1I lookëd ower the castle-wa,Hey rose, ma lindie, OSaw twa bonnie babies playin at the ba.Doon in the green wood-sidie, O2‘O bonnie babies, an ye were mine,I wad feid ye wi flour-breid an wine.’3‘O cruel mother, when we were thine,You did not prove to us sae kin.’4‘O bonnie babies, an ye were mine,I wad cleid ye wi scarlet sae fine.’5‘O cruel mother, when we were thine,You did not prove to us sae fine.6‘For wi a penknife ye took our lifeAnd threw us ower the castle-wa.’7‘O bonnie babies, what wad ye hae dune to meFor my bein sae cruel to thee?’8‘Seven yeare a fish in the flood,Seven yeare a bird in the wood.9‘Seven yeare a tinglin bell,Seventeen yeare in the deepest hell.’Under the green wood-sidie, O
1I lookëd ower the castle-wa,Hey rose, ma lindie, OSaw twa bonnie babies playin at the ba.Doon in the green wood-sidie, O2‘O bonnie babies, an ye were mine,I wad feid ye wi flour-breid an wine.’3‘O cruel mother, when we were thine,You did not prove to us sae kin.’4‘O bonnie babies, an ye were mine,I wad cleid ye wi scarlet sae fine.’5‘O cruel mother, when we were thine,You did not prove to us sae fine.6‘For wi a penknife ye took our lifeAnd threw us ower the castle-wa.’7‘O bonnie babies, what wad ye hae dune to meFor my bein sae cruel to thee?’8‘Seven yeare a fish in the flood,Seven yeare a bird in the wood.9‘Seven yeare a tinglin bell,Seventeen yeare in the deepest hell.’Under the green wood-sidie, O
1I lookëd ower the castle-wa,Hey rose, ma lindie, OSaw twa bonnie babies playin at the ba.Doon in the green wood-sidie, O
1
I lookëd ower the castle-wa,
Hey rose, ma lindie, O
Saw twa bonnie babies playin at the ba.
Doon in the green wood-sidie, O
2‘O bonnie babies, an ye were mine,I wad feid ye wi flour-breid an wine.’
2
‘O bonnie babies, an ye were mine,
I wad feid ye wi flour-breid an wine.’
3‘O cruel mother, when we were thine,You did not prove to us sae kin.’
3
‘O cruel mother, when we were thine,
You did not prove to us sae kin.’
4‘O bonnie babies, an ye were mine,I wad cleid ye wi scarlet sae fine.’
4
‘O bonnie babies, an ye were mine,
I wad cleid ye wi scarlet sae fine.’
5‘O cruel mother, when we were thine,You did not prove to us sae fine.
5
‘O cruel mother, when we were thine,
You did not prove to us sae fine.
6‘For wi a penknife ye took our lifeAnd threw us ower the castle-wa.’
6
‘For wi a penknife ye took our life
And threw us ower the castle-wa.’
7‘O bonnie babies, what wad ye hae dune to meFor my bein sae cruel to thee?’
7
‘O bonnie babies, what wad ye hae dune to me
For my bein sae cruel to thee?’
8‘Seven yeare a fish in the flood,Seven yeare a bird in the wood.
8
‘Seven yeare a fish in the flood,
Seven yeare a bird in the wood.
9‘Seven yeare a tinglin bell,Seventeen yeare in the deepest hell.’Under the green wood-sidie, O
9
‘Seven yeare a tinglin bell,
Seventeen yeare in the deepest hell.’
Under the green wood-sidie, O
219 b, 504 a, II, 500 a, III, 502 b, IV, 451 a. AddS, Deutsche Volksballaden aus Südungarn, Grünn und Baróti, in Ethnologische Mitteilungen aus Ungarn, II, 201, No 4, 1892.
P. 228. M. G. Doncieux has attempted to arrange “Le cycle de Sainte Marie-Madelaine,” in Revue des Traditions Populaires, VI, 257.
P. 233 ff. ‘Stjærnevisen,’ Kristensen, XI, 207, No 76A,B, has nothing about Stephen, but is confined to the scripture-history, piety, and New Year’s wishes.
P. 236 a, IV, 451 b.French.An imperfect French ballad in Mélusine, VI, 24, from a wood-cut “at least three centuries old.”
Add a Piedmontese popular tale communicated by Count Nigra to the editor of Mélusine, VI, 25 f.
M. Gaidoz, at the same place, 26 f., cites two versions of the resuscitation of the cock, from example-books. The first, from Erythræus (i.e. Rossi), ch. CLV, p. 187, is essentially the same as the legend of St Gunther given from Acta Sanctorum (p. 239 a). The other, from the Giardino d’ Essempi of Razzi, is the story told by Vincentius (p. 237, note †).
P. 250, II, 502 a, III, 503 a.Italian.Add: Canti pop. Emiliani, Maria Carmi, Archivio, XII, 187, No 9. A fragment in Dalmedico, Canti del popolo veneziano, p. 109, seems, as Maria Carmi suggests, to belong to this ballad.
P. 253. It has already been noted that traditional copies of ‘The Three Ravens’ have been far from infrequent. When a ballad has been nearly three hundred years in print, and in a very impressive form, the chance that traditional copies, differing principally by what they lack, should be coeval and independent amounts at most to a bare possibility. Traditional copies have, however, sometimes been given in this collection on the ground of a very slight chance; and not unreasonably, I think, considering the scope of the undertaking.
The copy which follows was communicated by E. L. K. to Notes and Queries, Eighth Series, II, 437, 1892, and has been sent me lately in MS. by Mr R. Brimley Johnson, of Cambridge, England, with this note:
“From E. Peacock, Esq., F. S. A., of Dunstan House, Kirton-in-Lindsay, Lincolnshire, whose father, born in 1793, heard it as a boy at harvest-suppers and sheep-shearings, and took down a copy from the recitation of Harry Richard, a laborer, who could not read, and had learnt it ‘from his fore-elders.’ He lived at Northorpe, where a grass-field joining a little stream, called Ea, Ee, and Hay, is pointed out as the scene of the tragedy.”
1There was three ravens in a tree,As black as any jet could be.A down a derry down2Says the middlemost raven to his mate,Where shall we go to get ought to eat?3‘It’s down in yonder grass-green fieldThere lies a squire dead and killd.4‘His horse all standing by his side,Thinking he’ll get up and ride.5‘His hounds all standing at his feet,Licking his wounds that run so deep.’6Then comes a lady, full of woe,As big wi bairn as she can go.7She lifted up his bloody head,And kissd his lips that were so red.8She laid her down all by his side,And for the love of him she died.
1There was three ravens in a tree,As black as any jet could be.A down a derry down2Says the middlemost raven to his mate,Where shall we go to get ought to eat?3‘It’s down in yonder grass-green fieldThere lies a squire dead and killd.4‘His horse all standing by his side,Thinking he’ll get up and ride.5‘His hounds all standing at his feet,Licking his wounds that run so deep.’6Then comes a lady, full of woe,As big wi bairn as she can go.7She lifted up his bloody head,And kissd his lips that were so red.8She laid her down all by his side,And for the love of him she died.
1There was three ravens in a tree,As black as any jet could be.A down a derry down
1
There was three ravens in a tree,
As black as any jet could be.
A down a derry down
2Says the middlemost raven to his mate,Where shall we go to get ought to eat?
2
Says the middlemost raven to his mate,
Where shall we go to get ought to eat?
3‘It’s down in yonder grass-green fieldThere lies a squire dead and killd.
3
‘It’s down in yonder grass-green field
There lies a squire dead and killd.
