21. worse laid,misheard forwarseled.33. lands abroadforland sae broad (misheard).41.Afteryour, laand half of ann, lancaught from33.43. land abroad.The reciter, or more probably the transcriber, has become confirmed in the error made in 33.113. comeinserted in a different hand.113,4should probably be the first half of stanza 12.
21. worse laid,misheard forwarseled.
33. lands abroadforland sae broad (misheard).
41.Afteryour, laand half of ann, lancaught from33.
43. land abroad.The reciter, or more probably the transcriber, has become confirmed in the error made in 33.
113. comeinserted in a different hand.
113,4should probably be the first half of stanza 12.
P. 444 a. Motherwell MS., p. 485, professes to copy the ballad from Herd’s MS. by way of supplying the stanzas wanting in Scott. There are, however, in Motherwell’s transcript considerable deviations from Herd, a fact which I am unable to understand.
P. 454. ‘Lord Beichim,’ Findlay’s MSS, I, 1, from Jeanie Meldrum, Framedrum, Forfarshire, has these verses, found inGand in Spanish and Italian ballads.
(“She meets a shepherd and addresses him.”)
‘Whas are a’thae flocks o sheep?And whas are a’thae droves o kye?And whas are a’thae statelie mansions,That are in the way that I passd bye?’‘O these are a’Lord Beichim’s sheep,And these are a’Lord Beichim’s kye,And these are a’Lord Beichim’s castles,That are in the way that ye passd bye.’
‘Whas are a’thae flocks o sheep?And whas are a’thae droves o kye?And whas are a’thae statelie mansions,That are in the way that I passd bye?’‘O these are a’Lord Beichim’s sheep,And these are a’Lord Beichim’s kye,And these are a’Lord Beichim’s castles,That are in the way that ye passd bye.’
‘Whas are a’thae flocks o sheep?And whas are a’thae droves o kye?And whas are a’thae statelie mansions,That are in the way that I passd bye?’
‘Whas are a’thae flocks o sheep?
And whas are a’thae droves o kye?
And whas are a’thae statelie mansions,
That are in the way that I passd bye?’
‘O these are a’Lord Beichim’s sheep,And these are a’Lord Beichim’s kye,And these are a’Lord Beichim’s castles,That are in the way that ye passd bye.’
‘O these are a’Lord Beichim’s sheep,
And these are a’Lord Beichim’s kye,
And these are a’Lord Beichim’s castles,
That are in the way that ye passd bye.’
There are three or four stanzas more, but they resemble the English vulgar broadsides. There must have been a printed copy in circulation in Scotland which has not been recovered.
468.Dis now given as it stands in “The Old Lady’s Collection,” from which it was copied by Skene: ‘Young Beachen,’ No. 14.
1Young Beachen as born in fair London,An foiren lands he langed to see,An he was tean by the savage Mour,An they used him mast cruely.2Throu his shoulder they patt a bore,An throu the bore they patt a tree,An they made him tralle ther ousen-carts,An they used him most cruelly.3The savige More had ae doughter,I wat her name was Susan Pay,An she is to the prison-houseTo hear the prisenor’s mone.4He made na his mone to a stok,He made it no to a ston,But it was to the Quin of Heaven,That he made his mone.5‘Gine a lady wad borrou me,Att her foot I wad rune,An a widdou wad borrou me,I wad becom her sone.6‘Bat an a maid wad borrou me,I wad wed her we a ring,I wad make her lady of haas an bours,An of the high tours of Line.’7‘Sing our yer sang, Young Bichen,’ she says,‘Sing our yer sang to me;’‘I never sang that sang, lady,Bat fat I wad sing to ye.8‘An a lady wad borrou me,Att her foot I wad rune,An a widdou wad borrou me,I wad becom her son.9‘Bat an a maid wad borrou me,I wad wed her we a ring,I wad mak her lady of haas an bours,An of the high tours of Line.’10Saftly gaid she but,An saftly gaid she ben;It was na for want of hose nor shone,Nor time to pit them on.11. . . . . . . .. . . . . . . .An she has stoun the kees of the prison,An latten Young Beachen gang.12She gae him a lofe of her whit bread,An a bottel of her wine,She bad him mind on the leady’s loveThat fread him out of pine.13She gae him a stead was gued in time of nead,A sadle of the bone,Five hundred poun in his poket,Bad him gae speading home.14An a lish of gued gray honds,. . . . . . .. . . . . . .. . . . . . .15Fan seven lang year wer come an gane,Shusie Pay thought lang,An she is on to fair London,As fast as she could gang.16Fan she came to Young Beachen’s gate,. . . . . . . .‘Is Young Beachen att home,Or is he in this country?’17‘He is att home,[H]is bearly bride him we;’Sighan says her Susë Pay,‘Was he quit forgoten me?’18On every finger she had a ring,An on the middel finger three;She gave the porter on of them,‘Gett a word of your lord to me.’19He gaed up the stare,Fell lau doun on his knee:‘Win up, my proud porter,What is your will we [me]?’20‘I ha ben porter att your gateThis therty year an three;The fairest lady is att yer gateMine eays did ever see.’21Out spak the brid’s mother,An a haghty woman was she;‘If ye had not excepted the bonny brid,Ye might well ha excepted me.’22‘No desparegment to you, madam,Nor non to her grace;The sol of yon lady’s footIs fairer then yer face.’23He’s geen the table we his foot,An caped it we his knee:‘I wad my head an a’my landIt’s Susie Pay come over the sea.’24The stare was therty steps,I wat he made them three;He toke her in his arms tua,‘Susie Pay, y’er welcom to me!’25‘Gie me a shive of your whit bread,An a bottel of your wine;Dinner ye mind on the lady’s loveThat freed ye out of pine?’26He took herDoun to yon garden green,An changed her name fra Shusie Pay,An called her bonny Lady Jean.27‘Yer daughter came hear on high hors-back,She sall gae hame in coaches three,An I sall dubel her tocher our,She is nean the war of me.’28‘It’s na the fashon of our country,Nor yet of our name,To wed a may in the morningAn send her hame att none.’29‘It’s na the fashon of my country,Nor of my name,Bat I man mind on the lady’s loveThat freed me out of pine.’
1Young Beachen as born in fair London,An foiren lands he langed to see,An he was tean by the savage Mour,An they used him mast cruely.2Throu his shoulder they patt a bore,An throu the bore they patt a tree,An they made him tralle ther ousen-carts,An they used him most cruelly.3The savige More had ae doughter,I wat her name was Susan Pay,An she is to the prison-houseTo hear the prisenor’s mone.4He made na his mone to a stok,He made it no to a ston,But it was to the Quin of Heaven,That he made his mone.5‘Gine a lady wad borrou me,Att her foot I wad rune,An a widdou wad borrou me,I wad becom her sone.6‘Bat an a maid wad borrou me,I wad wed her we a ring,I wad make her lady of haas an bours,An of the high tours of Line.’7‘Sing our yer sang, Young Bichen,’ she says,‘Sing our yer sang to me;’‘I never sang that sang, lady,Bat fat I wad sing to ye.8‘An a lady wad borrou me,Att her foot I wad rune,An a widdou wad borrou me,I wad becom her son.9‘Bat an a maid wad borrou me,I wad wed her we a ring,I wad mak her lady of haas an bours,An of the high tours of Line.’10Saftly gaid she but,An saftly gaid she ben;It was na for want of hose nor shone,Nor time to pit them on.11. . . . . . . .. . . . . . . .An she has stoun the kees of the prison,An latten Young Beachen gang.12She gae him a lofe of her whit bread,An a bottel of her wine,She bad him mind on the leady’s loveThat fread him out of pine.13She gae him a stead was gued in time of nead,A sadle of the bone,Five hundred poun in his poket,Bad him gae speading home.14An a lish of gued gray honds,. . . . . . .. . . . . . .. . . . . . .15Fan seven lang year wer come an gane,Shusie Pay thought lang,An she is on to fair London,As fast as she could gang.16Fan she came to Young Beachen’s gate,. . . . . . . .‘Is Young Beachen att home,Or is he in this country?’17‘He is att home,[H]is bearly bride him we;’Sighan says her Susë Pay,‘Was he quit forgoten me?’18On every finger she had a ring,An on the middel finger three;She gave the porter on of them,‘Gett a word of your lord to me.’19He gaed up the stare,Fell lau doun on his knee:‘Win up, my proud porter,What is your will we [me]?’20‘I ha ben porter att your gateThis therty year an three;The fairest lady is att yer gateMine eays did ever see.’21Out spak the brid’s mother,An a haghty woman was she;‘If ye had not excepted the bonny brid,Ye might well ha excepted me.’22‘No desparegment to you, madam,Nor non to her grace;The sol of yon lady’s footIs fairer then yer face.’23He’s geen the table we his foot,An caped it we his knee:‘I wad my head an a’my landIt’s Susie Pay come over the sea.’24The stare was therty steps,I wat he made them three;He toke her in his arms tua,‘Susie Pay, y’er welcom to me!’25‘Gie me a shive of your whit bread,An a bottel of your wine;Dinner ye mind on the lady’s loveThat freed ye out of pine?’26He took herDoun to yon garden green,An changed her name fra Shusie Pay,An called her bonny Lady Jean.27‘Yer daughter came hear on high hors-back,She sall gae hame in coaches three,An I sall dubel her tocher our,She is nean the war of me.’28‘It’s na the fashon of our country,Nor yet of our name,To wed a may in the morningAn send her hame att none.’29‘It’s na the fashon of my country,Nor of my name,Bat I man mind on the lady’s loveThat freed me out of pine.’
