VOL. IV.

Between 52and 53:The king he’s risen and taen her up,Says, What means a’ this curtesy. (As53,4.)When you took me to be your queen,You promisd me favours twa or three. (As61,2.)[152]53,4:The first ane that I ask of yowIs to loose and let Young Logie free. (As63,4.)

Between 52and 53:The king he’s risen and taen her up,Says, What means a’ this curtesy. (As53,4.)

Between 52and 53:

The king he’s risen and taen her up,

Says, What means a’ this curtesy. (As53,4.)

When you took me to be your queen,You promisd me favours twa or three. (As61,2.)[152]

When you took me to be your queen,

You promisd me favours twa or three. (As61,2.)[152]

53,4:The first ane that I ask of yowIs to loose and let Young Logie free. (As63,4.)

53,4:

The first ane that I ask of yow

Is to loose and let Young Logie free. (As63,4.)

61. Owanting: of me.

62. would hae granted.

64, 74. Winna save.

71. queen than she came.

72. And she came down.

83–4:I wish that I had neer been born,Or never kend Young Logie’s name. (As in3.)

83–4:

I wish that I had neer been born,

Or never kend Young Logie’s name. (As in3.)

91. Fye, oh no, said.

92. Fye, O no, this maun ne.

93. I ‘ll find out some other.

94. To save the life o.

101. she triped.

111. She gae to.

113. And twa.

114. And bade him shoot as he gaed by.

121. Andwanting.

123. O peace: our gudely.

131. Owanting.

141. Gae bring to.

142. Gae bring them.

143. Before the: by ten.

144. they each ane.

15.Wanting.

161. Fye, O no, said.

162. Fye, O no, this maun ne.

163. hang at a’.

171. Lady Marg took shiping.

172. Young Logie at.

178. the lass: her lad. Tune of Logan Water.

P. 456. The account in ‘The History of the Feuds’ is taken from Sir Robert Gordon’s History of Sutherland, p. 217.

Jamieson, writing to Scott, in November, 1804, says: “I have heard a scrap of the rude ballad on the burning of Achindoun, ‘Bonny Willie Mackintosh—You’ve tint a feather frae your cap—By the day dawing,’ etc., or something of this kind, from the RevdJohn Grant of Elgin. The Duchess of Gordon applied to him about it some years ago, but he could never recover it.” (Letters addressed to Sir W. Scott, I, No 117, Abbotsford.)

P. 470 b, at the end of the first paragraph. Strike out 1639. Spottiswood’s account begins at the same page, 413, in the edition of 1655.

P. 484.B bwas first printed in the second edition of the Minstrelsy, 1803, I, 195.

The following is the copy from which Scott derived the stanzas introduced into this later edition of the ballad. It will be observed that ‘luve of Teviotdale’ is the reading of 42, and not a correction of Scott’s, as suggested at 486 b.

‘Archie o Ca’field, Variations,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 90, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of John Leyden.

1The one unto the other did say,‘Blythe and merry how can we be,When the night is billie Archie’s lyke-wake,The morn the day that he maun die?’2‘An ye wad be blythe an ye wad be sad,What better wad billie Archie be,Unless I had thirty men to mysell,And a’ to ride in our companie?3‘Ten to had the horses’ heads,And other ten to walk alee,And ten to break up the strang prisounWhere billie Archie he does lie.’4Up bespak him mettled John Hall,The luve o Teviotdale ay was he;‘An I had eleven men to mysell,It’s ay the twalt man I wad be.’5Up bespak him coarse Ca’field,I wat and little gude worth was he;‘Thirty men is few enow,And a’ to ride in our cumpanie.’6Then a’ the night thae twal men rade,And ay untill they were a’ wearie,Till they came to the strang prisounWhere billie Archie he did lie.7‘Sleeps thou, wakes thou, billie?’ he said,‘Or did ye hear whan I did cry?The night it is your lyke-wake night,The morn it is your day to die.’8. . . . . . .. . . . . . .‘Work ye within and I without,And soon a loose man shall you be.’9Dickie pu’d the prisoner on o his back,And down the stair cam merrilie;‘Now by my sooth,’ quo mettled John Hall,‘Ye may let a leg o him lean to me.’10‘I have my billie upon my back,I count him lighter than a flee;Gin I were at my little black mare,At Ca’field soon I trust to be.’11Then a’ the night these twelve men rade,And aye untill they were a’ wearie,Untill they came to the wan water,And it was gawn like ony see.12‘There lives a smith on the water-side,Sae has he done thirty years and three:. . . . . . .. . . . . . .13‘O I have a crown in my pocket,And I’ll give it every groat to thee. . . . . . .Gin thou shoe my little black mare for me.’14‘The night is mirk, and vera pit-mirk,And wi candle-light I canna weel see;The night it is mirk, and vera pit-mirk,And there’ll never a nail ca right for me.’15‘Shame fa you and your trade baith,Canna beet a gude fallow by your mysterie!But lees me on thee, my little black mare,Thou’s worth thy weight o gowd to me.’16Then thay lay down to take a sleep,But ay’ on fit stood noble Dickie,And he’s looked oer his left shoulder,And a’ to see what he could see.17‘Get up, get up, ye drowsy sleepers!Ye dinna see what I do see;For yonder comes the land-lieutenant,Two hunder men in his cumpanie.18‘This night an they lay hands on us,This night, as I think weel it will be,This night sall be our lyke-wake night,The morn like as mony dogs we’ll die.’19‘My mare is young, and vera young,And in o the weel she will drown me;’‘But ye’ll take mine, and I’ll take thine,And soon thro the water we sall be.’20Then up bespak him coarse Ca’field,I wate and little gude worth was he;‘We had better lose ane than lose a’ the lave,We’ll leave the prisoner, we’ll gae free.’21‘Shame fa you and your lands baith,Wad ye een your lands to your born billie?But hey! bear up, my little black mare,And yet thro the water we sall be.’* * * * * *22‘Come thro, come thro now,’ Dickie he said,‘Come thro, come thro and drink wi me;There’s no be a Saturday in a’ the yearBut changed sall your garments be.* * * * * *23. . . . . . .. . . . . . .While a bit o your iron hads thegether,Barefit sall she never be.’

1The one unto the other did say,‘Blythe and merry how can we be,When the night is billie Archie’s lyke-wake,The morn the day that he maun die?’

The one unto the other did say,

‘Blythe and merry how can we be,

When the night is billie Archie’s lyke-wake,

The morn the day that he maun die?’

2‘An ye wad be blythe an ye wad be sad,What better wad billie Archie be,Unless I had thirty men to mysell,And a’ to ride in our companie?

‘An ye wad be blythe an ye wad be sad,

What better wad billie Archie be,

Unless I had thirty men to mysell,

And a’ to ride in our companie?

3‘Ten to had the horses’ heads,And other ten to walk alee,And ten to break up the strang prisounWhere billie Archie he does lie.’

