28_The English and Scottish popular ballads, volume 5 (of 5)

He drue his hat out-our his eayn,

The tear blinded his eay;

She drue back her yallou loaks,

An a light laughter luke she.

Fan she came by yon mill-toun,

. . . . . .

‘O well may the mill goo,

An well matt she be!

For aften ha ye filled my poke

We the whit meall an the gray.’

‘I wiss I had druken the water

Fan I drank the aill,

Or any carl’s dother

Suld ha tald me siken a teall.’

‘Perhaps I am a carl’s dother,

Perhaps I am nean;

Fan ye gatt me in frie forest,

Ye sud ha latten alean.

* * * * * * *

‘Take awa yer silver spons,

Far awa fra me,

An ye gee me t[he] ram-horn [s]pons,

Them I am best used we.

‘Ye take awa yer tabel-cloths,

Far awa fra me,

An ye gee me a mukell dish

I am best used we.

‘For if I had my mukel dish hear,

An sayn an it war fou,

I wad sup till I war sared,

An sayn lay doun my head an slep like ony sou.

‘Ye take away yer hollan shits,

Far awa fra me,

An ye bring me a cannas,

It’s the thing I ben eased we.’

Fan bells wer rung, an mess was sung,

An a’ man boun to bed,

Earl Richerd an the carl’s dother

In a bed [were laid].

‘Lay yond, lay yond, ye carl’s dother,

Your hot skin . . me;

It setts na carl’s dothers

In earls’ beds to be.’

‘Perhaps I am a carl’s dother,

Perhaps I am nean;

Bat fan ye gat me in free forest

Ye might a latten alean.’

Up starts the Bellie Blind,

Att ther bed-head:

‘I think it is a meatt marrage

Betuen the ane an the eather,

The Earl of Heartfourds ae daughter

An the Quien of England’s brother.’

‘If this be the Earl of Heartfourd’s ae doughter,

As I trust well it be,

Mony a gued hors have I redden

For the love of the.’

* * * * *

2^2. ha had.

8^2. cas es: _perhaps_ caes _was meant_.

9^4. to eull.

18^5. sigh an.

21^3. courts.

32^3. t _with an imperfect letter, for_ the.

37^2. _Perhaps_ we.

39^5, 40^1. _The_ t _is not crossed in_ Heartfourd, _and_ Hearlfourd

_may be meant_.

Kidson’s Traditional Tunes, p. 20, from Mr Benjamin Holgate, Leeds.

There was a shepherd’s daughter

Who kept sheep on yon hill;

There came a young man riding by,

Who swore he’d have his will.

Fol lol lay

Fol lol di diddle lol di day

* * * * *

2^{1,2}.

He took her by the lilly-white hand

And by her silken sleeve,

3^4.

Or tell to me your name.

‘Oh, some they call me Jack, sweetheart,

And some they call me Will,

But when I ride the king’s high-gate

My name is Sweet William.’

4^4. But name.

Findlay’s MSS, I, 208, from Mr McKenzie, Advie, Morayshire.

‘T is said a shepherd’s ae daughter

Kept sheep upon a hill,

An by there cam a courteous knight,

An he wad hae his will.

He’s taen her by the milk-white hand

An by the grass-green sleeve,

He’s laid her doon at the fit o a bush,

An neer ance speired her leave.

112. The Baffled Knight.

P. 480 a, 4th paragraph. ‘The Politick Maid’ was entered to Thomas

Lambert, 16th May, 1637: Arber, Stationers’ Registers, IV, 385.

481 b, III, 518 a, IV, 495 a. Tears. ‘Chasseur, mon beau chasseur,’

Pineau, Le Folk-Lore du Poitou, p. 251.

Varieties. ‘La jolie Couturière,’ Pineau, p. 285.

483 b. ‘La jolie Batelière,’ Romania, XIII, 410; La Tradition, VII, 110.

VOL. III.

117. A Gest of Robyn Hode.

P. 40 b. References to Robin Hood in the 15th century.

And many men speken of Robyn Hood

And shotte nevere in his bowe.

Reply of Friar Dow Topias, in Wright’s Poetical Poems and Songs

relating to English History, II, 59, dated by Wright 1401, which may be

rather too early. The proverbial phrase shows that Robin Hood had long

been familiar to the English People.

120. Robin Hood’s Death.

P. 103 a, note *. ‘Give me my God’ is not perhaps too bold a

suggestion. We have ‘yeve me my savyour’ in the Romance of the Rose,

Morris, v. 6436, translating ‘le cors nostre seigneur.’

132. The Bold Pedlar and Robin Hood.

P. 155. The following copy, entitled ‘Robin Hood and the Proud Pedlar,’

is from a garland in a collection of folio sheet-ballads mostly dated

1775, in the British Museum, 1346. m. 7(9). The Museum catalogue

assigns the ballads to Edinburgh. I owe my knowledge of this piece to

Mr P. Z. Round.

There was a proud pedlar, a fine pedlar,

a proud pedlar he seemd to be,

And he’s taen his pack upon his back,

and went linking over the lee.

Where he met two troublesome men,

troublesome men they seemd to be,

The one of them was Robin Hood,

the other Little John so free.

‘O what is that into thy pack?

thou pedlar proud now tell to me;’

‘There’s seven suits of good green silk,

and bow-strings either two or three.’

‘If there’s seven suits of good green silk,

and silken bow-strings two or three,

Then be my sooth,’ says Little John,

‘there’s some of them must fall to me.’

Then he’s taen his pack off his back,

and laid it low down by his knee:

‘Where’s the man fit to drive me frae’t?

then pack and all to him I’ll gie.’

Then Little John pulld out his sword,

the pedler he pulld out his brand,

They swapped swords till they did sweat;

‘O pedlar fine, now hold thy hand!’

‘O fy! O fy!’ said Robin Hood,

‘O fy! O fy! that must not be,

For I’ve seen a man in greater strait

than to pay him and pedlars three.’

‘Then try him, try him, master,’ he said,

‘O try him now, master,’ said he,

‘For by me sooth,’ said Little John,

‘master, ’tis neither you nor me.’

Bold Robin pulld out his sword,

the pedlar he pulld out his brand,

They swapped swords till they did sweat;

‘O pedlar fine, now hold thy hand!

‘O what’s thy name,’ says Robin Hood,

‘now, pedlar fine, come tell to me;’

‘No, be my sooth, that will I not,

till I know what your names may be.’

‘The one of us[’s] calld Robin Hood,

the other Little John so free,

And now it lies into thy breast

whether thou’lt tell thy name to me.’

‘I’m Gamwell gay, of good green wood,

my fame is far beyond the sea;

For killing a man in my father’s land

my native land I was forcd to flee.’

‘If thou be Gamwell of the green wood,

thy fame is far beyond the sea;

And be my sooth,’ said Little John,

‘my sister’s son thou needs must be.

‘But what was that was on thy back?

O, cousin Gamwell, tell unto me;’

‘It is seven sarks and three gravats,

is all the kitt that I carry.’

They smoothd their words and sheathd their swords,

and kissd and clapt most tenderly;

To a tavern then they went to dine,

and drank about most heartily.

July, 1775.

* * * * *

Captain Delany’s Garland, containing five new songs, ... II, Robin

Hood and the Proud Pedlar.

6^2, 6^4, 9^4. padler.

152. Robin Hood and the Golden Arrow.

P. 223. Letter shot to its address on an arrow. Afanasief, Russian

Popular Tales, V, 183.

155. Sir Hugh, or, The Jew’s Daughter.

P. 233, IV, 497.

‘Little Sir William,’ Miss M. H. Mason’s Nursery Rhymes and Country

Songs, p. 46.

Easter Day was a holiday,

Of all days in the year,

And all the little schoolfellows went out to play,

Bat Sir William was not there.

Mamma went to the Jew’s wife’s house,

And knockëd at the ring,

Saying, Little Sir William, if you are there,

Oh, let your mother in!

The Jew’s wife opened the door and said,

He is not here to-day;

He is with the little schoolfellows out on the green,

Playing some pretty play.

Mamma went to the Boyne water,

That is so wide and deep,

Saying, Little Sir William, if you are there,

Oh, pity your mother’s weep!

‘How can I pity your weep, mother,

And I so long in pain?

For the little penknife sticks close in my heart,

And the Jew’s wife has me slain.

‘Go home, go home, my mother dear,

And prepare my winding sheet,

For tomorrow morning before eight o’clock

You with my body shall meet.

‘And lay my Prayer-Book at my head,

And my grammar at my feet,

That all the little schoolfellows as they pass by

May read them for my sake.’

Notes and Queries, Eighth Series, II, 43, July, 1842. ‘The Jew’s

Daughter,’ communicated by Mr C. W. Penny, as repeated to his brother,

the vicar of Stixwould, Lincolnshire, by one of the oldest women in

the parish. “A song sung by his nurse to a Lincolnshire gentleman, now

over sixty years of age.”

You toss your ball so high,

You toss your ball so low,

You toss your ball into the Jew’s garden,

Where the pretty flowers grow.

Out came one of the Jew’s daughters,

Dressed all in green:

‘Come hither, pretty little dear,

And fetch your ball again.’

She showed him a rosy-cheeked apple,

She showed him a gay gold ring,

She showed him a cherry as red as blood,

And that enticed him in.

She set him in a golden chair,

She gave him kisses sweet,

She threw him down a darksome well,

More than fifty feet deep.

156. Queen Eleanor’s Confession.

P. 259. =B.= Here given as it stands in “The Old Lady’s Collection,” No

Our quin’s seek, an very seek,

She’s seek an leak to dee,

An she has sent for the friears of France,

To speak we her spedely.

‘Ye’ll pit on a frier’s robe,

An I’ll put one anether,

An we’ll goo to madam the Quin,

Leak frayers bath together.’

‘God forbid,’ sayes Earl Marchell,

‘That ever the leak sud be,

That I sud begule madam the Quin;

I wad be hangëd hei.’

. . . . . . . . .

The King suar by the croun an the septer roun

Eearl Marchell sudne dei.

The king pat on a frier’s rob,

Eearl Marchell on anether,

The’r on to the Quin,

Like frayers bath together.

‘Gin ye be the frayers of France,’ she says,

‘As I trust wiell ye be,

Bat an ye be ony eather men

Ye sall be hangëd he.’

The king he turned him roun,

An by his troth suare he,

‘We ha na sung masse

San we came fra the sea.’

‘The first sin ever I did,

An a very grat sin it was tee,

I gaa my medenhead to Earl Marchell,

Below a green-wood tree.’

‘That was a sin, an a very grate sin,

Bat pardoned it man be;’

‘We menement,’ said Earl Marchell,

Bat a heavë, heavë heart had he.

‘The nist sin ever I did,

An a grat sin it was tee,

I pusned Lady Rosomon,

An the King’s darling was she.’

‘That was a sin, an a grat sin,

Bat pardoned it may be;’

‘We menement,’ said King Henry,

Bat a heavë, heavë heart had he.

‘The nist sin I ever did,

An a grat sin it was tee,

I keepet pusin in my bosom seven year

To pusin him King Henre.’

‘That was a sin, an a grat sin,

Bat pardoned it may be;’

‘We menement,’ sa[i]d King Henrie,

Bat a heavë, heavë heart had he.

‘O see ye na yon bony boys,

As they play att the baa?

An see ye na Earl Merchal’s son?

I lee him best of all.

‘But see ye na King Henry’s son?

He is headed leak a bull an baked like a bore,

I leak him warst of a’:’

‘An, by my soth,’ says him King Henry,

‘I leak him best of the twa.’

The king he turned him roun,

Pat on the coat of goud,

The Quin turned her roun,

The king to behald.

‘. . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . .

Gin I had na sworn by the croun an the septer roun,

Eearl Marchell sud ben gared dee.’

* * * * *

_Written without division into stanzas or verses._

2^2. An ye’ll.

157. Gude Wallace.

P. 265. From C. K. Sharpe’s “first collection,” p. 18.

“An old song shewing how Sir Wm Wallace killed thirty Englishmen.”

This copy resembles =C=.

‘Decencey’ in 8^2 is the reciter’s rendering of the bencite

(benedicite) of =C= 6^2.

