FOOTNOTES:

FOOTNOTES:[411]draught = picture.[412]may = maid.[413]fett = fetch.[414]breaden = braided.[415]billaments = habiliments.

[411]draught = picture.

[412]may = maid.

[413]fett = fetch.

[414]breaden = braided.

[415]billaments = habiliments.

I‘O well’s me o’ my gay goss-hawk,That he can speak and flee!He’ll carry a letter to my love,Bring back another to me.’—II‘O how can I your true-love ken,Or how can I her know?Whan frae her mouth I never heard couth[416],Nor wi’ my eyes her saw.’—III‘O well sall ye my true-love ken,As soon as you her see;For, of a’ the flow’rs in fair England,The fairest flow’r is she.IV‘At even at my love’s bower-doorThere grows a bowing birk,An’ sit ye down and sing thereon,As she gangs to the kirk.V‘An’ four-and-twenty ladies fairWill wash and go to kirk,But well sall ye my true-love ken,For she wears gowd on her skirt.VI‘An’ four-and-twenty gay ladiesWill to the mass repair,But well sall ye my true-love ken,For she wears gowd on her hair.’VIIO even at that lady’s bower doorThere grows a bowing birk,An’ he set down and sang thereon,As she gaed to the kirk.VIII‘O eet and drink, my marys[417]a’,The wine flows you among,Till I gang to my shot-window[418],An’ hear yon bonny bird’s song.IX‘Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird,The song ye sang the streen[419],For I ken by your sweet singin’You’re frae my true-love sen.’XO first he sang a merry song,An’ then he sang a grave,An’ then he peck’d his feathers gray,To her the letter gave.XI‘Ha, there’s a letter frae your love,He says he sent you three;He canna wait your luve langer,But for your sake he’ll dee.XII‘He bids you write a letter to him;He says he’s sent you five;He canna wait your luve langer,Tho’ you’re the fairest alive.’—XIII‘Ye bid him bake his bridal-bread,And brew his bridal-ale,An’ I’ll meet him in fair ScotlandLang, lang or it be stale.’XIVShe’s doen her to her father dearFa’n low down on her knee:‘A boon, a boon, my father dearI pray you, grant it me!’—XV‘Ask on, ask on, my daughter,An’ granted it sall be;Except ae squire in fair Scotland,An’ him you sall never see.’—XVI‘The only boon, my father dear,That I do crave of thee,Is, gin I die in southin lands,In Scotland to bury me.XVII‘An’ the firstin kirk that ye come till,Ye gar the bells be rung,An’ the nextin kirk that ye come till,Ye gar the mass be sung.XVIII‘An’ the thirdin kirk that ye come till,You deal gold for my sake,An’ the fourthin kirk that ye come till,You tarry there till night.’XIXShe is doen her to her bigly[420]bow’r,As fast as she could fare,An’ she has tane a sleepy draught,That she had mixt wi’ care.XXShe’s laid her down upon her bed,An’ soon she’s fa’n asleep,And soon o’er every tender limbCauld death began to creep.XXIWhan night was flown, an’ day was come,Nae ane that did her seeBut thought she was as surely deadAs ony lady cou’d be.XXIIHer father an’ her brothers dearGar’d make to her a bier;The tae half was o’ guid red gold,The tither o’ silver clear.XXIIIHer mither an’ her sisters fairGar’d work for her a sark;The tae half was o’ cambrick fine,The tither o’ needle wark.XXIVThe firstin kirk that they came till,They gar’d the bells be rung,An’ the nextin kirk that they came till,They gar’d the mass be sung.XXVThe thirdin kirk that they came till,They dealt gold for her sake,An’ the fourthin kirk that they came till,Lo, there they met her make[421]!XXVI‘Lay down, lay down the bigly bier,Lat me the dead look on!’—Wi’ cherry cheeks and ruby lipsShe lay and smil’d on him.XXVII‘O ae sheave[422]o’ your bread, true love,An’ ae glass o’ your wine!For I hae fasted for your sakeThese fully days is nine.XXVIII‘Gang hame, gang hame, my seven bold brothers,Gang hame and sound your horn;An’ ye may boast in southin landsYour sister’s play’d you scorn!’