‘Ten to had the horses’ heads,

And other ten to walk alee,

And ten to break up the strang prisoun

Where billie Archie he does lie.’

4Up bespak him mettled John Hall,The luve o Teviotdale ay was he;‘An I had eleven men to mysell,It’s ay the twalt man I wad be.’

Up bespak him mettled John Hall,

The luve o Teviotdale ay was he;

‘An I had eleven men to mysell,

It’s ay the twalt man I wad be.’

5Up bespak him coarse Ca’field,I wat and little gude worth was he;‘Thirty men is few enow,And a’ to ride in our cumpanie.’

Up bespak him coarse Ca’field,

I wat and little gude worth was he;

‘Thirty men is few enow,

And a’ to ride in our cumpanie.’

6Then a’ the night thae twal men rade,And ay untill they were a’ wearie,Till they came to the strang prisounWhere billie Archie he did lie.

Then a’ the night thae twal men rade,

And ay untill they were a’ wearie,

Till they came to the strang prisoun

Where billie Archie he did lie.

7‘Sleeps thou, wakes thou, billie?’ he said,‘Or did ye hear whan I did cry?The night it is your lyke-wake night,The morn it is your day to die.’

‘Sleeps thou, wakes thou, billie?’ he said,

‘Or did ye hear whan I did cry?

The night it is your lyke-wake night,

The morn it is your day to die.’

8. . . . . . .. . . . . . .‘Work ye within and I without,And soon a loose man shall you be.’

. . . . . . .

‘Work ye within and I without,

And soon a loose man shall you be.’

9Dickie pu’d the prisoner on o his back,And down the stair cam merrilie;‘Now by my sooth,’ quo mettled John Hall,‘Ye may let a leg o him lean to me.’

Dickie pu’d the prisoner on o his back,

And down the stair cam merrilie;

‘Now by my sooth,’ quo mettled John Hall,

‘Ye may let a leg o him lean to me.’

10‘I have my billie upon my back,I count him lighter than a flee;Gin I were at my little black mare,At Ca’field soon I trust to be.’

‘I have my billie upon my back,

I count him lighter than a flee;

Gin I were at my little black mare,

At Ca’field soon I trust to be.’

11Then a’ the night these twelve men rade,And aye untill they were a’ wearie,Untill they came to the wan water,And it was gawn like ony see.

Then a’ the night these twelve men rade,

And aye untill they were a’ wearie,

Untill they came to the wan water,

And it was gawn like ony see.

12‘There lives a smith on the water-side,Sae has he done thirty years and three:. . . . . . .. . . . . . .

‘There lives a smith on the water-side,

Sae has he done thirty years and three:

. . . . . . .

13‘O I have a crown in my pocket,And I’ll give it every groat to thee. . . . . . .Gin thou shoe my little black mare for me.’

‘O I have a crown in my pocket,

And I’ll give it every groat to thee

. . . . . . .

Gin thou shoe my little black mare for me.’

14‘The night is mirk, and vera pit-mirk,And wi candle-light I canna weel see;The night it is mirk, and vera pit-mirk,And there’ll never a nail ca right for me.’

‘The night is mirk, and vera pit-mirk,

And wi candle-light I canna weel see;

The night it is mirk, and vera pit-mirk,

And there’ll never a nail ca right for me.’

15‘Shame fa you and your trade baith,Canna beet a gude fallow by your mysterie!But lees me on thee, my little black mare,Thou’s worth thy weight o gowd to me.’

‘Shame fa you and your trade baith,

Canna beet a gude fallow by your mysterie!

But lees me on thee, my little black mare,

Thou’s worth thy weight o gowd to me.’

16Then thay lay down to take a sleep,But ay’ on fit stood noble Dickie,And he’s looked oer his left shoulder,And a’ to see what he could see.

Then thay lay down to take a sleep,

But ay’ on fit stood noble Dickie,

And he’s looked oer his left shoulder,

And a’ to see what he could see.

17‘Get up, get up, ye drowsy sleepers!Ye dinna see what I do see;For yonder comes the land-lieutenant,Two hunder men in his cumpanie.

‘Get up, get up, ye drowsy sleepers!

Ye dinna see what I do see;

For yonder comes the land-lieutenant,

Two hunder men in his cumpanie.

18‘This night an they lay hands on us,This night, as I think weel it will be,This night sall be our lyke-wake night,The morn like as mony dogs we’ll die.’

‘This night an they lay hands on us,

This night, as I think weel it will be,

This night sall be our lyke-wake night,

The morn like as mony dogs we’ll die.’

19‘My mare is young, and vera young,And in o the weel she will drown me;’‘But ye’ll take mine, and I’ll take thine,And soon thro the water we sall be.’

‘My mare is young, and vera young,

And in o the weel she will drown me;’

‘But ye’ll take mine, and I’ll take thine,

And soon thro the water we sall be.’

20Then up bespak him coarse Ca’field,I wate and little gude worth was he;‘We had better lose ane than lose a’ the lave,We’ll leave the prisoner, we’ll gae free.’

Then up bespak him coarse Ca’field,

I wate and little gude worth was he;

‘We had better lose ane than lose a’ the lave,

We’ll leave the prisoner, we’ll gae free.’

21‘Shame fa you and your lands baith,Wad ye een your lands to your born billie?But hey! bear up, my little black mare,And yet thro the water we sall be.’

‘Shame fa you and your lands baith,

Wad ye een your lands to your born billie?

But hey! bear up, my little black mare,

And yet thro the water we sall be.’

* * * * * *

22‘Come thro, come thro now,’ Dickie he said,‘Come thro, come thro and drink wi me;There’s no be a Saturday in a’ the yearBut changed sall your garments be.

‘Come thro, come thro now,’ Dickie he said,

‘Come thro, come thro and drink wi me;

There’s no be a Saturday in a’ the year

But changed sall your garments be.

* * * * * *

23. . . . . . .. . . . . . .While a bit o your iron hads thegether,Barefit sall she never be.’

. . . . . . .

While a bit o your iron hads thegether,

Barefit sall she never be.’

121.Var.other side o the water.

12, 13are written as one stanza.

VOL. IV.

P. 4 a. James Hogg, writing to Scott, June 30, [1802?] says: “I am surprised to find that the songs in your collection differ so widely from my mother’s.... ‘Jamie Telfer’ differs in many particulars.” (Letters, I, No. 44.) Scott’s remarks should have been cited from the edition of 1802, I, 91.

5. Mr Andrew Lang has obligingly called my attention to difficulties which attend the assumption that the Dodhead of the ballad is the place of that name in Selkirkshire. Jamie Telfer, st. 7, runs ten miles between Dodhead and Stobs, and this is far enough if help is to be timely; but he would have to run thirty if his Dodhead were in Selkirkshire. With succor not nearer than that, Telfer would soon have been harried out of existence. The distances are too great both for the English and the Scots. But there is a Dod south of the Teviot, not far from Skelfhill, which is some seven miles only from Stobs. (Dodhead is not entered here on the Ordnance map, “but Dodburn is just under Dodrig, and where there is a Dodburn there is ‘tied’ to be a Dodhead in this country.”) Turning from Stobs to Teviot, Telfer would come in due order to Coltherdscleugh, Branxholm, and Borthwick Water, without the loss of time which he would, on the other supposition, incur in passing and returning. (See a note, by Mr Lang, in Mrs G. R. Tomson’s Ballads of the North Countrie, 1888, p. 435.)