‘I wish I had a king,’ brave Wallace he said,

That every brave Scotsman might leave by his oun,

For between me and my sovreign leige

I think I see some ill [seed] sowen.’

Brave Wallace out-oer yon river he lap,

And he lighted low down on the plain,

And he came to a gay lady,

As she was at the well washing.

‘Some tidings, some tidings,’ brave Wallace he said,

‘Some tidings ye most tell unto me;

Now since we are met here togither on the plain,

Some tidings ye most tell unto me.’

‘O go ye down to yon wee ale-house,

And there is fifeteen Englishmen,

And they are seeking for good Wallace,

And him to take and him for to hang.’

‘I wish I had a penny in my pocket,’ he says,

‘Or although it were but a bare baubee,

And I wad away to the wee ale-house,

The fifeteen Englishmen to see.’

She’s put hir hand in hir left pocket,

And fifeteen shillings to him she told down:

‘If ever I live to come back this way,

The money’s be well paid agein.’

He louted twafauld oer a stick,

And he louted threefauld oer a tree,

And he’es gane awa to the wee ale-house,

The fifeteen Englishmen to see.

When he came to the wee ale-house,

He walked ben, says, Decencey be there!

The Engilish proud captain he awnsered him,

And he awnsered him with a graid domineer.

‘Why, where wast thou born, thou old crooked carle?

Where and of what country?’

‘I am a true Scotsman bred and born,

And an auld crooked carle, just sic as ye may see.’

‘I wad gee fifeteen shillings,’ the captain he said,

‘To an auld crooked carle, just sic a ane as thee,

If ye wad tell me of Willie Wallace,

For he’s the man I wad fain see.’

‘O hold your hand,’ brave Wallace he said,

‘And let me see if yeer coin be good;

If ye wad give fifeteen shillings more,

Ye never bade a better boad.’

He’s tean the captain out-oer the chaft-blade,

Till a bitt of meat he never did eat mair;

He stickit a’ the reste as the sat aroun the table,

And he left them all a spraulling there.

‘Get up, get up, goodwife,’ he says,

‘Get up and get me some denner in haste,

For it is now three days and nights

Since a bit of meat my mouth did taste.’

The denner was not well made ready,

Nor was it on the table sett,

Till other fifeteen English men

Were a’perading about the yett.

‘Come out, come out now, Wallace,’ they crys,

‘For this is the place ye’es sure for [to] die;’

‘I lippen not sae little to good,’ he says,

‘Although I be but ill-wordie.’

The goodman ran butt, the goodwife ran ben,

They put the house in such a fever!

Five of them he sticket where they stood,

And other five he smoddered in the gitter.

Five of them he folowd to the merry greenwood,

And these five he hangt on a grain,

And gin the morn at ten o’clock

He was wi his mirry men at Lochmaben.

* * * * *

6^2. 15.

8^2. _Perhaps we should read_ be here, _as in_ =A= 10^2, _but

other copies have_ bad ... there, _and it is likely enough that there

is a confusion of the oblique and the direct form_.

14^4. =a.=

265 b, note †. ‘Let me see if your money be good, and if it be true

and right, you’ll maybe get the downcome of Robinhood,’ from a recited

copy, in the preface to Finlay’s Scottish Ballads, I, XV.]

158. Hugh Spencer’s Feats in France.

P. 276. What is narrated of Walter in the Chronicon Novalese is

likewise told of Ogier by Alexander Neckam, De Naturis Rerum, ed. T.

Wright, p. 261 ff. (see also the note at p. lvi), in a copy of Turpin’s

Chronicle, Ward, Catalogue of Romances, I, 579 f., and (excepting

the monastery) in La Chevalerie Ogier, ed. Barrois, v. 10390 ff.; of

Heimir, Saga Ðiðriks af Bern, c. 429 ff., Unger, p. 361 ff.; and in

part in the ballad of ‘Svend Felding,’ Grundtvig, No 31, I, 398. See

Grundtvig’s preface to No 15, I, 216 ff.; Ward, as above; Voretzsch,

Ueber die Sage von Ogier dem Dänen, p. 113 ff.

161. The Battle of Otterburn.

P. 289, IV, 499. From C. K. Sharpe’s “first collection,” p. 21.

Tradition in this copy, as in Herd’s, =B=, ascribes the death of

Douglas to an offended and treacherous page.

It was about the Lammes time,

When moorland men do win their hay,

Brave Earl Douglass, in armer bright,

Marchd to the Border without delay.

He hes tean wi him the Lindseys light,

And sae hes he the Gordons gay,

And the Earl of Fife, without all strife,

And Sir Heugh Montgomery upon a day.

The hae brunt Northumberland,

And sae have [the] Northumbershire,

And fair Cluddendale they hae brunt it hale,

And he’s left it all in fire fair.

Ay till the came to Earl Percy’s castle,

Earl Percey’s castle that stands sae high:

‘Come dowen, come dowen, thou proud Percey,

Come down and talk one hour with me.

‘Come down, come down, thou proud Percey,

Come down and talk one hour with me;

For I hae burnt thy heritage,

And sae will I thy building high.’

‘If ye hae brunt my heritage,

O dule, O dule, and woe is me!

But will ye stay at the Otter burn

Untill I gather my men to me?’

‘O I will stay at the Otter burn

The space of days two or three,

And if ye do not meet me there,

I will talk of thy coardie.’

O he hes staid at the Otter burn

The space of days two or three;

He sent his page unto his tent-door,

For to see what ferleys he could see.

‘O yonder comes yon gallent knight,

With all bonny banners high;

It wad do ony living good

For to see the bonny coulers fly.’

‘If the tale be true,’ Earl Douglass says,

‘The tidings ye have told to me,

The fairest maid in Otterburn

Thy bedfellow sure shall she be.

‘If the tale be false,’ Earl Douglass says,

‘The tidings that ye tell to me,

The highest tree in Otterburn,

On it high hangëd shall ye be.’

Earl Douglass went to his tent-door,

To see what ferleys he could see;

His little page came him behind,

And ran him through the fair body.

‘If I had a little time,’ he says,

‘To set in order my matters high,

Ye Gordons gay, to you I say,

See that ye let not my men away.

‘Ye Linseys light, both wise and wight,

Be sure ye carry my coulers high;

Ye Gordons gay, again I say,

See that ye let not my men away.

‘Sir Heugh Montgomery, my sistir’s son,

I give you the vangaurd over all;

Let it neer be said into old England

That so little made a true Scot fall.

‘O lay me dowen by yon brecken-bush,

That grows upon yon liley lea;

Let it neer be said into old England

That so little made a true Scot die.’

At last those two stout knights did meet,

And O but they were wonderous keen!

The foght with sowards of the temperd steel,

Till the drops of blood ran them betwen.

‘O yeald thee, Percie,’ Montgomery crys,

‘O yeald ye, or I’ll lay the low;’

‘To whome should I yeald? to whom should I yeald?

To whom should I yeald, since it most be so?’

‘O yeald ye to yon breckan-bush,

That grows upon yon lilley lea;

And if ye will not yeald to this,

In truth, Earl Percey, I’ll gar ye die.’

‘I will not yeald to a breckan-bush,

Nor yet will I yeald to a brier;

But fain wad I yeald to Earl Douglass,

Or Sir Heugh Montgomery, if he were here.’

O then this lord begun to faint,

And let his soward drop to the ground;

Sir Heugh Montgomery, a courtious knight,

He bravely took him by the hand.

This deed was done at the Otter burn,

Betwen the sunshine and the day;

Brave Earl Douglass there was slain,

And they carried Percie captive away.

* * * * *

6^3, 7^1, 8^1, 22^1. Otterburn.

292 b, 2d paragraph, 9th line. =C= 20^{3,4} may have been supplied by

Scott; not in Hogg’s copy. See IV, 500, st. 21.

294, 520 a, IV, 499. St George, Our Lady’s Knight.

O seynt George, oure lady knyght,

To that lady thow pray for me!

Lydgate, Kalendare, vv. 113, 114, ed. Horstmann, in Herrig’s Archiv,

LXXX, 121.

O blessyd Lady, Cristes moder dere,

And thou Seynt George, that called art her knyght!

Fabyan’s Chronicles, ed. Ellis, 1811, p. 601. (G. L. K.)

162. The Hunting of the Cheviot.

P. 306, IV, 502. Fighting on stumps. Agolafre, fighting on his

knees after his legs were broken, ‘had wyþ ys axe a-slawe an hep of

frenschemen:’ Sir Ferumbras, v. 4603 ff., ed. Herrtage, The English

Charlemagne Romances, I, 143. (The French text does not represent him

as fighting on his knees: Fierabras, ed. Kroeber and Servois, 1860, v.

4878 ff., p. 147.) (G. L. K.)

163. The Battle of Harlaw.

P. 317 a, 2d paragraph. Of course Sir James the Rose and Sir John the

Gryme came in from the ballad of ‘Sir James the Rose.’

164. King Henry Fifth’s Conquest of France.

P. 323. There is a copy (‘The Battle of Agincourt’) in C. K. Sharpe’s

“first collection,” p. 29, from which some variations may be given.

n. 2^4. And bring home the tribute that’s due to me.

4^{1-3}.

My master the king salutes thee well,

Salutes thee well, most graciously;

You must go send, etc.

5^{2-4}.

And darna come to my degree;

Go bid him play with his tenish balls,

For in French lands he dare no me see.

7^{3,4}.

Such tidings from the king of France

As I’m sure with him you can ner agree.

8^3. He bids you play with these tenish balls.

10^4. They were a jovial good company.

_After_ 10: He counted oer his merry men, Told them by thirty and by

three, And when the were all numberd oer He had thirty thousand brave

and three.

12 The first that fird, it was the French, Upon our English men so

free, But we made ten thousand of them fall, And the rest were forc’d

for there lives to flee.

13^1. Soon we entered Paris gates.

13^2. trumpets sounding high.

13^4. Have mercy on [my] men and me.

14^{1,2}.

Take home your tribute, the king he says,

And three tons of gold I will give to thee.

There is also a copy in “The Old Lady’s Collection,” No 7, but it is

not worth collating.

167. Sir Andrew Barton.

P. 338 b, IV, 502 b. Gold to bury body. Apollonius of Tyre. So in

Gower, Confessio Amantis, bk. viii, ed. Pauli, III, 312; in the English

prose Kynge Apollyn of Thyre, Wynkyn de Worde, 1510, c. 19, fol. 48, of

Ashbee’s fac-simile, 1870; in the German prose Appollonius Tyrus and

Appolonius von Tiria, C. Schröder, Griseldis, Apollonius von Tyrus, aus

Handschriften herausg., pp. 46, 110, Leipzig, 1873. (G. L. K.)

170. The Death of Queen Jane.

P. 372. Communicated by Rev. S. Baring-Gould, as recited by Samuel

Force.

Queen Jane, O! Queen Jane, O! what a lady was she!

And six weeks and a day in labour was she;

Queen Jane was in labour for six weeks and more,

Till the women grew weary and fain would give oer.

‘O women, O women, good wives as ye be,

Go send for King Henry and bring him to me.’

King Henry was sent for, and to her he came:

‘Dear lady, fair lady, your eyes they look dim.’

King Henry came to her, he came in all speed,

In a gown of red velvet, from the heel to the head:

‘King Henry, King Henry, if kind you will be,

Send for a good doctor, and let him come to me.’

The doctor was sent for, he came with all speed,

In a gown of black velvet from the heel to the head;

The doctor was sent for and to her he came:

‘Dear lady, fair lady, your labour’s in vain.’

‘Dear doctor, dear doctor, will you do this for me?

O open my right side, and save my baby:’

Then out spake King Henry, That never can be,

I’d rather lose the branches than the top of the tree.

The doctor gave a caudle, the death-sleep slept she,

Then her right side was opened and the babe was set free;

The babe it was christened, and put out and nursd,

But the royal Queen Jane lay cold in the dust.

Macmath MS., p. 99. Received November, 1892, from the recitation

of Mary Cochrane (Mrs Joseph Garmory), Abbey-yard, Crossmichael,

Kirkcudbrightshire. Written down by her husband.