‘O well’s me o’ my gay goss-hawk,That he can speak and flee!He’ll carry a letter to my love,Bring back another to me.’—

‘O how can I your true-love ken,Or how can I her know?Whan frae her mouth I never heard couth[416],Nor wi’ my eyes her saw.’—

‘O well sall ye my true-love ken,As soon as you her see;For, of a’ the flow’rs in fair England,The fairest flow’r is she.

‘At even at my love’s bower-doorThere grows a bowing birk,An’ sit ye down and sing thereon,As she gangs to the kirk.

‘An’ four-and-twenty ladies fairWill wash and go to kirk,But well sall ye my true-love ken,For she wears gowd on her skirt.

‘An’ four-and-twenty gay ladiesWill to the mass repair,But well sall ye my true-love ken,For she wears gowd on her hair.’

O even at that lady’s bower doorThere grows a bowing birk,An’ he set down and sang thereon,As she gaed to the kirk.

‘O eet and drink, my marys[417]a’,The wine flows you among,Till I gang to my shot-window[418],An’ hear yon bonny bird’s song.

‘Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird,The song ye sang the streen[419],For I ken by your sweet singin’You’re frae my true-love sen.’

O first he sang a merry song,An’ then he sang a grave,An’ then he peck’d his feathers gray,To her the letter gave.

‘Ha, there’s a letter frae your love,He says he sent you three;He canna wait your luve langer,But for your sake he’ll dee.

‘He bids you write a letter to him;He says he’s sent you five;He canna wait your luve langer,Tho’ you’re the fairest alive.’—

‘Ye bid him bake his bridal-bread,And brew his bridal-ale,An’ I’ll meet him in fair ScotlandLang, lang or it be stale.’

She’s doen her to her father dearFa’n low down on her knee:‘A boon, a boon, my father dearI pray you, grant it me!’—

‘Ask on, ask on, my daughter,An’ granted it sall be;Except ae squire in fair Scotland,An’ him you sall never see.’—

‘The only boon, my father dear,That I do crave of thee,Is, gin I die in southin lands,In Scotland to bury me.

‘An’ the firstin kirk that ye come till,Ye gar the bells be rung,An’ the nextin kirk that ye come till,Ye gar the mass be sung.

‘An’ the thirdin kirk that ye come till,You deal gold for my sake,An’ the fourthin kirk that ye come till,You tarry there till night.’

She is doen her to her bigly[420]bow’r,As fast as she could fare,An’ she has tane a sleepy draught,That she had mixt wi’ care.

She’s laid her down upon her bed,An’ soon she’s fa’n asleep,And soon o’er every tender limbCauld death began to creep.

Whan night was flown, an’ day was come,Nae ane that did her seeBut thought she was as surely deadAs ony lady cou’d be.

Her father an’ her brothers dearGar’d make to her a bier;The tae half was o’ guid red gold,The tither o’ silver clear.

Her mither an’ her sisters fairGar’d work for her a sark;The tae half was o’ cambrick fine,The tither o’ needle wark.

The firstin kirk that they came till,They gar’d the bells be rung,An’ the nextin kirk that they came till,They gar’d the mass be sung.

The thirdin kirk that they came till,They dealt gold for her sake,An’ the fourthin kirk that they came till,Lo, there they met her make[421]!

‘Lay down, lay down the bigly bier,Lat me the dead look on!’—Wi’ cherry cheeks and ruby lipsShe lay and smil’d on him.

‘O ae sheave[422]o’ your bread, true love,An’ ae glass o’ your wine!For I hae fasted for your sakeThese fully days is nine.

‘Gang hame, gang hame, my seven bold brothers,Gang hame and sound your horn;An’ ye may boast in southin landsYour sister’s play’d you scorn!’

FOOTNOTES:[416]couth = word.[417]marys = maidens.[418]shot-window here = bow-window.[419]the streen = yestreen.[420]bigly = commodious.[421]make = mate, lover.[422]sheave = slice.

[416]couth = word.

[417]marys = maidens.

[418]shot-window here = bow-window.

[419]the streen = yestreen.

[420]bigly = commodious.

[421]make = mate, lover.

[422]sheave = slice.