Several other matters are not quite clear. Catslockhill, for instance, seems to be misplaced. Mr Lang, a native of Ettrick valley, knows of no Catslack but that in Yarrow. Of this, Mr T. Craig-Brown (Selkirkshire, I, 21), who accepts Scott’s Dodhead, says, “A long ride, if Catslack is in Yarrow.”

P. 8.C.Substitute for Scott’s Minstrelsy, etc., “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 87, Abbotsford. Add:H.‘Hughie Grame,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 4.I. ‘Hughie Graeme,’ Wilkie’s MS., in “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 36.

P. 10 ff. ForCsubstitute this, the original copy, as procured for Scott by William Laidlaw.

“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 87, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of William Laidlaw. “From Robert Laidlaw.”

1Gude Lord Scroop’s to the huntin gane;He’s ridden oer monie a moss an muir,An he has grippit Hughie the Græme,For stealin o the bishop’s mare.2An they hae grippit Hughie the Græme,An brought him up thro Carlisle town;The lasses an lads they stood by the wa’s,Cryin, Hughie the Græme, thou’s no gaedown!3They ha chosen a jury o men,The best that were i Coventry,An fifteen o them out a’ at anse,‘Hughie the Græme, thou art guiltie.’4Than up bespak him gude Lord Hume,As he sat at the judge’s knee;‘Twentie white ousen, my gude lord,If ye’ll grant Hughie the Græme to me.’5‘O no, no, no, my gude Lord Hume,For sooth an so it mauna be;For war there but twae Græms o the name,They sould be hangit a’ for me.’6’Twas up than spak her gude Lady Hume,As she sat by the judge’s knee;‘A peck o white pennies, my gude lord,If ye’ll grant Hughie the Græme to me.’7‘O no, O no, my gude Lady Hume,For sooth an so it sal na be;For war there but twae Greames of the name,They soud be hangit a’ for me.’8‘If I be guilty,’ said Hughie the Graeme,‘Of me my friends sal hae nae lack;’An he has luppen fifteen feet an three,An his hands they war tyed ahint his back.9He’s lookit oer his left shouther,To see what he coud see,An there he saw his auld father commin,An he was weepin bitterlie.10‘O had yer tongue, my father,’ he says,‘An see that ye dinna weep for me,For they may ravish me o my life,But they canna banish me thrae the heavenshie.11‘Fare ye weel, Maggie, my wife;The last time I came oer the muir,It was you berievt me o my life,An wi the bishop playd the w[hore].’

1Gude Lord Scroop’s to the huntin gane;He’s ridden oer monie a moss an muir,An he has grippit Hughie the Græme,For stealin o the bishop’s mare.

Gude Lord Scroop’s to the huntin gane;

He’s ridden oer monie a moss an muir,

An he has grippit Hughie the Græme,

For stealin o the bishop’s mare.

2An they hae grippit Hughie the Græme,An brought him up thro Carlisle town;The lasses an lads they stood by the wa’s,Cryin, Hughie the Græme, thou’s no gaedown!

An they hae grippit Hughie the Græme,

An brought him up thro Carlisle town;

The lasses an lads they stood by the wa’s,

Cryin, Hughie the Græme, thou’s no gae

down!

3They ha chosen a jury o men,The best that were i Coventry,An fifteen o them out a’ at anse,‘Hughie the Græme, thou art guiltie.’

They ha chosen a jury o men,

The best that were i Coventry,

An fifteen o them out a’ at anse,

‘Hughie the Græme, thou art guiltie.’

4Than up bespak him gude Lord Hume,As he sat at the judge’s knee;‘Twentie white ousen, my gude lord,If ye’ll grant Hughie the Græme to me.’

Than up bespak him gude Lord Hume,

As he sat at the judge’s knee;

‘Twentie white ousen, my gude lord,

If ye’ll grant Hughie the Græme to me.’

5‘O no, no, no, my gude Lord Hume,For sooth an so it mauna be;For war there but twae Græms o the name,They sould be hangit a’ for me.’

‘O no, no, no, my gude Lord Hume,

For sooth an so it mauna be;

For war there but twae Græms o the name,

They sould be hangit a’ for me.’

6’Twas up than spak her gude Lady Hume,As she sat by the judge’s knee;‘A peck o white pennies, my gude lord,If ye’ll grant Hughie the Græme to me.’

’Twas up than spak her gude Lady Hume,

As she sat by the judge’s knee;

‘A peck o white pennies, my gude lord,

If ye’ll grant Hughie the Græme to me.’

7‘O no, O no, my gude Lady Hume,For sooth an so it sal na be;For war there but twae Greames of the name,They soud be hangit a’ for me.’

‘O no, O no, my gude Lady Hume,

For sooth an so it sal na be;

For war there but twae Greames of the name,

They soud be hangit a’ for me.’

8‘If I be guilty,’ said Hughie the Graeme,‘Of me my friends sal hae nae lack;’An he has luppen fifteen feet an three,An his hands they war tyed ahint his back.

‘If I be guilty,’ said Hughie the Graeme,

‘Of me my friends sal hae nae lack;’

An he has luppen fifteen feet an three,

An his hands they war tyed ahint his back.

9He’s lookit oer his left shouther,To see what he coud see,An there he saw his auld father commin,An he was weepin bitterlie.

He’s lookit oer his left shouther,

To see what he coud see,

An there he saw his auld father commin,

An he was weepin bitterlie.

10‘O had yer tongue, my father,’ he says,‘An see that ye dinna weep for me,For they may ravish me o my life,But they canna banish me thrae the heavenshie.

‘O had yer tongue, my father,’ he says,

‘An see that ye dinna weep for me,

For they may ravish me o my life,

But they canna banish me thrae the heavens

hie.

11‘Fare ye weel, Maggie, my wife;The last time I came oer the muir,It was you berievt me o my life,An wi the bishop playd the w[hore].’

‘Fare ye weel, Maggie, my wife;

The last time I came oer the muir,

It was you berievt me o my life,

An wi the bishop playd the w[hore].’

“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 4, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of William Laidlaw.