Queen Jeanie was in labor for seven weeks in summer,

The women all being tired and quite gave her over:

‘O women, dear women, if women you be,

Send for my mother to come and see me.’

Her mother was sent for and instantly came,

Knelt down at the bedside where Queen Jeanie lay on:

‘O mother, dear mother, if mother you be,

Send for my father to come and see me.’

The father was sent for and instantly came,

Knelt down by the bedside where Queen Jeanie lay on:

‘O father, dear father, if father you be,

Send for King Henry to come and see me.’

King Henry was sent for and instantly came,

Knelt down by the bedside where Queen Jeanie lay on:

‘O Henry, King Henry, if Henry you be,

Send for the doctor to come and see me.’

The doctor was sent for and instantly came,

Knelt down by the bedside where Queen Jeanie lay on:

‘O doctor, dear doctor, if doctor you be,

Open my left side and let the babe free.’

Her left side was opened, the young prince was found:

‘O doctor, dear doctor, lay me down on the ground.’

Her bones were all broken and laid at her feet,

And they anointed her body with the ointment so sweet,

And ay as they weeped they wrung their hands sore,

For the fair flower of England will flourish no more.

173. Mary Hamilton.

P. 379. Stanzas 1, 2, 10 of =C= are printed in Motherwell’s Minstrelsy,

p. 315, and 4, 9 of =L= at p. 316.

380 a, line 13. Say Stewart, or stewart.

384. =A= =a=. Found in a small MS. volume, with the title “Songs”

on the cover, entirely in Sharpe’s handwriting, p. 29. The only

variations, besides a few in spelling, are these:

9^1. stairs.

17^3. the night’s.

18^2. they’l.

389. =F.= This version was rendered by Skene with comparative fidelity.

Still, the original, ‘Quin Mary’s Marreys,’ No 12 of “The Old Lady’s

Collection,” would of course have been given if it had been in hand,

and should be substituted, opportunity occurring. It is therefore

printed here.

‘My father was the Duck of York,

My mother a lady frie,

My sell a dainnty damisall,

Quin Mary sent for me.

‘The quin’s meat it was so suit,

An her clething was sae rair,

It made me lang for Suit Willie’s bed,

An I ill rue it ever mare.

‘Mary Beeten, an Mary Sitton,

An Lady Livenston, a’ three,

We’ll never mett in Quin Mary’s bour nou,

Marrys tho we be.’

Quin Mary satt in her bour,

Suing her selver seam;

She thought she hard a baby greet

Bat an a lady mean.

She throu her neddel frae her,

Her seam out of her han,

An she is on to Lady Marry’s bour,

As fast as she could gang.

‘Open yer dor, Lady Mary,’ she says,

‘An lat me come in;

For I hear a baby greet,

Bat an a lady meen.’

‘Ther is nae bab in my bour, madam the Quin,

Nor never thinks to be,

Bat the strong pains of gravell

This night has sesed me.’

She paat her fitt to the dor,

Bat an her knee,

Bolts of brass an irn bands

In flinders she gart flee.

She pat a han to her bed-head

A nether to her bed-feet,

An bonny was the bab

Was blabring in its bleed.

‘Wae worth ye, Lady Mary,

An ill dead sall ye die!

For in ye widne keepet the bonny bab

Ye might ha gen ’t to me.’

‘Lay na the witt on me, madam,

Lay na the witt on me,

For my fals love bare the v[e]pan att his side

That gared my bern dee.’

‘Gett up, Lady Betton, get up, Lady Setton,

An Lady Livenston, three,

An we will on to Edenbrugh

An tray this gay lady.’

As she cam in the Cannogate,

The burgers’ wives they crayed hon, ochon, ochree!

‘O had yer still, ye burgers’ wives,

An make na mane for me;

Seek never grace out of a graslass face,

For they ha nan to gee.

‘Ye merchants an ye mareners,

That trad on the sea,

Ye dinnë tell in my country

The dead I am gaine to dee.

‘Ye merchants an ye mareners,

That traid on the fame,

Dinnë tell in my countray

Bat fatt I am coming hame.

‘Littel did my father think,

Fan he brouch[t] me our the sea,

That he woud see my yallou lokes

Hang on a gallou-tree.

‘Littel did my midder think,

Fan she brought me fra hame,

That she maugt see my yallou lokes

Hang on a gallou-pine.

‘. . . . . .

O had yer han a wee!

For yonder comes my father,

I am sure he’ll borrou me.

‘O some of yer goud, father,

An of yer well won fee,

To safe me [fra the high hill],

[An] fra the gallage-tree.’

‘Ye’s gett nane of my goud,

Ner of my well wone fee,

For I wead gee five hundred poun

To see ye hanged hee.’

‘. . . . .

O had yer han a wee!

Yonder is my love Willie,

He will borrou me.

‘O some of yer goud, my love Wille,

An some of yer well wone fee,

To save me fraa the high hill,

An fraie the gallou-tree.’

‘Ye’s gett a’ my goud,

An a’ my well won fee,

To save ye fra the heading-hill,

An fra the galla-tree.’

* * * * *

4^2. _Perhaps_ silver.

6^3. lady greet: _cf._ 4^3.

7^1. næ.

11^2. watt.

11^3. vpan?

23^1. son Willë.

392 a, =H= 8^4. The nine. “Anciently the supreme criminal court

of Scotland was composed of nine members.” Kinloch’s note, Ancient

Scottish Ballads, p. 259. This may afford a date.

=I. b.= The three stanzas were given as written down from memory by

Finlay: see VIII, 507 b.

174. Earl Bothwell.

The following entry in the Stationers’ Registers may refer to this

ballad: “24 March, 1579, Thomas Gosson. Receaved of him for a ballad

concerninge the murder of the late Kinge of Scottes.” Arber, II, 349.

178. Captain Car, or, Edom o Gordon.

P. 423, IV, 513.

From “The Old Lady’s Collection,” No 28, ‘Edom of Achendoon.’

It fell about the Martimas time,

Fan the wind blue loud an calld,

Said Edom of Gordon to his men,

We man dra till a hall.

‘An fatten a hall will we dra tell,

My merry men a’ an me?

We will to the house of Rothes,

An see that gay lady.’

The lady louked our castell-wa,

Beheld the day ga doun,

An she saa Edun of Gordon,

Fase Edom of Ach[en]doun.

‘Gee our yer house, ye gay lady,

Gee our yer house to me;

The night ye’s be my leall leman,

The morn my lady free.’

‘I winnë gee our my bonny house,

To leard nor yet to loun,

Nor will I gee our my bonny house

To fase Edom of Achendoun.

‘Bat ye gett me Cluny, Gight, or Glack,

Or get him young Lesmore,

An I ell gee our my bonny house

To ony of a’ the four.’

‘Ye’s nether gett Cluny, Gight, nor Glack,

Nor yet him young Lesmore,

An ye man gee our yer bonny house,

Winten ony of a’ the four.’

The ladie shot out of a shot-windou,

It didne hurt his head,

It only grased his knee

. . . . . .

‘Ye hast, my merry men a’,

Gather hathorn an fune,

. . . . . . .

To see gin this lady will burn.’

‘Wai worth ye, Joke, my man!

I paid ye well yer fee,

An ye tane out the quinë-stane,

Laten in the fire to me.

‘Wae worth ye, Joke, my man!

I paid ye well yer hair,

An ye t[a]en out the qunie-stane,

To me laten in the fire.’

‘Ye paid me well my meatt, lady,

Ye paid me well my fee,

Bat nou I am Edom of Gordon’s man,

Mane eather dee’d or dree.

‘Ye paid me well my meatt, lady,

Ye paid me well my hire,

But nou I am Edom of Gordon’s man,

To ye mane lat the fire.’

Out spak her doughter,

She was bath jimp an smaa;

‘Ye take me in a pair of shets,

Lat me our the castell-waa.’

The pat her in a pair of shets,

Lute her oure the castell-waa;

On the point of Edom of Gordon’s lance

She got a deadly faa.

Cherry, cherry was her cheeks,

An bonny was her eyen;

. . . . . . .

He turned her about,

. . . . . . .

‘I might haa spared that bonny face

To ha ben some man’s delight.

‘Chirry is yer chik,

An bonny is yer eayn;

Ye’r the first face I ever saa dead

I wist liveng agen.’

Out spak one of his men,

As he stad by a stane;

‘Lat it never be sade brave Edom of Gordon

Was dantoned by a dame.’

Out spake the bonny barn,

It sat on the nurce’s knee;

‘Gee our yer house, my mider dear,

The reak it smothers me.’

‘I wad gee a’ my silks,’ she says,

‘That lays in mony a fall,

To haa ye on the head of Mont Ganell,

To gett three gasps of the call.

‘I wad gee a’ my goud,’ she says,

‘Far it lays out an in,

To haa ye on the head of Mount Ganill,

To get three gasps of the wind.’

. . . . . . . that gued lord,

As he came fraa the sea,

‘I see the house of Rothes in fire,

God safe my gay ladie!’

* * * * *

15^3. land.

VOL. IV.

190. Jamie Telfer of the Fair Dodhead.

P. 4. I am now able to give the unprinted copy, referred to in the

Border Minstrelsy, in which the Elliots take the place assigned in the

other version to the Scotts. This I do by the assistance of Mr Macmath,

the present possessor of the manuscript, which was formerly among the

papers of Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe. The hand “is a good and careful

one of about the beginning of this century, with a slight shake in

it, and probably that of a person advanced in life.” Be it observed

that the title, in this case, is ‘Jamie Telfer in the Fair Dodhead,’

signifying, according to Scottish usage, that Telfer was tenant simply,

whereas ‘of’ would make him proprietor.

Hogg, writing to Sir W. Scott (Letters, vol. i, No 44), says that

‘Jamie Telfer,’ as printed in the Minstrelsy, differs in many

particulars from his mother’s way of giving it. Mrs Hogg’s version may

very likely have been a third copy.

In this version, Telfer, after the loosing of his nolt and the

ranshakling of his house, runs eight miles to Branxholm, to seek aid

of Buccleugh, who refers him to Martin Elliot, to whom, and not to

himself, Buccleugh affirms, Telfer has paid blackmail. Telfer, as in

the other version, runs up the water-gate to Coultart Cleugh, and

invokes the help of Jock Grieve, who sets him on a bonny black to take

the fray to Catlock Hill, as in the other version again. Catlock Hill

Mr R. B. Armstrong considers to be probably Catlie Hill, marked in

Blaeu’s map as near Braidlie. It was occupied by an Elliot in 1541.

At Catlock Hill Martin’s Hab sets Telfer on a bonny black to take the

fray to Prickenhaugh, a place which, Mr Armstrong observes, is put in

Blaeu’s map near Larriston. Auld Martin Elliot is at Prickenhaugh,

and he orders Simmy, his son, to be summoned, and the water-side to

be warned, including the Currers and Willie o Gorrenberry, who in the

other version, st. 27, are warned as owing fealty to Scott; but an

Archibald Elliot is described as “in Gorrenberrie” in 1541,[121] and

Will Elliot of Gorrombye was concerned in the rescue of Kinmont Willie

in 1596, Sim Elliot takes the lead in the pursuit of the marauders

which Willie Scott has in the other version, and like him is killed.

Martin Elliot of Braidley had among his sons, in 1580, a Sym, an

Arche, and a Hob,[121] and was, during a portion of the second half of

the sixteenth century, says Mr Armstrong, perhaps the most important

person of his name.[122] This Martin Elliot would fit very well into

our ballad, but that he should be described as of Prickenhaugh,

not of Braidley, raises a difficulty. Braidley, at the junction of

the Braidley burn with the Hermitage water, is well placed for our

purposes; Prickenhaugh, down by the Liddel water, seems rather remote.

5, 582. See more as to Dodhead in The Saturday Review, May 20, 1893, p.

543.

Jamie Telfer in the Fair Dodhead.

It fell about the Martinmas,

When steads were fed wi corn and hay,

The Captain of Bewcastle said to his lads,

We’ll into Tiviotdale and seek a prey.

The first ae guide that they met with

Was high up in Hardhaugh swire,

The second guide that they met with

Was laigh down in Borthick water.

