bold,And I wishd that they were coming for me.

As I was sitting at my bouer-window,

What a blythe sicht did I see!

I saw four score of his soldiers bold,

And I wishd that they were coming for me.

11Out bespeaks the foremost man,And what a weel-spoken man was he!‘If the Marquis o Douglas’s lady be within,You’ll bid her come doun and speak to me.’

Out bespeaks the foremost man,

And what a weel-spoken man was he!

‘If the Marquis o Douglas’s lady be within,

You’ll bid her come doun and speak to me.’

12It’s out bespak my auld father then,I wat an angry man was he;‘Ye may gang back the road ye cam,For her face again ye’ll never see.’

It’s out bespak my auld father then,

I wat an angry man was he;

‘Ye may gang back the road ye cam,

For her face again ye’ll never see.’

13‘Hold your tongue, my father dear,And with your folly let abee;For I’ll ga back, and I’ll ne’er return;Do ye think I love you as weel as he?’

‘Hold your tongue, my father dear,

And with your folly let abee;

For I’ll ga back, and I’ll ne’er return;

Do ye think I love you as weel as he?’

14As I cam in by the Orange gate,What a blythe sicht did I see!I saw Jamie Douglas coming me to meet,And at his foot war his babies three.

As I cam in by the Orange gate,

What a blythe sicht did I see!

I saw Jamie Douglas coming me to meet,

And at his foot war his babies three.

15‘Ga fetch, ga fetch a bottle of wine,That I may drink to my gay ladie;’She took the cup into her hand,But her bonnie heart it broke in three.

‘Ga fetch, ga fetch a bottle of wine,

That I may drink to my gay ladie;’

She took the cup into her hand,

But her bonnie heart it broke in three.

Kinloch MSS, VII, 127; 24 April, 1826, from the recitation of Jenny Watson, Lanark, aged 73, who had it from her grandmother.

1I lay sick, and very sick,And I was bad, and like to dee;. . . . . . .A friend o mine cam to visit me,And Blackwood whisperd in my lord’s earThat he was oure lang in chamber wi me.2‘O what need I dress up my head,Nor what need I caim doun my hair,Whan my gude lord has forsaken me,And says he will na love me mair!3‘But oh, an my young babe was born,And set upon some nourice knee,And I mysel war dead and gane!For a maid again I’ll never be.’4‘Na mair o this, my dochter dear,And of your mourning let abee;For a bill of divorce I’ll gar write for him,A mair better lord I’ll get for thee.’5‘Na mair o this, my father dear,And of your folly let abee;For I wad na gie ae look o my lord’s faceFor aw the lords in the haill cuntree.6‘But I’ll cast aff my robes o red,And I’ll put on my robes o blue,And I will travel to some other land,To see gin my love will on me rue.7‘There shall na wash come on my face,There shall na kaim come on my hair;There shall neither coal nor candle-lichtBe seen intil my bouer na mair.8‘O wae be to thee, Blackwood,And an ill death may ye dee!For ye’ve been the haill occasionOf parting my lord and me.’

1I lay sick, and very sick,And I was bad, and like to dee;. . . . . . .A friend o mine cam to visit me,And Blackwood whisperd in my lord’s earThat he was oure lang in chamber wi me.

I lay sick, and very sick,

And I was bad, and like to dee;

. . . . . . .

A friend o mine cam to visit me,

And Blackwood whisperd in my lord’s ear

That he was oure lang in chamber wi me.

2‘O what need I dress up my head,Nor what need I caim doun my hair,Whan my gude lord has forsaken me,And says he will na love me mair!

‘O what need I dress up my head,

Nor what need I caim doun my hair,

Whan my gude lord has forsaken me,

And says he will na love me mair!

3‘But oh, an my young babe was born,And set upon some nourice knee,And I mysel war dead and gane!For a maid again I’ll never be.’

‘But oh, an my young babe was born,

And set upon some nourice knee,

And I mysel war dead and gane!

For a maid again I’ll never be.’

4‘Na mair o this, my dochter dear,And of your mourning let abee;For a bill of divorce I’ll gar write for him,A mair better lord I’ll get for thee.’

‘Na mair o this, my dochter dear,

And of your mourning let abee;

For a bill of divorce I’ll gar write for him,

A mair better lord I’ll get for thee.’

5‘Na mair o this, my father dear,And of your folly let abee;For I wad na gie ae look o my lord’s faceFor aw the lords in the haill cuntree.

‘Na mair o this, my father dear,

And of your folly let abee;

For I wad na gie ae look o my lord’s face

For aw the lords in the haill cuntree.

6‘But I’ll cast aff my robes o red,And I’ll put on my robes o blue,And I will travel to some other land,To see gin my love will on me rue.