I‘Willie, Willie, what makes you sae sad?’And the sun shines over the valleys and a’—‘I lie sairly sick for the love of a maid.’Amang the blue flowers and the yellow and a’.II‘O Willie, my son, I’ll learn you a wile,How this pretty fair maid ye may beguile.III‘Ye maun lie doun just as ye were dead,And tak’ your windin’-sheet round your head.IV‘Ye maun gie the bellman his bell-groat,To ring your dead-bell at your lover’s yett[423].’VWillie lay doun just as he war dead,And took his windin’-sheet round his head.VIHe gied the bellman his bell-groatTo ring his dead-bell at his lover’s yett.VII‘O wha is this that is dead, I hear?’—‘O wha but Willie that lo’ed ye sae dear?’VIIIShe is hame to her father’s ain bour:‘I’ll gang to yon lyke-wake[424]ae single hour.’—IX‘Ye maun tak’ with you your brither John;It’s not meet for maidens to venture alone.’—X‘I’ll not tak’ with me my brither John,But I’ll gang along myself all alone.’XIIt’s when she cam’ to her true lovers yett,She dealt the red gold round for his sak’.XIIIt’s when she came to her true lover’s bedShe lifted the sheet to look at the dead.XIIIHe’s ta’en her hand sae meek and sae sma’,[And ca’d her his wife before them a’].XIV‘Fair maid, ye cam’ without horse or boy,But I’ll send you home with a merry convoy.’

‘Willie, Willie, what makes you sae sad?’And the sun shines over the valleys and a’—‘I lie sairly sick for the love of a maid.’Amang the blue flowers and the yellow and a’.

‘O Willie, my son, I’ll learn you a wile,How this pretty fair maid ye may beguile.

‘Ye maun lie doun just as ye were dead,And tak’ your windin’-sheet round your head.

‘Ye maun gie the bellman his bell-groat,To ring your dead-bell at your lover’s yett[423].’

Willie lay doun just as he war dead,And took his windin’-sheet round his head.

He gied the bellman his bell-groatTo ring his dead-bell at his lover’s yett.

‘O wha is this that is dead, I hear?’—‘O wha but Willie that lo’ed ye sae dear?’

She is hame to her father’s ain bour:‘I’ll gang to yon lyke-wake[424]ae single hour.’—

‘Ye maun tak’ with you your brither John;It’s not meet for maidens to venture alone.’—

‘I’ll not tak’ with me my brither John,But I’ll gang along myself all alone.’

It’s when she cam’ to her true lovers yett,She dealt the red gold round for his sak’.

It’s when she came to her true lover’s bedShe lifted the sheet to look at the dead.

He’s ta’en her hand sae meek and sae sma’,[And ca’d her his wife before them a’].

‘Fair maid, ye cam’ without horse or boy,But I’ll send you home with a merry convoy.’

FOOTNOTES:[423]yett = gate.[424]lyke-wake = corpse-watching.

[423]yett = gate.

[424]lyke-wake = corpse-watching.

IAs it fell out on a long summer’s day,Two lovers they sat on a hill:They sat together that long summer’s day,And could not talk their fill.II‘I see no harm by you, Margaret,Nor you see none by me;Before to-morrow eight o’clockA rich wedding shall you see.’IIIFair Margaret sat in her bower-windowCombing her yellow hair,She saw Sweet William and his brown brideUnto the church draw near.IVThen down she laid her ivory comb,And up she bound her hair;She went out from her bower aliveBut alive never more came there.VWhen day was gone, and night was come,And all men fast asleep,Came in the ghost of fair Margaret,And stood at William’s feet.VI‘How like ye the lady, Sweet William,That lies in your arms asleep?God give you joy of your gay bride-bed,And me of my winding-sheet!’VIIWhen night was gone, and day was come,And all men waked from sleep,His lady said to Sweet William,‘My dear, I have cause to weep:VIII‘I dream’d a dream, Sweet William,That seldom comes to good:My bower was fill’d with wild-wood swine,And our bride-bed full of blood.’IXHe callèd up his merry men all,By one, by two, by three.Saying, ‘I’ll away to Fair Margaret’s bower,With the leave of my ladye.’XAnd when he came to Fair Margaret’s bowerHe knockèd at the ring;And who so ready as her seven brothersTo rise and let him in?XI‘O, is she in the parlour?’ he said,‘Or is she in the hall?Or is she in the long chamberAmongst her merry maids all?’—XII‘No, she’s not in the parlour,’ they said,‘Nor she’s not in the hall:But she is in the long chamber,Laid out against the wall.’—XIIIHe turnèd up the covering-sheet,And look’d upon the dead.‘Methinks her lips are pale and wan,She has lost her cherry red.’XIVWith that bespake the seven brothers,Making a piteous moan:‘You may go kiss your jolly brown bride,And let our sister alone.’—XV‘If I do kiss my jolly brown bride,I do but what is right;For I made no vow to your sister dear,By day nor yet by night.XVI‘Deal on, deal on, my merry men all,Deal on your cake and wine!For whatever is dealt at her funeral to-dayShall be dealt to-morrow at mine.’XVIIFair Margaret died on the over night,Sweet William died on the morrow:Fair Margaret died for pure, pure love,Sweet William died for sorrow.XVIIIGo with your right to Newcastle,And come with your left side home;There you will see these two loversLie printed on one stone.