1Young Beachen as born in fair London,An foiren lands he langed to see,An he was tean by the savage Mour,An they used him mast cruely.
1
Young Beachen as born in fair London,
An foiren lands he langed to see,
An he was tean by the savage Mour,
An they used him mast cruely.
2Throu his shoulder they patt a bore,An throu the bore they patt a tree,An they made him tralle ther ousen-carts,An they used him most cruelly.
2
Throu his shoulder they patt a bore,
An throu the bore they patt a tree,
An they made him tralle ther ousen-carts,
An they used him most cruelly.
3The savige More had ae doughter,I wat her name was Susan Pay,An she is to the prison-houseTo hear the prisenor’s mone.
3
The savige More had ae doughter,
I wat her name was Susan Pay,
An she is to the prison-house
To hear the prisenor’s mone.
4He made na his mone to a stok,He made it no to a ston,But it was to the Quin of Heaven,That he made his mone.
4
He made na his mone to a stok,
He made it no to a ston,
But it was to the Quin of Heaven,
That he made his mone.
5‘Gine a lady wad borrou me,Att her foot I wad rune,An a widdou wad borrou me,I wad becom her sone.
5
‘Gine a lady wad borrou me,
Att her foot I wad rune,
An a widdou wad borrou me,
I wad becom her sone.
6‘Bat an a maid wad borrou me,I wad wed her we a ring,I wad make her lady of haas an bours,An of the high tours of Line.’
6
‘Bat an a maid wad borrou me,
I wad wed her we a ring,
I wad make her lady of haas an bours,
An of the high tours of Line.’
7‘Sing our yer sang, Young Bichen,’ she says,‘Sing our yer sang to me;’‘I never sang that sang, lady,Bat fat I wad sing to ye.
7
‘Sing our yer sang, Young Bichen,’ she says,
‘Sing our yer sang to me;’
‘I never sang that sang, lady,
Bat fat I wad sing to ye.
8‘An a lady wad borrou me,Att her foot I wad rune,An a widdou wad borrou me,I wad becom her son.
8
‘An a lady wad borrou me,
Att her foot I wad rune,
An a widdou wad borrou me,
I wad becom her son.
9‘Bat an a maid wad borrou me,I wad wed her we a ring,I wad mak her lady of haas an bours,An of the high tours of Line.’
9
‘Bat an a maid wad borrou me,
I wad wed her we a ring,
I wad mak her lady of haas an bours,
An of the high tours of Line.’
10Saftly gaid she but,An saftly gaid she ben;It was na for want of hose nor shone,Nor time to pit them on.
10
Saftly gaid she but,
An saftly gaid she ben;
It was na for want of hose nor shone,
Nor time to pit them on.
11. . . . . . . .. . . . . . . .An she has stoun the kees of the prison,An latten Young Beachen gang.
11
. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .
An she has stoun the kees of the prison,
An latten Young Beachen gang.
12She gae him a lofe of her whit bread,An a bottel of her wine,She bad him mind on the leady’s loveThat fread him out of pine.
12
She gae him a lofe of her whit bread,
An a bottel of her wine,
She bad him mind on the leady’s love
That fread him out of pine.
13She gae him a stead was gued in time of nead,A sadle of the bone,Five hundred poun in his poket,Bad him gae speading home.
13
She gae him a stead was gued in time of nead,
A sadle of the bone,
Five hundred poun in his poket,
Bad him gae speading home.
14An a lish of gued gray honds,. . . . . . .. . . . . . .. . . . . . .
14
An a lish of gued gray honds,
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
15Fan seven lang year wer come an gane,Shusie Pay thought lang,An she is on to fair London,As fast as she could gang.
15
Fan seven lang year wer come an gane,
Shusie Pay thought lang,
An she is on to fair London,
As fast as she could gang.
16Fan she came to Young Beachen’s gate,. . . . . . . .‘Is Young Beachen att home,Or is he in this country?’
16
Fan she came to Young Beachen’s gate,
. . . . . . . .
‘Is Young Beachen att home,
Or is he in this country?’
17‘He is att home,[H]is bearly bride him we;’Sighan says her Susë Pay,‘Was he quit forgoten me?’
17
‘He is att home,
[H]is bearly bride him we;’
Sighan says her Susë Pay,
‘Was he quit forgoten me?’
18On every finger she had a ring,An on the middel finger three;She gave the porter on of them,‘Gett a word of your lord to me.’
18
On every finger she had a ring,
An on the middel finger three;
She gave the porter on of them,
‘Gett a word of your lord to me.’
19He gaed up the stare,Fell lau doun on his knee:‘Win up, my proud porter,What is your will we [me]?’
19
He gaed up the stare,
Fell lau doun on his knee:
‘Win up, my proud porter,
What is your will we [me]?’
20‘I ha ben porter att your gateThis therty year an three;The fairest lady is att yer gateMine eays did ever see.’
20
‘I ha ben porter att your gate
This therty year an three;
The fairest lady is att yer gate
Mine eays did ever see.’
21Out spak the brid’s mother,An a haghty woman was she;‘If ye had not excepted the bonny brid,Ye might well ha excepted me.’
21
Out spak the brid’s mother,
An a haghty woman was she;
‘If ye had not excepted the bonny brid,
Ye might well ha excepted me.’
22‘No desparegment to you, madam,Nor non to her grace;The sol of yon lady’s footIs fairer then yer face.’
22
‘No desparegment to you, madam,
Nor non to her grace;
The sol of yon lady’s foot
Is fairer then yer face.’
23He’s geen the table we his foot,An caped it we his knee:‘I wad my head an a’my landIt’s Susie Pay come over the sea.’
23
He’s geen the table we his foot,
An caped it we his knee:
‘I wad my head an a’my land
It’s Susie Pay come over the sea.’
24The stare was therty steps,I wat he made them three;He toke her in his arms tua,‘Susie Pay, y’er welcom to me!’
24
The stare was therty steps,
I wat he made them three;
He toke her in his arms tua,
‘Susie Pay, y’er welcom to me!’
25‘Gie me a shive of your whit bread,An a bottel of your wine;Dinner ye mind on the lady’s loveThat freed ye out of pine?’
25
‘Gie me a shive of your whit bread,
An a bottel of your wine;
Dinner ye mind on the lady’s love
That freed ye out of pine?’
26He took herDoun to yon garden green,An changed her name fra Shusie Pay,An called her bonny Lady Jean.
26
He took her
Doun to yon garden green,
An changed her name fra Shusie Pay,
An called her bonny Lady Jean.
27‘Yer daughter came hear on high hors-back,She sall gae hame in coaches three,An I sall dubel her tocher our,She is nean the war of me.’
27
‘Yer daughter came hear on high hors-back,
She sall gae hame in coaches three,
An I sall dubel her tocher our,
She is nean the war of me.’
28‘It’s na the fashon of our country,Nor yet of our name,To wed a may in the morningAn send her hame att none.’
28
‘It’s na the fashon of our country,
Nor yet of our name,
To wed a may in the morning
An send her hame att none.’