1Lairds and lords a hounting gane,Out-over hills and valleys clear,And there they met Hughie Grame,Was riding on the bishop’s mare.2And they have tied him hand and foot,And they have carried him to Stirlingtown;The lads and lasses there aboutCrys, Hughie Grame, you are a lown!3‘If I be a lown,’ says he,‘I am sure my friends has had bad luck;’We that he jumpted fifteen foot,With his hands tied behind his back.4Out and spoke Laidy Whiteford,As she sat by the bishop’s knee;‘Four-and-twenty milk-kie I’ll give to thee,If Hughie Grame you will let free.’5‘Hold your tongue, my laidy Whiteford,And of your pleading now lay by;If fifty Grames were in his coat,Upon my honour he shall die.’6Out and spoke Lord Whiteford,As he sat by the bishop’s knee;‘Four-and-twenty stots I’ll give thee,If Hughie Grame you will let free.’7‘Hold your tongue, my lord Whiteford,And of your pleading now lay by;If twenty Grames were in his coat,Upon my honour he shall die.’8‘You may tell to Meg, my wife,The first time she comes through the mu[ir],She was the causer of my death,For with the bishop [she] plaid the whore.9‘You may tell to Meg, my wife,The first time she comes through the town,She was the causer of my death,For with the bishop [she] plaid the lown.’10He looked oer his left shoulder,To see what he could spy or see,And there he spied his old father,Was weeping bitterly.11‘Hold your tongue, my dear father,And of your weeping now lay by;They may rub me of my sweet life,But not from me the heavence high.12‘You may give my brother JohnThe sword that’s of the mettle clear,That he may come the morn at four o clockTo see me pay the bishop’s mare.13‘You may give my brother JamesThe sword that’s of the mettle brown;Tell him to come the morn at four o clockTo see his brother Hugh cut down.’14Up and spoke his oldest son,As he sat by his nurse’s knee;‘If ere I come to be a man,Revenged for my father [’s] death I’ll be.’

1Lairds and lords a hounting gane,Out-over hills and valleys clear,And there they met Hughie Grame,Was riding on the bishop’s mare.

Lairds and lords a hounting gane,

Out-over hills and valleys clear,

And there they met Hughie Grame,

Was riding on the bishop’s mare.

2And they have tied him hand and foot,And they have carried him to Stirlingtown;The lads and lasses there aboutCrys, Hughie Grame, you are a lown!

And they have tied him hand and foot,

And they have carried him to Stirling

town;

The lads and lasses there about

Crys, Hughie Grame, you are a lown!

3‘If I be a lown,’ says he,‘I am sure my friends has had bad luck;’We that he jumpted fifteen foot,With his hands tied behind his back.

‘If I be a lown,’ says he,

‘I am sure my friends has had bad luck;’

We that he jumpted fifteen foot,

With his hands tied behind his back.

4Out and spoke Laidy Whiteford,As she sat by the bishop’s knee;‘Four-and-twenty milk-kie I’ll give to thee,If Hughie Grame you will let free.’

Out and spoke Laidy Whiteford,

As she sat by the bishop’s knee;

‘Four-and-twenty milk-kie I’ll give to thee,

If Hughie Grame you will let free.’

5‘Hold your tongue, my laidy Whiteford,And of your pleading now lay by;If fifty Grames were in his coat,Upon my honour he shall die.’

‘Hold your tongue, my laidy Whiteford,

And of your pleading now lay by;

If fifty Grames were in his coat,

Upon my honour he shall die.’

6Out and spoke Lord Whiteford,As he sat by the bishop’s knee;‘Four-and-twenty stots I’ll give thee,If Hughie Grame you will let free.’

Out and spoke Lord Whiteford,

As he sat by the bishop’s knee;

‘Four-and-twenty stots I’ll give thee,

If Hughie Grame you will let free.’

7‘Hold your tongue, my lord Whiteford,And of your pleading now lay by;If twenty Grames were in his coat,Upon my honour he shall die.’

‘Hold your tongue, my lord Whiteford,

And of your pleading now lay by;

If twenty Grames were in his coat,

Upon my honour he shall die.’

8‘You may tell to Meg, my wife,The first time she comes through the mu[ir],She was the causer of my death,For with the bishop [she] plaid the whore.

‘You may tell to Meg, my wife,

The first time she comes through the mu[ir],

She was the causer of my death,

For with the bishop [she] plaid the whore.

9‘You may tell to Meg, my wife,The first time she comes through the town,She was the causer of my death,For with the bishop [she] plaid the lown.’

‘You may tell to Meg, my wife,

The first time she comes through the town,

She was the causer of my death,

For with the bishop [she] plaid the lown.’

10He looked oer his left shoulder,To see what he could spy or see,And there he spied his old father,Was weeping bitterly.

He looked oer his left shoulder,

To see what he could spy or see,

And there he spied his old father,

Was weeping bitterly.

11‘Hold your tongue, my dear father,And of your weeping now lay by;They may rub me of my sweet life,But not from me the heavence high.

‘Hold your tongue, my dear father,

And of your weeping now lay by;

They may rub me of my sweet life,

But not from me the heavence high.

12‘You may give my brother JohnThe sword that’s of the mettle clear,That he may come the morn at four o clockTo see me pay the bishop’s mare.

‘You may give my brother John

The sword that’s of the mettle clear,

That he may come the morn at four o clock

To see me pay the bishop’s mare.

13‘You may give my brother JamesThe sword that’s of the mettle brown;Tell him to come the morn at four o clockTo see his brother Hugh cut down.’

‘You may give my brother James

The sword that’s of the mettle brown;

Tell him to come the morn at four o clock

To see his brother Hugh cut down.’

14Up and spoke his oldest son,As he sat by his nurse’s knee;‘If ere I come to be a man,Revenged for my father [’s] death I’ll be.’

Up and spoke his oldest son,

As he sat by his nurse’s knee;

‘If ere I come to be a man,

Revenged for my father [’s] death I’ll be.’

“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 36, Abbotsford, MS. of Thomas Wilkie, 1813–15, p. 9; “from a young girl, a Miss Nancy Brockie, Bemerside, who learned it from an old woman called Maron Miller, Threepwood.” Another copy, in Wilkie’s hand, No 86 of the same.

1Ye dukes and lords that hunt and goOut-over moors and mountains clear,And they have taen up poor Hughie Græme.For stealing of the bishope’s mare.Fall all the day, fall all the daudy,Fall all the day, fall the daudy O.2They hae tied him hand and foot,They hae led him thro the town;The lads and lassies they all met,Cried, Hughie Græme, ye’ve playd theloon!3‘O if that I had playd the loon,My friends of me they hae bad luck;’With that he jumped fifteen feet,Wi his hands tied fast behind his back.4Up then spoke my lady Whiteford,As she sat by the bishope’s knee;‘Five hundred white pence I’ll give thee,If you let Hughie Græme go free.’5‘I’ll hae nane of your hundred pense,And your presents you may lay by;For if Græme was ten times in his coat,By my honour, Hugh shall die.’6Up then spoke my lord Whiteford,As he sat by the bishope’s knee;‘Five score of good stotts I’ll thee give,If you’ll sett Hughie Græme but free.’7‘I’ll have none of your hundred stotts,And all your presents you may keep to yoursell;‘For if Græme was ten times in his coatHugh shall die, and die he shall.’8Then they hae tied him hand and foot,And they hae led [him] to the gallows high;The lads and lassies they all met,Cried, Hughie Græme, thou art to die!9Now’s he looked oer his left shoulder,All for to see what he could spy,And there he saw his father dear,Stood weeping there most bitterlie.10‘O hold your tongue now, father,’ he said,‘And of your weeping lai’d now by;For they can rob me of my life,But they cannot rob me of the heavens high.11‘But you must give to my brother JohnThe sword that’s bent in the middle clear,And tell him to come at twelve o clockAnd see me pay the bishope’s mare.12‘And you may give to my brother JamesThe sword that’s bent in the middle brown,And tell him to come at four o clockAnd see his brother Hugh cut down.13‘And you may tell to Meg, my wife,The first time she comes thro the town,She was the occasion of my deathAnd wi the bishope playd the loon.14‘And you may tell to Meg, my wife,The first time she comes thro the fair,She was the occasion of my death,And from the bishope stole the mare.’