4‘His horse all standing by his side,Thinking he’ll get up and ride.
4
‘His horse all standing by his side,
Thinking he’ll get up and ride.
5‘His hounds all standing at his feet,Licking his wounds that run so deep.’
5
‘His hounds all standing at his feet,
Licking his wounds that run so deep.’
6Then comes a lady, full of woe,As big wi bairn as she can go.
6
Then comes a lady, full of woe,
As big wi bairn as she can go.
7She lifted up his bloody head,And kissd his lips that were so red.
7
She lifted up his bloody head,
And kissd his lips that were so red.
8She laid her down all by his side,And for the love of him she died.
8
She laid her down all by his side,
And for the love of him she died.
62.Var.child.
62.Var.child.
P. 255. Serving the king long without sight of his daughter. Prof. Wollner notes that this trait is rather frequently found in Slavic. For example, in Karadžič, II, 617, No 96, Yakšič Mitar serves the vojvode Yanko nine years and never sees his sister.
P. 268 ff., II, 502 a, III, 503, IV, 454 a. Tests of chastity. On the Herodotean story, I, 271, seeE.Lefébure, Mélusine, IV, 37-39.—St Wilfred’s Needle, in Ripon Minster. ‘In ipso templo, avorum memoria Wilfridi acus celeberrima fuit. Id erat augustum incryptoporticu foramen quo mulierum pudicitia explorabatur; quæ enim castæ erant facile transibant, quæ dubia fama nescio quo miraculo constrictæ detinebantur.’ Camden, Britannia, ed. 1607, p. 570; see Folk-Lore Journal, II, 286. (G. L. K.)
P. 293. Mr Clouston, Originals and Analogues of some of Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, p. 520 cites a pretty story from a modern Turkish author, in which, as so often happens, parts are reversed. A young king of the fairies of a certain realm is cursed by his mother to appear old and ugly until a fair mortal girl shall love him enough to miss his company. This comes to pass after forty years, and the ugly old man becomes a beautiful youth of seventeen. (Phantasms from the Presence of God, written in 1796-97 by ‘Ali ‘Aziz Efendi, the Cretan.)
P. 301.Awas communicated to C. K. Sharpe by Robert Pitcairn with the stanzas in the order printed by Sharpe. The arrangement inAwould seem, therefore, to have been an afterthought of Pitcairn’s. There is some slight difference of reading, also, in Pitcairn’s MS., and one defect is supplied. The variations in the copy sent Sharpe are (besides the order, as aforesaid) as follows:
21. I’m coming.24. o weir.34. three heirewanting.44. Shone.52. bruchty.53. the night.63. And in.74. Between.94. a lintseed bow (with the varianta bruchtit ewe).101. lauchty.104. A’wanting.123. teeth into.132. sheets (no doubt erroneously).A stanza between 8 and 9 is noted as deficient, and something after 13.
21. I’m coming.
24. o weir.
34. three heirewanting.
44. Shone.
52. bruchty.
53. the night.
63. And in.
74. Between.
94. a lintseed bow (with the varianta bruchtit ewe).
101. lauchty.
104. A’wanting.
123. teeth into.
132. sheets (no doubt erroneously).A stanza between 8 and 9 is noted as deficient, and something after 13.
303.C.In a copy ofCsent Sharpe by Motherwell in a letter of December 6, 1824, the fourth stanza is lacking, the fifth is third.
32. span: years.52. stool.
32. span: years.
52. stool.
‘Knip Knap,’ taken down in the summer of 1893 by Mr Walker, of Aberdeen, at Portlethen, from the singing of an old man, as learned more than fifty years before from an old blacksmith at Dyce, near Aberdeen.
1Knip Knap a hunting went,Out-ower the head o yon hill, aye, ayeWi a lust o pig-staves out-oer his shouther,An mony a dulchach forby, aye, aye.2There he met an old woman,Was herdin at her kye;‘I’m come yer ae dochter to woo,’She’s a very good servant,’ said I.3The wife gaed hame to her ain hole-house,Lookit in at her ain spunk-hole,An there she saw her ain foul flag,Loupin across the coal.4‘Win up, win up, my ae foul flag,An mak yer foul face clean,For yer wooer is comin here the nicht,But yer foul face canna be seen. na, na’5She’s taen the sheave-wisps out o her sheen,An in behint the door,An she has faen to the stale strang,Seven year auld an more.6An aye she scrubbit, an aye she weesh,Out-ower the pint o her chin,Till a knip-knap cam to the door,She kent it was her wooer.7He’s taen her in his airms twa,Kissd her cheek an chin:‘An I hae gotten kisses twa,Whaur I never thocht to get ane.’8The verra hair was in her headWas like the heather-cowe,An ilka louse at the reet o thatWas like a brockit ewe.9The verra ee was in her headWas like a muckle pan,The hunkers and clunkers that hang frae her sheenWad hae covered an acre o lan.10The verra teeth was in her headWas like a tether’s check,An the sneeters and snotters that hang frae her noseWad a gart a frozen mill gang.11The verra tongue was in her headWad been a guid mill-clap,. . . . . . . .. . . . . . . .12. . . . . . . .. . . . . . . .An ye may know very weel by thatShe was a comely woman.
1Knip Knap a hunting went,Out-ower the head o yon hill, aye, ayeWi a lust o pig-staves out-oer his shouther,An mony a dulchach forby, aye, aye.2There he met an old woman,Was herdin at her kye;‘I’m come yer ae dochter to woo,’She’s a very good servant,’ said I.3The wife gaed hame to her ain hole-house,Lookit in at her ain spunk-hole,An there she saw her ain foul flag,Loupin across the coal.4‘Win up, win up, my ae foul flag,An mak yer foul face clean,For yer wooer is comin here the nicht,But yer foul face canna be seen. na, na’5She’s taen the sheave-wisps out o her sheen,An in behint the door,An she has faen to the stale strang,Seven year auld an more.6An aye she scrubbit, an aye she weesh,Out-ower the pint o her chin,Till a knip-knap cam to the door,She kent it was her wooer.7He’s taen her in his airms twa,Kissd her cheek an chin:‘An I hae gotten kisses twa,Whaur I never thocht to get ane.’8The verra hair was in her headWas like the heather-cowe,An ilka louse at the reet o thatWas like a brockit ewe.9The verra ee was in her headWas like a muckle pan,The hunkers and clunkers that hang frae her sheenWad hae covered an acre o lan.10The verra teeth was in her headWas like a tether’s check,An the sneeters and snotters that hang frae her noseWad a gart a frozen mill gang.11The verra tongue was in her headWad been a guid mill-clap,. . . . . . . .. . . . . . . .12. . . . . . . .. . . . . . . .An ye may know very weel by thatShe was a comely woman.
1Knip Knap a hunting went,Out-ower the head o yon hill, aye, ayeWi a lust o pig-staves out-oer his shouther,An mony a dulchach forby, aye, aye.
1
Knip Knap a hunting went,
Out-ower the head o yon hill, aye, aye
Wi a lust o pig-staves out-oer his shouther,
An mony a dulchach forby, aye, aye.
2There he met an old woman,Was herdin at her kye;‘I’m come yer ae dochter to woo,’She’s a very good servant,’ said I.
2
There he met an old woman,
Was herdin at her kye;
‘I’m come yer ae dochter to woo,’
She’s a very good servant,’ said I.
3The wife gaed hame to her ain hole-house,Lookit in at her ain spunk-hole,An there she saw her ain foul flag,Loupin across the coal.