‘What tidings, what tidings, my bonny guide?’

‘Nae tidings, nae tidings I hae to thee;

But if ye’ll gae to the Fair Dodhead

Mony a cow’s calf I’ll let ye see.’

When they came to the Fair Dodhead,

Right hastily they clam the peel,

They loosd the nolt out, ane and a’,

And ranshakled the house right weel.

Now Jamie’s heart it was right sair,

The tear ay rowing in his eye;

He pled wi the Captain to hae his gear,

Or else revengëd he would be.

Bat the Captain turnd himsel about,

Said, Man, there’s naething in thy house

But an auld sword without a scabbard,

That scarcely now would fell a mouse.

The moon was up and the sun was down,

’Twas the gryming of a new-fa’n snaw;

Jamie Telfer has run eight miles barefoot

Between Dodhead and Branxholm Ha.

And when he came to Branxholm Ha

He shouted loud and cry’d well he,

Till up bespake then auld Buccleugh,

‘Whae’s this that brings the fray to me?’

‘It’s I, Jamie Telfer i the Fair Dodhead,

And a harried man I think I be;

There’s naething left i the Fair Dodhead

But only wife and children three.’

‘Gae seek your succour frae Martin Elliot,

For succour ye’s get nane frae me;

Gae seek your succour where ye paid blackmail,

For, man, ye never paid money to me.’

Jamie he’s turnd him round about,

And ay the tear blinded his eye:

‘I’se never pay mail to Scott again,

Nor the Fair Dodhead I’ll ever see.’

Now Jamie is up the water-gate,

Een as fast as he can drie,

Till he came to the Coultart Cleugh,

And there he shouted and cry’d weel he.

Then up bespake him auld Jock Grieve,

‘Whae’s this that bring[s] the fray to me?’

‘It’s I, Jamie Telfer i the Fair Dodhead,

And a harried man I think I be.

‘There’s naething left i the Fair Dodhead

But only wife and children three,

And sax poor calves stand i the sta,

A’ routing loud for their minnie.’

‘Alack, wae’s me!’ co auld Jock Grieve,

‘Alack, alack, and wae is me!

For ye was married t’ the auld sister,

And I t’ the younges[t] o the three.’

Then he’s taen out a bonny black,

It was weel fed wi corn and hay,

And set Jamie Telfer on his back,

To the Catlock hill to take the fray.

When he came to the Catlock hill,

He shouted loud and cry’d weel he;

‘Whae’s that, whae’s that?’ co Martin’s Hab,

‘Whae’s this that brings the fray to me?’

‘It’s I, Jamie Telfer i the Fair Dodhead,

And a harried man I think I be;

There’s neathing left i the Fair Dodhead

But only wife and children three.’

‘Alack, wae’s me!’ co Martin’s Hab,

‘Alack, awae, my heart is sair!

I never came bye the Fair Dodhead

That ever I faund thy basket bare.’

Then he’s taen out a bonny black,

It was weel fed wi corn and hay,

And set Jamie Telfer on his back

To the Pricken haugh to take the fray.

When he came to the Pricken haugh,

He shouted loud and cry’d weel he;

Up then bespake auld Martin Elliot,

‘Whae’s this that brings the fray to me?’

‘It’s I, Jamie Telfer i the Fair Dodhead,

And a harried man I think I be;

There’s naething left i the Fair Dodhead

But only wife and children three.’

‘Ever alack!’ can Martin say,

‘And ay my heart is sair for thee!

But fy, gar ca on Simmy my son,

And see that he come hastily.

‘Fy, gar warn the water-side,

Gar warn it soon and hastily;

Them that winna ride for Telfer’s kye,

Let them never look i the face o me.

‘Gar warn the water, braid and wide,

And warn the Currers i the shaw;

When ye come in at the Hermitage slack,

Warn doughty Willie o Gorrenberry.’

The gear was driven the Frostily up,

From the Frostily into the plain;

When Simmie lookëd him afore,

He saw the kye right fast driving.

‘Whae drives the kye,’ then Simmy can say,

‘To make an outspeckle o me?’

‘It’s I, the Captain o Bewcastle, Simmy,

I winna lain my name frae thee.’

‘O will ye let the gear gae back?

Or will ye do ony thing for me?’

‘I winna let the gear gae back,

Nor naething, Simmy, I’ll do for the[e].

‘But I’ll drive Jamie Telfer’s kye

In spite o Jamie Telfer’s teeth and thee;’

‘Then by my sooth,’ can Simmy say,

‘I’ll ware my dame’s calfskin on thee.

‘Fa on them, lads!’ can Simmy say,

‘Fy, fa on them cruelly!

For or they win to the Ritter ford

Mony toom saddle there shall be.’

But Simmy was striken oer the head,

And thro the napskape it is gane,

And Moscrop made a dolefull rage

When Simmy on the ground lay slain.

‘Fy, lay on them!’ co Martin Elliot,

‘Fy, lay on them cruelly!

For ere they win to the Kershop ford

Mony toom saddle there shall be.’

John o Biggam he was slain,

And John o Barlow, as I heard say,

And fifteen o the Captain’s men

Lay bleeding on the ground that day.

The Captain was shot through the head,

And also through the left ba-stane;

Tho he had livd this hundred years,

He’d neer been loed by woman again.

The word is gane unto his bride,

Een in the bower where she lay,

That her good lord was in ’s enemy’s land

Since into Tiviotdale he led the way.

‘I loord a had a winding sheed

And helpd to put it oer his head,

Or he’d been taen in ’s enemy’s lands,

Since he oer Liddle his men did lead.’

There was a man in our company,

And his name was Willie Wudëspurs:

‘There is a house in the Stanegarside,

If any man will ride with us.’

When they came to the Stanegarside,

They bangd wi trees and brake the door,

They loosd the kye out, ane and a’,

And set them furth our lads before.

There was an auld wif ayont the fire,

A wee bit o the Captain’s kin:

‘Whae loo[s]es out the Captain’s kye,

And sae mony o the Captain’s men wi[t]hin?’

‘I, Willie Wudëspurs, let out the kye,

I winna lain my name frae thee,

And I’ll loose out the Captain’s kye

In spite o the Captain’s teeth and thee.’

Now on they came to the Fair Dodhead,

They were a welcome sight to see,

And instead of his ain ten milk-kye

Jamie Telfer’s gotten thirty and three.

* * * * *

16^2. feel fed: _cf._ 20^2.

195. Lord Maxwell’s Last Goodnight.

P. 34 b, 525 a. =B.= The ballad has no title in the Glenriddell MS. The

table of contents was the work of a copyist.

196. The Fire of Frendraught.

P. 39 b. Thirteen stanzas of =C= are given, in the course of an article

on The Burning of the House of Frendraucht, in the Aberdeen Magazine,

1832, II, 561.

P. 44. =A a.= Collation with Sharpe’s MS. and with another copy of the

same pieces in “North Country Ballads,” Miscellanea Curiosa, Abbotsford

Library.

4^1. Well, turn.

12^5. were.

15^4. Let Rothiemay may ly, may ly. But Rothiemay lie, _written

under, probably as an emendation by Sharpe_ (_not in Scott_).

16^4. Turn _in Scott, an easy misreading of_ Twin.

26^1. Ahon. _With a few slight differences of spelling._

we _in_ 9^2 _is a misprint for_ he.

IV, 522 a. The Satyr begins:

O world of woes, O grief of griefs, to see

This damned den wher sure brave sp’rits did dye.

197. James Grant.

These verses occur in a manuscript collection of C. K. Sharpe’s

(“second collection”), with slight verbal differences. They are written

in long lines not divided into stanzas. Sir W. Scott remarks, Sharpe’s

Ballad Book, 1880, p. 145, “I conceive Ballindalloch, being admitted

by Grant, set upon him, and that there should be asterisks between the

fourth line [the second stanza] and those which follow.”

1^1. Away, away now, James the Grant.

1^2. You’ll.

1^3. For Ballendalloch is at your gate.

2^{1,4}. Badendalloch.

2^2. Nor I.

2^3. Set up my gat both.

2^4. And let.

3^1. James the.

3^4. no get so.

4^3. he get but one mile in the highland hill.

4^4. defy the.

198. Bonny John Seton.

P. 52. =A.= Found in a MS. of Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, and in “North

Country Ballads,” Miscellanea Curiosa, Abbotsford Library (another

copy of the same pieces), with the following variations.

Sharpe. 1^3. The Southeron lords to.

2^1. And bonny: Pitmedden, _and always_.

2^2. bald.

2^4. And the.

3^4. Sat on.

5^2. Cried, Brave soldiers.

5^5. my steed back.

5^6. But let me never see thee.

6^3. And his.

7^4. That dang Pitmedden’s middle in three.

8^{1,2}. rade.

8^3. But bonny John Seton of Pitmedden.

9^1. Then up it came a.

9^2. from Drimmorow.

9^3. Says, There thou lies.

9^4. ride thee thorow.

10^1. Craigyvar (_always_): man.

10^2. your fiddle.

10^3. land.

12^1. They’ve taken.

14^4. ring.

15^1. For cannons roars: summer’s.

15^2. Like thunder.

15^4. cannons fair.

Scott (_also_).--3^1. lands.

_None of the readings in Aytoun given in the notes at p. 53 were

derived from Sharpe’s copy except_ =A= 8^3, _and all of them may now

be dropped._

199. The Bonnie House o Airlie.

P. 56. In a small MS. volume with the title “Songs” on the cover,

entirely in Sharpe’s handwriting. =A a= is found at p. 24 (with some

variations, undoubtedly arbitrary) prefaced with these words: “This

song [referring to a copy presently to be given], like most others,

would suffer amendment: here follows a copy somewhat improved. I

have availed myself of a fragment in a former page of this work, and

introduced a stanza [9] marked *, picked up in Perthshire.” Had =A a=

been known to be an “improved” copy, it would not have been made so

prominent.

The fragment (of slight value) was “from the recitation of Miss

Oliphant of Gask, now Mrs Nairn” (afterwards Lady Nairne). It is (p.

21)--disregarding things misunderstood or avowedly added:

‘Come down, come down, my lady Ogilvie,

Come down, and tell us your dower:’

‘It’s east and west yon wan water side,

And it’s down by the banks of the Airly.

‘Had my lord Ogilvie been at hame,

As he was wi King Charlie,

There durst nae a Campbel in a’ Argyle

Avowd to the plundering o Airly.’

‘Come down, come down, ye lady fair,

Come down, and kiss me fairly:’

‘I wunna come down, ye fause Argyle,

If ye sudna leave a standing stane in Airly.

The unimproved copy, p. 22, is as follows.

It fell on a day, and a bonny summer day,

When corn grew green and yellow,

That there fell out a great dispute

Between Argyll and Airly.

Argyll has raisd an hundred men,

An hundred men, and so many,

And he is away by the back of Dunkeld

For to plunder the bonny house of Airly.

Lady Margaret looks oer her bower-window,

And O but she looks weary!

And there she spied the great Argyll,

Coming to plunder the bonny house of Airly.

‘Come down, come down, Lady Margret,’ he said,

‘Come down, and kiss me fairly:’

‘O I will not kiss the great Argyll,

If he should not leave a standing stone in Airly.’

He hath taken her by the left shoulder,

Says, Lady, where lyes thy dowry?

‘It’s up and it’s down by the bonny bank-side,

Amongst the planting of Airly.’

They have sought it up, they have sought it down,

They have sought it both late and early,

And they have found it in the bonny plumb-tree

That shines on the bowling-green of Airly.

He hath taken her by the middle so small,

And O but she lookd weary!

He hath laid her down by the bonny burn-side

Till he hath plunderd the bonny house of Airly.

‘If my good lord were at home this night,

As he is with Prince Charly,

Nouther you nor no Scottish lord

Durst have set a foot on the bowling-green of Airly.

‘Ten bonny sons I have born unto him,

And the eleventh neer saw his daddy;

Although I had an hundred more,

I would give them all to Prince Charly.’

* * * * *

58 c. This is one of the pieces contained in “The Old Lady’s

Collection,” No 1. The differences from Skene (save spelling) are as

follows:

3^1. ore castell-waa.