Ye dukes and lords that hunt and go

Out-over moors and mountains clear,

And they have taen up poor Hughie Græme.

For stealing of the bishope’s mare.

Fall all the day, fall all the daudy,

Fall all the day, fall the daudy O.

2They hae tied him hand and foot,They hae led him thro the town;The lads and lassies they all met,Cried, Hughie Græme, ye’ve playd theloon!

They hae tied him hand and foot,

They hae led him thro the town;

The lads and lassies they all met,

Cried, Hughie Græme, ye’ve playd the

loon!

3‘O if that I had playd the loon,My friends of me they hae bad luck;’With that he jumped fifteen feet,Wi his hands tied fast behind his back.

‘O if that I had playd the loon,

My friends of me they hae bad luck;’

With that he jumped fifteen feet,

Wi his hands tied fast behind his back.

4Up then spoke my lady Whiteford,As she sat by the bishope’s knee;‘Five hundred white pence I’ll give thee,If you let Hughie Græme go free.’

Up then spoke my lady Whiteford,

As she sat by the bishope’s knee;

‘Five hundred white pence I’ll give thee,

If you let Hughie Græme go free.’

5‘I’ll hae nane of your hundred pense,And your presents you may lay by;For if Græme was ten times in his coat,By my honour, Hugh shall die.’

‘I’ll hae nane of your hundred pense,

And your presents you may lay by;

For if Græme was ten times in his coat,

By my honour, Hugh shall die.’

6Up then spoke my lord Whiteford,As he sat by the bishope’s knee;‘Five score of good stotts I’ll thee give,If you’ll sett Hughie Græme but free.’

Up then spoke my lord Whiteford,

As he sat by the bishope’s knee;

‘Five score of good stotts I’ll thee give,

If you’ll sett Hughie Græme but free.’

7‘I’ll have none of your hundred stotts,And all your presents you may keep to yoursell;‘For if Græme was ten times in his coatHugh shall die, and die he shall.’

‘I’ll have none of your hundred stotts,

And all your presents you may keep to yoursell;

‘For if Græme was ten times in his coat

Hugh shall die, and die he shall.’

8Then they hae tied him hand and foot,And they hae led [him] to the gallows high;The lads and lassies they all met,Cried, Hughie Græme, thou art to die!

Then they hae tied him hand and foot,

And they hae led [him] to the gallows high;

The lads and lassies they all met,

Cried, Hughie Græme, thou art to die!

9Now’s he looked oer his left shoulder,All for to see what he could spy,And there he saw his father dear,Stood weeping there most bitterlie.

Now’s he looked oer his left shoulder,

All for to see what he could spy,

And there he saw his father dear,

Stood weeping there most bitterlie.

10‘O hold your tongue now, father,’ he said,‘And of your weeping lai’d now by;For they can rob me of my life,But they cannot rob me of the heavens high.

‘O hold your tongue now, father,’ he said,

‘And of your weeping lai’d now by;

For they can rob me of my life,

But they cannot rob me of the heavens high.

11‘But you must give to my brother JohnThe sword that’s bent in the middle clear,And tell him to come at twelve o clockAnd see me pay the bishope’s mare.

‘But you must give to my brother John

The sword that’s bent in the middle clear,

And tell him to come at twelve o clock

And see me pay the bishope’s mare.

12‘And you may give to my brother JamesThe sword that’s bent in the middle brown,And tell him to come at four o clockAnd see his brother Hugh cut down.

‘And you may give to my brother James

The sword that’s bent in the middle brown,

And tell him to come at four o clock

And see his brother Hugh cut down.

13‘And you may tell to Meg, my wife,The first time she comes thro the town,She was the occasion of my deathAnd wi the bishope playd the loon.

‘And you may tell to Meg, my wife,

The first time she comes thro the town,

She was the occasion of my death

And wi the bishope playd the loon.

14‘And you may tell to Meg, my wife,The first time she comes thro the fair,She was the occasion of my death,And from the bishope stole the mare.’

‘And you may tell to Meg, my wife,

The first time she comes thro the fair,

She was the occasion of my death,

And from the bishope stole the mare.’

A copy inThe Northern Garland, Newcastle Garlands, No 1, Bell Ballads, Abbotsford Library, P. 5,has these readings, some of which appear to be editorial:

22. after him for some time.

44. shall soon.

113. my fault.

162. down low.

223. cause and the loss.

83, 93. the casurer, the casure.Perhaps we should readoccasion:cf.I133, 143.

94. plaid the whore;but cf.E134,I134.

23. they (all met) ran in flocks:cf.83.

31. Of that:see No86,below.

53. in==his coat==ocent (sic).

102. (laid==lay it.)

No 86, the other copy ofI, has variations which seem to be mostly, if not wholly, editorial.

13. taken Hughie Græme.

23. lassies ran in flocks.

31. O if. 32. has had.

34. And his.

43. I will give.

44. ye’ll let.

52. And of your.

62. at the.

64. ye’ll let: go free.

71.Abovehundredis writtenfive score.

72. And of your presents ye may lay by.

74. By my honour, Hugh shall die,bracketed with the reading in the text.

82. And led him to.

91. Now he’s.

93. he spied.

101. now, father dear: he saidwanting.

102. laid.

111. may give my.

121. give my.

133, 143. That she’s.

P. 24 a.B.Telfer sent “the real verses” to Sir Walter Scott. It appears, as might be surmised, that one half ofBis of his own making. 1–3==B4, 5, 7; 4, 5==A4, 18; 6==B14; 7==B15,A6; 8==A7,B16; 9–14==B18–23; 15==A15; 16==B25; 17–20==B38, 39, 33, 41.

Letters addressed to Sir Walter Scott, XIII, No 73, Abbotsford. “Parcy Reed, exactly as it is sung by an old woman of the name of Cathrine Hall, living at Fairloans, in the remotest corner of Oxnam parish:” James Telfer, Browndeanlaws, May 18, 1824.