‘But I’ll cast aff my robes o red,

And I’ll put on my robes o blue,

And I will travel to some other land,

To see gin my love will on me rue.

7‘There shall na wash come on my face,There shall na kaim come on my hair;There shall neither coal nor candle-lichtBe seen intil my bouer na mair.

‘There shall na wash come on my face,

There shall na kaim come on my hair;

There shall neither coal nor candle-licht

Be seen intil my bouer na mair.

8‘O wae be to thee, Blackwood,And an ill death may ye dee!For ye’ve been the haill occasionOf parting my lord and me.’

‘O wae be to thee, Blackwood,

And an ill death may ye dee!

For ye’ve been the haill occasion

Of parting my lord and me.’

Motherwell’s MS, p. 507; from the recitation of old Mrs Brown, residing at Linsart, parish of Lochwinnoch, September, 1826.

1Waly, waly up yon bank!And waly, waly up yon brae!And waly, waly by yon river-side,Where me and my love were wont to gae!2My mither tauld me when I was youngThat young men’s love was ill to trow;But to her I would give nae ear,And alas! my ain wand dings me now.3But gin I had wist or I had kisstThat young man’s love was sae ill to win,I would hae lockt my heart wi a key o gowd,And pinnd it wi a sillar pin.4When lairds and lords cam to this toun,And gentlemen o a high degree,I took my auld son in my arms,And went to my chamber pleasantly.5But when gentlemen come thro this toun,And gentlemen o a high degree,I must sit alane in the dark,And the babie on the nurse’s knee.6I had a nurse, and she was fair,She was a dearly nurse to me;She took my gay lord frae my side,And used him in her company.7Awa! awa, thou false Blackwood!Ay and an ill death may thou die!Thou wast the first occasionerOf parting my gay lord and me.8When I was sick, and very sick,Sick I was, and like to die,I drew me near to my stair-head,And I heard my own lord lichtly me.9‘Come doun, come doun, thou Earl of March,Come doun, come doun and dine with me;I’ll set thee on a chair of gowd,And treat thee kindly on my knee!’10‘When cockle-shells grow sillar bells,And mussells grow on every tree,When frost and snaw turns fiery ba’s,Then I’ll come doun and dine with thee.’11When my father and mother got wordThat my gay lord had forsaken me,They sent three score of soldiers boldTo bring me to my own countrie.12When I in my coach was set,My tenants all was with me tane;They set them doun upon their knees,And they begd me to come back again.13Fare ye weel, Jamie Douglas!And fare ye weel, my babies three!I wish your father may be kindTo these three faces that I do see.14When we cam in by Edinbro toun,My father and mother they met me;The cymbals sounded on every side,But alace! the gave no comfort to me.15‘Hold your tongue, my daughter dear,And of your weeping let abee,And I’ll give him a bill of divorce,And I’ll get as good a lord to thee.’16‘Hold your tongue, my father dear,And of your scoffing let me bee;I would rather hae a kiss of my own lord’s mouthAs all the lords in the north countrie.’

1Waly, waly up yon bank!And waly, waly up yon brae!And waly, waly by yon river-side,Where me and my love were wont to gae!

Waly, waly up yon bank!

And waly, waly up yon brae!

And waly, waly by yon river-side,

Where me and my love were wont to gae!

2My mither tauld me when I was youngThat young men’s love was ill to trow;But to her I would give nae ear,And alas! my ain wand dings me now.

My mither tauld me when I was young

That young men’s love was ill to trow;

But to her I would give nae ear,

And alas! my ain wand dings me now.

3But gin I had wist or I had kisstThat young man’s love was sae ill to win,I would hae lockt my heart wi a key o gowd,And pinnd it wi a sillar pin.

But gin I had wist or I had kisst

That young man’s love was sae ill to win,

I would hae lockt my heart wi a key o gowd,

And pinnd it wi a sillar pin.

4When lairds and lords cam to this toun,And gentlemen o a high degree,I took my auld son in my arms,And went to my chamber pleasantly.

When lairds and lords cam to this toun,

And gentlemen o a high degree,

I took my auld son in my arms,

And went to my chamber pleasantly.

5But when gentlemen come thro this toun,And gentlemen o a high degree,I must sit alane in the dark,And the babie on the nurse’s knee.

But when gentlemen come thro this toun,

And gentlemen o a high degree,

I must sit alane in the dark,

And the babie on the nurse’s knee.

6I had a nurse, and she was fair,She was a dearly nurse to me;She took my gay lord frae my side,And used him in her company.

I had a nurse, and she was fair,

She was a dearly nurse to me;

She took my gay lord frae my side,

And used him in her company.

7Awa! awa, thou false Blackwood!Ay and an ill death may thou die!Thou wast the first occasionerOf parting my gay lord and me.

Awa! awa, thou false Blackwood!