3^3. an his three hundred men.

4^{1,2}. Come doun the stare, Lady Airly, he says, an kiss me fairly.

4^4. Altho ye live no.

5^2. An tell fare layes yer.

7^2. An he leed.

10^2 (7^2). his.

10^3 (7^3). An tho.

10^4 (7^4). I wad gie them a’.

200. The Gypsy Laddie.

P. 66. =B a.= A copy of this version in C. K. Sharpe’s papers, “written

from recitation in Nithisdale, November, 1814,” shows that improvements

had been introduced by two hands, one of them Sharpe’s, neither of

them the writer’s. The changes are of no radical importance; simply

of the familiar kind which almost every editor has, for some reason,

felt himself called upon to make. It may be thought that they are no

more worth indicating than they were worth making, but it has been an

object in this book to give things exactly as they were delivered. The

original readings are as follows.

1^1. C _for_ Cassilis _throughout_.

1^3, so.

1^4. Till.

2^4. cast.

3^1. to _wanting_.

3^{2,3}, give.

3^4. rings of her fingers.

4^{1,2}. you.

4^3. hilt of.

4^4, 9^4, 16^4. no more.

6^{1,3}. Jackie.

7^3, 8^3. farmer’s barn.

8^3, 11^3. most.

8^4. crae.

9^{1,2}. O _wanting_.

10^3, 11^1, 14^3. on water.

11^1. Many a time have.

17^4. mother bore me.

18^3. And _wanting_.

73.

Communicated to the Journal of The Gypsy Society, II, 85, by Mr John

Sampson, from the dictation of Lias Robinson, a Gypsy. A translation

into Gypsy, by Robinson and his brothers, is given at p. 84 of the

same.

A band of gypsies, all in a road,

All so black and brawny, oh

Away come a lady all dressed in silk,

To follow the roving gypsies, oh

The gypsies, oh!

To follow the roving gypsies, oh!

Her husband came home at ten o’clock of night,

And asked for his lady fair;

The servant informed him very soon

She had gone with the roving gypsies.

‘Saddle to me my bonny gray mare,

Saddle to me my pony;

I will go where the green grass grow,

To find out the roving gypsies.

‘Last night she slept in a fair feather-bed,

And blankets by bonins;

Tonight she sleeps in a cold shed-barn,

Through following the roving gypsies.

‘Why did you leave your houses and your lands?

Why did you leave your babies?

Why did you leave your decent married man,

To follow the roving gypsies?’

‘What cares I for my houses and my lands?

What cares I for my babies?

What cares I for my decent married man?

I will go with the roving gypsies.’

* * * * *

1^2. _Var._ and bonny.

From a small MS. volume, “Songs,” entirely in C. K. Sharpe’s

handwriting, p. 32 (corresponding to =B= 11, =D= 6, =E= 7.)

Yestreen I rade yon wan water,

Wi my gude lord before me;

The day I maun pit down my bonnie fit and wade,

What ever may come oer me.

201. Bessy Bell and Mary Gray.

P. 76 a, 4th paragraph, 1st line. The date 1666 is corrected to 1645 by

Cant in his Errata.

77. In the small MS. volume, “Songs,” entirely in C. K. Sharpe’s

handwriting, p. 26, =a= 3 is given “from the Catalogue of the Edinburgh

Exhibition of Pictures, 1810” as here, excepting that in the second

line the reading is (absurdly) “royal kin.”

203. The Baron of Brackley.

P. 79. Fragment from Findlay MSS, I, 209, derived from Mrs McKenzie,

Advie, Morayshire.

‘O are ye sleepin, baul B[r]achlie, or are ye at hame?

For the caterans are at ye, an a’ your kye ’s taen.’

. . . . . . . .

‘Ye’ll fling your rocks, lasses, we’ll fecht them our lane.

‘We’ll fecht them an fleg them, an gar them rin hame,

We’ll stand them in battle, as gin we were men.

‘There’s four-an-twenty milk-white kine in Glentanner free,

In the parks o Glentanner sae fain’s I wad be!’

He’s called on his lady to give him his gun:

‘I’m gaun oot, Katie, but I’ll never come home.’

She’s a’ her gates wide open flung, an she’s welcomed them in,

An she sleeps wi the villain that slew her baron.

* * * * *

1^1. Baulbachlie.

5^2. home _originally_; _altered to_ in.

_The stanzas have been arranged by the light of_ =A=.

87. =D=, as it stands in “The Old Lady’s Collection,” No 25, ‘The

Barron of Breachell.’

‘Barron of Breachell, are ye withen?

The sharp sourd is att yer gate, Breachell, will gar yer blod spine.’

‘The’r at yer gate, Brichell, the’r nether men nor lads,

Bat silly heard widifaus, we belted plaids.

‘O if I had a man,’ she says, ‘as it louks I haa nean,

He widne sit in the house an see my kay tean.

‘Bat, lasses, tak doun yer rokes, an we will defend,’

. . . . . . . . ..

‘O kiss me, d[ea]r Peggey, an gee me doun my gun,

I may well gaa out, bat I ill never come in.’

Out spak his brother, says, Gee me your hand,

I [ill] fight in your caus as lang as I may stan.

Fan the Barron of Brechell came to the closs,

A braver barron never read upon horse.

. . . . . . . . . .

‘I think the silly heard widdefus are groun fighten men.’

First they killed an, and sayn they killed tua,

An the Barron of Brichell is dead an awa.

They killed Sandy Gordon, Sandy Gordon of the Knok,

The miller an his three sons, that lived att Glenmuke.

First they killed ane, an sayn they killed tua,

An the Barron of Brichell is dead an awaa.

Up came Crigevar an a’ his fighten men:

‘Had I come an houre sinner, he sudna ben slain.’

For first they killed an, an sayn they killed tua,

An the Barron of Breachell is dead an awa.

‘O came ye by Brechell, lads? was ye in ther?

Saw ye Peggie Doun, raving her hear?’

‘We came by Breache[l], lads, we was in ther;

We saa Peggie Doun, curling her hear.

‘She ate we them, drank we them, bad them come in

To her haas an her bours that had slain her barron.’

‘Come in, gentelmen, ate an drink we me;

Tho ye have slain my barron, I ha na ill well att thee.’

‘O was ye att Glenmuck, lads? was ye in ther?

Saa ye Catren Gordon, raving her hear?’

‘We was att Gleanmuck, lads, we was in ther,

We saa Catren Gordon, ravi[n]g her hear.

‘We the tear in her eay,. . . . . .

Seven bearns att her foot, the eaght on her knee.

They killed Peater Gordon, Peater Gordon of the Knok.

The miller an his three sons, that lives att Glenmuck.

First they killed an, an sayn they killed twa,

An the Barron of Breachell is dead an awaa.

208. Lord Derwentwater.

P. 116 b. Add at the end of the first paragraph: Robert Patten, The

History of the Rebellion in the Year 1715, 4th ed., 1745, p. 47.

123. From “The Old Lady’s Collection,” second part, p. 6.

The king has written a brod letter,

An sealled it our with gould,

An sent it to Lord Darnwater,

To read it if he could.

Whan Lord Darnwater saa the letter,

A light laughter lough he;

Bat or he read it to an end

The tear blinded his eye,

An sighan said him good Lord Darnwater,

I am near the day to dei.

Out spak his lady,

In child-bed wher she lay;

‘My d[ea]r Lord Darnweter, what is to becom of me,

An my young famely?’

‘I will leave my young famely

As well as I cane;

For I will leave to my lady

The third part of my land,

An I will live to my e[l]dest son,

The tua part of my land.

‘An I will live to my eldest daught[er]

Five thousand pound of gold,

An I will live to my second daughter

Three thousand pound of gold.

‘Ye saddel to me my littel gray horse,

That I had wont to ried;

. . . . . . . .

The first stape Lord Darnwater staped,

He stumbled on a ston;

Said Lord Darnwater,

I feer I ill never come home.

When he came to fair London city,

An near unt[o] the toun,

‘A trater! a trater!’ said they,

‘A trator we see!’

‘A trater?’ said good Lord Darnwater,

‘A trator I nier could be,

Unless it was bringen three hundred men

To fight for young Jamie.’

But when he came to Tour Hill

Befor him came a bold man,

. . . . . . . .

With a broad aix in his hand.

. . . . . . . .

‘Hear is five ginies of gold an my green velvet coat,

For to be your fee.’

‘Ye nobels all,

Come hear to see me die,

An ye peopell of fair Sco[t]land,

Be kind to my family.’

Lord Darnuater was dumed to die, to die,

Good Lord Darnwater was dumed to die.

* * * * *

2^5. sigh an.

2^6. am _doubtful_.

4^4, 5^4, 9^3. 3.

4^5. will live _twice_.

4^6, 5^3. 2.

5^2, 11^3. 5.

7^3, 9^1. L. D.

13^2. Daruan Water.

314. The Braes o Yarrow.

P. 160 ff., 522 ff.

Findlay’s MSS, I, 181; The Dowie Dens o Yarrow, “from Banffshire,

through James Milne, Arbroath.”

There lived a lady in the South,

Ye would scarcely find her marrow;

She was courted by nine gentlemen

An a ploughman-lad frae Yarrow.

Ae nicht the nine sat drinkin wine

To the lass wha had nae marrow,

When the ploughman swore, tho they were a score

He wad fecht them a’ in Yarrow.

It’s he’s gane ower yon high, high hill,

And doon yon glen sae narrow,

An there he saw nine armëd men,

To fecht wi him in Yarrow.

‘There’s nine o you an I’m but ane,

An that’s an unequal marrow,

But wi this gude blade and powerfu arm

I’ll lay you low on Yarrow.’

It’s three he slew, and three withdrew,

And three lay dead on Yarrow,

But in behind cam her brother John,

An pierced his body thorough.

‘Gae hame, gae hame, you fause young man,

An tell your sister sorrow,

That her true-love John lies dead and gone

In the dowie dens o Yarrow.’

‘O father dear, I’ve dreamed a dream,

I’m feared it will prove sorrow;

I dreamed I was puin the heather-bells sweet

On the bonny braes o Yarrow.’

‘O daughter dear, your dream is read,

I’m feared it will prove sorrow;

Your true-love John lies dead and gone

In the dowie dens o Yarrow.’

It’s she’s gane ower yon high, high hill,

An doon yon glen sae narrow,

An there she saw her true-love John

Lyin cauld an dead on Yarrow.

She washed his face an combed his hair,

Wi muckle grief an sorrow,

She rowed him i the plaid she wore,

In the dowie dens o Yarrow.

Her hair it was three quarters lang,

The colour being yellow;

She tied it round his middle sma,

An carried him hame frae Yarrow.

‘O daughter dear, I pray forbear,

I’ll wed you to another marrow;

I’ll wed you to some fitter match

Than the lad that died on Yarrow.’

‘O father dear, you hae seven sons,

Should you wed them a’ to-morrow,

A fairer flower never grew in June

Than the lad that died on Yarrow.’

This lady, being six months with child

To the ploughman lad of Yarrow,

She fell into her father’s arms

An died wi grief on Yarrow.

* * * * *

5^1. slew _should of course be_ wounded, _or_ hurt, _as in_ =A=

9^1, =B= 9^1, =D= 7^1, =E= 8^1, =I= 7^1, =K= 7^1, =Q=

6^{1,2}.

215. Rare Willie drowned in Yarrow, or, The Water o Gamrie.

P. 180. =D= stands as follows in “The Old Lady’s Collection,” No 10,

‘The Water of Gamry.’

‘Willie is fair, an Willë’s rair,

An Willë’s wondres bonny,

An Willë has promised to marey me,

Gin ever he marred ony.’

‘Ye’s gett Jeamie, or ye’s gett Jonny,

Or ye’s gett bonny Piter;

Ye’s gett the walle of a’ my sins,

Bat live to me Willë the writter.’

‘I winnë ha Jamie, I winnë ha Jonny,

Nor will I ha bonny Peter;

I winnë ha ony of yer sins,

In I gett na Willie the writter.’

Ther was three score an ten brisk young men

Was boun to brid-stell we him.