1O Parcy Reed has Crozer taen,And has deliverd him to the law;But Crozer says he’ll do warse than that,For he’ll gar the tower of the Troughend fa.2And Crozer says he will do warse,He will do warse, if warse can be;For he’ll make the bairns a’ fatherless,And then the land it may lie lea.3O Parcy Reed has ridden a raid,But he had better have staid at hame;For the three fause Ha’s of GirsenfieldAlang with him he has them taen.4He’s hunted up, and he’s hunted down,He’s hunted a’ the water of Reed,Till wearydness has on him taen,I the Baitinghope he’s faen asleep.5. . . . . . .. . . . . . .And the fause, fause Ha’s o Girsenfield,They’ll never be trowed nor trusted again.6They’ve taen frae him his powther-bag,And they’ve put water i his lang gun;They’ve put the sword into the sheatheThat out again it’ll never come.7‘Awaken ye, awaken ye, Parcy Reed,For I do fear ye’ve slept owre lang;For yonder are the five Crozers,A coming owre by the hinging-stane.’8‘If they be five and we be four,If that ye will stand true to me,If every man ye will take one,Ye surely will leave two to me.9‘O turn, O turn, O Johny Ha,O turn now, man, and fight wi me;If ever ye come to Troughend again,A good black nag I will gie to thee;He cost me twenty pounds o gowdAtween my brother John and me.’10‘I winna turn, I canna turn;I darena turn and fight wi thee;For they will find out Parcy Reed,And then they’ll kill baith thee and me.’11‘O turn, O turn now, Willie Ha,O turn, O man, and fight wi me,And if ever ye come to the Troughend againA yoke of owsen I will gie thee.’12‘I winna turn, I canna turn;I darena turn and fight wi thee;For they will find out Parcy Reed,And they will kill baith thee and me.’13‘O turn, O turn, O Thommy Ha,O turn now, man, and fight wi me;If ever ye come to the Troughend again,My daughter Jean I’ll gie to thee.’14‘I winna turn, I darena turn;I winna turn and fight with thee;For they will find out Parcy Reed,And then they’ll kill baith thee and me.’15‘O woe be to ye, traitors a’!I wish England ye may never win;Ye’ve left me in the field to stand,And in my hand an uncharged gun.16‘Ye’ve taen frae me my powther-bag,And ye’ve put water i my lang gun;Ye’ve put the sword into the sheathThat out again it’ll never come.17‘O fare ye weel, my married wife!And fare ye weel, my brother John!That sits into the Troughend haWith heart as black as any stone.18‘O fare ye weel, my married wife!And fare ye weel now, my sons five!For had ye been wi me this dayI surely had been man alive.19‘O fare ye weel, my married wife!And fare ye weel now, my sons five!And fare ye weel, my daughter Jean!I loved ye best ye were born alive.20‘O some do ca me Parcy Reed,And some do ca me Laird Troughend,But it’s nae matter what they ca me,My faes have made me ill to ken.21‘The laird o Clennel wears my bow,The laird o Brandon wears my brand;Whae ever rides i the Border sideWill mind the laird o the Troughend.’

1O Parcy Reed has Crozer taen,And has deliverd him to the law;But Crozer says he’ll do warse than that,For he’ll gar the tower of the Troughend fa.

O Parcy Reed has Crozer taen,

And has deliverd him to the law;

But Crozer says he’ll do warse than that,

For he’ll gar the tower of the Troughend fa.

2And Crozer says he will do warse,He will do warse, if warse can be;For he’ll make the bairns a’ fatherless,And then the land it may lie lea.

And Crozer says he will do warse,

He will do warse, if warse can be;

For he’ll make the bairns a’ fatherless,

And then the land it may lie lea.

3O Parcy Reed has ridden a raid,But he had better have staid at hame;For the three fause Ha’s of GirsenfieldAlang with him he has them taen.

O Parcy Reed has ridden a raid,

But he had better have staid at hame;

For the three fause Ha’s of Girsenfield

Alang with him he has them taen.

4He’s hunted up, and he’s hunted down,He’s hunted a’ the water of Reed,Till wearydness has on him taen,I the Baitinghope he’s faen asleep.

He’s hunted up, and he’s hunted down,

He’s hunted a’ the water of Reed,

Till wearydness has on him taen,

I the Baitinghope he’s faen asleep.

5. . . . . . .. . . . . . .And the fause, fause Ha’s o Girsenfield,They’ll never be trowed nor trusted again.

. . . . . . .

And the fause, fause Ha’s o Girsenfield,

They’ll never be trowed nor trusted again.

6They’ve taen frae him his powther-bag,And they’ve put water i his lang gun;They’ve put the sword into the sheatheThat out again it’ll never come.

They’ve taen frae him his powther-bag,

And they’ve put water i his lang gun;

They’ve put the sword into the sheathe

That out again it’ll never come.

7‘Awaken ye, awaken ye, Parcy Reed,For I do fear ye’ve slept owre lang;For yonder are the five Crozers,A coming owre by the hinging-stane.’

‘Awaken ye, awaken ye, Parcy Reed,

For I do fear ye’ve slept owre lang;

For yonder are the five Crozers,

A coming owre by the hinging-stane.’

8‘If they be five and we be four,If that ye will stand true to me,If every man ye will take one,Ye surely will leave two to me.

‘If they be five and we be four,

If that ye will stand true to me,

If every man ye will take one,

Ye surely will leave two to me.

9‘O turn, O turn, O Johny Ha,O turn now, man, and fight wi me;If ever ye come to Troughend again,A good black nag I will gie to thee;He cost me twenty pounds o gowdAtween my brother John and me.’

‘O turn, O turn, O Johny Ha,

O turn now, man, and fight wi me;

If ever ye come to Troughend again,

A good black nag I will gie to thee;

He cost me twenty pounds o gowd

Atween my brother John and me.’

10‘I winna turn, I canna turn;I darena turn and fight wi thee;For they will find out Parcy Reed,And then they’ll kill baith thee and me.’

‘I winna turn, I canna turn;

I darena turn and fight wi thee;

For they will find out Parcy Reed,

And then they’ll kill baith thee and me.’

11‘O turn, O turn now, Willie Ha,O turn, O man, and fight wi me,And if ever ye come to the Troughend againA yoke of owsen I will gie thee.’

‘O turn, O turn now, Willie Ha,

O turn, O man, and fight wi me,

And if ever ye come to the Troughend again

A yoke of owsen I will gie thee.’

12‘I winna turn, I canna turn;I darena turn and fight wi thee;For they will find out Parcy Reed,And they will kill baith thee and me.’

‘I winna turn, I canna turn;

I darena turn and fight wi thee;

For they will find out Parcy Reed,

And they will kill baith thee and me.’

13‘O turn, O turn, O Thommy Ha,O turn now, man, and fight wi me;If ever ye come to the Troughend again,My daughter Jean I’ll gie to thee.’

‘O turn, O turn, O Thommy Ha,

O turn now, man, and fight wi me;

If ever ye come to the Troughend again,

My daughter Jean I’ll gie to thee.’

14‘I winna turn, I darena turn;I winna turn and fight with thee;For they will find out Parcy Reed,And then they’ll kill baith thee and me.’