Ay and an ill death may thou die!

Thou wast the first occasioner

Of parting my gay lord and me.

8When I was sick, and very sick,Sick I was, and like to die,I drew me near to my stair-head,And I heard my own lord lichtly me.

When I was sick, and very sick,

Sick I was, and like to die,

I drew me near to my stair-head,

And I heard my own lord lichtly me.

9‘Come doun, come doun, thou Earl of March,Come doun, come doun and dine with me;I’ll set thee on a chair of gowd,And treat thee kindly on my knee!’

‘Come doun, come doun, thou Earl of March,

Come doun, come doun and dine with me;

I’ll set thee on a chair of gowd,

And treat thee kindly on my knee!’

10‘When cockle-shells grow sillar bells,And mussells grow on every tree,When frost and snaw turns fiery ba’s,Then I’ll come doun and dine with thee.’

‘When cockle-shells grow sillar bells,

And mussells grow on every tree,

When frost and snaw turns fiery ba’s,

Then I’ll come doun and dine with thee.’

11When my father and mother got wordThat my gay lord had forsaken me,They sent three score of soldiers boldTo bring me to my own countrie.

When my father and mother got word

That my gay lord had forsaken me,

They sent three score of soldiers bold

To bring me to my own countrie.

12When I in my coach was set,My tenants all was with me tane;They set them doun upon their knees,And they begd me to come back again.

When I in my coach was set,

My tenants all was with me tane;

They set them doun upon their knees,

And they begd me to come back again.

13Fare ye weel, Jamie Douglas!And fare ye weel, my babies three!I wish your father may be kindTo these three faces that I do see.

Fare ye weel, Jamie Douglas!

And fare ye weel, my babies three!

I wish your father may be kind

To these three faces that I do see.

14When we cam in by Edinbro toun,My father and mother they met me;The cymbals sounded on every side,But alace! the gave no comfort to me.

When we cam in by Edinbro toun,

My father and mother they met me;

The cymbals sounded on every side,

But alace! the gave no comfort to me.

15‘Hold your tongue, my daughter dear,And of your weeping let abee,And I’ll give him a bill of divorce,And I’ll get as good a lord to thee.’

‘Hold your tongue, my daughter dear,

And of your weeping let abee,

And I’ll give him a bill of divorce,

And I’ll get as good a lord to thee.’

16‘Hold your tongue, my father dear,And of your scoffing let me bee;I would rather hae a kiss of my own lord’s mouthAs all the lords in the north countrie.’

‘Hold your tongue, my father dear,

And of your scoffing let me bee;

I would rather hae a kiss of my own lord’s mouth

As all the lords in the north countrie.’

Motherwell’s MS., p. 345.

1O waly, waly up the bank!And waly, waly down the brae!And waly by yon river side,Where me and my lord was wont to gae!2An I had wit what I wit now,Before I came over the river Tay,I would hae staid at Lord Torchard’s yetts,And I micht hae been his own lady gay.3When I lay sick, and was very sick,A friend of mine came me to see;When our Blacklywood told it in my lord’s earsThat he staid too long in chamber with me.4Woe be to thee, thou Blacklywood!I wish an ill death may thou die;For thou’s been the first and occasion lastThat put strife between my good lord and me.5When my father he heard of this,His heart was like for to break in three;He sent fourscore of his soldiers braveFor to take me home to mine own countree.6In the morning when I arose,My bonnie palace for to see,I came unto my lord’s room-door,But he would not speak one word to me.7‘Come down the stair, my lord Jamie Douglas,Come down and speak one word with me;I’ll set thee in a chair of gold,And the never a penny it will cost thee.’8‘When cockle-shells grow silver bells,And grass grows over the highest tree,When frost and snaw turns fiery bombs,Then will I come down and drink wine with thee.’9O what need I care for Jamie DouglasMore than he needs to care for me?For the Lord of Murray’s my father dear,And the Duke of York’s daughter my mother be.10Thou thocht that I was just like thyself,And took every one that I did see;But I can swear by the heavens aboveThat I never knew a man but thee.11But fare thee weel, my lord Jamie Douglas!And fare you weel, my sma childer three!God grant your father grace to be kindTill I see you all in my own countrie.12Quickly, quickly then rose he up,And quickly, quickly came he down;When I was in my coaches set,He made his trumpets all to sound.13As we came in by Edinburgh town,My loving father came to meet me,With trumpets sounding on every side;But it was not comfort at all to me.14‘O hold your tongue, my daughter dear,And of your weeping pray let abee;A bill of divorcement I’ll to him send,And a better lord I will chose for thee.’15‘Hold your tongue, my father dear,And of your flattery pray let abee;I’ll never lye in another man’s arms,Since my Jamie Douglas has forsaken me.’16It’s often said in a foreign landThat the hawk she flies far from her nest;It’s often said, and it’s very true,He’s far from me this day that I luve best.