29‘It’s na the fashon of my country,Nor of my name,Bat I man mind on the lady’s loveThat freed me out of pine.’
29
‘It’s na the fashon of my country,
Nor of my name,
Bat I man mind on the lady’s love
That freed me out of pine.’
52. I att her foot I:cf.82.93. tours:cf.63.134. spending.173. Sigh an.182. niddel.After29:
52. I att her foot I:cf.82.
93. tours:cf.63.
134. spending.
173. Sigh an.
182. niddel.
After29:
Courtes kind an generse mind,An winne ye ansur me?An fan they hard ther lady’s word,Well ansuared was she.
Courtes kind an generse mind,An winne ye ansur me?An fan they hard ther lady’s word,Well ansuared was she.
Courtes kind an generse mind,An winne ye ansur me?An fan they hard ther lady’s word,Well ansuared was she.
Courtes kind an generse mind,
An winne ye ansur me?
An fan they hard ther lady’s word,
Well ansuared was she.
P. 476, II, 508.L.For the modern vulgar ballad, Catnach’s is a better copy than that of Pitts. See Kidson, Traditional Tunes, p. 34, for Catnach.
P. 1 b. (Apple tree.) Chanson de la Corrèze, Mélusine, VI, 40.
P. 7. The Sower: La Tradition, VII, 312.
P. 10 b, IV, 462 b. ‘Lazare et le mauvais riche,’ L’Abbé Durdy, Anthologie pop. de l’Albret, Poésies gasconnes, p. 6.
Esthonian, Hurt, Vana Kannel, II, 210, No 296.
P. 13 b, IV, 463 a.Danish.‘Sejladsen,’ Kristensen, Efterslæt til Skattegraveren, p. 22, No 18, p. 161 ff., Nos 116, 117; Folkeminder, XI, 148, No 57.
15 b. For Sadko, see Vesselofsky in Archiv für slavische Philologie, IX, 282.
P. 17. Among Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe’s papers there is a copy of this ballad, which, from its being entirely in Sharpe’s hand excepting the first line, we may suppose to have been intended as a reply to some person who had inquired for a ballad so beginning. This copy is mainly compounded, with a word altered here and there, fromD(which Sharpe gave Motherwell), ten stanzas ofH, and two resemblingL2, 3. The Sir Andrew Wood ofDis changed to Sir Patrick Spens, and there is this one stanza which I have not observed to occur elsewhere, followingD7, orH21:
O laith, laith war our gude Scots lordsTo weet their silken sarks,But lang or a’ the play was playdThe weet gade to their hearts.
O laith, laith war our gude Scots lordsTo weet their silken sarks,But lang or a’ the play was playdThe weet gade to their hearts.
O laith, laith war our gude Scots lordsTo weet their silken sarks,But lang or a’ the play was playdThe weet gade to their hearts.
O laith, laith war our gude Scots lords
To weet their silken sarks,
But lang or a’ the play was playd
The weet gade to their hearts.
P. 65 a.Danish.‘Skjön Anna,’ Kristensen, Folkeminder, XI, 91, No 92.
P. 83. ‘Fair Ellen,’ from “The Old Lady’s Collection,” No 30, a version resemblingJ.The first two stanzas belong to ‘Glasgerion;’ compare No 67,C, 1, 2, II, 140.
1Willie was a harper guid,He was a harper fine;He harped the burds out of the tree,The fish out of the flood,The milk out of a woman’s bristThat bab had never nean.2He harped out, an he harped in,Till he harped them a’ aslep,Unless it was her Fair Elen,An she stood on her feett.3Willie stod in stabile dor,He said he wad ride,. . . . . .. . . . . .4‘Na women mane gae we me, Hellen,Na women mane gaie we meBat them that will saddle my hors,An bridell my steed,An elky toun that I come toA lish of hons mane lead.’5‘I will saddle yer hors, Willie,An I will bridel yer steed,An elky toun att we come tellA leash of honds will lead.’6‘The dogs sall eat the gued fite bread,An ye the douë pran,An ye sall bliss, an na curse,That ever ye lied a man.’7‘The dogs sall eat the whit bread,An me the douë pran,An I will bliss, an na curs,That ear I loved a man.’8She has saddled his hors,An she has bridled his stead,An ealky toun att they came throuA lish of honds did lead.9The dogs did eatt the whit bread,An her the douey pran,An she did bliss, an she did na curs,That ever she loyed a man.10Fan they came to yon wan waterThat a’ man caas Clayd,He louked over his left shoder,Says, Ellen, will ye ride?11‘I learned it in my medder’s bour,I wiss I had learned it better,Fan I came to wane waterTo sume as dos the otter.12‘I learned in my midder’s bour,I watt I learned it well,Fan I came to wan water,To sume as dos the ell.’13. . . . . . . .. . . . . . . .Or the knight was in the middell of the water,The lady was in the eather side.14She leaned her back to a stane,Gaa a call opon:‘O my back is right sore,An I sae farr frae hame!15‘Hou monny mill ha ye to rid,An hou mony I to rine?’‘Fifty mill ha I to rid,Fifty you to rine,An by that time I dou suposYe will be a dead woman.’16Out spak a bonny burd,Sate on yon tree,‘Gaa on, fair Ellen,Ye ha scarcly milles three.’17Four-an-tuenty bony ladysMett Willie in the closs,Bat the fairest lady among them a’Took Willie frae his horse.18Four-an-tuenty bonny ladysLead Willie to the table,Bat the fairest lady among them a’Led his hors to the stable.19She leaned betuen the gray folle an the waa,An gae a call opon;‘O my back is fue sore,An I sae far fra home!20‘Fan I was in my father’s bour,I ware goud to my hell;Bat nou I am among Willie’s hors feet,An the call it will me kell.21‘Fan I was in my midder’s bourI wear goud to my head;Bat nou I am among Willie’s hors feet,And the calle will be my dead.’22‘Fatten a heavey horse-boy, my son Willie,Is this ye ha brought to me?Some times he grous read, read,An some times paill an wane;He louks just leak a woman we bairn,An no weis es leak a man.’23‘Gett up, my heavey hors-boy,Gie my hors corn an hay;’‘By my soth,’ says her Fair Ellen,‘Bat as fast as I may.’24‘I dreamed a dream san the straine,Gued read a’ dreams to gued!I dreamed my stable-dor was opnedAn stoun was my best steed.Ye gae, my sister,An see if the dream be gued.’25. . . . . . .. . . . . . .She thought she hard a baby greet,Bat an a lady mone.26. . . . . . .. . . . . . .‘I think I hard a baby greet,Bat an a lady mone.’27‘A askend, Willie,’ she says,‘An ye man grant it me;The warst room in a’ yer houseTo your young son an me.’28[‘Ask on, Fair Ellen,Ye’r sure yer asken is free;]The best room in a’ my houseTo yer young son an ye.’29‘[A] asken, Willie,’ she sayes,‘An ye will grant it me;The smallest bear in yer houseTo [yer] young son an me.’30‘Ask on, Fair Ellen,Ye’r sure your asken is free;The best bear in my house[To yer young son an ye.]31‘The best bear in my houseIs the black bear an the wine,An yesall haa that, Fair Ellen,To you an yer young son.’32‘[A] askent, Willie,’ she says,‘An ye will grant [it] me;The warst maid in yer houseTo wait on yer young son an me.’33‘The best maid in my houseIs my sister Meggie,An ye sall ha her, Fair Ellen,To wait on yer young son an ye.34‘Chire up, Fair Ellen,Chire up, gin ye may;Yer kirking an yer fair wedingSail baith stand in ae day.’