‘I winna turn, I darena turn;

I winna turn and fight with thee;

For they will find out Parcy Reed,

And then they’ll kill baith thee and me.’

15‘O woe be to ye, traitors a’!I wish England ye may never win;Ye’ve left me in the field to stand,And in my hand an uncharged gun.

‘O woe be to ye, traitors a’!

I wish England ye may never win;

Ye’ve left me in the field to stand,

And in my hand an uncharged gun.

16‘Ye’ve taen frae me my powther-bag,And ye’ve put water i my lang gun;Ye’ve put the sword into the sheathThat out again it’ll never come.

‘Ye’ve taen frae me my powther-bag,

And ye’ve put water i my lang gun;

Ye’ve put the sword into the sheath

That out again it’ll never come.

17‘O fare ye weel, my married wife!And fare ye weel, my brother John!That sits into the Troughend haWith heart as black as any stone.

‘O fare ye weel, my married wife!

And fare ye weel, my brother John!

That sits into the Troughend ha

With heart as black as any stone.

18‘O fare ye weel, my married wife!And fare ye weel now, my sons five!For had ye been wi me this dayI surely had been man alive.

‘O fare ye weel, my married wife!

And fare ye weel now, my sons five!

For had ye been wi me this day

I surely had been man alive.

19‘O fare ye weel, my married wife!And fare ye weel now, my sons five!And fare ye weel, my daughter Jean!I loved ye best ye were born alive.

‘O fare ye weel, my married wife!

And fare ye weel now, my sons five!

And fare ye weel, my daughter Jean!

I loved ye best ye were born alive.

20‘O some do ca me Parcy Reed,And some do ca me Laird Troughend,But it’s nae matter what they ca me,My faes have made me ill to ken.

‘O some do ca me Parcy Reed,

And some do ca me Laird Troughend,

But it’s nae matter what they ca me,

My faes have made me ill to ken.

21‘The laird o Clennel wears my bow,The laird o Brandon wears my brand;Whae ever rides i the Border sideWill mind the laird o the Troughend.’

‘The laird o Clennel wears my bow,

The laird o Brandon wears my brand;

Whae ever rides i the Border side

Will mind the laird o the Troughend.’

92. wi me. along within the margin.

133. ever I.

“There is,” says Telfer in his letter, “a place in Reed water called Deadwood Haughs, where the country-people still point out a stone where the unshriven soul of Parcy used to frequent in the shape of a blue hawk, and it is only a few years since he disappeared.... The ballad of Parcy Reed has a tune of its own.... It is a very mournfull air.”

P. 39. Miscellanea Curiosa, MS., vol. vi, Abbotsford Library,A.3, has for its last piece “The Burning of the Tower of Frendraught, an Historical Ballad,” in forty-eight stanzas. It begins:

O passd ye by the Bog of Gicht?Heard ye the cry of grief and care?Or in the bowers of RothymaySaw ye the lady tear her hair?

O passd ye by the Bog of Gicht?

Heard ye the cry of grief and care?

Or in the bowers of Rothymay

Saw ye the lady tear her hair?

“A Satyre against Frendraught, in which ware burned the Vicount of Melgum, Laird of Rothiemay, and sundrie other gentlemen, in anno 1630,” 218 lines, MS. in a seventeenth-century hand, is No 1 in a volume with the title Scottish Tracts, Abbotsford Library, B. 7. Mr. Macmath suggests that this may be the “flyte” which Sharpe and Sir W. Scott thought of printing.

IV, 61 b. ‘Johnnie Faa’ in [Wm Chambers’s] Exploits . . . of the most remarkable Scottish Gypsies or Tinklers, 3d ed., 1823, p. 17, isB a. The ballad is not in the second edition, 1821, reprinted in 1886. (W. Macmath.)

P. 75 b., first line. Say:c.Scott’s Minstrelsy, 1830, XI, 39, 1833, etc.

P. 83, note †.

I prefer to say, two or more events. The citations already given in this work may possibly cover four distinct tragedies, and William Anderson, in his Genealogy and Surnames, 1865, p. 104, tells us (but without stating his authority) there was “a line of nine barons, all of whom, in the unruly times in which they lived, died violent deaths.” The ballad may have commenced originally: “Inverawe (==Inner-Aw) cam doun Deeside.” (W. Macmath.)

P. 117 b. The omen of nose-bleed occurs in the Breton ballad ‘Ervoan Camus,’ Luzel, Soniou, I, 216.

P. 144 a. Scott’s improved copy first appeared in the third edition of the Minstrelsy, 1806, II, 277.

P. 164 ff. ‘The Dowie Dens of Yarrow,’ Kidson’s Traditional Tunes, etc., 1891, p. 21. From Mrs Calvert, of Gilnockie, Eskdale; obtained by her on the braes of Yarrow from her grandmother, Tibbie Stuel. (Compare, especially,J-L.)

1There lived a lady in the West,I neer could find her marrow;She was courted by nine gentlemen,And a ploughboy-lad in Yarrow.2These nine sat drinking at the wine,Sat drinking wine in Yarrow;They made a vow among themselvesTo fight for her in Yarrow.3She washed his face, she kaimed his hair,As oft she ‘d done before, O,She made him like a knight sae bright,To fight for her in Yarrow.4As he walked up yon high, high hill,And down by the holmes of Yarrow,There he saw nine armëd men,Come to fight with him in Yarrow.5‘There ‘s nine of you, there ‘s one of me,It’s an unequal marrow;But I’ll fight you all one by one,On the dowie dens of Yarrow.’6Three he slew, and three they flew,And three he wounded sorely,Till her brother John he came in beyond,And pierced his heart most foully.7‘Go home, go home, thou false young man,And tell thy sister SarahThat her true-love John lies dead and goneOn the dowie dens of Yarrow.’8‘O father dear, I dreamed a dream,I’m afraid it will bring sorrow;I dreamed I was pulling the heather-bellIn the dowie dens of Yarrow.’9‘O daughter dear, I read your dream,I doubt it will prove sorrow;For your true-love John lies dead and goneOn the dowie dens of Yarrow.’10As she walked up yon high, high hill,And down by the holmes of Yarrow,There she saw her true-love John,Lying pale and dead on Yarrow.11Her hair it being three quarters long—The colour it was yellow—She wrapped it round his middle sma,And carried him hame to Yarrow.12‘O father dear, you’ve seven sons,You may wed them a’ tomorrow,But a fairer flower I never sawThan the lad I loved in Yarrow.’13The fair maid being great with child,It filled her heart with sorrow;She died within her lover’s arms,Between that day and morrow.

1There lived a lady in the West,I neer could find her marrow;She was courted by nine gentlemen,And a ploughboy-lad in Yarrow.

There lived a lady in the West,

I neer could find her marrow;

She was courted by nine gentlemen,

And a ploughboy-lad in Yarrow.

2These nine sat drinking at the wine,Sat drinking wine in Yarrow;They made a vow among themselvesTo fight for her in Yarrow.