3
The wife gaed hame to her ain hole-house,
Lookit in at her ain spunk-hole,
An there she saw her ain foul flag,
Loupin across the coal.
4‘Win up, win up, my ae foul flag,An mak yer foul face clean,For yer wooer is comin here the nicht,But yer foul face canna be seen. na, na’
4
‘Win up, win up, my ae foul flag,
An mak yer foul face clean,
For yer wooer is comin here the nicht,
But yer foul face canna be seen. na, na’
5She’s taen the sheave-wisps out o her sheen,An in behint the door,An she has faen to the stale strang,Seven year auld an more.
5
She’s taen the sheave-wisps out o her sheen,
An in behint the door,
An she has faen to the stale strang,
Seven year auld an more.
6An aye she scrubbit, an aye she weesh,Out-ower the pint o her chin,Till a knip-knap cam to the door,She kent it was her wooer.
6
An aye she scrubbit, an aye she weesh,
Out-ower the pint o her chin,
Till a knip-knap cam to the door,
She kent it was her wooer.
7He’s taen her in his airms twa,Kissd her cheek an chin:‘An I hae gotten kisses twa,Whaur I never thocht to get ane.’
7
He’s taen her in his airms twa,
Kissd her cheek an chin:
‘An I hae gotten kisses twa,
Whaur I never thocht to get ane.’
8The verra hair was in her headWas like the heather-cowe,An ilka louse at the reet o thatWas like a brockit ewe.
8
The verra hair was in her head
Was like the heather-cowe,
An ilka louse at the reet o that
Was like a brockit ewe.
9The verra ee was in her headWas like a muckle pan,The hunkers and clunkers that hang frae her sheenWad hae covered an acre o lan.
9
The verra ee was in her head
Was like a muckle pan,
The hunkers and clunkers that hang frae her sheen
Wad hae covered an acre o lan.
10The verra teeth was in her headWas like a tether’s check,An the sneeters and snotters that hang frae her noseWad a gart a frozen mill gang.
10
The verra teeth was in her head
Was like a tether’s check,
An the sneeters and snotters that hang frae her nose
Wad a gart a frozen mill gang.
11The verra tongue was in her headWad been a guid mill-clap,. . . . . . . .. . . . . . . .
11
The verra tongue was in her head
Wad been a guid mill-clap,
. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .
12. . . . . . . .. . . . . . . .An ye may know very weel by thatShe was a comely woman.
12
. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .
An ye may know very weel by that
She was a comely woman.
P. 309. From a manuscript collection of Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe’s, p. 2; “Second Collection,” see Sharpe’s Ballad Book, ed. 1880, p. 144. This copy closely resemblesA.
1Her mother died when she was young,And was laid in the silent tomb;The father weded the weel worst womanThis day that lives in Christiendom.2She served her with hands and feet,In every way that well could be,Yet she did once upon a dayThrow her in over a craig of sea.3Says, Ly you there, you dove Isabeal,And let you never borrowed beTill Kempenwine come ower the seaAnd borrow you with kisses three;Whatever any may do or say,O borrowed may you never be!4Her breath grew strong, and her hair grew long,And twisted thrice about a tree,And so hideous-like she did apearThat all who saw her from her did flee.5Now Kempenwine gat word of thisWhere he was living beyond the sea;He hied him straight unto that shoar,The monstrous creature for to se.6Her breath was strong, and her hair was long,And twisted was around the tree,And with a swing she cried aloud,Come to craig of sea and kiss with me.7‘Here is a royal ring,’ she cried,‘That I have found in the green sea,And while your finger it is onDrawn shall your blood never be;But if you touch me, tail or fin,I vow this brand your death shall be.’8He steppëd in, gave her a kiss,The royal ring he brought him wi;Her breath was strong, and [her] hair was long,Yet twisted twice about the tree,And with a swing she came about,‘Come to craig of sea and kiss with me.9‘Here is a royal belt,’ she cried,‘That I have found in the green sea,And while your body it is onDrawn shall your blood never be;But if you touch me, tail or fin,I vow this brand your death shall be.’10He steppëd in, gave her a kiss,The royal belt he brought him wee;Her breath yet strong, her hair yet long,Yet twisted once about the tree,And with a swing she came about,‘Come to craig of sea and kiss with me.11‘Here is a royal brand,’ she cried,‘That I have found in the green sea,And while your body it is onDrawn shall your blood never be;But if you touch me, tail or fin,I vow my brand your death shall be.’12He steppëd in, gave her a kiss,The royal brand he brought him wee;Her breath now soft, her hair now short,And disengagëd from the tree,She fell into his arms two,As fair a woman as ever could be.
1Her mother died when she was young,And was laid in the silent tomb;The father weded the weel worst womanThis day that lives in Christiendom.2She served her with hands and feet,In every way that well could be,Yet she did once upon a dayThrow her in over a craig of sea.3Says, Ly you there, you dove Isabeal,And let you never borrowed beTill Kempenwine come ower the seaAnd borrow you with kisses three;Whatever any may do or say,O borrowed may you never be!4Her breath grew strong, and her hair grew long,And twisted thrice about a tree,And so hideous-like she did apearThat all who saw her from her did flee.5Now Kempenwine gat word of thisWhere he was living beyond the sea;He hied him straight unto that shoar,The monstrous creature for to se.6Her breath was strong, and her hair was long,And twisted was around the tree,And with a swing she cried aloud,Come to craig of sea and kiss with me.7‘Here is a royal ring,’ she cried,‘That I have found in the green sea,And while your finger it is onDrawn shall your blood never be;But if you touch me, tail or fin,I vow this brand your death shall be.’8He steppëd in, gave her a kiss,The royal ring he brought him wi;Her breath was strong, and [her] hair was long,Yet twisted twice about the tree,And with a swing she came about,‘Come to craig of sea and kiss with me.9‘Here is a royal belt,’ she cried,‘That I have found in the green sea,And while your body it is onDrawn shall your blood never be;But if you touch me, tail or fin,I vow this brand your death shall be.’10He steppëd in, gave her a kiss,The royal belt he brought him wee;Her breath yet strong, her hair yet long,Yet twisted once about the tree,And with a swing she came about,‘Come to craig of sea and kiss with me.11‘Here is a royal brand,’ she cried,‘That I have found in the green sea,And while your body it is onDrawn shall your blood never be;But if you touch me, tail or fin,I vow my brand your death shall be.’12He steppëd in, gave her a kiss,The royal brand he brought him wee;Her breath now soft, her hair now short,And disengagëd from the tree,She fell into his arms two,As fair a woman as ever could be.
1Her mother died when she was young,And was laid in the silent tomb;The father weded the weel worst womanThis day that lives in Christiendom.
1
Her mother died when she was young,
And was laid in the silent tomb;
The father weded the weel worst woman
This day that lives in Christiendom.
2She served her with hands and feet,In every way that well could be,Yet she did once upon a dayThrow her in over a craig of sea.
2
She served her with hands and feet,
In every way that well could be,
Yet she did once upon a day
Throw her in over a craig of sea.
3Says, Ly you there, you dove Isabeal,And let you never borrowed beTill Kempenwine come ower the seaAnd borrow you with kisses three;Whatever any may do or say,O borrowed may you never be!
3
Says, Ly you there, you dove Isabeal,
And let you never borrowed be
Till Kempenwine come ower the sea
And borrow you with kisses three;
Whatever any may do or say,
O borrowed may you never be!
4Her breath grew strong, and her hair grew long,And twisted thrice about a tree,And so hideous-like she did apearThat all who saw her from her did flee.
4
Her breath grew strong, and her hair grew long,
And twisted thrice about a tree,
And so hideous-like she did apear
That all who saw her from her did flee.