1Willie was a harper guid,He was a harper fine;He harped the burds out of the tree,The fish out of the flood,The milk out of a woman’s bristThat bab had never nean.2He harped out, an he harped in,Till he harped them a’ aslep,Unless it was her Fair Elen,An she stood on her feett.3Willie stod in stabile dor,He said he wad ride,. . . . . .. . . . . .4‘Na women mane gae we me, Hellen,Na women mane gaie we meBat them that will saddle my hors,An bridell my steed,An elky toun that I come toA lish of hons mane lead.’5‘I will saddle yer hors, Willie,An I will bridel yer steed,An elky toun att we come tellA leash of honds will lead.’6‘The dogs sall eat the gued fite bread,An ye the douë pran,An ye sall bliss, an na curse,That ever ye lied a man.’7‘The dogs sall eat the whit bread,An me the douë pran,An I will bliss, an na curs,That ear I loved a man.’8She has saddled his hors,An she has bridled his stead,An ealky toun att they came throuA lish of honds did lead.9The dogs did eatt the whit bread,An her the douey pran,An she did bliss, an she did na curs,That ever she loyed a man.10Fan they came to yon wan waterThat a’ man caas Clayd,He louked over his left shoder,Says, Ellen, will ye ride?11‘I learned it in my medder’s bour,I wiss I had learned it better,Fan I came to wane waterTo sume as dos the otter.12‘I learned in my midder’s bour,I watt I learned it well,Fan I came to wan water,To sume as dos the ell.’13. . . . . . . .. . . . . . . .Or the knight was in the middell of the water,The lady was in the eather side.14She leaned her back to a stane,Gaa a call opon:‘O my back is right sore,An I sae farr frae hame!15‘Hou monny mill ha ye to rid,An hou mony I to rine?’‘Fifty mill ha I to rid,Fifty you to rine,An by that time I dou suposYe will be a dead woman.’16Out spak a bonny burd,Sate on yon tree,‘Gaa on, fair Ellen,Ye ha scarcly milles three.’17Four-an-tuenty bony ladysMett Willie in the closs,Bat the fairest lady among them a’Took Willie frae his horse.18Four-an-tuenty bonny ladysLead Willie to the table,Bat the fairest lady among them a’Led his hors to the stable.19She leaned betuen the gray folle an the waa,An gae a call opon;‘O my back is fue sore,An I sae far fra home!20‘Fan I was in my father’s bour,I ware goud to my hell;Bat nou I am among Willie’s hors feet,An the call it will me kell.21‘Fan I was in my midder’s bourI wear goud to my head;Bat nou I am among Willie’s hors feet,And the calle will be my dead.’22‘Fatten a heavey horse-boy, my son Willie,Is this ye ha brought to me?Some times he grous read, read,An some times paill an wane;He louks just leak a woman we bairn,An no weis es leak a man.’23‘Gett up, my heavey hors-boy,Gie my hors corn an hay;’‘By my soth,’ says her Fair Ellen,‘Bat as fast as I may.’24‘I dreamed a dream san the straine,Gued read a’ dreams to gued!I dreamed my stable-dor was opnedAn stoun was my best steed.Ye gae, my sister,An see if the dream be gued.’25. . . . . . .. . . . . . .She thought she hard a baby greet,Bat an a lady mone.26. . . . . . .. . . . . . .‘I think I hard a baby greet,Bat an a lady mone.’27‘A askend, Willie,’ she says,‘An ye man grant it me;The warst room in a’ yer houseTo your young son an me.’28[‘Ask on, Fair Ellen,Ye’r sure yer asken is free;]The best room in a’ my houseTo yer young son an ye.’29‘[A] asken, Willie,’ she sayes,‘An ye will grant it me;The smallest bear in yer houseTo [yer] young son an me.’30‘Ask on, Fair Ellen,Ye’r sure your asken is free;The best bear in my house[To yer young son an ye.]31‘The best bear in my houseIs the black bear an the wine,An yesall haa that, Fair Ellen,To you an yer young son.’32‘[A] askent, Willie,’ she says,‘An ye will grant [it] me;The warst maid in yer houseTo wait on yer young son an me.’33‘The best maid in my houseIs my sister Meggie,An ye sall ha her, Fair Ellen,To wait on yer young son an ye.34‘Chire up, Fair Ellen,Chire up, gin ye may;Yer kirking an yer fair wedingSail baith stand in ae day.’
1Willie was a harper guid,He was a harper fine;He harped the burds out of the tree,The fish out of the flood,The milk out of a woman’s bristThat bab had never nean.
1
Willie was a harper guid,
He was a harper fine;
He harped the burds out of the tree,
The fish out of the flood,
The milk out of a woman’s brist
That bab had never nean.
2He harped out, an he harped in,Till he harped them a’ aslep,Unless it was her Fair Elen,An she stood on her feett.
2
He harped out, an he harped in,
Till he harped them a’ aslep,
Unless it was her Fair Elen,
An she stood on her feett.
3Willie stod in stabile dor,He said he wad ride,. . . . . .. . . . . .
3
Willie stod in stabile dor,
He said he wad ride,
. . . . . .
. . . . . .
4‘Na women mane gae we me, Hellen,Na women mane gaie we meBat them that will saddle my hors,An bridell my steed,An elky toun that I come toA lish of hons mane lead.’
4
‘Na women mane gae we me, Hellen,
Na women mane gaie we me
Bat them that will saddle my hors,
An bridell my steed,
An elky toun that I come to
A lish of hons mane lead.’
5‘I will saddle yer hors, Willie,An I will bridel yer steed,An elky toun att we come tellA leash of honds will lead.’
5
‘I will saddle yer hors, Willie,
An I will bridel yer steed,
An elky toun att we come tell
A leash of honds will lead.’
6‘The dogs sall eat the gued fite bread,An ye the douë pran,An ye sall bliss, an na curse,That ever ye lied a man.’
6
‘The dogs sall eat the gued fite bread,
An ye the douë pran,
An ye sall bliss, an na curse,
That ever ye lied a man.’
7‘The dogs sall eat the whit bread,An me the douë pran,An I will bliss, an na curs,That ear I loved a man.’
7
‘The dogs sall eat the whit bread,
An me the douë pran,
An I will bliss, an na curs,
That ear I loved a man.’
8She has saddled his hors,An she has bridled his stead,An ealky toun att they came throuA lish of honds did lead.
8
She has saddled his hors,
An she has bridled his stead,
An ealky toun att they came throu
A lish of honds did lead.
9The dogs did eatt the whit bread,An her the douey pran,An she did bliss, an she did na curs,That ever she loyed a man.
9
The dogs did eatt the whit bread,
An her the douey pran,
An she did bliss, an she did na curs,
That ever she loyed a man.
10Fan they came to yon wan waterThat a’ man caas Clayd,He louked over his left shoder,Says, Ellen, will ye ride?
10
Fan they came to yon wan water
That a’ man caas Clayd,
He louked over his left shoder,
Says, Ellen, will ye ride?
11‘I learned it in my medder’s bour,I wiss I had learned it better,Fan I came to wane waterTo sume as dos the otter.
11
‘I learned it in my medder’s bour,
I wiss I had learned it better,
Fan I came to wane water
To sume as dos the otter.
12‘I learned in my midder’s bour,I watt I learned it well,Fan I came to wan water,To sume as dos the ell.’
12
‘I learned in my midder’s bour,
I watt I learned it well,
Fan I came to wan water,
To sume as dos the ell.’
13. . . . . . . .. . . . . . . .Or the knight was in the middell of the water,The lady was in the eather side.
13
. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .
Or the knight was in the middell of the water,
The lady was in the eather side.
14She leaned her back to a stane,Gaa a call opon:‘O my back is right sore,An I sae farr frae hame!
14
She leaned her back to a stane,
Gaa a call opon:
‘O my back is right sore,
An I sae farr frae hame!
15‘Hou monny mill ha ye to rid,An hou mony I to rine?’‘Fifty mill ha I to rid,Fifty you to rine,An by that time I dou suposYe will be a dead woman.’
15
‘Hou monny mill ha ye to rid,
An hou mony I to rine?’
‘Fifty mill ha I to rid,
Fifty you to rine,
An by that time I dou supos
Ye will be a dead woman.’
16Out spak a bonny burd,Sate on yon tree,‘Gaa on, fair Ellen,Ye ha scarcly milles three.’
16
Out spak a bonny burd,
Sate on yon tree,
‘Gaa on, fair Ellen,
Ye ha scarcly milles three.’
17Four-an-tuenty bony ladysMett Willie in the closs,Bat the fairest lady among them a’Took Willie frae his horse.
17
Four-an-tuenty bony ladys
Mett Willie in the closs,
Bat the fairest lady among them a’
Took Willie frae his horse.
18Four-an-tuenty bonny ladysLead Willie to the table,Bat the fairest lady among them a’Led his hors to the stable.
18
Four-an-tuenty bonny ladys
Lead Willie to the table,
Bat the fairest lady among them a’
Led his hors to the stable.