‘Ride on, ride on, my merry men a’,

I forget some thing behine me;

I [ha] forgetten my mider’s blissing,

To boun to bridstell we me.’

‘God’s blissing an mine gae we ye, my son Willie,

A’ the blissings of God ga we ye;

For y’er na an hour but bare ninten,

Fan y’er gain to meet yer Meggey.’

They road on, an ferder on,

Till they came to the water of Gamry;

An they all wen safe throu,

Unless it was Suet Willie.

For the first an step att Willie’s hors steped,

He steped to the bridel;

The nixt an step att Wellie’s hors steped,

Toom grue Willë’s sadle.

They rod on, an forder on,

Till they came to the kirk of Gamry,

. . . . . . . .

‘A rounin, a rouning,’ she says,

‘An fat means a’ this rouning?’

Out spak the bonny bried,

Just att the kirk of Gamrie;

‘Far is the man that was to gee me his han

This day att the kirk of Gamry?’

Out spak his breder John,

An O bat he was sorry!

‘It fears me sair, my bonny brid,

He slipes our sune in Gamry.’

The ribbons they wer on her hare,

They wer thik an mony;

She rive them a’, late them doun faa,

An she is on to the water of Gamry.

She sought it up, she sought it doun,

She sought it braid an narrow,

An the depest pot in a’ Gamry,

Ther she got Suit Willie.

She has kissed his comly mouth,

As she had don befor, O:

‘Baith our miders sall be alike sory,

For we’s baith slep soun in Gamry.’

216. The Mother’s Malison, or, Clyde’s Water.

P. 187. =A= is now given as it stands in “The Old Lady’s Collection,”

‘Clide’s Water,’ No 11. It will be observed that 19, 20 repeat No 215,

=D=, 13, 14 (14, 15, of the copy just given).

‘Ye gie corn to my hors,

An meatt to my man,

For I will gai to my true-love’s gates

This night, gin I can wine.’

‘O stay att home, my son Willie,

This a bare night we me;

The best bed in a’ my house

Sall be well made to the.’

‘I care na for your beds, mider,

I care na a pin;

For I ill gae to my love’s gates

This night, gin I can wine.’

‘O stay, my son Willie,

This night we me;

The best hen in a’ mey reast

Sall be well made ready for the.’

‘I care na for your heans, midder,

I care na a pin;

For I ull gae to my love’s gates

This night, gin I can wine.’

‘Gin ye winnë stay, my son Willie,

This a bare night we me,

Gin Claid’s water be dip an fue of flud,

My malicen droun ye in.’

He road up yon high hill,

An doun yon douë den;

The roring of Clid’s water

Wod ha flied ten thousand men.

‘O spair me, Claid’s water,

Spare me as I gaa!

Make me yer wrak as I come back,

Bat spare me as I gaa!’

He raid in, an forder in,

Till he came to the chin;

An he raid in, an forder in,

Till he came to dray lan.

An fan he came to his love’s gates

He tirled att the pin:

‘Open yer gates, May Meggie,

Open yer gates to me,

For my bets is fue of Claid’s water,

An the rain rins on a’ my chine.’

‘I ha ne loves therout,’ she says,

‘I haa ne love theren;

My true-love is in my arms tua,

An nean will I latt in.’

‘Open yer gates, Meggie,

This night to me,

For Clide’s water is full of flood,

An my mider’s mallison will droun me in.’

‘An of my chambers is full of corn,’ she says,

‘Anether is full of hay,

The other is full of gentelmen,

An they winnë remove till day.’

Out waked her May Meggie,

Out of her drussie dream:

‘I dreamed a dream nou san the streen,

God read a’ dreams to gued!

That my true-love Willie

Was staning att my bed-feet.’

‘Nou lay still, my a dather,

An keep my back fraa the call;

It’s na the space of haf an hour

Sayn he gade fra your hall.’

‘Hey, Willie! an hou, Willie!

An Willie, winnë ye turn agen?’

But ay the louder that she crayed

He read agenst the wind.

He raid up yon high hill,

An doun yon douë den,

An the roring that was in Clid’s water

Wad ha fleed ten thousand men.

He raid in

Tell he came to the chine,

An he raid forder in,

Bat never mare came out agen.

She sought him up, she sought him doun,

She sought him braid an narrou;

In the depest pot in a’ Claid’s water,

Ther she gat Suit Willie.

She has kissed his comly mouth,

As she had den afore:

‘Baith our midders sall be alike sorry,

For we’s bath slipe soun in Clide’s water.’

Ther was na mare seen of that gued lord

Bat his hat frae his head;

There was na mare seen of that gued lady

Bat her keem an her sneed.

Ther mideers went up an doun the water,

Saying, Clayd’s water din us wrong!

* * * * *

10^6. on =a=.

18^4. ther _follows_ agen, _intended perhaps as a beginning of_ 21.

217. The Broom of Cowdenknows.

P. 195. =D b.= Macmath MS., p. 105; from the recitation of Mary

Cochrane (Mrs Garmory), Abbey-yard, Crossmichael, August 12, 1893.

Bonny May to the ewe-buchts is gane,

To milk her daddie’s yowes,

And aye as she sang, her bonny voice it rang

Outoer the taps o the knowes, knowes,

Outoer the taps o the knowes.

. . . . . .

A troop o noble gentlemen

Came riding merrily by.

He took her by the middle sae sma,

And by the green gown sleeve,

And he’s laid her down on the dewy, dewy ground,

And he’s askëd no man’s leave.

He’s mounted on his milk-white steed,

And he’s rode after his men,

And all that his merry men said to him

Was, Dear master ye’ve tarried long.

‘I have ridden east and I have ridden west,

And I’ve ridden among the knowes,

But the bonniest lass that eer I saw

Was milking her daddie’s yowes.’

She’s taen the milk-pail on her head,

And she’s gane singing hame,

And all that her father said to her

Was, Dear daughter, ye’ve tarried long.

‘O there cam a tod amang my yowes,

An a waefu tod was he;

Afore he had taen my wee yowe-lamb,

I wad rather he had taen ither three.’

It happened on a day, and a bonny summer day,

As she was ca’in in her father’s kye,

The same troop o noble gentlemen

Came riding merrily by.

One of them calls out

Lassie, have ye got a man?

She turned her head right saucy about,

Saying, I’ve got ane at hame.

‘Hold your tongue, my bonny lass,

How loud I hear ye lee!

Do you no remember the caul mirky nicht

When ye were in the yowe-buchts wi me?’

He’s ordered one of his merry men

To licht and set her on behind him,

Saying, Your father may ca in his kye when he likes,

For they’ll neer be ca’ed in by thee.

‘For I am the laird o the Ochiltree walls,

I have fifty ploughs and three,

And I have got the bonniest lass

In a’ the North Countrie.’

219. The Gardener.

P. 212. Rev. S. Baring-Gould has pointed me to a printed copy of this

ballad, considerably corrupted, to be sure, but also considerably

older than the traditional versions. It is blended at the beginning

with a “Thyme” song, which itself is apt to be mixed up with ‘I sowed

the seeds of love.’ The second stanza is from the “Thyme” song; the

third is a traditional variation of a stanza in ‘I sowed the seeds of

love.’ (See the piece which follows this.) The ballad begins with the

fourth stanza, and the fifth is corrupted by being transferred from the

gardener to the maid. Mr Baring-Gould has lately taken down copies of

the “Thyme” song in the west of England. See one in Songs and Ballads

of the West, No 7, and the note thereto in the preface to Part IV of

that work, p. xv; also Campbell’s Albyn’s Anthology, I, 40, Bruce

and Stokoe, Northumbrian Minstrelsy, p. 90, and Chappell’s Popular

Music, p. 521 f. Rev. S. Baring-Gould has given me two copies, one

from recitation, the other from “a broadside published by Bebbington,

Manchester, Brit. Mus., 1876. d., A Collection of Songs and Broadsides,

I, 264.”

Five Excellent New Songs. Edinburgh. Printed and sold by William

Forrest, at the head of the Cowgate, 1766. British Museum, 11621. b. 6

(8).

The wakeing all the winter night,

And the tippling at the wine,

And the courting of a bonny lass,

Will break this heart of mine.

Brave sailing here, my dear,

And better sailing there,

Brave sailing in my love’s arms,

O give I were there!

I had a bed of thyme,

And it flourishd night and day,

There came by a squire’s son

That stole my heart away.

Brave sailing, etc.

Then up comes the gardener-lad,

And he gave me profers free,

He gave to me the jully-flowers,

To clothe my gay bodie.

The gardener stood in his garden,

And the prim-rose in his hand,

And there he spi’d his own true love,

As tight’s a willy wand.

‘If he’ll be a lover true,’ she said,

‘A lover true indeed,

And buy all the flowers of my garden,

I’ll shape to thee a weed.’

Brave sailing, etc.

‘The prim-rose shall be on thy head,

And the red rose on thy breast,

And the white-rose shall be for a smock,

To cover thy body next.

Brave sailing, etc.

‘Thy glove shall be the jully-flower,

Comes lockren to thy hand,

. . . . . . . .

‘Thy stockings shall be of the thyme,

Fair maid, it is a pleasant view;

Put on, fair maid, whenever you please,

And your shoes shall be of the rue.’

Brave sailing here, my dear,

And better sailing there,

And brave sailing in my love’s arms,

O if I were there!

‘You shape to me, young man,’ she says,

‘A weed amongst the flowers,

But I will shape to you, young man,

A weed amongst the flowers.

‘The hail-stones shall be on thy head,

And the snow upon thy breast,

And the east-wind shall be for a shirt,

To cover thy body next.

‘Thy boots shall be of the tangle,

That nothing can betide,

Thy steed shall be of the wan water,

Loup on, young man, and ride.’

Brave sailing there, my dear,

And better sailing here,

And ’t is brave sailing twixt my love’s arms,

O if I were there!

* * * * *

Five Excellent New Songs. II. The New Lover’s Garland. III. The Young

Maid’s Answer.

5^1 _should read_, If thou’lt ... he said.

5^2 _should read nearly as in_ =B= 8^3, Among all.

6^4, 10^4. next _should be_ neist.

7^1. grove.

7^{1,2}, 8^{1,2}, _make a stanza_.

_After_ 8: The Young Maid’s Answer, _printed as No 3 of the five

songs_.

9^1. to be a.

9^{3,4} _could be easily corrected_ from =A= 7^{5,6}, =B= 15^{3,4}.

11^1. stangle.

11^2 _should read to the effect_, That’s brought in by the tide.

The piece which follows is little more than a variation of ‘I sow’d

the seeds of love’ (one of “three of the most popular songs among the

servant-maids of the present generation,” says Mr Chappell: see a

traditional version of the song, which was originally composed by Mrs

Habergham towards the end of the seventeenth century, in Popular Music,

p. 522 f.). But the choosing of a weed for a maid from garden-flowers

is here, and is not in the song. It will be observed that the maid

chooses no weed for the gardener, but dies of a thorn-prick, a trait

which is found in neither the song nor the ballad.

Taken down by Rev. S. Baring-Gould from the singing of Joseph Paddon,

Holcombe Burnell. Printed, with changes, in Baring-Gould and Sheppard’s

Songs and Ballads of the West, No 107, Part IV, p. 50, 1891 here as

sung.

Dead Maid’s Land.

A garden was planted around

With flowers of every kind,

I chose of the best to wear in my breast,

The flowers best pleased my mind.

A gardener standing by

I asked to choose for me;

He chose me the lily, the violet, the pink,

But I liked none of the three.

A violet I don’t like,

A lily it fades so soon,

But as for the pink I cared not a flink,

I said I would stop till June.

‘The lily it shall be thy smock,

The jonquil shoe thy feet,

Thy gown shall be of the ten-week stock,

Thy gloves the violet sweet.

‘The gilly shall deck thy head,

Thy way with herbs I’ll strew,

Thy stockings shall be the marigold,

Thy gloves the violet blue.’

‘I like not the gilly-flower,

Nor herbs my way to strew,

Nor stockings of the marigold,

Nor gloves of violet blue.

‘I will not have the ten-week stock,

Nor jonquils to my shoon,

But I will have the red, red rose

That flowereth in June.’