5Now Kempenwine gat word of thisWhere he was living beyond the sea;He hied him straight unto that shoar,The monstrous creature for to se.
5
Now Kempenwine gat word of this
Where he was living beyond the sea;
He hied him straight unto that shoar,
The monstrous creature for to se.
6Her breath was strong, and her hair was long,And twisted was around the tree,And with a swing she cried aloud,Come to craig of sea and kiss with me.
6
Her breath was strong, and her hair was long,
And twisted was around the tree,
And with a swing she cried aloud,
Come to craig of sea and kiss with me.
7‘Here is a royal ring,’ she cried,‘That I have found in the green sea,And while your finger it is onDrawn shall your blood never be;But if you touch me, tail or fin,I vow this brand your death shall be.’
7
‘Here is a royal ring,’ she cried,
‘That I have found in the green sea,
And while your finger it is on
Drawn shall your blood never be;
But if you touch me, tail or fin,
I vow this brand your death shall be.’
8He steppëd in, gave her a kiss,The royal ring he brought him wi;Her breath was strong, and [her] hair was long,Yet twisted twice about the tree,And with a swing she came about,‘Come to craig of sea and kiss with me.
8
He steppëd in, gave her a kiss,
The royal ring he brought him wi;
Her breath was strong, and [her] hair was long,
Yet twisted twice about the tree,
And with a swing she came about,
‘Come to craig of sea and kiss with me.
9‘Here is a royal belt,’ she cried,‘That I have found in the green sea,And while your body it is onDrawn shall your blood never be;But if you touch me, tail or fin,I vow this brand your death shall be.’
9
‘Here is a royal belt,’ she cried,
‘That I have found in the green sea,
And while your body it is on
Drawn shall your blood never be;
But if you touch me, tail or fin,
I vow this brand your death shall be.’
10He steppëd in, gave her a kiss,The royal belt he brought him wee;Her breath yet strong, her hair yet long,Yet twisted once about the tree,And with a swing she came about,‘Come to craig of sea and kiss with me.
10
He steppëd in, gave her a kiss,
The royal belt he brought him wee;
Her breath yet strong, her hair yet long,
Yet twisted once about the tree,
And with a swing she came about,
‘Come to craig of sea and kiss with me.
11‘Here is a royal brand,’ she cried,‘That I have found in the green sea,And while your body it is onDrawn shall your blood never be;But if you touch me, tail or fin,I vow my brand your death shall be.’
11
‘Here is a royal brand,’ she cried,
‘That I have found in the green sea,
And while your body it is on
Drawn shall your blood never be;
But if you touch me, tail or fin,
I vow my brand your death shall be.’
12He steppëd in, gave her a kiss,The royal brand he brought him wee;Her breath now soft, her hair now short,And disengagëd from the tree,She fell into his arms two,As fair a woman as ever could be.
12
He steppëd in, gave her a kiss,
The royal brand he brought him wee;
Her breath now soft, her hair now short,
And disengagëd from the tree,
She fell into his arms two,
As fair a woman as ever could be.
Written in long lines, and not divided into stanzas.82. him with.64, 86, 106. Craig of sea.
Written in long lines, and not divided into stanzas.
82. him with.
64, 86, 106. Craig of sea.
P. 314. Gifts offered by a hill-maid. ‘Bjærgjomfruens Frieri,’ Kristensen, Skattegraveren, II, 100, No 460; XII, 22 ff., Nos 16, 17; Folkeminder, XI, 20 ff., No 18, A-E.
P. 315. Though Skene has rendered this ballad with reasonable fidelity, for an editor, it shall, on account of its interest, be given as it stands in the old lady’s MS., where it is No 2. It proves not absolutely true, as I have said, that the Skene ballad has “never been retouched by a pen.”
1‘I was bat seven year alldFan my mider she did dee,My father marrëd the ae warst womanThe wardle did ever see.2‘For she has made me the lailly wormThat lays att the fitt of the tree,An o my sister MeassryThe machrel of the sea.3‘An every Saterday att noonThe machrl comes ea to me,An she takes my laylë head,An lays it on her knee,An keames it we a silver kemm,An washes it in the sea.4‘Seven knights ha I slainSane I lay att the fitt of the tree;An ye war na my ain father,The eight an ye sud be.’5‘Sing on your song, ye l[a]ily worm,That ye sung to me;’‘I never sung that songBut fatt I wad sing to ye.6‘I was but seven year aullFan my mider she [did] dee,My father marrëd the a warst womanThe wardle did ever see.7‘She changed me to the layel[y] wormThat layes att the fitt of the tree,An my sister Messry[To] the makrell of the sea.8‘And every Saterday att noonThe machrell comes to me,An she takes my layly head,An layes it on her knee,An kames it weth a siller kame,An washes it in the sea.9‘Seven knights ha I slainSan I lay att the fitt of the tree;An ye war na my ain father,The eight ye sud be.’10He sent for his ladyAs fast as sen cod he:‘Far is my son,That ye sent fra me,And my daughter,Lady Messry?’11‘Yer son is att our king’s court,Sarving for meatt an fee,And yer doughter is att our quin’s court,A mary suit an free.’12‘Ye lee, ye ill woman,Sa loud as I hear ye lea,For my son is the layelly wormThat lays at the fitt of the tree,An my daughter MessryThe machrell of the sea.’13She has tain a silver wanAn gine him stroks three,An he started up the bravest knightYour eyes did ever see.14She has tane a small hornAn loud an shill blue she,An a’ the came her tell but the proud machrell,An she stood by the sea:‘Ye shaped me ance an unshemly shape,An ye’s never mare shape me.’15He has sent to the woodFor hathorn an fun,An he has tane that gay lady,An ther he did her burne.
1‘I was bat seven year alldFan my mider she did dee,My father marrëd the ae warst womanThe wardle did ever see.2‘For she has made me the lailly wormThat lays att the fitt of the tree,An o my sister MeassryThe machrel of the sea.3‘An every Saterday att noonThe machrl comes ea to me,An she takes my laylë head,An lays it on her knee,An keames it we a silver kemm,An washes it in the sea.4‘Seven knights ha I slainSane I lay att the fitt of the tree;An ye war na my ain father,The eight an ye sud be.’5‘Sing on your song, ye l[a]ily worm,That ye sung to me;’‘I never sung that songBut fatt I wad sing to ye.6‘I was but seven year aullFan my mider she [did] dee,My father marrëd the a warst womanThe wardle did ever see.7‘She changed me to the layel[y] wormThat layes att the fitt of the tree,An my sister Messry[To] the makrell of the sea.8‘And every Saterday att noonThe machrell comes to me,An she takes my layly head,An layes it on her knee,An kames it weth a siller kame,An washes it in the sea.9‘Seven knights ha I slainSan I lay att the fitt of the tree;An ye war na my ain father,The eight ye sud be.’10He sent for his ladyAs fast as sen cod he:‘Far is my son,That ye sent fra me,And my daughter,Lady Messry?’11‘Yer son is att our king’s court,Sarving for meatt an fee,And yer doughter is att our quin’s court,A mary suit an free.’12‘Ye lee, ye ill woman,Sa loud as I hear ye lea,For my son is the layelly wormThat lays at the fitt of the tree,An my daughter MessryThe machrell of the sea.’13She has tain a silver wanAn gine him stroks three,An he started up the bravest knightYour eyes did ever see.14She has tane a small hornAn loud an shill blue she,An a’ the came her tell but the proud machrell,An she stood by the sea:‘Ye shaped me ance an unshemly shape,An ye’s never mare shape me.’15He has sent to the woodFor hathorn an fun,An he has tane that gay lady,An ther he did her burne.