19She leaned betuen the gray folle an the waa,An gae a call opon;‘O my back is fue sore,An I sae far fra home!
19
She leaned betuen the gray folle an the waa,
An gae a call opon;
‘O my back is fue sore,
An I sae far fra home!
20‘Fan I was in my father’s bour,I ware goud to my hell;Bat nou I am among Willie’s hors feet,An the call it will me kell.
20
‘Fan I was in my father’s bour,
I ware goud to my hell;
Bat nou I am among Willie’s hors feet,
An the call it will me kell.
21‘Fan I was in my midder’s bourI wear goud to my head;Bat nou I am among Willie’s hors feet,And the calle will be my dead.’
21
‘Fan I was in my midder’s bour
I wear goud to my head;
Bat nou I am among Willie’s hors feet,
And the calle will be my dead.’
22‘Fatten a heavey horse-boy, my son Willie,Is this ye ha brought to me?Some times he grous read, read,An some times paill an wane;He louks just leak a woman we bairn,An no weis es leak a man.’
22
‘Fatten a heavey horse-boy, my son Willie,
Is this ye ha brought to me?
Some times he grous read, read,
An some times paill an wane;
He louks just leak a woman we bairn,
An no weis es leak a man.’
23‘Gett up, my heavey hors-boy,Gie my hors corn an hay;’‘By my soth,’ says her Fair Ellen,‘Bat as fast as I may.’
23
‘Gett up, my heavey hors-boy,
Gie my hors corn an hay;’
‘By my soth,’ says her Fair Ellen,
‘Bat as fast as I may.’
24‘I dreamed a dream san the straine,Gued read a’ dreams to gued!I dreamed my stable-dor was opnedAn stoun was my best steed.Ye gae, my sister,An see if the dream be gued.’
24
‘I dreamed a dream san the straine,
Gued read a’ dreams to gued!
I dreamed my stable-dor was opned
An stoun was my best steed.
Ye gae, my sister,
An see if the dream be gued.’
25. . . . . . .. . . . . . .She thought she hard a baby greet,Bat an a lady mone.
25
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
She thought she hard a baby greet,
Bat an a lady mone.
26. . . . . . .. . . . . . .‘I think I hard a baby greet,Bat an a lady mone.’
26
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
‘I think I hard a baby greet,
Bat an a lady mone.’
27‘A askend, Willie,’ she says,‘An ye man grant it me;The warst room in a’ yer houseTo your young son an me.’
27
‘A askend, Willie,’ she says,
‘An ye man grant it me;
The warst room in a’ yer house
To your young son an me.’
28[‘Ask on, Fair Ellen,Ye’r sure yer asken is free;]The best room in a’ my houseTo yer young son an ye.’
28
[‘Ask on, Fair Ellen,
Ye’r sure yer asken is free;]
The best room in a’ my house
To yer young son an ye.’
29‘[A] asken, Willie,’ she sayes,‘An ye will grant it me;The smallest bear in yer houseTo [yer] young son an me.’
29
‘[A] asken, Willie,’ she sayes,
‘An ye will grant it me;
The smallest bear in yer house
To [yer] young son an me.’
30‘Ask on, Fair Ellen,Ye’r sure your asken is free;The best bear in my house[To yer young son an ye.]
30
‘Ask on, Fair Ellen,
Ye’r sure your asken is free;
The best bear in my house
[To yer young son an ye.]
31‘The best bear in my houseIs the black bear an the wine,An yesall haa that, Fair Ellen,To you an yer young son.’
31
‘The best bear in my house
Is the black bear an the wine,
An yesall haa that, Fair Ellen,
To you an yer young son.’
32‘[A] askent, Willie,’ she says,‘An ye will grant [it] me;The warst maid in yer houseTo wait on yer young son an me.’
32
‘[A] askent, Willie,’ she says,
‘An ye will grant [it] me;
The warst maid in yer house
To wait on yer young son an me.’
33‘The best maid in my houseIs my sister Meggie,An ye sall ha her, Fair Ellen,To wait on yer young son an ye.
33
‘The best maid in my house
Is my sister Meggie,
An ye sall ha her, Fair Ellen,
To wait on yer young son an ye.
34‘Chire up, Fair Ellen,Chire up, gin ye may;Yer kirking an yer fair wedingSail baith stand in ae day.’
34
‘Chire up, Fair Ellen,
Chire up, gin ye may;
Yer kirking an yer fair weding
Sail baith stand in ae day.’
16. bab have.32. bide.Cf.B3,G1,I1,J1.203. I an.204. me gell.212. my hellagain.214. And an.302. sure yours.
16. bab have.
32. bide.Cf.B3,G1,I1,J1.
203. I an.
204. me gell.
212. my hellagain.
214. And an.
302. sure yours.
P. 102. (See III, 497 b, No 5.) Add: ‘La Fiancée du Prince,’ Revue des Traditions Populaires, VIII, 406-409, two versions.
P. 114.A.The variations in the Abbotsford MS. “Scottish Songs” are of the very slightest value; but as the MS. is in Scott’s hand, and as Scott says that they were from his recollection of recitation in the south of Scotland, they may be given for what they are worth. (See the note, IV, 387.)
‘Lady Maiserye,’ fol. 34, back.
12. Are a’.14. she’ll hae.2, 3,wanting.41,2.They woo’d her up, they woo’d her doun,They woo’d her in the ha.51. my lords, she said.52. on me.54. And I have na mair to gie.61. father’s wily page.63. For he has awa to her bauld brother.71. O are my father and mother.72. brethren.81. are weel.82. Likewise your brethren.84. But she’s shamed thy name and thee.91. true, thou little page.92. A bluidy sight thou’s see.93. thou tells.94. High hanged sall thou be.101. O he has gane to.104. Kaming.11.A stanza with“modern”in the margin.121. The lady turnd her round about.122. The kame fell.123,4.The bluid ran backward to her heartAnd left her cheek sae wan.13.‘O bend nae sae, my dear brother,Your vengefu look on me!My love is laid on Lord William,And he is married to me.’141. ye hae gotten knights and lords.142. Within.143. drew.151. your English love.153. For shouldst think of him an hour langer.154. Thy.161. I wad gie up my English love.163. or an hour.After 16 this stanza, not marked“modern:”‘Ah, faithless woman, trow nae saeMy just revenge to flee,For a’ your English lordling’s power,Our ancient enemy.’171. where are a’ my wight.174. this strumpet.182. at my.191. and spake.192. Stude weeping by her side.193. wad rin this.20.wanting.211, 221. And when.213. to grass growing.221,5. yate.222. bade na chap nor.223. to his.225. And er.231. O are.232. Or are.233. Or has my lady gien to me.234. A dear: or a.241. biggins are na broken, lord.242. Nor yet.243. a’ Scotlande.244. This day for you.251. to me the black horse.252. O saddle to me.253. Or saddle to me.254. ere yet rode.262. neeze.263. your fire, my fierce.264. no yet at.271. And when: yate.281,2.And still, Mend up the fire, she cried,And pour its rage round me.284. will mend it soon for.291. O had my hands.292. Sae fast.294. To save thy infant son.301,3. for thee.302. Thy sister and thy brother.304. Thy father and thy mother.311. for thee.312. a’ thy.313. that I make.314. I sall.
12. Are a’.
14. she’ll hae.
2, 3,wanting.
41,2.
They woo’d her up, they woo’d her doun,They woo’d her in the ha.
They woo’d her up, they woo’d her doun,They woo’d her in the ha.
They woo’d her up, they woo’d her doun,They woo’d her in the ha.
They woo’d her up, they woo’d her doun,
They woo’d her in the ha.
51. my lords, she said.
52. on me.
54. And I have na mair to gie.
61. father’s wily page.
63. For he has awa to her bauld brother.
71. O are my father and mother.
72. brethren.
81. are weel.
82. Likewise your brethren.
84. But she’s shamed thy name and thee.
91. true, thou little page.
92. A bluidy sight thou’s see.
93. thou tells.
94. High hanged sall thou be.
101. O he has gane to.
104. Kaming.
11.A stanza with“modern”in the margin.
121. The lady turnd her round about.
122. The kame fell.
123,4.
The bluid ran backward to her heartAnd left her cheek sae wan.
The bluid ran backward to her heartAnd left her cheek sae wan.
The bluid ran backward to her heartAnd left her cheek sae wan.