1O waly, waly up the bank!And waly, waly down the brae!And waly by yon river side,Where me and my lord was wont to gae!

O waly, waly up the bank!

And waly, waly down the brae!

And waly by yon river side,

Where me and my lord was wont to gae!

2An I had wit what I wit now,Before I came over the river Tay,I would hae staid at Lord Torchard’s yetts,And I micht hae been his own lady gay.

An I had wit what I wit now,

Before I came over the river Tay,

I would hae staid at Lord Torchard’s yetts,

And I micht hae been his own lady gay.

3When I lay sick, and was very sick,A friend of mine came me to see;When our Blacklywood told it in my lord’s earsThat he staid too long in chamber with me.

When I lay sick, and was very sick,

A friend of mine came me to see;

When our Blacklywood told it in my lord’s ears

That he staid too long in chamber with me.

4Woe be to thee, thou Blacklywood!I wish an ill death may thou die;For thou’s been the first and occasion lastThat put strife between my good lord and me.

Woe be to thee, thou Blacklywood!

I wish an ill death may thou die;

For thou’s been the first and occasion last

That put strife between my good lord and me.

5When my father he heard of this,His heart was like for to break in three;He sent fourscore of his soldiers braveFor to take me home to mine own countree.

When my father he heard of this,

His heart was like for to break in three;

He sent fourscore of his soldiers brave

For to take me home to mine own countree.

6In the morning when I arose,My bonnie palace for to see,I came unto my lord’s room-door,But he would not speak one word to me.

In the morning when I arose,

My bonnie palace for to see,

I came unto my lord’s room-door,

But he would not speak one word to me.

7‘Come down the stair, my lord Jamie Douglas,Come down and speak one word with me;I’ll set thee in a chair of gold,And the never a penny it will cost thee.’

‘Come down the stair, my lord Jamie Douglas,

Come down and speak one word with me;

I’ll set thee in a chair of gold,

And the never a penny it will cost thee.’

8‘When cockle-shells grow silver bells,And grass grows over the highest tree,When frost and snaw turns fiery bombs,Then will I come down and drink wine with thee.’

‘When cockle-shells grow silver bells,

And grass grows over the highest tree,

When frost and snaw turns fiery bombs,

Then will I come down and drink wine with thee.’

9O what need I care for Jamie DouglasMore than he needs to care for me?For the Lord of Murray’s my father dear,And the Duke of York’s daughter my mother be.

O what need I care for Jamie Douglas

More than he needs to care for me?

For the Lord of Murray’s my father dear,

And the Duke of York’s daughter my mother be.

10Thou thocht that I was just like thyself,And took every one that I did see;But I can swear by the heavens aboveThat I never knew a man but thee.

Thou thocht that I was just like thyself,

And took every one that I did see;

But I can swear by the heavens above

That I never knew a man but thee.

11But fare thee weel, my lord Jamie Douglas!And fare you weel, my sma childer three!God grant your father grace to be kindTill I see you all in my own countrie.

But fare thee weel, my lord Jamie Douglas!

And fare you weel, my sma childer three!

God grant your father grace to be kind

Till I see you all in my own countrie.

12Quickly, quickly then rose he up,And quickly, quickly came he down;When I was in my coaches set,He made his trumpets all to sound.

Quickly, quickly then rose he up,

And quickly, quickly came he down;

When I was in my coaches set,

He made his trumpets all to sound.

13As we came in by Edinburgh town,My loving father came to meet me,With trumpets sounding on every side;But it was not comfort at all to me.

As we came in by Edinburgh town,

My loving father came to meet me,

With trumpets sounding on every side;

But it was not comfort at all to me.

14‘O hold your tongue, my daughter dear,And of your weeping pray let abee;A bill of divorcement I’ll to him send,And a better lord I will chose for thee.’

‘O hold your tongue, my daughter dear,

And of your weeping pray let abee;

A bill of divorcement I’ll to him send,

And a better lord I will chose for thee.’

15‘Hold your tongue, my father dear,And of your flattery pray let abee;I’ll never lye in another man’s arms,Since my Jamie Douglas has forsaken me.’

‘Hold your tongue, my father dear,

And of your flattery pray let abee;

I’ll never lye in another man’s arms,

Since my Jamie Douglas has forsaken me.’

16It’s often said in a foreign landThat the hawk she flies far from her nest;It’s often said, and it’s very true,He’s far from me this day that I luve best.

It’s often said in a foreign land

That the hawk she flies far from her nest;

It’s often said, and it’s very true,

He’s far from me this day that I luve best.

Motherwell’s MS, p. 297; from the recitation of Mrs Traill of Paisley.

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