‘The rose it doth bear a thorn

That pricketh to the bone;’

‘I little heed what thou dost say,

I will have that or none.’

‘The rose it doth bear a thorn

That pricketh to the heart;’

‘O but I will have the red, red rose,

For I little heed its smart.’

She stoopëd to the ground

To pluck the rose so red,

The thorn it pierced her to the heart,

And this fair maid was dead.

A gardener stood at the gate,

With cypress in his hand,

And he did say, Let no fair may

Come into Dead Maid’s Land.

A fragment in Motherwell’s MS., obtained from Widow Nicol, ‘It’s

braw sailing here,’ p. 110, has something of both pieces without any

suggestion of the flower-dress.

It’s braw sailing here,

And it’s braw sailing there,

And it’s braw sailing on the seas

When wind and tide are fair.

It’s braw drinking beer,

And it’s braw drinking wine,

And it’s braw courting a bonnie lass

When she is in her prime.

O the gardener sent me word,

He that pued the rose for me,

The willow, primrose, the red rose,

But I denied all three.

The willow I’ll deny,

The primrose it buds soon,

But I’ll chuse for me the red rose,

And I vow it’ll stand till June.

In June my red rose sprung,

It was not a rose for me,

So I’ll pull the top of my red rose,

And I’ll plant the willow-tree.

For the willow I must wear,

With sorrows mixed amang,

And all the neighbours far and near

Say I luved a false luve lang.

* * * * *

2^2. braw _altered to_ better.

221. Katharine Jaffray.

P. 222. =E=, as it stands in “The Old Lady’s Collection,” No 17, ‘Bony

Catrain Jaffry.’

Bonny Catrain Jaffrie,

That proper maid sae fare,

She has loved yong Lochinwar,

She made him no compare.

He courted her the live-lang winter night,

Sa has he the simmer’s day;

He has courted her sae lang

Till he sta her heart away.

Bat the lusty lard of Lamerdall

Came fra the South Countrey,

An for to ga[i]n this lady’s love

In intred he.

. . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . .

An he has gained her friends’ consent,

An sett the weding-day.

The weding-day it being sett,

An a’ man to it boun,

She sent for her first fair love,

Her wedding to come to.

His father an his mother came,

. . . . . . .

They came a’, but he came no,

It was a foull play.

Lochenwar an his comrads

Sat drinken att the wine;

‘Faue on you!’ sad his comrads,

‘Tak yer bride for shame.

‘Had she ben mine, as she was yours,

An den as she has don to you,

I wad tak her on her bridell-day

Fra a’ her compinay.

‘Fra a’ her compinay,

Without any other stay;

I wad gee them frogs insted of fish,

An take ther bride away.’

He got fifty young men,

They were gallant an gay,

An fifty madens,

An left them on a lay.

Fan he came in by Callien bank,

An in by Calline bray,

He left his company

Dancing on a lay.

He came to the bridel-house,

An in entred he;

. . . . . . .

‘Ther was a young man in this place

Loyed well a comly may,

Bat the day she gaes anether man’s bride,

An has plaed him foull play.

‘Had it ben me, as it was him,

An don as she has dien him tee,

I wad ha geen them froges insteed of fish,

An tane ther bride away.’

The Englesh speared gin he wad fight,

It spak well in his mind;

. . . . . . . .

‘It was na for fighten I cam hear,

But to bear gud fileshap gay;

Wan glass we yer bridgrom,

An so I goe my way.’

The glass was filled of gued read wine

Betuen them tua:

‘Wan word we yer brid,

An so I goo my waa.’

He was on gued horse back,

An whipt the bride him we;

She grat an wrang her hands,

An said, It’s foull play!

. . . . . . . .

‘An this I dar well say,

For this day I gade anether man’s bride,

An it’s ben foull play.’

Bat nou she is Lochenw[ar]’s wife,

. . . . . . . .

An he gaed them froges insted of fish,

An tain ther bried away.

* * * * *

1. him _imperfect; might be_ hir.

5^2. boung.

225. =G.= Collated with a MS. of Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe’s and with

another copy of the same pieces in “North Country Ballads,” Miscellanea

Curiosa, Abbotsford Library.

Sharpe, p. 13. 1^1. O _wanting_: Jaffray.

1^3. For she has lovd young L.

3^{1,2}. Lauderdale’s come.

3^3. That pretty.

4^3. He agreed with.

5^3. lossing of the.

6^1. were you, L.

7^1. Ye get.

7^2. And send through.

7^3. Get 150.

7^4. be all.

8^3. And still: trumpets.

9^2. And sent.

9^3. Gat full.

9^4. To be all.

10^1. To be.

10^2. to obey.

10^3. And still: trumpets.

11^3. When he went in upon.

12^2. who was.

12^3. Come never.

13^1. They’ll.

14^3. Askd if he had.

15^1. ever.

15^2. As was.

15^4. Was.

16^3. I did.

16^4. Was leaping on the hays.

17^3. with you, =b=.

17^4, 18^4. bound.

18^2. drank.

19^1. taken.

19^4, 20^4. no.

20^1. so great.

20^2. And so.

20^3. That.

21^1. take their.

21^3. trumpets.

22^1. There was.

22^2. Was walking on a hay.

22^3. Gave them the bonny bride by the hand.

22^4. bad them bound.

23^1. pieces nine.

Scott. 15^2. array _miscopied_ away.

222. Bonny Baby Livington.

P. 231. ‘Bonnie Annie Livieston’ in C. K. Sharpe’s first MS.

collection, p. 24, resembles =D= and =B=, and has as many commonplaces

as =B=, ending with the last three stanzas of several versions of ‘Lord

Thomas and Fair Annet’ or of ‘Lord Lovel,’ =I=.

Bonny Anny Livieston

Went out to see the play,

By came the laird of Glenlion,

And [he’s] taen hir quite away.

He set hir on a milk-white steed,

Himself upon a gray,

He’s teen hir oer the Highland hills,

And taen hir quite away.

When they came to Glenlion’s gate,

The lighted on the green;

There was mony a bonny lad and lass

To welcome the lady hame.

They led hir through high towers and bowers,

And through the buling-green,

And ay when they spake Erse to hir

The tears blinded hir een.

Says, The Highlands is no for me, kind sir,

The Highlands is no for me;

If that ye would my favour win,

Take me unto Dundee.

‘Dundee!’ he says, ‘Dundee, lady!

Dundee you shall never see;

Upon the laird of Glenlion

Soon wadded shall ye be.’

When bells were rung, and mas was sung,

And all were bound for bed,

And bonny Annie Livieston

By hir bridegroom was laid.

‘It’s O gin it were day!’ she says,

‘It’s O gin it were day!

O if that it were day,’ she says,

‘Nae langer wad I stay.’

‘Your horse stands in a good stable,

Eating both corn and hay,

And you are in Glenlion’s arms,

Why should ye weary for day?’

‘Glenlion’s arms are good enough,

But alais! the’r no for me;

If that you would my fevour win,

Taike me unto Dundee.

‘Bat fetch me paper, pen and ink,

And candle that I may see,

And I’ll go write a long letter

To Geordie in Dundee.

‘Where will I get a bonny boy,

That will win hose and shoon,

That will gang to my ain true-luve,

And tell him what is done?’

Then up then spake a bonny boy,

Near to Glenlion’s kin,

Says, Many time I hae gane his erand,

But the lady’s I will rin.

O when he came to broken brigs

He bent his bow and swame,

And when he came to grass growing

Set down his feet and ran.

And when he came to Dundee gate

Lap clean outoer the wa;

Before the porter was thereat,

The boy was in the haa.

‘What news? what news, bonny boy?

What news hes thou to me?’

‘No news, no news,’ said bonny boy,

‘But a letter unto thee.’

The first three lines he looked on,

A loud laughter gied he,

But or he wan to the hinder en

The tears blinded his eie.

‘Gae saddle to me the black,’ he says,

‘Gae saddle to me the broun,

Gae saddle to me the swiftest steed

That eer took man to towen.’

He burst the black unto the slack,

The browen unto the brae,

But fair fa on the siller-gray

That carried him ay away!

When he came to Glenlion’s yett,

He tirled at the pin,

But before that he wan up the stair

The lady she was gone.

‘O I can kiss thy cheeks, Annie,

O I can kiss thy chin,

O I can kiss thy clay-cold lips,

Though there be no breath within.

‘Deal large at my love’s buriell

The short bread and the wine,

And gin the morn at ten o clock

Ye may deal as mukle at mine.’

The taen was biried in Mary’s kirk,

The tither in St Mary’s quire,

And out of the taen there grew a birk,

And the ither a bonny brier.

And ay they grew, and ay they threw,

Till they did meet aboon,

And a’ that ere the same did see

Knew they had true lovers been.

* * * * *

17^3. hinderen.

21^1. thy thy.

223. Eppie Morrie.

P. 239. Collated with a MS. of Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe’s, and

with another copy of the same pieces, “North Country Ballads,” in

Miscellanea Curiosa, Abbotsford Library.

Sharpe, p. 21.

1^2. all.

1^3. away.

1^4. Because.

2^1. Out it.

2^2. moonlighty.

3^{1,2}. Hald.

3^4. That shall be wedded.

5^1. He has.

5^2. it _wanting_.

5^3. Says, Marry.

6^{1,2}, 7^{1,2}, 10^{1,2}, 15^{1,2}. Hold.

6^4. be married.

7^3. dare not avow to marrying.

7^4. she were.

8^2. could not.

8^3. are away.

9^1. bells was.

9^2. all men bound.

10^{1,2}, 15^{1,2}. away from.

10^3. I loss.

12^3. Scallater.

13^1. Says, Get.

13^4. sure I am: as ye.

14^1. fall.

14^2. you could not.

14^3. taken.

14^4. kis[s]ed your hand.

15^3. For there’s.

15^4. that’s be wedded to me.

16^1. in it came Belbardlane.

16^3. Says, come away home.

17^2. And get to me.

17^4. came.

18^2. and hey the light.

_Written in long lines, without division into stanzas._

Scott. Norrie _throughout_.

2^2. moonlight.

16^3. home _wanting_.

225. Rob Roy.

P. 245. =A.= This version is No 9 of “The Old Lady’s Collection,” and

was copied by Skene without much variation. The following original

readings may be noted.

2^3. Or she.

3^1. serundad.

3^4. fra each other.

6^4. to me has.

7^4. Him sell beside her.

8^1. came by Black.

8^4. not be.

10^{1,2}. Be content _twice only_.

11^2, 12^2. lady _wanting_.

12^1. land.

12^2. for his.

12^3. An _wanting_.

12^4. took them.

13^1. he _wanting_.

13^3. pound.

14^1. Y’er.

249. =E.= In Sharpe’s small MS. volume, “Songs,” p. 42.

1^2. Cam to.

2^1. It’s when.

2^4. her to.

5^3. hasted.

7^3. cries _for_ sighs.

7^4. was laid behind.

8^1. He says to her, etc., Oh, be.

_Readings from_ =A= 1, 2, _are added, in a later hand, in the margin

of_ 1, 3.

254.

From a copy formerly in the possession of Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe,

now belonging to Mr Macmath. The paper on which it is written has the

water-mark 1822. This version closely resembles =C= and =K=.

Rob Roy’s from the Highlands come

Down to the Lowland border,

And there he’s stole a fair lady away,

To keep his house in order.

As he came in by Blackhill gate,

Twenty men his arms did carry,

And he has stole a fair lady away,

On purpose hir to marry.

No tidings came unto the house,

Nor none went in before him,

Or else she had been run away,

For she did still abhor him.

But with his men he surunded the house,

Himself went in unto hir,

And when that he had found her out

He profest how much he lovt hir.

‘O wilt thou be my dear?’ he says,

‘O wilt thou be my hony?

O wilt thou be my wedded wife?

For I love you far better than ony.’

‘I will not be your dear,’ she says,

‘I will not be your honey,

I will not be your wedded wife;

You love me for my money.’

But he hir drew amongst his crew,

She holding by hir mother;

With doleful cries and watry eyes

The parted from each other.