The bluid ran backward to her heart
And left her cheek sae wan.
13.
‘O bend nae sae, my dear brother,Your vengefu look on me!My love is laid on Lord William,And he is married to me.’
‘O bend nae sae, my dear brother,Your vengefu look on me!My love is laid on Lord William,And he is married to me.’
‘O bend nae sae, my dear brother,Your vengefu look on me!My love is laid on Lord William,And he is married to me.’
‘O bend nae sae, my dear brother,
Your vengefu look on me!
My love is laid on Lord William,
And he is married to me.’
141. ye hae gotten knights and lords.
142. Within.
143. drew.
151. your English love.
153. For shouldst think of him an hour langer.
154. Thy.
161. I wad gie up my English love.
163. or an hour.
After 16 this stanza, not marked“modern:”
‘Ah, faithless woman, trow nae saeMy just revenge to flee,For a’ your English lordling’s power,Our ancient enemy.’
‘Ah, faithless woman, trow nae saeMy just revenge to flee,For a’ your English lordling’s power,Our ancient enemy.’
‘Ah, faithless woman, trow nae saeMy just revenge to flee,For a’ your English lordling’s power,Our ancient enemy.’
‘Ah, faithless woman, trow nae sae
My just revenge to flee,
For a’ your English lordling’s power,
Our ancient enemy.’
171. where are a’ my wight.
174. this strumpet.
182. at my.
191. and spake.
192. Stude weeping by her side.
193. wad rin this.
20.wanting.
211, 221. And when.
213. to grass growing.
221,5. yate.
222. bade na chap nor.
223. to his.
225. And er.
231. O are.
232. Or are.
233. Or has my lady gien to me.
234. A dear: or a.
241. biggins are na broken, lord.
242. Nor yet.
243. a’ Scotlande.
244. This day for you.
251. to me the black horse.
252. O saddle to me.
253. Or saddle to me.
254. ere yet rode.
262. neeze.
263. your fire, my fierce.
264. no yet at.
271. And when: yate.
281,2.
And still, Mend up the fire, she cried,And pour its rage round me.
And still, Mend up the fire, she cried,And pour its rage round me.
And still, Mend up the fire, she cried,And pour its rage round me.
And still, Mend up the fire, she cried,
And pour its rage round me.
284. will mend it soon for.
291. O had my hands.
292. Sae fast.
294. To save thy infant son.
301,3. for thee.
302. Thy sister and thy brother.
304. Thy father and thy mother.
311. for thee.
312. a’ thy.
313. that I make.
314. I sall.
115.B.Variations of C. K. Sharpe’s own MS. (“second collection”):
24. on my (wrongly).44. It’s liars.82. That’s what I’ll.102. brother.133. But when.201, 211, 221. rode on.224. Janet’s excit (Motherwell, exite).241. said.274. mony one.
24. on my (wrongly).
44. It’s liars.
82. That’s what I’ll.
102. brother.
133. But when.
201, 211, 221. rode on.
224. Janet’s excit (Motherwell, exite).
241. said.
274. mony one.
P. 128.A.Collated with Sharpe’s MS., p. 17. The MS., which is in the handwriting of Sharpe, contains the same ballads as an Abbotsford MS. called North Country Ballads, but the two copies are independent transcripts. In a note to Sharpe, without date (Sharpe’s Ballad Book, ed. 1880, p. 148), Scott says, “I enclose Irvine’s manuscripts, which are, I think, curious. They are at your service for copying or publishing, or whatever you will.” Hugh Irvine, Drum, communicated to Scott a copy of ‘Tam Lin’ (see IV, 456), and it is possible that the manuscripts referred to in Scott’s note were the originals of the “North Country Ballads.”
14. their bonneur.82. to kill.111. boy says.112. An will.141,3. line that he.151. (bacon).164. shewanting.182,4. garl, marl,are Sharpe’s corrections for words struck out, which seem to beguell, meal.191. and that.212. saft.231. twice, so did I.261. did stand.314. hewanting.Only141,3, 164, 231, 314,are wrongly given in Motherwell.
14. their bonneur.
82. to kill.
111. boy says.
112. An will.
141,3. line that he.
151. (bacon).
164. shewanting.
182,4. garl, marl,are Sharpe’s corrections for words struck out, which seem to beguell, meal.
191. and that.
212. saft.
231. twice, so did I.
261. did stand.
314. hewanting.
Only141,3, 164, 231, 314,are wrongly given in Motherwell.
Scott’s MS.—The nameMaiseryis wanting throughout.
233. onlyforone.28.wanting.303. had.312. begwrongly copiedby.
233. onlyforone.
28.wanting.
303. had.
312. begwrongly copiedby.
P. 145.A22. Findlay’s MSS, I, 146, gives a corresponding stanza, from Miss Butchart, Arbroath:
‘Ye’ll gie ower your day’s doukinAn douk upon the nicht,An the place Young Redin he lies inThe torches will brin bricht.’
‘Ye’ll gie ower your day’s doukinAn douk upon the nicht,An the place Young Redin he lies inThe torches will brin bricht.’
‘Ye’ll gie ower your day’s doukinAn douk upon the nicht,An the place Young Redin he lies inThe torches will brin bricht.’
‘Ye’ll gie ower your day’s doukin
An douk upon the nicht,
An the place Young Redin he lies in
The torches will brin bricht.’
148.C21, 22. At the same place in Findlay’s MSS we find these stanzas, from Miss Bower:
The firsten grasp that she got o him,It was o his yellow hair;O wasna that a dowie grasp,For her that did him bear!The nexten grasp that she got o him,It was o his lillie hand;O was na that a dowie grasp,For her brocht him to land!
The firsten grasp that she got o him,It was o his yellow hair;O wasna that a dowie grasp,For her that did him bear!The nexten grasp that she got o him,It was o his lillie hand;O was na that a dowie grasp,For her brocht him to land!
The firsten grasp that she got o him,It was o his yellow hair;O wasna that a dowie grasp,For her that did him bear!
The firsten grasp that she got o him,
It was o his yellow hair;
O wasna that a dowie grasp,
For her that did him bear!
The nexten grasp that she got o him,It was o his lillie hand;O was na that a dowie grasp,For her brocht him to land!
The nexten grasp that she got o him,
It was o his lillie hand;
O was na that a dowie grasp,
For her brocht him to land!
P. 156 b, 2d paragraph. Austerities. ‘Mijn haer sel onghevlochten staen,’ etc. ‘Brennenberg,’ Hoffmann, Niederländische Volkslieder, p. 33, No 6, st. 17.
IV, 468 a, 3d line. Add: also four versions of Karl Hittebarn, No 294.
P. 170.Danish.‘Jomfruens Brødre,’ Kristensen, Skattegraveren, II, 145 ff., Nos 717-23 V, 81 ff., Nos 632-34; Efterslæt til Sk., p. 15, No 13, p. 84, No 79, ‘Den ulige Kamp;’ Folkeminder, XI, 139, No 53, A-C, p. 307, No 53.
P. 181, III, 510 b, IV, 469 a. Add another version of ‘Le Rossignolet,’ Rev. des Trad. pop., VIII, 418.
192.Gas it stands in “The Old Lady’s Collection,” No 24.