These nine sat drinking at the wine,

Sat drinking wine in Yarrow;

They made a vow among themselves

To fight for her in Yarrow.

3She washed his face, she kaimed his hair,As oft she ‘d done before, O,She made him like a knight sae bright,To fight for her in Yarrow.

She washed his face, she kaimed his hair,

As oft she ‘d done before, O,

She made him like a knight sae bright,

To fight for her in Yarrow.

4As he walked up yon high, high hill,And down by the holmes of Yarrow,There he saw nine armëd men,Come to fight with him in Yarrow.

As he walked up yon high, high hill,

And down by the holmes of Yarrow,

There he saw nine armëd men,

Come to fight with him in Yarrow.

5‘There ‘s nine of you, there ‘s one of me,It’s an unequal marrow;But I’ll fight you all one by one,On the dowie dens of Yarrow.’

‘There ‘s nine of you, there ‘s one of me,

It’s an unequal marrow;

But I’ll fight you all one by one,

On the dowie dens of Yarrow.’

6Three he slew, and three they flew,And three he wounded sorely,Till her brother John he came in beyond,And pierced his heart most foully.

Three he slew, and three they flew,

And three he wounded sorely,

Till her brother John he came in beyond,

And pierced his heart most foully.

7‘Go home, go home, thou false young man,And tell thy sister SarahThat her true-love John lies dead and goneOn the dowie dens of Yarrow.’

‘Go home, go home, thou false young man,

And tell thy sister Sarah

That her true-love John lies dead and gone

On the dowie dens of Yarrow.’

8‘O father dear, I dreamed a dream,I’m afraid it will bring sorrow;I dreamed I was pulling the heather-bellIn the dowie dens of Yarrow.’

‘O father dear, I dreamed a dream,

I’m afraid it will bring sorrow;

I dreamed I was pulling the heather-bell

In the dowie dens of Yarrow.’

9‘O daughter dear, I read your dream,I doubt it will prove sorrow;For your true-love John lies dead and goneOn the dowie dens of Yarrow.’

‘O daughter dear, I read your dream,

I doubt it will prove sorrow;

For your true-love John lies dead and gone

On the dowie dens of Yarrow.’

10As she walked up yon high, high hill,And down by the holmes of Yarrow,There she saw her true-love John,Lying pale and dead on Yarrow.

As she walked up yon high, high hill,

And down by the holmes of Yarrow,

There she saw her true-love John,

Lying pale and dead on Yarrow.

11Her hair it being three quarters long—The colour it was yellow—She wrapped it round his middle sma,And carried him hame to Yarrow.

Her hair it being three quarters long—

The colour it was yellow—

She wrapped it round his middle sma,

And carried him hame to Yarrow.

12‘O father dear, you’ve seven sons,You may wed them a’ tomorrow,But a fairer flower I never sawThan the lad I loved in Yarrow.’

‘O father dear, you’ve seven sons,

You may wed them a’ tomorrow,

But a fairer flower I never saw

Than the lad I loved in Yarrow.’

13The fair maid being great with child,It filled her heart with sorrow;She died within her lover’s arms,Between that day and morrow.

The fair maid being great with child,

It filled her heart with sorrow;

She died within her lover’s arms,

Between that day and morrow.

61,2. Threemisprintedthere.

81, 91, 121. Oh.

Macmath MS. p. 91. Inserted in a copy of The Scottish Ballads . . . by Robert Chambers, 1829, p. 145, latterly belonging to Rev. Dr James C. Burns, Free Church, Kirkliston.

1There were three lords drinking at the wineIn the Leader Haughs of Yarrow:‘Shall we go play at cards and dice,As we have done before, O?Or shall we go play at the single sword,In the Leader Haughs of Yarrow?’* * * * * *2Three he wounded, and five he slew,As he had [done] before, O,But an English lord lap from a bush,And he proved all the sorrow;He had a spear three quarters long,And he thrust his body thorogh.* * * * * *3‘I dreamed . . . .I wis it prove nae sorrow!I dreamed I was puing the apples greenIn the dowie howms o Yarrow.’4‘O sister, sister, I’ll read your dream,And I’ll read it in sorrow;Ye may gae bring hame your ain true-love,For he’s sleepin sound in Yarrow.’5She sought him east, she sought him west,She sought him all the forest thorogh;She found him asleep at the middle yett,In the dowie howms o Yarrow.6Her hair it was three quarters lang,And the colour of it was yellow;She’s bound it round his middle waist,And borne him hame from Yarrow.

There were three lords drinking at the wine

In the Leader Haughs of Yarrow:

‘Shall we go play at cards and dice,

As we have done before, O?

Or shall we go play at the single sword,

In the Leader Haughs of Yarrow?’

* * * * * *

2Three he wounded, and five he slew,As he had [done] before, O,But an English lord lap from a bush,And he proved all the sorrow;He had a spear three quarters long,And he thrust his body thorogh.

Three he wounded, and five he slew,

As he had [done] before, O,

But an English lord lap from a bush,

And he proved all the sorrow;

He had a spear three quarters long,

And he thrust his body thorogh.

* * * * * *

3‘I dreamed . . . .I wis it prove nae sorrow!I dreamed I was puing the apples greenIn the dowie howms o Yarrow.’

‘I dreamed . . . .

I wis it prove nae sorrow!

I dreamed I was puing the apples green

In the dowie howms o Yarrow.’

4‘O sister, sister, I’ll read your dream,And I’ll read it in sorrow;Ye may gae bring hame your ain true-love,For he’s sleepin sound in Yarrow.’

‘O sister, sister, I’ll read your dream,

And I’ll read it in sorrow;

Ye may gae bring hame your ain true-love,

For he’s sleepin sound in Yarrow.’

5She sought him east, she sought him west,She sought him all the forest thorogh;She found him asleep at the middle yett,In the dowie howms o Yarrow.

She sought him east, she sought him west,

She sought him all the forest thorogh;

She found him asleep at the middle yett,

In the dowie howms o Yarrow.

6Her hair it was three quarters lang,And the colour of it was yellow;She’s bound it round his middle waist,And borne him hame from Yarrow.

Her hair it was three quarters lang,

And the colour of it was yellow;

She’s bound it round his middle waist,

And borne him hame from Yarrow.

12,6. Leader Haughs. “Obviously nonsense, but so my minstreless sung it.”

31.The rest torn away.

33. applessubstituted forheatherstruck out.

P. 192. Mrs Greenwood, of London, had heard (presumably at Longnewton, near Jedburgh) “the old Cowdenknows, where, instead of the Laird of the Oakland hills, it is the Laird of the Hawthorn-wide.” Letters addressed to Sir W. Scott, I, No 189, May 27, [1806.]

P. 216 a. Scott’s ‘Katherine Janfarie’ was printed in the second edition of the Minstrelsy, 1803, I, 238.

P. 231 f. “I can get a copy of a ballad the repeating verse of which is:

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