1‘I was bat seven year alldFan my mider she did dee,My father marrëd the ae warst womanThe wardle did ever see.
1
‘I was bat seven year alld
Fan my mider she did dee,
My father marrëd the ae warst woman
The wardle did ever see.
2‘For she has made me the lailly wormThat lays att the fitt of the tree,An o my sister MeassryThe machrel of the sea.
2
‘For she has made me the lailly worm
That lays att the fitt of the tree,
An o my sister Meassry
The machrel of the sea.
3‘An every Saterday att noonThe machrl comes ea to me,An she takes my laylë head,An lays it on her knee,An keames it we a silver kemm,An washes it in the sea.
3
‘An every Saterday att noon
The machrl comes ea to me,
An she takes my laylë head,
An lays it on her knee,
An keames it we a silver kemm,
An washes it in the sea.
4‘Seven knights ha I slainSane I lay att the fitt of the tree;An ye war na my ain father,The eight an ye sud be.’
4
‘Seven knights ha I slain
Sane I lay att the fitt of the tree;
An ye war na my ain father,
The eight an ye sud be.’
5‘Sing on your song, ye l[a]ily worm,That ye sung to me;’‘I never sung that songBut fatt I wad sing to ye.
5
‘Sing on your song, ye l[a]ily worm,
That ye sung to me;’
‘I never sung that song
But fatt I wad sing to ye.
6‘I was but seven year aullFan my mider she [did] dee,My father marrëd the a warst womanThe wardle did ever see.
6
‘I was but seven year aull
Fan my mider she [did] dee,
My father marrëd the a warst woman
The wardle did ever see.
7‘She changed me to the layel[y] wormThat layes att the fitt of the tree,An my sister Messry[To] the makrell of the sea.
7
‘She changed me to the layel[y] worm
That layes att the fitt of the tree,
An my sister Messry
[To] the makrell of the sea.
8‘And every Saterday att noonThe machrell comes to me,An she takes my layly head,An layes it on her knee,An kames it weth a siller kame,An washes it in the sea.
8
‘And every Saterday att noon
The machrell comes to me,
An she takes my layly head,
An layes it on her knee,
An kames it weth a siller kame,
An washes it in the sea.
9‘Seven knights ha I slainSan I lay att the fitt of the tree;An ye war na my ain father,The eight ye sud be.’
9
‘Seven knights ha I slain
San I lay att the fitt of the tree;
An ye war na my ain father,
The eight ye sud be.’
10He sent for his ladyAs fast as sen cod he:‘Far is my son,That ye sent fra me,And my daughter,Lady Messry?’
10
He sent for his lady
As fast as sen cod he:
‘Far is my son,
That ye sent fra me,
And my daughter,
Lady Messry?’
11‘Yer son is att our king’s court,Sarving for meatt an fee,And yer doughter is att our quin’s court,A mary suit an free.’
11
‘Yer son is att our king’s court,
Sarving for meatt an fee,
And yer doughter is att our quin’s court,
A mary suit an free.’
12‘Ye lee, ye ill woman,Sa loud as I hear ye lea,For my son is the layelly wormThat lays at the fitt of the tree,An my daughter MessryThe machrell of the sea.’
12
‘Ye lee, ye ill woman,
Sa loud as I hear ye lea,
For my son is the layelly worm
That lays at the fitt of the tree,
An my daughter Messry
The machrell of the sea.’
13She has tain a silver wanAn gine him stroks three,An he started up the bravest knightYour eyes did ever see.
13
She has tain a silver wan
An gine him stroks three,
An he started up the bravest knight
Your eyes did ever see.
14She has tane a small hornAn loud an shill blue she,An a’ the came her tell but the proud machrell,An she stood by the sea:‘Ye shaped me ance an unshemly shape,An ye’s never mare shape me.’
14
She has tane a small horn
An loud an shill blue she,
An a’ the came her tell but the proud machrell,
An she stood by the sea:
‘Ye shaped me ance an unshemly shape,
An ye’s never mare shape me.’
15He has sent to the woodFor hathorn an fun,An he has tane that gay lady,An ther he did her burne.
15
He has sent to the wood
For hathorn an fun,
An he has tane that gay lady,
An ther he did her burne.
Written without division into stanzas or verses.32. comes ea (aye);but, on repetition in82, comessimply, with better metre.151. hes has.153. that that.
Written without division into stanzas or verses.
32. comes ea (aye);but, on repetition in82, comessimply, with better metre.
151. hes has.
153. that that.
316. ‘Nattergalen,’ in Kristensen, Folkeminder, XI, 25, No 20, A-C.
In a Kaffir tale a girl marries a crocodile. The crocodile bids her lick his face. Upon her doing so, the crocodile casts his skin and turns into a strong and handsome man. He had been transformed by the enemies of his father’s house. (Theal, Kaffir Folk-Lore, 1882, p. 37, cited by Mr Clouston.)
P. 339. Teind to hell. See Isabel Gowdie’s case, in the Scottish Journal, I, 256, and compare Pitcairn’s Criminal Trials.
345.D a.This copy occurs in “the second collection” of Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, p. 3, with a few variations, as follows. (See Sharpe’s Ballad Book, ed. 1880, p. 145.)
13. Charters wood,and always.31. the seam.33. is gone.52. ye.64. ask no.104. we have.111. to me.122. aft.123. the Lord of Forbes.124. all his.15occurs after24.151. Tho Elfin.154. the tenth one goes.155. I am an,or, I a man.165. if that.166. miles Cross.171. go unto the Miles cross.204. next the.231, 241. int.251. She did her down.272. so green.273. Where.274. ride next.284. he is.294. He.322. and cry.341. I thought.
13. Charters wood,and always.
31. the seam.
33. is gone.
52. ye.
64. ask no.
104. we have.
111. to me.
122. aft.
123. the Lord of Forbes.
124. all his.
15occurs after24.
151. Tho Elfin.
154. the tenth one goes.
155. I am an,or, I a man.
165. if that.
166. miles Cross.
171. go unto the Miles cross.
204. next the.
231, 241. int.
251. She did her down.
272. so green.
273. Where.
274. ride next.
284. he is.
294. He.
322. and cry.
341. I thought.
P. 358, II, 505 b, III, 505 b, IV, 459 a. Mortal midwife for fairies. ‘La Sage-femme et la Fée,’ R. Basset, Contes pop. berbères, 1887, No 26, p. 55 (and see notes, pp. 162, 163). (G. L. K.)
P. 361 b, III, 506 a, IV, 459 a.Danish.‘Jomfruen i Bjærget,’ fragment, in Kristensen, Folkeminder, XI, 6, No 12.
364 a, III, 506 a, IV, 459 a.Danish.‘Agnete og Havmanden,’ Kristensen, Skattegraveren, III, p. 17, No 34, XII, 65 ff., Nos 136, 137; Efterslæt, p. 2, No 2, p. 174, No 126; Folkeminder, XI, 7, No 13, A-D.
P. 371, No 42, p. 389.Cin Findlay MSS, I, 141: ‘Clerk Colin,’ from Miss Butchart, Arbroath, 1868. Miss Butchart, who died about 1890, aged above ninety years, was the daughter of the Mrs Butchart from whom Kinloch got certain ballads, and niece to the Mrs Arrot who was one of Jamieson’s contributors. In the MS. there are these readings:
23. To gang.43. maun gae.52. could gang.61. To Clyde’s.
23. To gang.
43. maun gae.