1Suit Willie an Fair Annë,They satt on yon hill,An fra the morning till night this tuaNever ta’ked ther fill.2Willie spak a word in jeast,An Anny toke it ill:‘We’s court ne mare mean madens,Agenst our parents’ will.’3‘It’s na agenst our parents’ will,’Fair Annie she did say;. . . . . . .. . . . . . .4Willie is hame to his bour,To his book alean,An Fair Anni is to her bour,To her book an her seam.5Suit Willie is to his mider dear,Fell lou doun on his knee:‘A asking, my mider dear,An ye grant it me;O will I marry the nut-broun may,An latt Faire Anny be?’6‘The nut-broun may has ousen, Willie,The nut-broun may has kay;An ye will wine my blissing, Willie,An latt Fair Anny be.’7He did him to his father dear,Fell lou doun on his knee:‘A asken, my father,An ye man grant it me.’8‘Ask on, my ae sin Willie,Ye’r sear yer asking is frea;Except it be to marry her Fair Anny,An that ye manna deei.’9Out spak his littel sister,As she sat by the fire;The oxe-lig will brak in the plough,An the cou will droun in the mire.10‘An Willie will hae nathingBat the dam to sitt by the fire,An Faire Annie will sit in her beagly bour,An wine a eearl’s hire.’11‘Fair faa ye, my littel sister,A gued dead matt ye dee!An ever I hae goud,Well touchered sall ye be.’12Hi’se away to Fair Annie,As fast as gang coud he:‘O will ye come to my marrag?The morn it’s to be.’‘O I will come to yer marrag the morn,Gin I can wine,’ said she.13Annie did her to her father d[ea]r,Fell lou doun on her knee:‘An askin, my father,An ye mane grant it me;Latt me to Suit Willie’s marrage,The morn it is to be.’14‘Your hors sall be siler-shod afor,An guid read goud ahind,An bells in his main,To ring agenst the wind.’15She did her to her mother dear,Fell lou on her knee:‘Will ye latt me to Willie’s marrage?To-morraa it is to be.’‘I ill latt ye to Willie’s marrage,To-morray it is to be.’16Fan Annë was in her sadel sett,She flamd agenst the fire;The girdell about her sma middellWad a wone a eearl’s hire.17Fan they came to Mary kirk,An on to Mary quir,‘O far gat ye that water, Annë,That washes ye sae clean?’‘I gat it in my fa(t)hers garden,Aneth a marbell stane.’18‘O fare gatt ye that water, Annë,That washes ye sae fett?’‘I gat it in my mider’s womb,Far ye never gat the leak.19‘For ye ha ben cirsned we mose-water,An roked in the reak,An sin-brunt in yer midder’s womb,For I think ye’ll never be faitt.’20The broun bride pat her hand inAtt Annë’s left gare,An gen her . . . . . . . .A deap wound an a sare.21O Annë gid on her hors back,An fast away did ride,Batt lang or kok’s crawangFair Annë was dead.22Fan bells was rung, an messe was sung,An a’ man boun to bed,Suit Willie an the nut-broun brideIn a chamber was lead.23But up an wakned him Suit Willie,Out of his dreary dream:‘I dreamed a dream this night,God read a’ dreams to gued!24‘That Fair Annë’s bour was full of gentelmen,An her nen sellf was dead;Bat I will on to Fair Annie,An see if it be gued.’25Seven lang mille or he came near,He hard a dulfull chear,Her father an her seven bretherenMaking to her a bear,The half of it guid read goud,The eather silver clear.26‘Ye berl att my love’s leakThe whit bread an the wine,Bat or the morn att this timeYe’s de the leak att mine.’27The tean was beared att Mary kirk,The eather att Mary quir;Out of the an grue a birk,Out of the eather a brear.28An ay the langer att they grueThey came the eather near,An by that ye might a well kentThey war tua lovers dear.
1Suit Willie an Fair Annë,They satt on yon hill,An fra the morning till night this tuaNever ta’ked ther fill.2Willie spak a word in jeast,An Anny toke it ill:‘We’s court ne mare mean madens,Agenst our parents’ will.’3‘It’s na agenst our parents’ will,’Fair Annie she did say;. . . . . . .. . . . . . .4Willie is hame to his bour,To his book alean,An Fair Anni is to her bour,To her book an her seam.5Suit Willie is to his mider dear,Fell lou doun on his knee:‘A asking, my mider dear,An ye grant it me;O will I marry the nut-broun may,An latt Faire Anny be?’6‘The nut-broun may has ousen, Willie,The nut-broun may has kay;An ye will wine my blissing, Willie,An latt Fair Anny be.’7He did him to his father dear,Fell lou doun on his knee:‘A asken, my father,An ye man grant it me.’8‘Ask on, my ae sin Willie,Ye’r sear yer asking is frea;Except it be to marry her Fair Anny,An that ye manna deei.’9Out spak his littel sister,As she sat by the fire;The oxe-lig will brak in the plough,An the cou will droun in the mire.10‘An Willie will hae nathingBat the dam to sitt by the fire,An Faire Annie will sit in her beagly bour,An wine a eearl’s hire.’11‘Fair faa ye, my littel sister,A gued dead matt ye dee!An ever I hae goud,Well touchered sall ye be.’12Hi’se away to Fair Annie,As fast as gang coud he:‘O will ye come to my marrag?The morn it’s to be.’‘O I will come to yer marrag the morn,Gin I can wine,’ said she.13Annie did her to her father d[ea]r,Fell lou doun on her knee:‘An askin, my father,An ye mane grant it me;Latt me to Suit Willie’s marrage,The morn it is to be.’14‘Your hors sall be siler-shod afor,An guid read goud ahind,An bells in his main,To ring agenst the wind.’15She did her to her mother dear,Fell lou on her knee:‘Will ye latt me to Willie’s marrage?To-morraa it is to be.’‘I ill latt ye to Willie’s marrage,To-morray it is to be.’16Fan Annë was in her sadel sett,She flamd agenst the fire;The girdell about her sma middellWad a wone a eearl’s hire.17Fan they came to Mary kirk,An on to Mary quir,‘O far gat ye that water, Annë,That washes ye sae clean?’‘I gat it in my fa(t)hers garden,Aneth a marbell stane.’18‘O fare gatt ye that water, Annë,That washes ye sae fett?’‘I gat it in my mider’s womb,Far ye never gat the leak.19‘For ye ha ben cirsned we mose-water,An roked in the reak,An sin-brunt in yer midder’s womb,For I think ye’ll never be faitt.’20The broun bride pat her hand inAtt Annë’s left gare,An gen her . . . . . . . .A deap wound an a sare.21O Annë gid on her hors back,An fast away did ride,Batt lang or kok’s crawangFair Annë was dead.22Fan bells was rung, an messe was sung,An a’ man boun to bed,Suit Willie an the nut-broun brideIn a chamber was lead.23But up an wakned him Suit Willie,Out of his dreary dream:‘I dreamed a dream this night,God read a’ dreams to gued!24‘That Fair Annë’s bour was full of gentelmen,An her nen sellf was dead;Bat I will on to Fair Annie,An see if it be gued.’25Seven lang mille or he came near,He hard a dulfull chear,Her father an her seven bretherenMaking to her a bear,The half of it guid read goud,The eather silver clear.26‘Ye berl att my love’s leakThe whit bread an the wine,Bat or the morn att this timeYe’s de the leak att mine.’27The tean was beared att Mary kirk,The eather att Mary quir;Out of the an grue a birk,Out of the eather a brear.28An ay the langer att they grueThey came the eather near,An by that ye might a well kentThey war tua lovers dear.
1Suit Willie an Fair Annë,They satt on yon hill,An fra the morning till night this tuaNever ta’ked ther fill.
1
Suit Willie an Fair Annë,
They satt on yon hill,
An fra the morning till night this tua
Never ta’ked ther fill.
2Willie spak a word in jeast,An Anny toke it ill:‘We’s court ne mare mean madens,Agenst our parents’ will.’
2
Willie spak a word in jeast,
An Anny toke it ill:
‘We’s court ne mare mean madens,
Agenst our parents’ will.’
3‘It’s na agenst our parents’ will,’Fair Annie she did say;. . . . . . .. . . . . . .
3
‘It’s na agenst our parents’ will,’
Fair Annie she did say;
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
4Willie is hame to his bour,To his book alean,An Fair Anni is to her bour,To her book an her seam.
4
Willie is hame to his bour,
To his book alean,
An Fair Anni is to her bour,
To her book an her seam.
5Suit Willie is to his mider dear,Fell lou doun on his knee:‘A asking, my mider dear,An ye grant it me;O will I marry the nut-broun may,An latt Faire Anny be?’
5
Suit Willie is to his mider dear,
Fell lou doun on his knee:
‘A asking, my mider dear,
An ye grant it me;
O will I marry the nut-broun may,
An latt Faire Anny be?’
6‘The nut-broun may has ousen, Willie,The nut-broun may has kay;An ye will wine my blissing, Willie,An latt Fair Anny be.’
6
‘The nut-broun may has ousen, Willie,
The nut-broun may has kay;
An ye will wine my blissing, Willie,
An latt Fair Anny be.’
7He did him to his father dear,Fell lou doun on his knee:‘A asken, my father,An ye man grant it me.’
7
He did him to his father dear,
Fell lou doun on his knee:
‘A asken, my father,
An ye man grant it me.’