As it fell out on a long summer’s day,Two lovers they sat on a hill:They sat together that long summer’s day,And could not talk their fill.

‘I see no harm by you, Margaret,Nor you see none by me;Before to-morrow eight o’clockA rich wedding shall you see.’

Fair Margaret sat in her bower-windowCombing her yellow hair,She saw Sweet William and his brown brideUnto the church draw near.

Then down she laid her ivory comb,And up she bound her hair;She went out from her bower aliveBut alive never more came there.

When day was gone, and night was come,And all men fast asleep,Came in the ghost of fair Margaret,And stood at William’s feet.

‘How like ye the lady, Sweet William,That lies in your arms asleep?God give you joy of your gay bride-bed,And me of my winding-sheet!’

When night was gone, and day was come,And all men waked from sleep,His lady said to Sweet William,‘My dear, I have cause to weep:

‘I dream’d a dream, Sweet William,That seldom comes to good:My bower was fill’d with wild-wood swine,And our bride-bed full of blood.’

He callèd up his merry men all,By one, by two, by three.Saying, ‘I’ll away to Fair Margaret’s bower,With the leave of my ladye.’

And when he came to Fair Margaret’s bowerHe knockèd at the ring;And who so ready as her seven brothersTo rise and let him in?

‘O, is she in the parlour?’ he said,‘Or is she in the hall?Or is she in the long chamberAmongst her merry maids all?’—

‘No, she’s not in the parlour,’ they said,‘Nor she’s not in the hall:But she is in the long chamber,Laid out against the wall.’—

He turnèd up the covering-sheet,And look’d upon the dead.‘Methinks her lips are pale and wan,She has lost her cherry red.’

With that bespake the seven brothers,Making a piteous moan:‘You may go kiss your jolly brown bride,And let our sister alone.’—

‘If I do kiss my jolly brown bride,I do but what is right;For I made no vow to your sister dear,By day nor yet by night.

‘Deal on, deal on, my merry men all,Deal on your cake and wine!For whatever is dealt at her funeral to-dayShall be dealt to-morrow at mine.’

Fair Margaret died on the over night,Sweet William died on the morrow:Fair Margaret died for pure, pure love,Sweet William died for sorrow.

Go with your right to Newcastle,And come with your left side home;There you will see these two loversLie printed on one stone.

IThere were twa brethren in the North,They went to school thegither;The one unto the other said,‘Will you try a warsle[425], brither?’IIThey warsled up, they warsled down,Till Sir John fell to the ground,And there was a knife in Sir Willie’s pouchGied him a deadly wound.III‘Tak’ aff, tak’ aff my holland sark,Rive[426]it frae gare[427]to gare.And stap it in my bleeding wound—’Twill aiblins[428]bleed nae mair.’IVHe’s pu’it aff his holland sark,Rave it frae gare to gare,And stapt it in his bleeding wound—But aye it bled the mair.V‘O tak’ now aff my green cleiding[429]And row[430]me saftly in,And carry me up to Chester kirk,Whar the grass grows fair and green.VI‘But what will ye say to your father dearWhen ye gae home at e’en?’—‘I’ll say ye’re lying at Chester kirk,Whar the grass grows fair and green.’—VII‘O no, O no, when he speers[431]for meSaying, “William, whar is John?”Ye’ll say ye left me at Chester schoolLeaving the school alone.’VIIIHe’s ta’en him up upo’ his back,And borne him hence away,And carried him to Chester kirk,And laid him in the clay.IXBut when he sat in his father’s chair,He grew baith pale and wan:‘O what blude’s that upon your brow?And whar is your brither John?’—X‘O John’s awa’ to Chester school,A scholar he’ll return;He bade me tell his father dearAbout him no’ to mourn.XI‘And it is the blude o’ my gude grey steed;He wadna hunt for me.’—‘O thy steed’s blude was ne’er so red,Nor ne’er so dear to me!XII‘And whaten blude’s that upon your dirk?Dear Willie, tell to me.’—‘It is the blude o’ my ae britherAnd dule and wae is me!’—XIII‘O what sall I say to your mither?Dear Willie, tell to me.’—‘I’ll saddle my steed and awa’ I’ll ride,To dwell in some far countrie.’—XIV‘O when will ye come hame again?Dear Willie, tell to me!’—‘When the sun and moon dance on yon green:And that will never be!’

There were twa brethren in the North,They went to school thegither;The one unto the other said,‘Will you try a warsle[425], brither?’

They warsled up, they warsled down,Till Sir John fell to the ground,And there was a knife in Sir Willie’s pouchGied him a deadly wound.

‘Tak’ aff, tak’ aff my holland sark,Rive[426]it frae gare[427]to gare.And stap it in my bleeding wound—’Twill aiblins[428]bleed nae mair.’

He’s pu’it aff his holland sark,Rave it frae gare to gare,And stapt it in his bleeding wound—But aye it bled the mair.

‘O tak’ now aff my green cleiding[429]And row[430]me saftly in,And carry me up to Chester kirk,Whar the grass grows fair and green.

‘But what will ye say to your father dearWhen ye gae home at e’en?’—‘I’ll say ye’re lying at Chester kirk,Whar the grass grows fair and green.’—

‘O no, O no, when he speers[431]for meSaying, “William, whar is John?”Ye’ll say ye left me at Chester schoolLeaving the school alone.’

He’s ta’en him up upo’ his back,And borne him hence away,And carried him to Chester kirk,And laid him in the clay.

But when he sat in his father’s chair,He grew baith pale and wan:‘O what blude’s that upon your brow?And whar is your brither John?’—

‘O John’s awa’ to Chester school,A scholar he’ll return;He bade me tell his father dearAbout him no’ to mourn.

‘And it is the blude o’ my gude grey steed;He wadna hunt for me.’—‘O thy steed’s blude was ne’er so red,Nor ne’er so dear to me!

‘And whaten blude’s that upon your dirk?Dear Willie, tell to me.’—‘It is the blude o’ my ae britherAnd dule and wae is me!’—

‘O what sall I say to your mither?Dear Willie, tell to me.’—‘I’ll saddle my steed and awa’ I’ll ride,To dwell in some far countrie.’—

‘O when will ye come hame again?Dear Willie, tell to me!’—‘When the sun and moon dance on yon green:And that will never be!’

FOOTNOTES:[425]warsle = wrestle.[426]rive = tear.[427]gare = gore.[428]aiblins = perhaps.[429]cleiding = clothing.[430]row = wrap.[431]speers = asks.

[425]warsle = wrestle.

[426]rive = tear.

[427]gare = gore.

[428]aiblins = perhaps.

[429]cleiding = clothing.

[430]row = wrap.

[431]speers = asks.

IThere were three ladies play’d at the ba’,With a hey ho! and a lily gay!By came a knight and he woo’d them a’As the primrose spreads so sweetly.Sing Annet, and Marret, and fair Maisrie,As the dew hangs i’ the wood, gay ladie!IIThe first ane she was clad in red:‘O lady fair, Will you be my bride?’IIIThe midmost ane was clad in green:‘O lady fair, will you be my queen?’IVThe youngest o’ them was clad in white:‘O lady fair, be my heart’s delight!’—V‘Sir knight ere ye my favour win,Ye maun get consent frae a’ my kin.VI‘Ye maun go ask my father, the King:Sae maun ye ask my mither, the Queen.VII‘Sae maun ye ask my sister Anne,And dinna forget my brother John.’VIIIHe has sought her from her father, the KingAnd sae did he her mither, the Queen.IXHe has sought her from her sister Anne:But he has forgot her brither John.XNow when the wedding day was come,The knight would take his bonny bride home.XIAnd many a lord and many a knightCame to behold that ladie bright.XIIAnd there was nae man that did her seeBut wish’d himself bridegroom to be.XIIIHer father led her down the stair,And her mither dear she kiss’d her there.XIVHer sister Anne led her thro’ the close,And her brother John set her on her horse.XVShe lean’d her o’er the saddle-bow,To give him a kiss ere she did go.XVIHe has ta’en a knife, baith lang and sharp,And stabb’d that bonny bride to the heart.XVIIShe hadna ridden half thro’ the town,Until her heart’s blude stain’d her gown.XVIII‘Ride saftly up,’ said the best young man;‘I think our bride come hooly[432]on.’XIX‘Ride up, ride up,’ said the second man;‘I think our bride looks pale and wan.’XXUp then comes the gay bridegroom,And straight unto the bride he came.XXI‘Does your side-saddle sit awry?Or does your steed [go heavily]?’—XXII‘O lead me gently over yon stile,For there would I sit and bleed awhile.XXIII‘O lead me gently up yon hill,For there would I sit and make my will.’—XXIV‘O what will you leave to your father dear?’—‘The milk-white steed that brought me here.’—XXV‘What will you leave to your mother dear?’—‘My wedding shift that I do wear.’—XXVI‘What will you leave to your sister Anne?’—‘My silken snood and my golden fan.’—XXVII‘What will you leave to your brother John?’—With a hay ho! and a lily gay!‘The gallows-tree to hang him on.’And the primrose spreads so sweetly.Sing Annet, and Marret, and fair Maisrie,And the dew hangs i’ the wood, gay ladie!

There were three ladies play’d at the ba’,With a hey ho! and a lily gay!By came a knight and he woo’d them a’As the primrose spreads so sweetly.Sing Annet, and Marret, and fair Maisrie,As the dew hangs i’ the wood, gay ladie!

The first ane she was clad in red:‘O lady fair, Will you be my bride?’

The midmost ane was clad in green:‘O lady fair, will you be my queen?’

The youngest o’ them was clad in white:‘O lady fair, be my heart’s delight!’—

‘Sir knight ere ye my favour win,Ye maun get consent frae a’ my kin.

‘Ye maun go ask my father, the King:Sae maun ye ask my mither, the Queen.

‘Sae maun ye ask my sister Anne,And dinna forget my brother John.’

He has sought her from her father, the KingAnd sae did he her mither, the Queen.

He has sought her from her sister Anne:But he has forgot her brither John.

Now when the wedding day was come,The knight would take his bonny bride home.

And many a lord and many a knightCame to behold that ladie bright.

And there was nae man that did her seeBut wish’d himself bridegroom to be.

Her father led her down the stair,And her mither dear she kiss’d her there.

Her sister Anne led her thro’ the close,And her brother John set her on her horse.

She lean’d her o’er the saddle-bow,To give him a kiss ere she did go.

He has ta’en a knife, baith lang and sharp,And stabb’d that bonny bride to the heart.

She hadna ridden half thro’ the town,Until her heart’s blude stain’d her gown.

‘Ride saftly up,’ said the best young man;‘I think our bride come hooly[432]on.’

‘Ride up, ride up,’ said the second man;‘I think our bride looks pale and wan.’

Up then comes the gay bridegroom,And straight unto the bride he came.

‘Does your side-saddle sit awry?Or does your steed [go heavily]?’—

‘O lead me gently over yon stile,For there would I sit and bleed awhile.

‘O lead me gently up yon hill,For there would I sit and make my will.’—

‘O what will you leave to your father dear?’—‘The milk-white steed that brought me here.’—

‘What will you leave to your mother dear?’—‘My wedding shift that I do wear.’—

‘What will you leave to your sister Anne?’—‘My silken snood and my golden fan.’—

‘What will you leave to your brother John?’—With a hay ho! and a lily gay!‘The gallows-tree to hang him on.’And the primrose spreads so sweetly.Sing Annet, and Marret, and fair Maisrie,And the dew hangs i’ the wood, gay ladie!

FOOTNOTES:[432]hooly = slowly, softly.

[432]hooly = slowly, softly.

I‘Why does your brand sae drop wi’ blude,Edward, Edward?Why does your brand sae drop wi’ blude,And why sae sad gang ye, O?’—‘O I hae kill’d my hawk sae gude,Mither, mither;O I hae kill’d my hawk sae gude,And I had nae mair but he, O.’II‘Your hawk’s blude was never sae red,Edward, Edward;Your hawk’s blude was never sae red,My dear son, I tell thee, O.’—‘O I hae kill’d my red-roan steed,Mither, mither;O I hae kill’d my red-roan steed,That erst was sae fair and free, O.’III‘Your steed was auld, and ye hae got mair,Edward, Edward;Your steed was auld, and ye hae got mair;Some other dule ye dree[433], O.’—‘O I hae kill’d my father dear,Mither, mither;O I hae kill’d my father dear,Alas, and wae is me, O!’IV‘And whatten penance will ye dree for that,Edward, Edward?Whatten penance will ye dree for that?My dear son, now tell me, O.’—‘I’ll set my feet in yonder boat,Mither, mither;I’ll set my feet in yonder boat,And I’ll fare over the sea, O.’V‘And what will ye do wi’ your tow’rs and your ha’,Edward, Edward?And what will ye do wi’ your tow’rs and your ha’,That were sae fair to see, O?’—‘I’ll let them stand till they doun fa’,Mither, mither;I’ll let them stand till they doun fa’,For here never mair maun I be, O.’VI‘And what will ye leave to your bairns and your wife,Edward, Edward?And what will ye leave to your bairns and your wife,When ye gang owre the sea, O?’—‘The warld’s room: let them beg through life,Mither, mither;The warld’s room: let them beg through life;For them never mair will I see, O.’VII‘And what will ye leave to your ain mither dear,Edward, Edward?And what will ye leave to your ain mither dear,My dear son, now tell me, O?’—‘The curse of hell frae me sall ye bear,Mither, mither;The curse of hell frae me sall ye bear:Sic counsels ye gave to me, O!’

‘Why does your brand sae drop wi’ blude,Edward, Edward?Why does your brand sae drop wi’ blude,And why sae sad gang ye, O?’—‘O I hae kill’d my hawk sae gude,Mither, mither;O I hae kill’d my hawk sae gude,And I had nae mair but he, O.’

‘Your hawk’s blude was never sae red,Edward, Edward;Your hawk’s blude was never sae red,My dear son, I tell thee, O.’—‘O I hae kill’d my red-roan steed,Mither, mither;O I hae kill’d my red-roan steed,That erst was sae fair and free, O.’

‘Your steed was auld, and ye hae got mair,Edward, Edward;Your steed was auld, and ye hae got mair;Some other dule ye dree[433], O.’—‘O I hae kill’d my father dear,Mither, mither;O I hae kill’d my father dear,Alas, and wae is me, O!’

‘And whatten penance will ye dree for that,Edward, Edward?Whatten penance will ye dree for that?My dear son, now tell me, O.’—‘I’ll set my feet in yonder boat,Mither, mither;I’ll set my feet in yonder boat,And I’ll fare over the sea, O.’

‘And what will ye do wi’ your tow’rs and your ha’,Edward, Edward?And what will ye do wi’ your tow’rs and your ha’,That were sae fair to see, O?’—‘I’ll let them stand till they doun fa’,Mither, mither;I’ll let them stand till they doun fa’,For here never mair maun I be, O.’

‘And what will ye leave to your bairns and your wife,Edward, Edward?And what will ye leave to your bairns and your wife,When ye gang owre the sea, O?’—‘The warld’s room: let them beg through life,Mither, mither;The warld’s room: let them beg through life;For them never mair will I see, O.’

‘And what will ye leave to your ain mither dear,Edward, Edward?And what will ye leave to your ain mither dear,My dear son, now tell me, O?’—‘The curse of hell frae me sall ye bear,Mither, mither;The curse of hell frae me sall ye bear:Sic counsels ye gave to me, O!’

FOOTNOTES:[433]dule ye dree = grief you suffer.

[433]dule ye dree = grief you suffer.

I‘O where hae ye been, Lord Randal, my son?O where hae ye been, my handsome young man?’—‘I hae been to the wild wood; mother, make my bed soon,For I’m weary wi’ hunting, and fain wald lie down.’II‘Where gat ye your dinner, Lord Randal, my son?Where gat ye your dinner, my handsome young man?’—‘I dined wi’ my true-love; mother, make my bed soon,For I’m weary wi’ hunting, and fain wald lie down.’III‘What gat ye to your dinner, Lord Randal, my son?What gat ye to your dinner, my handsome young man?’—‘I gat eels boil’d in broo’; mother, make my bed soon,For I’m weary wi’ hunting, and fain wald lie down.’IV‘What became of your bloodhounds, Lord Randal, my son?What became of your bloodhounds, my handsome young man?’—‘O they swell’d and they died; mother, make my bed soon,For I’m weary wi’ hunting, and fain wald lie down.’V‘O I fear ye are poison’d, Lord Randal, my son!O I fear ye are poison’d, my handsome young man!’—‘O yes! I am poison’d; mother, make my bed soon,For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wald lie down.’

‘O where hae ye been, Lord Randal, my son?O where hae ye been, my handsome young man?’—‘I hae been to the wild wood; mother, make my bed soon,For I’m weary wi’ hunting, and fain wald lie down.’

‘Where gat ye your dinner, Lord Randal, my son?Where gat ye your dinner, my handsome young man?’—‘I dined wi’ my true-love; mother, make my bed soon,For I’m weary wi’ hunting, and fain wald lie down.’

‘What gat ye to your dinner, Lord Randal, my son?What gat ye to your dinner, my handsome young man?’—‘I gat eels boil’d in broo’; mother, make my bed soon,For I’m weary wi’ hunting, and fain wald lie down.’

‘What became of your bloodhounds, Lord Randal, my son?What became of your bloodhounds, my handsome young man?’—‘O they swell’d and they died; mother, make my bed soon,For I’m weary wi’ hunting, and fain wald lie down.’

‘O I fear ye are poison’d, Lord Randal, my son!O I fear ye are poison’d, my handsome young man!’—‘O yes! I am poison’d; mother, make my bed soon,For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wald lie down.’

IAs I was walking all alane,I heard twa corbies[434]making a mane:The tane unto the tither did say,‘Whar sall we gang and dine the day?’II‘—In behint yon auld fail[435]dykeI wot there lies a new-slain knight;And naebody kens that he lies thereBut his hawk, his hound, and his lady fair.III‘His hound is to the hunting gane,His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame,His lady’s ta’en anither mate,So we may mak’ our dinner sweet.IV‘Ye’ll sit on his white hause[436]-bane,And I’ll pike out his bonny blue e’en:Wi’ ae lock o’ his gowden hairWe’ll theek[437]our nest when it grows bare.V‘Mony a one for him maks mane,But nane sall ken whar he is gane:O’er his white banes, when they are bare,The wind sall blaw for evermair.’

As I was walking all alane,I heard twa corbies[434]making a mane:The tane unto the tither did say,‘Whar sall we gang and dine the day?’

‘—In behint yon auld fail[435]dykeI wot there lies a new-slain knight;And naebody kens that he lies thereBut his hawk, his hound, and his lady fair.

‘His hound is to the hunting gane,His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame,His lady’s ta’en anither mate,So we may mak’ our dinner sweet.

‘Ye’ll sit on his white hause[436]-bane,And I’ll pike out his bonny blue e’en:Wi’ ae lock o’ his gowden hairWe’ll theek[437]our nest when it grows bare.

‘Mony a one for him maks mane,But nane sall ken whar he is gane:O’er his white banes, when they are bare,The wind sall blaw for evermair.’

FOOTNOTES:[434]corbies = ravens.[435]fail = turf.[436]hause = neck.[437]theek = thatch.

[434]corbies = ravens.

[435]fail = turf.

[436]hause = neck.

[437]theek = thatch.

IThere were three ravens sat on a tree,They were as black as they might be.IIThe one of them said to his make[438],‘Where shall we our breakfast take?’III‘Down in yonder greenè fieldThere lies a knight slain under his shield;IV‘His hounds they lie down at his feet,So well do they their master keep;V‘His hawks they flie so eagerly,There’s no fowl dare come him nigh.VI‘Down there comes a fallow doeAs great with young as she might goe.VII‘She lift up his bloudy headAnd kist his wounds that were so red.VIII‘She gat him up upon her backAnd carried him to earthen lake.IX‘She buried him before the prime,She was dead herself ere evensong time.X‘God send every gentlemanSuch hounds, such hawks, and such a leman!’

There were three ravens sat on a tree,They were as black as they might be.

The one of them said to his make[438],‘Where shall we our breakfast take?’

‘Down in yonder greenè fieldThere lies a knight slain under his shield;

‘His hounds they lie down at his feet,So well do they their master keep;

‘His hawks they flie so eagerly,There’s no fowl dare come him nigh.

‘Down there comes a fallow doeAs great with young as she might goe.

‘She lift up his bloudy headAnd kist his wounds that were so red.

‘She gat him up upon her backAnd carried him to earthen lake.

‘She buried him before the prime,She was dead herself ere evensong time.

‘God send every gentlemanSuch hounds, such hawks, and such a leman!’

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