52. could gang.
61. To Clyde’s.
374 b, IV, 459 a.Danish.‘Elveskud,’ Kristensen, Skattegraveren, XII, 54, No 125; ‘Elvedansen,’ Folkeminder, XI, 15, No 17,A-C.
380, II, 506 a, III, 506 a, IV, 459 a.TT, ‘La chanson de Renaud,’ Pineau, Le Folk-Lore du Poitou, p. 399;UU, ‘La Mort de Jean Raynaud, Wallonia, I, 22.
VV, WW. Versions de la Bresse, one, and a fragment, J. Tiersot, Revue des Traditions Populaires, VII, 654 ff.
382, II, 506 a, III, 506 a.Italian.N.‘El conte Anzolin,’ Villanis, Canzoni pop. Zaratine, Archivio, XI, 32. A burlesque form in Canti pop. Emiliani, Maria Carmi, Archivio, XII, 186, and a Venetian rispetto of the same character (noted by Maria Carmi) in Bernoni, Canti pop. Veneziani, 1873, Puntata 7, p. 12, No 62.
P. 400 a, III, 506 b, IV, 459 b.French.Y.‘Les Transformations,’ Wallonia, I, 50.
401 b, 3d paragraph. Say: Cosquin, Contes lorrains, I, 103, No 9, and notes.
402 a, last paragraph, Gwion. See the mabinogi of Taliesin in Lady Charlotte Guest’s Mabinogion, Part VII, p. 358 f.
P. 405 b, II, 506, IV, 459 b. Another Magyar version in Zs. f. vergleichende Literaturgeschichte, N. F. V, 467.
P. 414. Rev. J. Baring-Gould informs me that there is an Irish version of this piece in Ulster Ballads, British Museum, 1162. k. 6, entitled ‘The Lover’s Riddle.’ The lady, who inB,Cis walking through the wood ‘her lane,’ is in the Ulster copy walking ‘down a narrow lane,’ and she meets ‘with William Dicken, a keeper of the game.’ The only important difference as to the riddles and the answers is that the young lady remembers her Bible to good purpose, and gives Melchisedec as an example of a priest unborn (Hebrews vii, 3).
415, note †. Miss M. H. Mason gives two copies in her Nursery Rhymes and Country Songs, pp. 23, 24, ‘A Paradox.’
417, note †, II, 507 b, III, 507 a, IV, 459 b. “They were told that in front of the king’s house there were twenty-score poles, with a head on each pole with the exception of three.” ‘The Lad with the Skin Coverings,’ J. G. Campbell, The Fians, p. 261. (There are three adventurers in this case.) (G. L. K.)
421.B. h.‘Captian Wederburn,’ “The Old Lady’s Collection,” No 38.
B.
a.
1The lard of Roslie’s doughter was walking on the green,An by came Captain Wederburn, a servant to our king,An he said to his livery-man, Wer it no agenst our laa,I wad take her to my ain bed an lay her neast the waa.
1The lard of Roslie’s doughter was walking on the green,An by came Captain Wederburn, a servant to our king,An he said to his livery-man, Wer it no agenst our laa,I wad take her to my ain bed an lay her neast the waa.
1The lard of Roslie’s doughter was walking on the green,An by came Captain Wederburn, a servant to our king,An he said to his livery-man, Wer it no agenst our laa,I wad take her to my ain bed an lay her neast the waa.
1
The lard of Roslie’s doughter was walking on the green,
An by came Captain Wederburn, a servant to our king,
An he said to his livery-man, Wer it no agenst our laa,
I wad take her to my ain bed an lay her neast the waa.
a.
2‘I am in my father’s garden, walken among my father’s trees,An ye dou latt me walk a whill nou, kind sir, if ye pleas;For the supper-beals they will be rung an I will be mised awa,
2‘I am in my father’s garden, walken among my father’s trees,An ye dou latt me walk a whill nou, kind sir, if ye pleas;For the supper-beals they will be rung an I will be mised awa,
2‘I am in my father’s garden, walken among my father’s trees,An ye dou latt me walk a whill nou, kind sir, if ye pleas;For the supper-beals they will be rung an I will be mised awa,
2
‘I am in my father’s garden, walken among my father’s trees,
An ye dou latt me walk a whill nou, kind sir, if ye pleas;
For the supper-beals they will be rung an I will be mised awa,
a.
43.An my father will ate nae supper gine I be mised awa.’
43.An my father will ate nae supper gine I be mised awa.’
43.An my father will ate nae supper gine I be mised awa.’
43.
An my father will ate nae supper gine I be mised awa.’
a.
6.He lighted off his hors an sett the lady one,. . . . . . . . .
6.He lighted off his hors an sett the lady one,. . . . . . . . .
6.He lighted off his hors an sett the lady one,. . . . . . . . .
6.
He lighted off his hors an sett the lady one,
. . . . . . . . .
A.
a.
61,3.He sett her ahind his livery-man, was leath to latt her faa:
61,3.He sett her ahind his livery-man, was leath to latt her faa:
61,3.He sett her ahind his livery-man, was leath to latt her faa:
61,3.
He sett her ahind his livery-man, was leath to latt her faa:
A.
a.
54.‘We’s baith lay in ae bed, an ye’s lay neast the wa.’
54.‘We’s baith lay in ae bed, an ye’s lay neast the wa.’
54.‘We’s baith lay in ae bed, an ye’s lay neast the wa.’
54.
‘We’s baith lay in ae bed, an ye’s lay neast the wa.’
B.
a.
7Fan they came to his quarter-house, his landl[ad]y came ben:‘Ther is mony bonny lady in Edenbrugh toun,Bat sick a bonny lady is no in it aa;’Says, ‘Lass, mak up a doun-bed, we will lay her nist the waa.’
7Fan they came to his quarter-house, his landl[ad]y came ben:‘Ther is mony bonny lady in Edenbrugh toun,Bat sick a bonny lady is no in it aa;’Says, ‘Lass, mak up a doun-bed, we will lay her nist the waa.’
7Fan they came to his quarter-house, his landl[ad]y came ben:‘Ther is mony bonny lady in Edenbrugh toun,Bat sick a bonny lady is no in it aa;’Says, ‘Lass, mak up a doun-bed, we will lay her nist the waa.’
7
Fan they came to his quarter-house, his landl[ad]y came ben:
‘Ther is mony bonny lady in Edenbrugh toun,
Bat sick a bonny lady is no in it aa;’
Says, ‘Lass, mak up a doun-bed, we will lay her nist the waa.’
a.
8‘Hold yer toung, young man,’ she says, ‘an latt yer folly be;I winnë come to my bed till ye gett to me things three.. . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . .
8‘Hold yer toung, young man,’ she says, ‘an latt yer folly be;I winnë come to my bed till ye gett to me things three.. . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . .
8‘Hold yer toung, young man,’ she says, ‘an latt yer folly be;I winnë come to my bed till ye gett to me things three.. . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . .
8
‘Hold yer toung, young man,’ she says, ‘an latt yer folly be;
I winnë come to my bed till ye gett to me things three.
. . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . .
a.
9‘Ye gett to my supper a cherrey without a ston,An ye gett to my suppeer a chiken without a bone,An ye gett to my super a burd that flayes without a gaa,Or I winnë lay in your bed, nether att stok nor waa.’
9‘Ye gett to my supper a cherrey without a ston,An ye gett to my suppeer a chiken without a bone,An ye gett to my super a burd that flayes without a gaa,Or I winnë lay in your bed, nether att stok nor waa.’
9‘Ye gett to my supper a cherrey without a ston,An ye gett to my suppeer a chiken without a bone,An ye gett to my super a burd that flayes without a gaa,Or I winnë lay in your bed, nether att stok nor waa.’
9
‘Ye gett to my supper a cherrey without a ston,
An ye gett to my suppeer a chiken without a bone,
An ye gett to my super a burd that flayes without a gaa,
Or I winnë lay in your bed, nether att stok nor waa.’
a.
10‘The cherry when it is in the bloum, it is without a ston;The chiken when it is in the egg is without a bon;The dove she is a harmless burd, she flays without a gaa;An we’s baith lay in ae bed, an ye’s lay nist the waa.’
10‘The cherry when it is in the bloum, it is without a ston;The chiken when it is in the egg is without a bon;The dove she is a harmless burd, she flays without a gaa;An we’s baith lay in ae bed, an ye’s lay nist the waa.’
10‘The cherry when it is in the bloum, it is without a ston;The chiken when it is in the egg is without a bon;The dove she is a harmless burd, she flays without a gaa;An we’s baith lay in ae bed, an ye’s lay nist the waa.’
10
‘The cherry when it is in the bloum, it is without a ston;
The chiken when it is in the egg is without a bon;
The dove she is a harmless burd, she flays without a gaa;
An we’s baith lay in ae bed, an ye’s lay nist the waa.’
a.
15‘Hold off yer hands, young man,’ she says, ‘an dou not me perplex;I winnë gae to my bed till ye tell me qustens six;. . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . .
15‘Hold off yer hands, young man,’ she says, ‘an dou not me perplex;I winnë gae to my bed till ye tell me qustens six;. . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . .
15‘Hold off yer hands, young man,’ she says, ‘an dou not me perplex;I winnë gae to my bed till ye tell me qustens six;. . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . .
15
‘Hold off yer hands, young man,’ she says, ‘an dou not me perplex;
I winnë gae to my bed till ye tell me qustens six;
. . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . .
a.
16‘What is greaner nor the grass? what is hig[h]er the[n] the tree?What is war nor woman’s wish? what is deaper nor the sea?What burd sings first? what life buds first, an what dos on it faa?I winnë lay in your bed, nether att stok nor waa.’
16‘What is greaner nor the grass? what is hig[h]er the[n] the tree?What is war nor woman’s wish? what is deaper nor the sea?What burd sings first? what life buds first, an what dos on it faa?I winnë lay in your bed, nether att stok nor waa.’
16‘What is greaner nor the grass? what is hig[h]er the[n] the tree?What is war nor woman’s wish? what is deaper nor the sea?What burd sings first? what life buds first, an what dos on it faa?I winnë lay in your bed, nether att stok nor waa.’
16
‘What is greaner nor the grass? what is hig[h]er the[n] the tree?
What is war nor woman’s wish? what is deaper nor the sea?
What burd sings first? what life buds first, an what dos on it faa?
I winnë lay in your bed, nether att stok nor waa.’
a.
17‘Death is greaner nor the grass; heaven is higher nor the tree;The devill is war nor woman’s wish; hell is deaper nor the sea;The coke crous first; the suderen wood springs first, the due dos on it faa;An we’s baith lay in ae bed, an ye’s lay neast the waa.’
17‘Death is greaner nor the grass; heaven is higher nor the tree;The devill is war nor woman’s wish; hell is deaper nor the sea;The coke crous first; the suderen wood springs first, the due dos on it faa;An we’s baith lay in ae bed, an ye’s lay neast the waa.’
17‘Death is greaner nor the grass; heaven is higher nor the tree;The devill is war nor woman’s wish; hell is deaper nor the sea;The coke crous first; the suderen wood springs first, the due dos on it faa;An we’s baith lay in ae bed, an ye’s lay neast the waa.’
17
‘Death is greaner nor the grass; heaven is higher nor the tree;
The devill is war nor woman’s wish; hell is deaper nor the sea;
The coke crous first; the suderen wood springs first, the due dos on it faa;
An we’s baith lay in ae bed, an ye’s lay neast the waa.’
a.
11‘Hold off yer hands, young man,’ she says, ‘an yer folly gie our,I winne come to your bed till ye gett to me things four;. . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . .
11‘Hold off yer hands, young man,’ she says, ‘an yer folly gie our,I winne come to your bed till ye gett to me things four;. . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . .
11‘Hold off yer hands, young man,’ she says, ‘an yer folly gie our,I winne come to your bed till ye gett to me things four;. . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . .
11
‘Hold off yer hands, young man,’ she says, ‘an yer folly gie our,
I winne come to your bed till ye gett to me things four;
. . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . .
a.
12‘Ye gett to me a cherry that in December grou;Leguays a fine silk mantell that waft gad never throu;A sparrou’s horn, a prist unborn, this night to join us tua;Or I winnë lay in your bed, nether att stok nor waa.’
12‘Ye gett to me a cherry that in December grou;Leguays a fine silk mantell that waft gad never throu;A sparrou’s horn, a prist unborn, this night to join us tua;Or I winnë lay in your bed, nether att stok nor waa.’
12‘Ye gett to me a cherry that in December grou;Leguays a fine silk mantell that waft gad never throu;A sparrou’s horn, a prist unborn, this night to join us tua;Or I winnë lay in your bed, nether att stok nor waa.’
12
‘Ye gett to me a cherry that in December grou;
Leguays a fine silk mantell that waft gad never throu;
A sparrou’s horn, a prist unborn, this night to join us tua;
Or I winnë lay in your bed, nether att stok nor waa.’
a.
13‘Ther is a hote-bed in my father’s garden wher winter chirrys grou,Lequays a fine silk mantell in his closet which waft never gaid throu;. . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . .
13‘Ther is a hote-bed in my father’s garden wher winter chirrys grou,Lequays a fine silk mantell in his closet which waft never gaid throu;. . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . .
13‘Ther is a hote-bed in my father’s garden wher winter chirrys grou,Lequays a fine silk mantell in his closet which waft never gaid throu;. . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . .
13
‘Ther is a hote-bed in my father’s garden wher winter chirrys grou,
Lequays a fine silk mantell in his closet which waft never gaid throu;
. . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . .
a.
14‘Ther is a prist nou att the dore, just ready to come in,An never one could say he was born,For ther was a holl cut out of his mother’s side, an out of it he did faa;An we’s baith lay in ae bed, an ye’s lay nist the waa.’
14‘Ther is a prist nou att the dore, just ready to come in,An never one could say he was born,For ther was a holl cut out of his mother’s side, an out of it he did faa;An we’s baith lay in ae bed, an ye’s lay nist the waa.’
14‘Ther is a prist nou att the dore, just ready to come in,An never one could say he was born,For ther was a holl cut out of his mother’s side, an out of it he did faa;An we’s baith lay in ae bed, an ye’s lay nist the waa.’
14
‘Ther is a prist nou att the dore, just ready to come in,
An never one could say he was born,
For ther was a holl cut out of his mother’s side, an out of it he did faa;
An we’s baith lay in ae bed, an ye’s lay nist the waa.’
a.
18Littel kent the lassie in the morning fan she raiseThat wad be the last of a’ her maiden days;For nou she is marrëd to Captian Wederburn, that afore she never saa,An they baith lay in ae bed, an she lays nest the waa.
18Littel kent the lassie in the morning fan she raiseThat wad be the last of a’ her maiden days;For nou she is marrëd to Captian Wederburn, that afore she never saa,An they baith lay in ae bed, an she lays nest the waa.
18Littel kent the lassie in the morning fan she raiseThat wad be the last of a’ her maiden days;For nou she is marrëd to Captian Wederburn, that afore she never saa,An they baith lay in ae bed, an she lays nest the waa.
18
Littel kent the lassie in the morning fan she raise
That wad be the last of a’ her maiden days;
For nou she is marrëd to Captian Wederburn, that afore she never saa,
An they baith lay in ae bed, an she lays nest the waa.
74. Lays, Lass.101. bloun.121. grous.
74. Lays, Lass.
101. bloun.
121. grous.
P. 436 a, 3d paragraph. It ought to have been remarked that it was a William Somerville that killed John. The names being the same as in the ballad, “unusually gratuitous” is not warranted.
438.Awas derived by Sharpe from Elizabeth Kerry. The original copy was not all written at one time, but may have been written by one person. The first and the last stanza, and some corrections, are in the same hand as a letter which accompanied the ballad. The paper has a watermark of 1817. A few trifling differences in the MS. may be noted:
11. twa.12. school (Note.“I have heard it called the Chase”): the githar.14. a far.21. wrestled.44. And.51. brother.63. both.72, 82, 92. ShouldforGin.81. what shall.101. Butwanting.103. in fair Kirkland. (Letter.“I remembered a fair Kirk something, and Kirkland it must have been.”)104. againwanting.
11. twa.
12. school (Note.“I have heard it called the Chase”): the githar.
14. a far.
21. wrestled.
44. And.
51. brother.
63. both.
72, 82, 92. ShouldforGin.
81. what shall.
101. Butwanting.
103. in fair Kirkland. (Letter.“I remembered a fair Kirk something, and Kirkland it must have been.”)
104. againwanting.
‘Perthshire Tredgey.’ From a copy formerly in the possession of Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe. This fragment has some resemblances toF.“Copied 1823” is endorsed on the sheet (in the hand which made an insertion in st. 11) and crossed out.
1Two pretty boys lived in the North,The went to the school so rare;The one unto the other said,We’ll try some battle of war.2The worselaid up, the worselaid down,Till John lay on the ground;A pen-knife out of William’s pocketGave John a deadly wound.3‘O is it for my gold?’ he said,‘Or for my rich monie?Or is it for my land sa broad,That you have killed me?’4‘It’s neither for your gold,’ he said,‘Or for your rich monie,But it is for your land sa broadThat I have killed thee.’5‘You’ll take [me] up upon your back,Carry me to Wastlen kirk-yard;You’ill houk a hole large and deep,And lay my body there.6‘You’ll put a good stone ou my head,Another at my feet,A good green turf upon my breast,That the sounder I m[a]y sleep.7‘And if my father chance to askWhat’s come of your brother John,. . . . . . .. . . . . . .* * * * * *8‘What blood is this upon your coat?I pray come tell to me;’‘It is the blood of my grey hound,It would not run for me.’9‘The blood of your greyhound was near so red,I pray come tell to me;’‘It is the blood of my black horse,It would not hunt for me.’10‘The blood of your black horse was near so red,I pray come tell to me;’‘It is the blood of my brother John,Since better canna be.’* * * * * *11He put his foot upon a ship,Saying, I am gane our the sea;‘O when will you come back again,I pray come tell to me.’12‘When the sun and the moon passes over the broom,That[’s] the day you’ll never see.’
1Two pretty boys lived in the North,The went to the school so rare;The one unto the other said,We’ll try some battle of war.2The worselaid up, the worselaid down,Till John lay on the ground;A pen-knife out of William’s pocketGave John a deadly wound.3‘O is it for my gold?’ he said,‘Or for my rich monie?Or is it for my land sa broad,That you have killed me?’4‘It’s neither for your gold,’ he said,‘Or for your rich monie,But it is for your land sa broadThat I have killed thee.’5‘You’ll take [me] up upon your back,Carry me to Wastlen kirk-yard;You’ill houk a hole large and deep,And lay my body there.6‘You’ll put a good stone ou my head,Another at my feet,A good green turf upon my breast,That the sounder I m[a]y sleep.7‘And if my father chance to askWhat’s come of your brother John,. . . . . . .. . . . . . .* * * * * *8‘What blood is this upon your coat?I pray come tell to me;’‘It is the blood of my grey hound,It would not run for me.’9‘The blood of your greyhound was near so red,I pray come tell to me;’‘It is the blood of my black horse,It would not hunt for me.’10‘The blood of your black horse was near so red,I pray come tell to me;’‘It is the blood of my brother John,Since better canna be.’* * * * * *11He put his foot upon a ship,Saying, I am gane our the sea;‘O when will you come back again,I pray come tell to me.’12‘When the sun and the moon passes over the broom,That[’s] the day you’ll never see.’
1Two pretty boys lived in the North,The went to the school so rare;The one unto the other said,We’ll try some battle of war.
1
Two pretty boys lived in the North,
The went to the school so rare;
The one unto the other said,
We’ll try some battle of war.
2The worselaid up, the worselaid down,Till John lay on the ground;A pen-knife out of William’s pocketGave John a deadly wound.
2
The worselaid up, the worselaid down,
Till John lay on the ground;
A pen-knife out of William’s pocket
Gave John a deadly wound.
3‘O is it for my gold?’ he said,‘Or for my rich monie?Or is it for my land sa broad,That you have killed me?’
3
‘O is it for my gold?’ he said,
‘Or for my rich monie?
Or is it for my land sa broad,
That you have killed me?’
4‘It’s neither for your gold,’ he said,‘Or for your rich monie,But it is for your land sa broadThat I have killed thee.’
4
‘It’s neither for your gold,’ he said,
‘Or for your rich monie,
But it is for your land sa broad
That I have killed thee.’
5‘You’ll take [me] up upon your back,Carry me to Wastlen kirk-yard;You’ill houk a hole large and deep,And lay my body there.
5
‘You’ll take [me] up upon your back,
Carry me to Wastlen kirk-yard;
You’ill houk a hole large and deep,
And lay my body there.
6‘You’ll put a good stone ou my head,Another at my feet,A good green turf upon my breast,That the sounder I m[a]y sleep.
6
‘You’ll put a good stone ou my head,
Another at my feet,
A good green turf upon my breast,
That the sounder I m[a]y sleep.
7‘And if my father chance to askWhat’s come of your brother John,. . . . . . .. . . . . . .
7
‘And if my father chance to ask
What’s come of your brother John,
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
* * * * * *
* * * * * *
8‘What blood is this upon your coat?I pray come tell to me;’‘It is the blood of my grey hound,It would not run for me.’
8
‘What blood is this upon your coat?
I pray come tell to me;’
‘It is the blood of my grey hound,
It would not run for me.’
9‘The blood of your greyhound was near so red,I pray come tell to me;’‘It is the blood of my black horse,It would not hunt for me.’
9
‘The blood of your greyhound was near so red,
I pray come tell to me;’
‘It is the blood of my black horse,
It would not hunt for me.’
10‘The blood of your black horse was near so red,I pray come tell to me;’‘It is the blood of my brother John,Since better canna be.’
10
‘The blood of your black horse was near so red,
I pray come tell to me;’
‘It is the blood of my brother John,
Since better canna be.’
* * * * * *
* * * * * *
11He put his foot upon a ship,Saying, I am gane our the sea;‘O when will you come back again,I pray come tell to me.’
11
He put his foot upon a ship,
Saying, I am gane our the sea;
‘O when will you come back again,
I pray come tell to me.’
12‘When the sun and the moon passes over the broom,That[’s] the day you’ll never see.’
12
‘When the sun and the moon passes over the broom,
That[’s] the day you’ll never see.’