8‘Ask on, my ae sin Willie,Ye’r sear yer asking is frea;Except it be to marry her Fair Anny,An that ye manna deei.’
8
‘Ask on, my ae sin Willie,
Ye’r sear yer asking is frea;
Except it be to marry her Fair Anny,
An that ye manna deei.’
9Out spak his littel sister,As she sat by the fire;The oxe-lig will brak in the plough,An the cou will droun in the mire.
9
Out spak his littel sister,
As she sat by the fire;
The oxe-lig will brak in the plough,
An the cou will droun in the mire.
10‘An Willie will hae nathingBat the dam to sitt by the fire,An Faire Annie will sit in her beagly bour,An wine a eearl’s hire.’
10
‘An Willie will hae nathing
Bat the dam to sitt by the fire,
An Faire Annie will sit in her beagly bour,
An wine a eearl’s hire.’
11‘Fair faa ye, my littel sister,A gued dead matt ye dee!An ever I hae goud,Well touchered sall ye be.’
11
‘Fair faa ye, my littel sister,
A gued dead matt ye dee!
An ever I hae goud,
Well touchered sall ye be.’
12Hi’se away to Fair Annie,As fast as gang coud he:‘O will ye come to my marrag?The morn it’s to be.’‘O I will come to yer marrag the morn,Gin I can wine,’ said she.
12
Hi’se away to Fair Annie,
As fast as gang coud he:
‘O will ye come to my marrag?
The morn it’s to be.’
‘O I will come to yer marrag the morn,
Gin I can wine,’ said she.
13Annie did her to her father d[ea]r,Fell lou doun on her knee:‘An askin, my father,An ye mane grant it me;Latt me to Suit Willie’s marrage,The morn it is to be.’
13
Annie did her to her father d[ea]r,
Fell lou doun on her knee:
‘An askin, my father,
An ye mane grant it me;
Latt me to Suit Willie’s marrage,
The morn it is to be.’
14‘Your hors sall be siler-shod afor,An guid read goud ahind,An bells in his main,To ring agenst the wind.’
14
‘Your hors sall be siler-shod afor,
An guid read goud ahind,
An bells in his main,
To ring agenst the wind.’
15She did her to her mother dear,Fell lou on her knee:‘Will ye latt me to Willie’s marrage?To-morraa it is to be.’‘I ill latt ye to Willie’s marrage,To-morray it is to be.’
15
She did her to her mother dear,
Fell lou on her knee:
‘Will ye latt me to Willie’s marrage?
To-morraa it is to be.’
‘I ill latt ye to Willie’s marrage,
To-morray it is to be.’
16Fan Annë was in her sadel sett,She flamd agenst the fire;The girdell about her sma middellWad a wone a eearl’s hire.
16
Fan Annë was in her sadel sett,
She flamd agenst the fire;
The girdell about her sma middell
Wad a wone a eearl’s hire.
17Fan they came to Mary kirk,An on to Mary quir,‘O far gat ye that water, Annë,That washes ye sae clean?’‘I gat it in my fa(t)hers garden,Aneth a marbell stane.’
17
Fan they came to Mary kirk,
An on to Mary quir,
‘O far gat ye that water, Annë,
That washes ye sae clean?’
‘I gat it in my fa(t)hers garden,
Aneth a marbell stane.’
18‘O fare gatt ye that water, Annë,That washes ye sae fett?’‘I gat it in my mider’s womb,Far ye never gat the leak.
18
‘O fare gatt ye that water, Annë,
That washes ye sae fett?’
‘I gat it in my mider’s womb,
Far ye never gat the leak.
19‘For ye ha ben cirsned we mose-water,An roked in the reak,An sin-brunt in yer midder’s womb,For I think ye’ll never be faitt.’
19
‘For ye ha ben cirsned we mose-water,
An roked in the reak,
An sin-brunt in yer midder’s womb,
For I think ye’ll never be faitt.’
20The broun bride pat her hand inAtt Annë’s left gare,An gen her . . . . . . . .A deap wound an a sare.
20
The broun bride pat her hand in
Att Annë’s left gare,
An gen her . . . . . . . .
A deap wound an a sare.
21O Annë gid on her hors back,An fast away did ride,Batt lang or kok’s crawangFair Annë was dead.
21
O Annë gid on her hors back,
An fast away did ride,
Batt lang or kok’s crawang
Fair Annë was dead.
22Fan bells was rung, an messe was sung,An a’ man boun to bed,Suit Willie an the nut-broun brideIn a chamber was lead.
22
Fan bells was rung, an messe was sung,
An a’ man boun to bed,
Suit Willie an the nut-broun bride
In a chamber was lead.
23But up an wakned him Suit Willie,Out of his dreary dream:‘I dreamed a dream this night,God read a’ dreams to gued!
23
But up an wakned him Suit Willie,
Out of his dreary dream:
‘I dreamed a dream this night,
God read a’ dreams to gued!
24‘That Fair Annë’s bour was full of gentelmen,An her nen sellf was dead;Bat I will on to Fair Annie,An see if it be gued.’
24
‘That Fair Annë’s bour was full of gentelmen,
An her nen sellf was dead;
Bat I will on to Fair Annie,
An see if it be gued.’
25Seven lang mille or he came near,He hard a dulfull chear,Her father an her seven bretherenMaking to her a bear,The half of it guid read goud,The eather silver clear.
25
Seven lang mille or he came near,
He hard a dulfull chear,
Her father an her seven bretheren
Making to her a bear,
The half of it guid read goud,
The eather silver clear.
26‘Ye berl att my love’s leakThe whit bread an the wine,Bat or the morn att this timeYe’s de the leak att mine.’
26
‘Ye berl att my love’s leak
The whit bread an the wine,
Bat or the morn att this time
Ye’s de the leak att mine.’
27The tean was beared att Mary kirk,The eather att Mary quir;Out of the an grue a birk,Out of the eather a brear.
27
The tean was beared att Mary kirk,
The eather att Mary quir;
Out of the an grue a birk,
Out of the eather a brear.
28An ay the langer att they grueThey came the eather near,An by that ye might a well kentThey war tua lovers dear.
28
An ay the langer att they grue
They came the eather near,
An by that ye might a well kent
They war tua lovers dear.
42.There may have been a word betweenbookandalean.56. bay:cf.64.162. flamdis doubtful.214. farie.233. might.
42.There may have been a word betweenbookandalean.
56. bay:cf.64.
162. flamdis doubtful.
214. farie.
233. might.
P. 199. The Roxburghe copy, III, 338, Ebsworth, VI, 640, is a late one, of Aldermary Church-Yard.
200 b.A cis translated by Pröhle, G. A. Bürger, Sein Leben u. seine Dichtungen, p. 109.
P. 204 f., note †, 512 b, IV 471 a. Add ‘Der Graf und das Mädchen,’ Böckel, Deutsche V.-l. aus Oberhessen, p. 5, No 6; ‘Es schlief ein Graf bei seiner Magd,’ Lewalter, Deutsche V.-l. in Niederhessen gesammelt, 23Heft, p. 3, No 2: ‘Der Graf und sein Liebchen,’ Frischbier u. Sembrzycki, Hundert Ostpreussische Volkslieder, p. 34, No 21.
205 a, note, III, 510 b, IV, 471 b.Scandinavian, Other copies of ‘Lille Lise,’ ‘Greven og lille Lise,’ Kristensen, Efterslæt til Skattegraveren, p. 18, No 15, Folkeminder, XI, 159, No 62, A-D.
205. ‘Den elskedes Død,’ Berggreen, Danske Folkesange, 3d ed., p. 162, No 80 b; Svenske Fs., 2d ed., p. 84, No 66 b.
The ballad exists in Esthonian: Kaarle Krohn, Die geographische Verbreitung estnischer Lieder, p. 23.
P. 213.Bwas received by Herd, with several other ballads, “by post, from a lady in Ayrshire (?), name unknown:” Herd’s MSS, I, 143.
215 b, 2d paragraph, tokens. Add: Ζωγραφεῖος Ἀγών, p. 90, No 67, p. 91, No 69, p. 95, No 81.
The lady demands love-tokens of Clerk Saunders’ ghost, No 69,G, 33, II, 166.
219.Coccurs in C. K. Sharpe’s small MS. volume “Songs,” p. 40, and must have been communicated to Sharpe by Pitcairn. Collation: