LATE at een, drinkin’ the wine,And ere they paid the lawin’,They set a combat them between,To fight it in the dawin’.‘O stay at hame, my noble lord!O stay at hame, my marrow!My cruel brother will you betray,On the dowie houms o’ Yarrow.’‘O fare ye weel, my lady gay!O fare ye weel, my Sarah!For I maun gae, tho’ I ne’er returnFrae the dowie banks o’ Yarrow.’She kiss’d his cheek, she kamed his hair,As she had done before, O;She belted on his noble brand,An’ he’s awa to Yarrow.
LATE at een, drinkin’ the wine,And ere they paid the lawin’,They set a combat them between,To fight it in the dawin’.‘O stay at hame, my noble lord!O stay at hame, my marrow!My cruel brother will you betray,On the dowie houms o’ Yarrow.’‘O fare ye weel, my lady gay!O fare ye weel, my Sarah!For I maun gae, tho’ I ne’er returnFrae the dowie banks o’ Yarrow.’She kiss’d his cheek, she kamed his hair,As she had done before, O;She belted on his noble brand,An’ he’s awa to Yarrow.
LATE at een, drinkin’ the wine,And ere they paid the lawin’,They set a combat them between,To fight it in the dawin’.
‘O stay at hame, my noble lord!O stay at hame, my marrow!My cruel brother will you betray,On the dowie houms o’ Yarrow.’
‘O fare ye weel, my lady gay!O fare ye weel, my Sarah!For I maun gae, tho’ I ne’er returnFrae the dowie banks o’ Yarrow.’
She kiss’d his cheek, she kamed his hair,As she had done before, O;She belted on his noble brand,An’ he’s awa to Yarrow.
370.lawin’] reckoning. marrow] mate, husband or wife. dowie] doleful. houms] water-meads.
370.lawin’] reckoning. marrow] mate, husband or wife. dowie] doleful. houms] water-meads.
OHE’s gane up yon high, high hill—I wat he gaed wi’ sorrow—An’ in a den spied nine arm’d men,I’ the dowie houms o’ Yarrow.‘O are ye come to drink the wine,As ye hae doon before, O?Or are ye come to wield the brand,On the dowie banks o’ Yarrow?’‘I am no come to drink the wine,As I hae don before, O,But I am come to wield the brand,On the dowie houms o’ Yarrow.’Four he hurt, an’ five he slew,On the dowie houms o’ Yarrow,Till that stubborn knight came him behind,An’ ran his body thorrow.‘Gae hame, gae hame, good brother John,An’ tell your sister SarahTo come an’ lift her noble lord,Who’s sleepin’ sound on Yarrow.’‘Yestreen I dream’d a dolefu’ dream;I ken’d there wad be sorrow;I dream’d I pu’d the heather green,On the dowie banks o’ Yarrow.’She gaed up yon high, high hill—I wat she gaed wi’ sorrow—An’ in a den spied nine dead men,On the dowie houms o’ Yarrow.She kiss’d his cheek, she kamed his hair,As oft she did before, O;She drank the red blood frae him ran,On the dowie houms o’ Yarrow.‘O haud your tongue, my douchter dear,For what needs a’ this sorrow?I’ll wed you on a better lordThan him you lost on Yarrow.’‘O haud your tongue, my father dear,An’ dinna grieve your Sarah;A better lord was never bornThan him I lost on Yarrow.‘Tak hame your ousen, tak hame your kye,For they hae bred our sorrow;I wiss that they had a’ gane madWhan they cam first to Yarrow.’
OHE’s gane up yon high, high hill—I wat he gaed wi’ sorrow—An’ in a den spied nine arm’d men,I’ the dowie houms o’ Yarrow.‘O are ye come to drink the wine,As ye hae doon before, O?Or are ye come to wield the brand,On the dowie banks o’ Yarrow?’‘I am no come to drink the wine,As I hae don before, O,But I am come to wield the brand,On the dowie houms o’ Yarrow.’Four he hurt, an’ five he slew,On the dowie houms o’ Yarrow,Till that stubborn knight came him behind,An’ ran his body thorrow.‘Gae hame, gae hame, good brother John,An’ tell your sister SarahTo come an’ lift her noble lord,Who’s sleepin’ sound on Yarrow.’‘Yestreen I dream’d a dolefu’ dream;I ken’d there wad be sorrow;I dream’d I pu’d the heather green,On the dowie banks o’ Yarrow.’She gaed up yon high, high hill—I wat she gaed wi’ sorrow—An’ in a den spied nine dead men,On the dowie houms o’ Yarrow.She kiss’d his cheek, she kamed his hair,As oft she did before, O;She drank the red blood frae him ran,On the dowie houms o’ Yarrow.‘O haud your tongue, my douchter dear,For what needs a’ this sorrow?I’ll wed you on a better lordThan him you lost on Yarrow.’‘O haud your tongue, my father dear,An’ dinna grieve your Sarah;A better lord was never bornThan him I lost on Yarrow.‘Tak hame your ousen, tak hame your kye,For they hae bred our sorrow;I wiss that they had a’ gane madWhan they cam first to Yarrow.’
OHE’s gane up yon high, high hill—I wat he gaed wi’ sorrow—An’ in a den spied nine arm’d men,I’ the dowie houms o’ Yarrow.
‘O are ye come to drink the wine,As ye hae doon before, O?Or are ye come to wield the brand,On the dowie banks o’ Yarrow?’
‘I am no come to drink the wine,As I hae don before, O,But I am come to wield the brand,On the dowie houms o’ Yarrow.’
Four he hurt, an’ five he slew,On the dowie houms o’ Yarrow,Till that stubborn knight came him behind,An’ ran his body thorrow.
‘Gae hame, gae hame, good brother John,An’ tell your sister SarahTo come an’ lift her noble lord,Who’s sleepin’ sound on Yarrow.’
‘Yestreen I dream’d a dolefu’ dream;I ken’d there wad be sorrow;I dream’d I pu’d the heather green,On the dowie banks o’ Yarrow.’
She gaed up yon high, high hill—I wat she gaed wi’ sorrow—An’ in a den spied nine dead men,On the dowie houms o’ Yarrow.
She kiss’d his cheek, she kamed his hair,As oft she did before, O;She drank the red blood frae him ran,On the dowie houms o’ Yarrow.
‘O haud your tongue, my douchter dear,For what needs a’ this sorrow?I’ll wed you on a better lordThan him you lost on Yarrow.’
‘O haud your tongue, my father dear,An’ dinna grieve your Sarah;A better lord was never bornThan him I lost on Yarrow.
‘Tak hame your ousen, tak hame your kye,For they hae bred our sorrow;I wiss that they had a’ gane madWhan they cam first to Yarrow.’
371.
CLERK Saunders and may MargaretWalk’d owre yon garden green;And deep and heavy was the loveThat fell thir twa between.‘A bed, a bed,’ Clerk Saunders said,‘A bed for you and me!’‘Fye na, fye na,’ said may Margaret,’Till anes we married be!’‘Then I’ll take the sword frae my scabbardAnd slowly lift the pin;And you may swear, and save your aith,Ye ne’er let Clerk Saunders in.‘Take you a napkin in your hand,And tie up baith your bonnie e’en,And you may swear, and save your aith,Ye saw me na since late yestreen.’It was about the midnight hour,When they asleep were laid,When in and came her seven brothers,Wi’ torches burning red:When in and came her seven brothers,Wi’ torches burning bright:They said, ‘We hae but one sister,And behold her lying with a knight!’Then out and spake the first o’ them,‘I bear the sword shall gar him die.’And out and spake the second o’ them,‘His father has nae mair but he.’And out and spake the third o’ them,‘I wot that they are lovers dear.’And out and spake the fourth o’ them,‘They hae been in love this mony a year.’Then out and spake the fifth o’ them,‘It were great sin true love to twain.’And out and spake the sixth o’ them,‘It were shame to slay a sleeping man.’Then up and gat the seventh o’ them,And never a word spake he;But he has striped his bright brown brandOut through Clerk Saunders’ fair bodye.
CLERK Saunders and may MargaretWalk’d owre yon garden green;And deep and heavy was the loveThat fell thir twa between.‘A bed, a bed,’ Clerk Saunders said,‘A bed for you and me!’‘Fye na, fye na,’ said may Margaret,’Till anes we married be!’‘Then I’ll take the sword frae my scabbardAnd slowly lift the pin;And you may swear, and save your aith,Ye ne’er let Clerk Saunders in.‘Take you a napkin in your hand,And tie up baith your bonnie e’en,And you may swear, and save your aith,Ye saw me na since late yestreen.’It was about the midnight hour,When they asleep were laid,When in and came her seven brothers,Wi’ torches burning red:When in and came her seven brothers,Wi’ torches burning bright:They said, ‘We hae but one sister,And behold her lying with a knight!’Then out and spake the first o’ them,‘I bear the sword shall gar him die.’And out and spake the second o’ them,‘His father has nae mair but he.’And out and spake the third o’ them,‘I wot that they are lovers dear.’And out and spake the fourth o’ them,‘They hae been in love this mony a year.’Then out and spake the fifth o’ them,‘It were great sin true love to twain.’And out and spake the sixth o’ them,‘It were shame to slay a sleeping man.’Then up and gat the seventh o’ them,And never a word spake he;But he has striped his bright brown brandOut through Clerk Saunders’ fair bodye.
CLERK Saunders and may MargaretWalk’d owre yon garden green;And deep and heavy was the loveThat fell thir twa between.
‘A bed, a bed,’ Clerk Saunders said,‘A bed for you and me!’‘Fye na, fye na,’ said may Margaret,’Till anes we married be!’
‘Then I’ll take the sword frae my scabbardAnd slowly lift the pin;And you may swear, and save your aith,Ye ne’er let Clerk Saunders in.
‘Take you a napkin in your hand,And tie up baith your bonnie e’en,And you may swear, and save your aith,Ye saw me na since late yestreen.’
It was about the midnight hour,When they asleep were laid,When in and came her seven brothers,Wi’ torches burning red:
When in and came her seven brothers,Wi’ torches burning bright:They said, ‘We hae but one sister,And behold her lying with a knight!’
Then out and spake the first o’ them,‘I bear the sword shall gar him die.’And out and spake the second o’ them,‘His father has nae mair but he.’
And out and spake the third o’ them,‘I wot that they are lovers dear.’And out and spake the fourth o’ them,‘They hae been in love this mony a year.’
Then out and spake the fifth o’ them,‘It were great sin true love to twain.’And out and spake the sixth o’ them,‘It were shame to slay a sleeping man.’
Then up and gat the seventh o’ them,And never a word spake he;But he has striped his bright brown brandOut through Clerk Saunders’ fair bodye.
striped] thrust.
striped] thrust.
CLERK Saunders he started, and Margaret she turn’dInto his arms as asleep she lay;And sad and silent was the nightThat was atween thir twae.And they lay still and sleepit soundUntil the day began to daw’;And kindly she to him did say,‘It is time, true love, you were awa’.’But he lay still, and sleepit sound,Albeit the sun began to sheen;She look’d atween her and the wa’,And dull and drowsie were his e’en.Then in and came her father dear;Said, ‘Let a’ your mourning be;I’ll carry the dead corse to the clay,And I’ll come back and comfort thee.’‘Comfort weel your seven sons,For comforted I will never be:I ween ’twas neither knave nor loonWas in the bower last night wi’ me.’The clinking bell gaed through the town,To carry the dead corse to the clay;And Clerk Saunders stood at may Margaret’s window,I wot, an hour before the day.‘Are ye sleeping, Marg’ret?’ he says,‘Or are ye waking presentlie?Give me my faith and troth again,I wot, true love, I gied to thee.’‘Your faith and troth ye sail never get,Nor our true love sail never twin,Until ye come within my bower,And kiss me cheik and chin.’‘My mouth it is full cold, Marg’ret;It has the smell, now, of the ground;And if I kiss thy comely mouth,Thy days of life will not be lang.‘O cocks are crowing a merry midnight;I wot the wild fowls are boding day;Give me my faith and troth again,And let me fare me on my way.’‘Thy faith and troth thou sallna get,And our true love sail never twin,Until ye tell what comes o’ women,I wot, who die in strong traivelling?’‘Their beds are made in the heavens high,Down at the foot of our good Lord’s knee,Weel set about wi’ gillyflowers;I wot, sweet company for to see.‘O cocks are crowing a merry midnight;I wot the wild fowls are boding day;The psalms of heaven will soon be sung,And I, ere now, will be miss’d away.’Then she has taken a crystal wand,And she has stroken her troth thereon;She has given it him out at the shot-window,Wi’ mony a sad sigh and heavy groan.
CLERK Saunders he started, and Margaret she turn’dInto his arms as asleep she lay;And sad and silent was the nightThat was atween thir twae.And they lay still and sleepit soundUntil the day began to daw’;And kindly she to him did say,‘It is time, true love, you were awa’.’But he lay still, and sleepit sound,Albeit the sun began to sheen;She look’d atween her and the wa’,And dull and drowsie were his e’en.Then in and came her father dear;Said, ‘Let a’ your mourning be;I’ll carry the dead corse to the clay,And I’ll come back and comfort thee.’‘Comfort weel your seven sons,For comforted I will never be:I ween ’twas neither knave nor loonWas in the bower last night wi’ me.’The clinking bell gaed through the town,To carry the dead corse to the clay;And Clerk Saunders stood at may Margaret’s window,I wot, an hour before the day.‘Are ye sleeping, Marg’ret?’ he says,‘Or are ye waking presentlie?Give me my faith and troth again,I wot, true love, I gied to thee.’‘Your faith and troth ye sail never get,Nor our true love sail never twin,Until ye come within my bower,And kiss me cheik and chin.’‘My mouth it is full cold, Marg’ret;It has the smell, now, of the ground;And if I kiss thy comely mouth,Thy days of life will not be lang.‘O cocks are crowing a merry midnight;I wot the wild fowls are boding day;Give me my faith and troth again,And let me fare me on my way.’‘Thy faith and troth thou sallna get,And our true love sail never twin,Until ye tell what comes o’ women,I wot, who die in strong traivelling?’‘Their beds are made in the heavens high,Down at the foot of our good Lord’s knee,Weel set about wi’ gillyflowers;I wot, sweet company for to see.‘O cocks are crowing a merry midnight;I wot the wild fowls are boding day;The psalms of heaven will soon be sung,And I, ere now, will be miss’d away.’Then she has taken a crystal wand,And she has stroken her troth thereon;She has given it him out at the shot-window,Wi’ mony a sad sigh and heavy groan.
CLERK Saunders he started, and Margaret she turn’dInto his arms as asleep she lay;And sad and silent was the nightThat was atween thir twae.
And they lay still and sleepit soundUntil the day began to daw’;And kindly she to him did say,‘It is time, true love, you were awa’.’
But he lay still, and sleepit sound,Albeit the sun began to sheen;She look’d atween her and the wa’,And dull and drowsie were his e’en.
Then in and came her father dear;Said, ‘Let a’ your mourning be;I’ll carry the dead corse to the clay,And I’ll come back and comfort thee.’
‘Comfort weel your seven sons,For comforted I will never be:I ween ’twas neither knave nor loonWas in the bower last night wi’ me.’
The clinking bell gaed through the town,To carry the dead corse to the clay;And Clerk Saunders stood at may Margaret’s window,I wot, an hour before the day.
‘Are ye sleeping, Marg’ret?’ he says,‘Or are ye waking presentlie?Give me my faith and troth again,I wot, true love, I gied to thee.’
‘Your faith and troth ye sail never get,Nor our true love sail never twin,Until ye come within my bower,And kiss me cheik and chin.’
‘My mouth it is full cold, Marg’ret;It has the smell, now, of the ground;And if I kiss thy comely mouth,Thy days of life will not be lang.
‘O cocks are crowing a merry midnight;I wot the wild fowls are boding day;Give me my faith and troth again,And let me fare me on my way.’
‘Thy faith and troth thou sallna get,And our true love sail never twin,Until ye tell what comes o’ women,I wot, who die in strong traivelling?’
‘Their beds are made in the heavens high,Down at the foot of our good Lord’s knee,Weel set about wi’ gillyflowers;I wot, sweet company for to see.
‘O cocks are crowing a merry midnight;I wot the wild fowls are boding day;The psalms of heaven will soon be sung,And I, ere now, will be miss’d away.’
Then she has taken a crystal wand,And she has stroken her troth thereon;She has given it him out at the shot-window,Wi’ mony a sad sigh and heavy groan.
twin] part in two.
twin] part in two.
‘ITHANK ye, Marg’ret; I thank ye, Marg’ret;And ay I thank ye heartilie;Gin ever the dead come for the quick,Be sure, Marg’ret, I’ll come for thee.’It’s hosen and shoon, and gown alone,She climb’d the wall, and follow’d him,Until she came to the green forest,And there she lost the sight o’ him.‘Is there ony room at your head, Saunders?Is there ony room at your feet?Or ony room at your side, Saunders,Where fain, fain, I wad sleep?’‘There’s nae room at my head, Marg’ret,There’s nae room at my feet;My bed it is fu’ lowly now,Amang the hungry worms I sleep.‘Cauld mould is my covering now,But and my winding-sheet;The dew it falls nae sooner downThan my resting-place is weet.‘But plait a wand o’ bonny birk,And lay it on my breast;And shed a tear upon my grave,And wish my saul gude rest.’Then up and crew the red, red cock,And up and crew the gray:‘’Tis time, ’tis time, my dear Marg’ret,That you were going away.‘And fair Marg’ret, and rare Marg’ret,And Marg’ret o’ veritie,Gin e’er ye love another man,Ne’er love him as ye did me.’
‘ITHANK ye, Marg’ret; I thank ye, Marg’ret;And ay I thank ye heartilie;Gin ever the dead come for the quick,Be sure, Marg’ret, I’ll come for thee.’It’s hosen and shoon, and gown alone,She climb’d the wall, and follow’d him,Until she came to the green forest,And there she lost the sight o’ him.‘Is there ony room at your head, Saunders?Is there ony room at your feet?Or ony room at your side, Saunders,Where fain, fain, I wad sleep?’‘There’s nae room at my head, Marg’ret,There’s nae room at my feet;My bed it is fu’ lowly now,Amang the hungry worms I sleep.‘Cauld mould is my covering now,But and my winding-sheet;The dew it falls nae sooner downThan my resting-place is weet.‘But plait a wand o’ bonny birk,And lay it on my breast;And shed a tear upon my grave,And wish my saul gude rest.’Then up and crew the red, red cock,And up and crew the gray:‘’Tis time, ’tis time, my dear Marg’ret,That you were going away.‘And fair Marg’ret, and rare Marg’ret,And Marg’ret o’ veritie,Gin e’er ye love another man,Ne’er love him as ye did me.’
‘ITHANK ye, Marg’ret; I thank ye, Marg’ret;And ay I thank ye heartilie;Gin ever the dead come for the quick,Be sure, Marg’ret, I’ll come for thee.’
It’s hosen and shoon, and gown alone,She climb’d the wall, and follow’d him,Until she came to the green forest,And there she lost the sight o’ him.
‘Is there ony room at your head, Saunders?Is there ony room at your feet?Or ony room at your side, Saunders,Where fain, fain, I wad sleep?’
‘There’s nae room at my head, Marg’ret,There’s nae room at my feet;My bed it is fu’ lowly now,Amang the hungry worms I sleep.
‘Cauld mould is my covering now,But and my winding-sheet;The dew it falls nae sooner downThan my resting-place is weet.
‘But plait a wand o’ bonny birk,And lay it on my breast;And shed a tear upon my grave,And wish my saul gude rest.’
Then up and crew the red, red cock,And up and crew the gray:‘’Tis time, ’tis time, my dear Marg’ret,That you were going away.
‘And fair Marg’ret, and rare Marg’ret,And Marg’ret o’ veritie,Gin e’er ye love another man,Ne’er love him as ye did me.’
372.
THE reivers they stole Fair Annie,As she walk’d by the sea;But a noble knight was her ransom soon,Wi’ gowd and white monie.She bided in strangers’ land wi’ him,And none knew whence she cam;She lived in the castle wi’ her love,But never told her name.‘It’s narrow, narrow, mak your bed,And learn to lie your lane;For I’m gaun owre the sea, Fair Annie,A braw Bride to bring hame.Wi’ her I will get gowd and gear,Wi’ you I ne’er gat nane.‘But wha will bake my bridal bread,Or brew my bridal ale?And wha will welcome my bright Bride,That I bring owre the dale?’‘It’s I will bake your bridal bread,And brew your bridal ale;And I will welcome your bright Bride,That you bring owre the dale.’‘But she that welcomes my bright BrideMaun gang like maiden fair;She maun lace on her robe sae jimp,And comely braid her hair.‘Bind up, bind up your yellow hair,And tie it on your neck;And see you look as maiden-likeAs the day that first we met.’‘O how can I gang maiden-like,When maiden I am nane?Have I not borne six sons to thee,And am wi’ child again?’‘I’ll put cooks into my kitchen,And stewards in my hall,And I’ll have bakers for my bread,And brewers for my ale;But you’re to welcome my bright Bride,That I bring owre the dale.’Three months and a day were gane and past,Fair Annie she gat wordThat her love’s ship was come at last,Wi’ his bright young Bride aboard.She ’s ta’en her young son in her arms,Anither in her hand;And she’s gane up to the highest tower,Looks over sea and land.
THE reivers they stole Fair Annie,As she walk’d by the sea;But a noble knight was her ransom soon,Wi’ gowd and white monie.She bided in strangers’ land wi’ him,And none knew whence she cam;She lived in the castle wi’ her love,But never told her name.‘It’s narrow, narrow, mak your bed,And learn to lie your lane;For I’m gaun owre the sea, Fair Annie,A braw Bride to bring hame.Wi’ her I will get gowd and gear,Wi’ you I ne’er gat nane.‘But wha will bake my bridal bread,Or brew my bridal ale?And wha will welcome my bright Bride,That I bring owre the dale?’‘It’s I will bake your bridal bread,And brew your bridal ale;And I will welcome your bright Bride,That you bring owre the dale.’‘But she that welcomes my bright BrideMaun gang like maiden fair;She maun lace on her robe sae jimp,And comely braid her hair.‘Bind up, bind up your yellow hair,And tie it on your neck;And see you look as maiden-likeAs the day that first we met.’‘O how can I gang maiden-like,When maiden I am nane?Have I not borne six sons to thee,And am wi’ child again?’‘I’ll put cooks into my kitchen,And stewards in my hall,And I’ll have bakers for my bread,And brewers for my ale;But you’re to welcome my bright Bride,That I bring owre the dale.’Three months and a day were gane and past,Fair Annie she gat wordThat her love’s ship was come at last,Wi’ his bright young Bride aboard.She ’s ta’en her young son in her arms,Anither in her hand;And she’s gane up to the highest tower,Looks over sea and land.
THE reivers they stole Fair Annie,As she walk’d by the sea;But a noble knight was her ransom soon,Wi’ gowd and white monie.
She bided in strangers’ land wi’ him,And none knew whence she cam;She lived in the castle wi’ her love,But never told her name.
‘It’s narrow, narrow, mak your bed,And learn to lie your lane;For I’m gaun owre the sea, Fair Annie,A braw Bride to bring hame.Wi’ her I will get gowd and gear,Wi’ you I ne’er gat nane.
‘But wha will bake my bridal bread,Or brew my bridal ale?And wha will welcome my bright Bride,That I bring owre the dale?’
‘It’s I will bake your bridal bread,And brew your bridal ale;And I will welcome your bright Bride,That you bring owre the dale.’
‘But she that welcomes my bright BrideMaun gang like maiden fair;She maun lace on her robe sae jimp,And comely braid her hair.
‘Bind up, bind up your yellow hair,And tie it on your neck;And see you look as maiden-likeAs the day that first we met.’
‘O how can I gang maiden-like,When maiden I am nane?Have I not borne six sons to thee,And am wi’ child again?’
‘I’ll put cooks into my kitchen,And stewards in my hall,And I’ll have bakers for my bread,And brewers for my ale;But you’re to welcome my bright Bride,That I bring owre the dale.’
Three months and a day were gane and past,Fair Annie she gat wordThat her love’s ship was come at last,Wi’ his bright young Bride aboard.
She ’s ta’en her young son in her arms,Anither in her hand;And she’s gane up to the highest tower,Looks over sea and land.
jimp] trim.
jimp] trim.
‘COME doun, come doun, my mother dear,Come aff the castle wa’!I fear if langer ye stand there,Ye’ll let yoursell doun fa’.’She’s ta’en a cake o’ the best bread,A stoup o’ the best wine,And a’ the keys upon her arm,And to the yett is gane.‘O ye’re welcome hame, my ain gude lord,To your castles and your towers;Ye’re welcome hame, my ain gude lord,To your ha’s, but and your bowers.And welcome to your hame, fair lady!For a’ that’s here is yours.’‘O whatna lady’s that, my lord,That welcomes you and me?Gin I be lang about this place,Her friend I mean to be.’Fair Annie served the lang tablesWi’ the white bread and the wine;But ay she drank the wan waterTo keep her colour fine.And she gaed by the first table,And smiled upon them a’;But ere she reach’d the second table,The tears began to fa’.
‘COME doun, come doun, my mother dear,Come aff the castle wa’!I fear if langer ye stand there,Ye’ll let yoursell doun fa’.’She’s ta’en a cake o’ the best bread,A stoup o’ the best wine,And a’ the keys upon her arm,And to the yett is gane.‘O ye’re welcome hame, my ain gude lord,To your castles and your towers;Ye’re welcome hame, my ain gude lord,To your ha’s, but and your bowers.And welcome to your hame, fair lady!For a’ that’s here is yours.’‘O whatna lady’s that, my lord,That welcomes you and me?Gin I be lang about this place,Her friend I mean to be.’Fair Annie served the lang tablesWi’ the white bread and the wine;But ay she drank the wan waterTo keep her colour fine.And she gaed by the first table,And smiled upon them a’;But ere she reach’d the second table,The tears began to fa’.
‘COME doun, come doun, my mother dear,Come aff the castle wa’!I fear if langer ye stand there,Ye’ll let yoursell doun fa’.’
She’s ta’en a cake o’ the best bread,A stoup o’ the best wine,And a’ the keys upon her arm,And to the yett is gane.
‘O ye’re welcome hame, my ain gude lord,To your castles and your towers;Ye’re welcome hame, my ain gude lord,To your ha’s, but and your bowers.And welcome to your hame, fair lady!For a’ that’s here is yours.’
‘O whatna lady’s that, my lord,That welcomes you and me?Gin I be lang about this place,Her friend I mean to be.’
Fair Annie served the lang tablesWi’ the white bread and the wine;But ay she drank the wan waterTo keep her colour fine.
And she gaed by the first table,And smiled upon them a’;But ere she reach’d the second table,The tears began to fa’.
yett] gate.
yett] gate.
SHE took a napkin lang and white,And hung it on a pin;It was to wipe away the tears,As she gaed out and in.When bells were rung and mass was sung,And a’ men bound for bed,The bridegroom and the bonny BrideIn ae chamber were laid.Fair Annie’s ta’en a harp in her hand,To harp thir twa asleep;But ay, as she harpit and she sang,Fu’ sairly did she weep.‘O gin my sons were seven rats,Rinnin’ on the castle wa’,And I mysell a great grey cat,I soon wad worry them a’!‘O gin my sons were seven hares,Rinnin’ owre yon lily lea,And I mysell a good greyhound,Soon worried they a’ should be!’Then out and spak the bonny young Bride,In bride-bed where she lay:‘That’s like my sister Annie,’ she says;‘Wha is it doth sing and play?‘I’ll put on my gown,’ said the new-come Bride,‘And my shoes upon my feet;I will see wha doth sae sadly sing,And what is it gars her greet.‘What ails you, what ails you, my housekeeper,That ye mak sic a mane?Has ony wine-barrel cast its girds,Or is a’ your white bread gane?’‘It isna because my wine is spilt,Or that my white bread’s gane;But because I’ve lost my true love’s love,And he’s wed to anither ane.’‘Noo tell me wha was your father?’ she says,‘Noo tell me wha was your mother?And had ye ony sister?’ she says,‘And had ye ever a brother?’‘The Earl of Wemyss was my father,The Countess of Wemyss my mother,Young Elinor she was my sister dear,And Lord John he was my brother.’‘If the Earl of Wemyss was your father,I wot sae was he mine;And it’s O my sister Annie!Your love ye sallna tyne.‘Tak your husband, my sister dear;You ne’er were wrang’d for me,Beyond a kiss o’ his merry mouthAs we cam owre the sea.‘Seven ships, loaded weel,Cam owre the sea wi’ me;Ane o’ them will tak me hame,And six I’ll gie to thee.’
SHE took a napkin lang and white,And hung it on a pin;It was to wipe away the tears,As she gaed out and in.When bells were rung and mass was sung,And a’ men bound for bed,The bridegroom and the bonny BrideIn ae chamber were laid.Fair Annie’s ta’en a harp in her hand,To harp thir twa asleep;But ay, as she harpit and she sang,Fu’ sairly did she weep.‘O gin my sons were seven rats,Rinnin’ on the castle wa’,And I mysell a great grey cat,I soon wad worry them a’!‘O gin my sons were seven hares,Rinnin’ owre yon lily lea,And I mysell a good greyhound,Soon worried they a’ should be!’Then out and spak the bonny young Bride,In bride-bed where she lay:‘That’s like my sister Annie,’ she says;‘Wha is it doth sing and play?‘I’ll put on my gown,’ said the new-come Bride,‘And my shoes upon my feet;I will see wha doth sae sadly sing,And what is it gars her greet.‘What ails you, what ails you, my housekeeper,That ye mak sic a mane?Has ony wine-barrel cast its girds,Or is a’ your white bread gane?’‘It isna because my wine is spilt,Or that my white bread’s gane;But because I’ve lost my true love’s love,And he’s wed to anither ane.’‘Noo tell me wha was your father?’ she says,‘Noo tell me wha was your mother?And had ye ony sister?’ she says,‘And had ye ever a brother?’‘The Earl of Wemyss was my father,The Countess of Wemyss my mother,Young Elinor she was my sister dear,And Lord John he was my brother.’‘If the Earl of Wemyss was your father,I wot sae was he mine;And it’s O my sister Annie!Your love ye sallna tyne.‘Tak your husband, my sister dear;You ne’er were wrang’d for me,Beyond a kiss o’ his merry mouthAs we cam owre the sea.‘Seven ships, loaded weel,Cam owre the sea wi’ me;Ane o’ them will tak me hame,And six I’ll gie to thee.’
SHE took a napkin lang and white,And hung it on a pin;It was to wipe away the tears,As she gaed out and in.
When bells were rung and mass was sung,And a’ men bound for bed,The bridegroom and the bonny BrideIn ae chamber were laid.
Fair Annie’s ta’en a harp in her hand,To harp thir twa asleep;But ay, as she harpit and she sang,Fu’ sairly did she weep.
‘O gin my sons were seven rats,Rinnin’ on the castle wa’,And I mysell a great grey cat,I soon wad worry them a’!
‘O gin my sons were seven hares,Rinnin’ owre yon lily lea,And I mysell a good greyhound,Soon worried they a’ should be!’
Then out and spak the bonny young Bride,In bride-bed where she lay:‘That’s like my sister Annie,’ she says;‘Wha is it doth sing and play?
‘I’ll put on my gown,’ said the new-come Bride,‘And my shoes upon my feet;I will see wha doth sae sadly sing,And what is it gars her greet.
‘What ails you, what ails you, my housekeeper,That ye mak sic a mane?Has ony wine-barrel cast its girds,Or is a’ your white bread gane?’
‘It isna because my wine is spilt,Or that my white bread’s gane;But because I’ve lost my true love’s love,And he’s wed to anither ane.’
‘Noo tell me wha was your father?’ she says,‘Noo tell me wha was your mother?And had ye ony sister?’ she says,‘And had ye ever a brother?’
‘The Earl of Wemyss was my father,The Countess of Wemyss my mother,Young Elinor she was my sister dear,And Lord John he was my brother.’
‘If the Earl of Wemyss was your father,I wot sae was he mine;And it’s O my sister Annie!Your love ye sallna tyne.
‘Tak your husband, my sister dear;You ne’er were wrang’d for me,Beyond a kiss o’ his merry mouthAs we cam owre the sea.
‘Seven ships, loaded weel,Cam owre the sea wi’ me;Ane o’ them will tak me hame,And six I’ll gie to thee.’
tyne] lose.
tyne] lose.
373.
‘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, 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!’
‘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, 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!’
‘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, 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!’
dule ye dree] grief you suffer.
dule ye dree] grief you suffer.
‘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!’
‘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!’
‘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!’
374.
IT fell about the Martinmas,When the wind blew shrill and cauld,Said Edom o’ Gordon to his men,‘We maun draw to a hauld.‘And what a hauld sall we draw to,My merry men and me?We will gae to the house o’ the Rodes,To see that fair ladye.’The lady stood on her castle wa’,Beheld baith dale and down;There she was ware of a host of menCam riding towards the town.‘O see ye not, my merry men a’,O see ye not what I see?Methinks I see a host of men;I marvel wha they be.’She ween’d it had been her lovely lord,As he cam riding hame;It was the traitor, Edom o’ Gordon,Wha reck’d nae sin nor shame.
IT fell about the Martinmas,When the wind blew shrill and cauld,Said Edom o’ Gordon to his men,‘We maun draw to a hauld.‘And what a hauld sall we draw to,My merry men and me?We will gae to the house o’ the Rodes,To see that fair ladye.’The lady stood on her castle wa’,Beheld baith dale and down;There she was ware of a host of menCam riding towards the town.‘O see ye not, my merry men a’,O see ye not what I see?Methinks I see a host of men;I marvel wha they be.’She ween’d it had been her lovely lord,As he cam riding hame;It was the traitor, Edom o’ Gordon,Wha reck’d nae sin nor shame.
IT fell about the Martinmas,When the wind blew shrill and cauld,Said Edom o’ Gordon to his men,‘We maun draw to a hauld.
‘And what a hauld sall we draw to,My merry men and me?We will gae to the house o’ the Rodes,To see that fair ladye.’
The lady stood on her castle wa’,Beheld baith dale and down;There she was ware of a host of menCam riding towards the town.
‘O see ye not, my merry men a’,O see ye not what I see?Methinks I see a host of men;I marvel wha they be.’
She ween’d it had been her lovely lord,As he cam riding hame;It was the traitor, Edom o’ Gordon,Wha reck’d nae sin nor shame.
town] stead.
town] stead.
SHE had nae sooner buskit hersell,And putten on her gown,But Edom o’ Gordon an’ his menWere round about the town.They had nae sooner supper set,Nae sooner said the grace,But Edom o’ Gordon an’ his menWere lighted about the place.The lady ran up to her tower-head,Sae fast as she could hie,To see if by her fair speechesShe could wi’ him agree.‘Come doun to me, ye lady gay,Come doun, come doun to me;This night sall ye lig within mine arms,To-morrow my bride sall be.’‘I winna come down, ye fals Gordon,I winna come down to thee;I winna forsake my ain dear lord,That is sae far frae me.’‘Gie owre your house, ye lady fair,Gie owre your house to me;Or I sall brenn yoursel therein,But and your babies three.’‘I winna gie owre, ye fals Gordon,To nae sic traitor as yee;And if ye brenn my ain dear babes,My lord sail mak ye dree.
SHE had nae sooner buskit hersell,And putten on her gown,But Edom o’ Gordon an’ his menWere round about the town.They had nae sooner supper set,Nae sooner said the grace,But Edom o’ Gordon an’ his menWere lighted about the place.The lady ran up to her tower-head,Sae fast as she could hie,To see if by her fair speechesShe could wi’ him agree.‘Come doun to me, ye lady gay,Come doun, come doun to me;This night sall ye lig within mine arms,To-morrow my bride sall be.’‘I winna come down, ye fals Gordon,I winna come down to thee;I winna forsake my ain dear lord,That is sae far frae me.’‘Gie owre your house, ye lady fair,Gie owre your house to me;Or I sall brenn yoursel therein,But and your babies three.’‘I winna gie owre, ye fals Gordon,To nae sic traitor as yee;And if ye brenn my ain dear babes,My lord sail mak ye dree.
SHE had nae sooner buskit hersell,And putten on her gown,But Edom o’ Gordon an’ his menWere round about the town.
They had nae sooner supper set,Nae sooner said the grace,But Edom o’ Gordon an’ his menWere lighted about the place.
The lady ran up to her tower-head,Sae fast as she could hie,To see if by her fair speechesShe could wi’ him agree.
‘Come doun to me, ye lady gay,Come doun, come doun to me;This night sall ye lig within mine arms,To-morrow my bride sall be.’
‘I winna come down, ye fals Gordon,I winna come down to thee;I winna forsake my ain dear lord,That is sae far frae me.’
‘Gie owre your house, ye lady fair,Gie owre your house to me;Or I sall brenn yoursel therein,But and your babies three.’
‘I winna gie owre, ye fals Gordon,To nae sic traitor as yee;And if ye brenn my ain dear babes,My lord sail mak ye dree.
buskit] attired.
buskit] attired.
‘NOW reach my pistol, Glaud, my man,And charge ye weel my gun;For, but an I pierce that bluidy butcher,My babes, we been undone!’She stood upon her castle wa’,And let twa bullets flee:She miss’d that bluidy butcher’s heart,And only razed his knee.‘Set fire to the house!’ quo’ fals Gordon,All wud wi’ dule and ire:‘Fals lady, ye sail rue this deidAs ye brenn in the fire!’Wae worth, wae worth ye, Jock, my man!I paid ye weel your fee;Why pu’ ye out the grund-wa’ stane,Lets in the reek to me?‘And e’en wae worth ye, Jock, my man!I paid ye weel your hire;Why pu’ ye out the grund-wa’ stane,To me lets in the fire?’‘Ye paid me weel my hire, ladye,Ye paid me weel my fee:But now I’m Edom o’ Gordon’s man—Maun either do or die.’O then bespake her little son,Sat on the nurse’s knee:Says, ‘Mither dear, gie owre this house,For the reek it smithers me.’
‘NOW reach my pistol, Glaud, my man,And charge ye weel my gun;For, but an I pierce that bluidy butcher,My babes, we been undone!’She stood upon her castle wa’,And let twa bullets flee:She miss’d that bluidy butcher’s heart,And only razed his knee.‘Set fire to the house!’ quo’ fals Gordon,All wud wi’ dule and ire:‘Fals lady, ye sail rue this deidAs ye brenn in the fire!’Wae worth, wae worth ye, Jock, my man!I paid ye weel your fee;Why pu’ ye out the grund-wa’ stane,Lets in the reek to me?‘And e’en wae worth ye, Jock, my man!I paid ye weel your hire;Why pu’ ye out the grund-wa’ stane,To me lets in the fire?’‘Ye paid me weel my hire, ladye,Ye paid me weel my fee:But now I’m Edom o’ Gordon’s man—Maun either do or die.’O then bespake her little son,Sat on the nurse’s knee:Says, ‘Mither dear, gie owre this house,For the reek it smithers me.’
‘NOW reach my pistol, Glaud, my man,And charge ye weel my gun;For, but an I pierce that bluidy butcher,My babes, we been undone!’
She stood upon her castle wa’,And let twa bullets flee:She miss’d that bluidy butcher’s heart,And only razed his knee.
‘Set fire to the house!’ quo’ fals Gordon,All wud wi’ dule and ire:‘Fals lady, ye sail rue this deidAs ye brenn in the fire!’
Wae worth, wae worth ye, Jock, my man!I paid ye weel your fee;Why pu’ ye out the grund-wa’ stane,Lets in the reek to me?
‘And e’en wae worth ye, Jock, my man!I paid ye weel your hire;Why pu’ ye out the grund-wa’ stane,To me lets in the fire?’
‘Ye paid me weel my hire, ladye,Ye paid me weel my fee:But now I’m Edom o’ Gordon’s man—Maun either do or die.’
O then bespake her little son,Sat on the nurse’s knee:Says, ‘Mither dear, gie owre this house,For the reek it smithers me.’
wud] mad. grund-wa’] ground-wall.
wud] mad. grund-wa’] ground-wall.
‘IWAD gie a’ my gowd, my bairn,Sae wad I a’ my fee,For ae blast o’ the western wind,To blaw the reek frae thee.’O then bespake her dochter dear—She was baith jimp and sma’:‘O row me in a pair o’ sheets,And tow me owre the wa’!’They row’d her in a pair o’ sheets,And tow’d her owre the wa’;But on the point o’ Gordon’s spearShe gat a deadly fa’.O bonnie, bonnie was her mouth,And cherry were her cheiks,And clear, clear was her yellow hair,Whereon the red blood dreips.Then wi’ his spear he turn’d her owre;O gin her face was wane!He said, ‘Ye are the first that e’erI wish’d alive again.’He turn’d her owre and owre again;O gin her skin was white!‘I might hae spared that bonnie faceTo hae been some man’s delight.‘Busk and boun, my merry men a’,For ill dooms I do guess;I canna look in that bonnie faceAs it lies on the grass.’
‘IWAD gie a’ my gowd, my bairn,Sae wad I a’ my fee,For ae blast o’ the western wind,To blaw the reek frae thee.’O then bespake her dochter dear—She was baith jimp and sma’:‘O row me in a pair o’ sheets,And tow me owre the wa’!’They row’d her in a pair o’ sheets,And tow’d her owre the wa’;But on the point o’ Gordon’s spearShe gat a deadly fa’.O bonnie, bonnie was her mouth,And cherry were her cheiks,And clear, clear was her yellow hair,Whereon the red blood dreips.Then wi’ his spear he turn’d her owre;O gin her face was wane!He said, ‘Ye are the first that e’erI wish’d alive again.’He turn’d her owre and owre again;O gin her skin was white!‘I might hae spared that bonnie faceTo hae been some man’s delight.‘Busk and boun, my merry men a’,For ill dooms I do guess;I canna look in that bonnie faceAs it lies on the grass.’
‘IWAD gie a’ my gowd, my bairn,Sae wad I a’ my fee,For ae blast o’ the western wind,To blaw the reek frae thee.’
O then bespake her dochter dear—She was baith jimp and sma’:‘O row me in a pair o’ sheets,And tow me owre the wa’!’
They row’d her in a pair o’ sheets,And tow’d her owre the wa’;But on the point o’ Gordon’s spearShe gat a deadly fa’.
O bonnie, bonnie was her mouth,And cherry were her cheiks,And clear, clear was her yellow hair,Whereon the red blood dreips.
Then wi’ his spear he turn’d her owre;O gin her face was wane!He said, ‘Ye are the first that e’erI wish’d alive again.’
He turn’d her owre and owre again;O gin her skin was white!‘I might hae spared that bonnie faceTo hae been some man’s delight.
‘Busk and boun, my merry men a’,For ill dooms I do guess;I canna look in that bonnie faceAs it lies on the grass.’
jimp] slender, trim. row] roll, wrap. Busk and boun] trim up and prepare to go.
jimp] slender, trim. row] roll, wrap. Busk and boun] trim up and prepare to go.
‘WHA looks to freits, my master dear,It’s freits will follow them;Let it ne’er be said that Edom o’ GordonWas daunted by a dame.’But when the lady saw the fireCome flaming owre her head,She wept, and kiss’d her children twain,Says, ‘Bairns, we been but dead.’The Gordon then his bugle blew,And said, ‘Awa’, awa’!This house o’ the Rodes is a’ in a flame;I hauld it time to ga’.’And this way lookit her ain dear lord,As he cam owre the lea;He saw his castle a’ in a lowe,As far as he could see.Then sair, O sair, his mind misgave,And all his heart was wae:‘Put on, put on, my wighty men,Sae fast as ye can gae.‘Put on, put on, my wighty men,Sae fast as ye can drie!For he that’s hindmost o’ the thrangSall ne’er get good o’ me.’Then some they rade, and some they ran,Out-owre the grass and bent;But ere the foremost could win up,Baith lady and babes were brent.
‘WHA looks to freits, my master dear,It’s freits will follow them;Let it ne’er be said that Edom o’ GordonWas daunted by a dame.’But when the lady saw the fireCome flaming owre her head,She wept, and kiss’d her children twain,Says, ‘Bairns, we been but dead.’The Gordon then his bugle blew,And said, ‘Awa’, awa’!This house o’ the Rodes is a’ in a flame;I hauld it time to ga’.’And this way lookit her ain dear lord,As he cam owre the lea;He saw his castle a’ in a lowe,As far as he could see.Then sair, O sair, his mind misgave,And all his heart was wae:‘Put on, put on, my wighty men,Sae fast as ye can gae.‘Put on, put on, my wighty men,Sae fast as ye can drie!For he that’s hindmost o’ the thrangSall ne’er get good o’ me.’Then some they rade, and some they ran,Out-owre the grass and bent;But ere the foremost could win up,Baith lady and babes were brent.
‘WHA looks to freits, my master dear,It’s freits will follow them;Let it ne’er be said that Edom o’ GordonWas daunted by a dame.’
But when the lady saw the fireCome flaming owre her head,She wept, and kiss’d her children twain,Says, ‘Bairns, we been but dead.’
The Gordon then his bugle blew,And said, ‘Awa’, awa’!This house o’ the Rodes is a’ in a flame;I hauld it time to ga’.’
And this way lookit her ain dear lord,As he cam owre the lea;He saw his castle a’ in a lowe,As far as he could see.
Then sair, O sair, his mind misgave,And all his heart was wae:‘Put on, put on, my wighty men,Sae fast as ye can gae.
‘Put on, put on, my wighty men,Sae fast as ye can drie!For he that’s hindmost o’ the thrangSall ne’er get good o’ me.’
Then some they rade, and some they ran,Out-owre the grass and bent;But ere the foremost could win up,Baith lady and babes were brent.
freits] ill omens. lowe] flame. wighty] stout, doughty.
freits] ill omens. lowe] flame. wighty] stout, doughty.
AND after the Gordon he is gane,Sae fast as he might drie;And soon i’ the Gordon’s foul heart’s bludeHe’s wroken his dear ladye.
AND after the Gordon he is gane,Sae fast as he might drie;And soon i’ the Gordon’s foul heart’s bludeHe’s wroken his dear ladye.
AND after the Gordon he is gane,Sae fast as he might drie;And soon i’ the Gordon’s foul heart’s bludeHe’s wroken his dear ladye.
wroken] avenged.
wroken] avenged.
375.
MARIE Hamilton’s to the kirk gane,Wi’ ribbons in her hair;The King thought mair o’ Marie HamiltonThan ony that were there.Marie Hamilton’s to the kirk ganeWi’ ribbons on her breast;The King thought mair o’ Marie HamiltonThan he listen’d to the priest.Marie Hamilton’s to the kirk gane,Wi’ gloves upon her hands;The King thought mair o’ Marie HamiltonThan the Queen and a’ her lands.She hadna been about the King’s courtA month, but barely one,Till she was beloved by a’ the King’s courtAnd the King the only man.She hadna been about the King’s courtA month, but barely three,Till frae the King’s court Marie Hamilton,Marie Hamilton durstna be.The King is to the Abbey gane,To pu’ the Abbey tree,To scale the babe frae Marie’s heart;But the thing it wadna be.O she has row’d it in her apron,And set it on the sea—‘Gae sink ye or swim ye, bonny babe,Ye’se get nae mair o’ me.’Word is to the kitchen gane,And word is to the ha’,And word is to the noble roomAmang the ladies a’,That Marie Hamilton’s brought to bed,And the bonny babe’s miss’d and awa’.Scarcely had she lain down again,And scarcely fa’en asleep,When up and started our gude QueenJust at her bed-feet;Saying—‘Marie Hamilton, where’s your babe?For I am sure I heard it greet.’‘O no, O no, my noble Queen!Think no sic thing to be;’Twas but a stitch into my side,And sair it troubles me!’‘Get up, get up, Marie Hamilton:Get up and follow me;For I am going to Edinburgh town,A rich wedding for to see.’
MARIE Hamilton’s to the kirk gane,Wi’ ribbons in her hair;The King thought mair o’ Marie HamiltonThan ony that were there.Marie Hamilton’s to the kirk ganeWi’ ribbons on her breast;The King thought mair o’ Marie HamiltonThan he listen’d to the priest.Marie Hamilton’s to the kirk gane,Wi’ gloves upon her hands;The King thought mair o’ Marie HamiltonThan the Queen and a’ her lands.She hadna been about the King’s courtA month, but barely one,Till she was beloved by a’ the King’s courtAnd the King the only man.She hadna been about the King’s courtA month, but barely three,Till frae the King’s court Marie Hamilton,Marie Hamilton durstna be.The King is to the Abbey gane,To pu’ the Abbey tree,To scale the babe frae Marie’s heart;But the thing it wadna be.O she has row’d it in her apron,And set it on the sea—‘Gae sink ye or swim ye, bonny babe,Ye’se get nae mair o’ me.’Word is to the kitchen gane,And word is to the ha’,And word is to the noble roomAmang the ladies a’,That Marie Hamilton’s brought to bed,And the bonny babe’s miss’d and awa’.Scarcely had she lain down again,And scarcely fa’en asleep,When up and started our gude QueenJust at her bed-feet;Saying—‘Marie Hamilton, where’s your babe?For I am sure I heard it greet.’‘O no, O no, my noble Queen!Think no sic thing to be;’Twas but a stitch into my side,And sair it troubles me!’‘Get up, get up, Marie Hamilton:Get up and follow me;For I am going to Edinburgh town,A rich wedding for to see.’
MARIE Hamilton’s to the kirk gane,Wi’ ribbons in her hair;The King thought mair o’ Marie HamiltonThan ony that were there.
Marie Hamilton’s to the kirk ganeWi’ ribbons on her breast;The King thought mair o’ Marie HamiltonThan he listen’d to the priest.
Marie Hamilton’s to the kirk gane,Wi’ gloves upon her hands;The King thought mair o’ Marie HamiltonThan the Queen and a’ her lands.
She hadna been about the King’s courtA month, but barely one,Till she was beloved by a’ the King’s courtAnd the King the only man.
She hadna been about the King’s courtA month, but barely three,Till frae the King’s court Marie Hamilton,Marie Hamilton durstna be.
The King is to the Abbey gane,To pu’ the Abbey tree,To scale the babe frae Marie’s heart;But the thing it wadna be.
O she has row’d it in her apron,And set it on the sea—‘Gae sink ye or swim ye, bonny babe,Ye’se get nae mair o’ me.’
Word is to the kitchen gane,And word is to the ha’,And word is to the noble roomAmang the ladies a’,That Marie Hamilton’s brought to bed,And the bonny babe’s miss’d and awa’.
Scarcely had she lain down again,And scarcely fa’en asleep,When up and started our gude QueenJust at her bed-feet;Saying—‘Marie Hamilton, where’s your babe?For I am sure I heard it greet.’
‘O no, O no, my noble Queen!Think no sic thing to be;’Twas but a stitch into my side,And sair it troubles me!’
‘Get up, get up, Marie Hamilton:Get up and follow me;For I am going to Edinburgh town,A rich wedding for to see.’
row’d] rolled, wrapped. greet] cry.
row’d] rolled, wrapped. greet] cry.
OSLOWLY, slowly rase she up,And slowly put she on;And slowly rade she out the wayWi’ mony a weary groan.The Queen was clad in scarlet,Her merry maids all in green;And every town that they cam to,They took Marie for the Queen.‘Ride hooly, hooly, gentlemen,Ride hooly now wi’ me!For never, I am sure, a wearier burdRade in your companie.’—But little wist Marie Hamilton,When she rade on the brown,That she was gaen to Edinburgh town,And a’ to be put down.‘Why weep ye so, ye burgess wives,Why look ye so on me?O I am going to Edinburgh town,A rich wedding to see.’When she gaed up the tolbooth stairs,The corks frae her heels did flee;And lang or e’er she cam down again,She was condemn’d to die.When she cam to the Netherbow port,She laugh’d loud laughters three;But when she came to the gallows footThe tears blinded her e’e.
OSLOWLY, slowly rase she up,And slowly put she on;And slowly rade she out the wayWi’ mony a weary groan.The Queen was clad in scarlet,Her merry maids all in green;And every town that they cam to,They took Marie for the Queen.‘Ride hooly, hooly, gentlemen,Ride hooly now wi’ me!For never, I am sure, a wearier burdRade in your companie.’—But little wist Marie Hamilton,When she rade on the brown,That she was gaen to Edinburgh town,And a’ to be put down.‘Why weep ye so, ye burgess wives,Why look ye so on me?O I am going to Edinburgh town,A rich wedding to see.’When she gaed up the tolbooth stairs,The corks frae her heels did flee;And lang or e’er she cam down again,She was condemn’d to die.When she cam to the Netherbow port,She laugh’d loud laughters three;But when she came to the gallows footThe tears blinded her e’e.
OSLOWLY, slowly rase she up,And slowly put she on;And slowly rade she out the wayWi’ mony a weary groan.
The Queen was clad in scarlet,Her merry maids all in green;And every town that they cam to,They took Marie for the Queen.
‘Ride hooly, hooly, gentlemen,Ride hooly now wi’ me!For never, I am sure, a wearier burdRade in your companie.’—
But little wist Marie Hamilton,When she rade on the brown,That she was gaen to Edinburgh town,And a’ to be put down.
‘Why weep ye so, ye burgess wives,Why look ye so on me?O I am going to Edinburgh town,A rich wedding to see.’
When she gaed up the tolbooth stairs,The corks frae her heels did flee;And lang or e’er she cam down again,She was condemn’d to die.
When she cam to the Netherbow port,She laugh’d loud laughters three;But when she came to the gallows footThe tears blinded her e’e.
hooly] gently.
hooly] gently.
‘YESTREEN the Queen had four Maries,The night she’ll hae but three;There was Marie Seaton, and Marie Beaton,And Marie Carmichael, and me.‘O often have I dress’d my QueenAnd put gowd upon her hair;But now I’ve gotten for my rewardThe gallows to be my share.‘Often have I dress’d my QueenAnd often made her bed;But now I’ve gotten for my rewardThe gallows tree to tread.‘I charge ye all, ye mariners,When ye sail owre the faem,Let neither my father nor mother get witBut that I’m coming hame.‘I charge ye all, ye mariners,That sail upon the sea,That neither my father nor mother get witThe dog’s death I’m to die.‘For if my father and mother got wit,And my bold brethren three,O mickle wad be the gude red bludeThis day wad be spilt for me!‘O little did my mother ken,The day she cradled me,The lands I was to travel inOr the death I was to die!
‘YESTREEN the Queen had four Maries,The night she’ll hae but three;There was Marie Seaton, and Marie Beaton,And Marie Carmichael, and me.‘O often have I dress’d my QueenAnd put gowd upon her hair;But now I’ve gotten for my rewardThe gallows to be my share.‘Often have I dress’d my QueenAnd often made her bed;But now I’ve gotten for my rewardThe gallows tree to tread.‘I charge ye all, ye mariners,When ye sail owre the faem,Let neither my father nor mother get witBut that I’m coming hame.‘I charge ye all, ye mariners,That sail upon the sea,That neither my father nor mother get witThe dog’s death I’m to die.‘For if my father and mother got wit,And my bold brethren three,O mickle wad be the gude red bludeThis day wad be spilt for me!‘O little did my mother ken,The day she cradled me,The lands I was to travel inOr the death I was to die!
‘YESTREEN the Queen had four Maries,The night she’ll hae but three;There was Marie Seaton, and Marie Beaton,And Marie Carmichael, and me.
‘O often have I dress’d my QueenAnd put gowd upon her hair;But now I’ve gotten for my rewardThe gallows to be my share.
‘Often have I dress’d my QueenAnd often made her bed;But now I’ve gotten for my rewardThe gallows tree to tread.
‘I charge ye all, ye mariners,When ye sail owre the faem,Let neither my father nor mother get witBut that I’m coming hame.
‘I charge ye all, ye mariners,That sail upon the sea,That neither my father nor mother get witThe dog’s death I’m to die.
‘For if my father and mother got wit,And my bold brethren three,O mickle wad be the gude red bludeThis day wad be spilt for me!
‘O little did my mother ken,The day she cradled me,The lands I was to travel inOr the death I was to die!
376.
THERE were twa sisters sat in a bour;Binnorie, O Binnorie!There cam a knight to be their wooer,By the bonnie milldams o’ Binnorie.He courted the eldest with glove and ring,But he lo’ed the youngest abune a thing.The eldest she was vexèd sair,And sair envied her sister fair.Upon a morning fair and clear,She cried upon her sister dear:‘O sister, sister, tak my hand,And let’s go down to the river-strand.’She’s ta’en her by the lily hand,And led her down to the river-strand.The youngest stood upon a stane,The eldest cam and push’d her in.‘O sister, sister, reach your hand!And ye sall be heir o’ half my land:‘O sister, reach me but your glove!And sweet William sall be your love.’Sometimes she sank, sometimes she swam,Until she cam to the miller’s dam.Out then cam the miller’s son,And saw the fair maid soummin’ in.‘O father, father, draw your dam!There’s either a mermaid or a milk-white swan.’
THERE were twa sisters sat in a bour;Binnorie, O Binnorie!There cam a knight to be their wooer,By the bonnie milldams o’ Binnorie.He courted the eldest with glove and ring,But he lo’ed the youngest abune a thing.The eldest she was vexèd sair,And sair envied her sister fair.Upon a morning fair and clear,She cried upon her sister dear:‘O sister, sister, tak my hand,And let’s go down to the river-strand.’She’s ta’en her by the lily hand,And led her down to the river-strand.The youngest stood upon a stane,The eldest cam and push’d her in.‘O sister, sister, reach your hand!And ye sall be heir o’ half my land:‘O sister, reach me but your glove!And sweet William sall be your love.’Sometimes she sank, sometimes she swam,Until she cam to the miller’s dam.Out then cam the miller’s son,And saw the fair maid soummin’ in.‘O father, father, draw your dam!There’s either a mermaid or a milk-white swan.’
THERE were twa sisters sat in a bour;Binnorie, O Binnorie!There cam a knight to be their wooer,By the bonnie milldams o’ Binnorie.
He courted the eldest with glove and ring,But he lo’ed the youngest abune a thing.
The eldest she was vexèd sair,And sair envied her sister fair.
Upon a morning fair and clear,She cried upon her sister dear:
‘O sister, sister, tak my hand,And let’s go down to the river-strand.’
She’s ta’en her by the lily hand,And led her down to the river-strand.
The youngest stood upon a stane,The eldest cam and push’d her in.
‘O sister, sister, reach your hand!And ye sall be heir o’ half my land:
‘O sister, reach me but your glove!And sweet William sall be your love.’
Sometimes she sank, sometimes she swam,Until she cam to the miller’s dam.
Out then cam the miller’s son,And saw the fair maid soummin’ in.
‘O father, father, draw your dam!There’s either a mermaid or a milk-white swan.’