He gave hir no time for to dress

As brides do when the marry,

But fast he hurried hir away,

And rowd hir in his plaidy.

He set hir on a milk-white steed,

Himself lept on behind hir,

And he has carried hir away,

Hir friends the could not find hir.

The lady’s cries were oftimes heard,

But none durst venture to hir;

She gaurded was on every side,

Hir friends could not rescue hir.

As the went over hills and rocks,

The lady oftimes fainted;

Cries, Wo be to my curst mony,

These roads to me invented.

As the came in by Drummond town

And at Bachannan tarried,

He bought to her a cloak and gown,

Yet wad she not be married.

And when she came the priest before

He askd if she would marry,

But the parson’s zeal it was so hot

For her will he did not tarry.

Four held hir up before the priest,

Tow laid hir in hir bed, O,

But still she cried, with watry eyes,

When she was by him laid O.

‘Now you’r to the Highlands come,

Out of your native clime, lady,

Never think of going back,

But tak it for your hame, lady.

‘Be content, be content,

Be content to stay, lady,

Now you are my wedded wife,

Until your dying day, lady.

‘Rob Roy was my father calld,

McGregor was his name, lady,

And all the country where he dwelt

None could exceed his fame, lady.

‘I’ll be kind, I’ll be kind,

I’ll be kind to thee, lady,

A’ thy kindred for thy sake

Shall truly favoured be, lady.

‘My father reignd as Highland king,

And ruled at his will, lady,

There was nether lord nor duke

Durst do him ony ill, lady.

‘Ay through time, ay through time,

Ay through time was he, lady,

Filled was w[ith] sweet revenge

On a’ his enemys, lady.

‘He was a hedge about his friends,

A heckle till his foes, lady,

And every ane that did him rang,

He took them oer the nose, lady.

‘I’m as bold, I’m as bold,

[As bold] as forest boar, lady,

Every ane that does thee rang

Shall feell my stell claymore, lady.

‘Neer a man from Highlands came

That ever did him dare, lady,

But if those persons did escape

He sized upon there gear, lady.

Ay through time, etc.

‘My father dealt in horse and cows,

But thou in goats and sheep, lady,

Thre and twenty thousand merk

Makes me a man complete, lady.

Be content, etc.

‘Of all the exploits my father did

I do him now outshine, lady;

He never took a prize in ’s life

With sic a face as thine, lady.’

* * * * *

_Title_: Old Song, Rob Roy. Tune, Jonny Fa, the Gipsy Laddy.

_After_ 14. Tune, Had away frae me, Donald.

Here may be added, as an appendix, a fragment of a ballad on the

“Abduction of Nelly Symon.” “The chorus is in Gaelic and the song is

sung to one of the finest native airs.” From The Aberdeen Herald and

Weekly Free Press, February 3, 1883.

They hoised her up upon a mare;

It was not for her gowd nor gear;

’T was for her beauty, keen and rare,

That they stealt Ellen Symon.

Se ho or so gur tallum tallum,

Se ho or so gur e so hallum;

Bheir mis ma chinteach ghuds gur tallum,

Chaileig, Eilie Symon.

Her father made a bow o bere,

Her uncle he gae twa pound mair,

To hang the rogue he vowed and sware

That stealt his Ellen Symon.

When they came on till Allanqooich,

They drank the whisky oot o a quaich,

And ilka are was blythe eneuch,

But wae was Ellen Symon.

When they came to the brig o Don,

Peter swore he would move on;

Says Charlie, Lad, ye sanna win,

For my brave Ellen Symon.

226. Lizie Lindsay.

P. 255.

From “The Old Lady’s Collection,” No 39.

Ther lives a maid in Edinbrugh citty,

Elisa Lindsy they call her by name;

Monye an came to court her,

But a’ ther suit was in vain.

Out spak the hear of Carnussë,

An out spak he;

‘Fat wad ye think of me if I wad gae to Edinbrugh citty

An bring this fair creatur we me?’

‘If ye gae to Edinbrugh city

An bring this fair creatur we the,

Bring her home we ne flatry,

But by grait policy.’

Fan he came to the Netherbou,

Elisa Lindsy for to see,

She drank we him a bottel of cherry,

And bare him gued company.

‘Will ye goo to the Hillands we me, Lisee?

Will ye go to [the] Hillands we me?

. . . . . . . .

Ye’s gett cruds an grean why.’

Out spak Lissy’s mother,

An out spak she;

‘If ye say so to my daughter,

[I] swaer I ell gar ye die.’

‘Keep well yer dother, old lady,

Keep well yer dother fra me,

For I care as littel for yer dother

As she dos for me.’

Out spak Lissie Lindsy,

We the tear in her eay;

‘I will gie ye ten gunies,

If ye wad bat sitt in my roum bat a whill

Till I dra you[r] picter,

To mind me on your swit smill.’

‘I care as littel for your ten gunies

As ye dou for mine,

But if ye love my person,

Goo we me if ye inclayn.’

Fan they came to Carnusie, an even to the glen,

Out came the old day:

‘Ye’r welcom home, Sir Donall, ye’r welcom home,

An that fair creatur ye we.’

‘Caa na me mare Sir Donald,

Bat caa me Donall, yer son,

An I’ll caa ye my mother,

An caa me Donall, yer son:’

The words wer spoken in Ears,

Lissie she had nean.

‘Gett us a supper of cruds,

[A supper of cruds] an green whay,

An a bed of the best of yeer rushes,

Besids a covering of gray.’

Lissy Lindsy bieng weary,

She lay over long in they day:

‘Win up, Lissy Lindsy,

Ye haa layen our lang in the day;

Ye might haa ben out we my mider,

Milken the eus an the kay.’

Out spak Lissie Lindsy,

The tear in her eay;

‘I wiss I wer in Edenbrugh citty,

I cannë milk eus nor kay.’

‘Hold your toung, Lissie Lindsy,

An dou not freat on me,

For I will haa ye back to Edenbrugh citty,

Nou we grait safity.’

Out spak Lissie Lindsy,

The tear in her eay;

‘If I wer in Edenbrugh citty,

They woud think littel of me.’

He touk her by the milk-white hand,

Some other forest to vue;

. . . . . . . .

Fan they came to Carnusy, out came Donal’s father,

A gay old knight was he;

Out cam Donald’s father,

An four-an-tuenty him we.

‘Ye’r welcom, Lissie Lends[y],

Dear welcom to me;

Ye’s be Lady Carnusie,

An gett Donal, my son.’

Out came Donald’s mother,

An four-an-tuenty her we:

‘Ye’r welcom, my son,

An that fair creatur ye we.’

* * * * *

17^2. Forest: _doubtful_.

227. Bonny Lizie Baillie.

P. 266. h. ‘Elisa Bailly,’ “The Old Lady’s Collection,” No 37.

As I came in by Carron sid,

An in nou by Dumblain,

Ther I mett we Dugall Grame:

He said he wad see me hame.

‘My bonny Lisey Ballie,

I ill rou ye in my plady,

An ye wad gaa along we me,

I wad make ye a Heallend lady.’

‘If I wad gaa along we ye,

They wad say I wer na wise;

For I cane nether milk cou nor ewe,

Nor can I speak Ears.’

‘My bonny Lisie Bailly,

For that ye nead na fear;

For onye that I cane dou,

I ill learn to you, my dear.’

19, 21

‘Then I ill cast off my bra nou goun,

Made of the silk an saten,

An I ell pitt on the hame-made grays,

To skip among the breachan.’

‘My bonny Lisie Bailly,

I ill rou ye in my plaidy,

An ye will go along we me,

I ill make ye a Healand lady.’

‘Then I ell cast aff my bra nou shous,

Made of the Turky lader,

An I ell pit on the hame-made broges,

To skip among the header.’

‘My bonny Lisie Bailly,

I ell rou ye in my plady;

Since ye’r to goo along we me,

I ell make ye a Healend lady.’

Foull faa the logarheaded Loland lads

That lives near Castell Carey,

Has latten the bonny lass away

The Heallend lad to marry.

* * * * *

16^2. Carey _written so as to look like_ Carly.

228. Glasgow Peggie.

P. 271. =A= is extant among Sharpe’s relics, written on paper having

1819 in the water-mark, in two hands: stanzas 1-6, 8, 9^1, in one, 7

(inserted in the margin) and the rest in another. Sharpe has made a few

slight changes in the text, besides regulating the spelling. The ballad

is now given as it stands in the original copy.

‘As I cam in by boney Glassgow town,

The Highland troops were a’ before me,

And the bon[ey]est lass that ere I saw,

She lives in Glassgow, tha ca her Peggy.

‘I wad gie my boney black horse,

So wad I my good gray nagie,

If I were a hundred miles in the North,

And nan wee me but my boney Peggy.’

Up then spoke her father dear,

Dear vow! but he was wondrous sorey;

‘Weel may yea steel a cow or a ewe,

But ye darna steel my boney Peggy.’

Up then spoke her mother dear,

Dear vow! but she spoke wondrious sorey;

‘Now, since I’ve brought ye up this length,

Wod ye gang awa wee a Highland fellow?’

He set her on his boney black horse,

He set himsel on his good gray nagy;

They have riden over hill[s] and dales,

Now he is awa wee his boney Peggy.

They are riden or hills and dales,

They have riden or mountains maney,

Untill that thay com to a low, low glen,

And there he’s lain down wee his boney Peggy.

Up then spoke the Earll o Argyle,

Dear vow! bet he spoke wondrous sorry;

‘The bonniest lass in a’ Scotland

Is af an awa wi [a] Highland fellow!’

There bed was of the boney green grass,

There blankets was o the hay sa boney;

He falded his philabeg below her head,

Now he’s lawing down wee his boney Peggy.

Up then spoke the boney Lawland lass,

And oh, but she spoke wondrous sorry;

‘A’s warruant my mother would hae a gae soir heart

To see me lian here wi you, my Willie!’

‘In my father’s house there’s feather-beds,

Feather-beds an blankets many;

The’re a’ mine, an the’ll shoon be thine,

An what needs your mother be sae sorry, Peggie?

‘Dinna you see yon nine score o kye,

Feding on yon hill sae boney?

The’re a’ mine, an the’ll shoon be thine,

An what needs your mother be sorry, Peggie?

‘Dinna you see yon nine score o sheep,

Feeding on yon brae sae bonny?

The’re a’ mine, an the’ll shoon be thine,

An what needs your mother be sorry for you?

‘Dinna you see yon bonny white house,

Shining on yon brae sae bonny?

An I am the earl o the Isle o Sky,

And surely my Peggie will be calle[d] a lady.’

* * * * *

1^2, 2^3. where.

2^3. =a=: _not unlike_ 2, _but really_ =a=.

9^2. she sape.

9^3. soir: i _not dotted_.

10^3. be the thene.

275.

Macmath MS., p. 93. Taken down at Crossmichael, Kirkcudbrightshire,

24th August, 1892, from the recitation of Miss Jane Webster, who had

learned it more than fifty years before, at Airds of Kells, from the

singing of Rosanna McGinnies.

It was on a day, and a fine summer’s day,

When the Lowlands they were making ready,

There I espied a weel-far’d lass,

She was gaun to Glasgow, and they ca her Peggy.

It’s up then spak a silly auld man,

And O but he spak wondrous poorly!

Sayin, Ye may steal awa my cows and my ewes,

But ye’ll never steal awa my bonny Peggy.

‘O haud yer tongue, ye silly auld man,

For ye hae said eneugh already,

For I’ll never steal awa yer cows and yer ewes,

But I’ll steal awa yer bonny Peggy.’

So he mounted her on a milk-white steed,

Himsel upon a wee grey naigie,

And they hae ridden ower hill and dale,

And over moors and mosses many.

They rade till they cam to the head o yon glen,

It might hae frightened anybody;

He said, Whether will ye go alongst with me,

Or will ye return back again to your mammie?

* * * * * * *

Their bed was o the green, green grass,

And their blankets o the bracken sae bonnie,

And he’s laid his trews beneath their head,

And Peggy’s lain doun wi her Heilan laddie.

They lay till it cam to the break o day,

Then up they rose and made them ready;

He said, Whether will ye go alongst with me,

Or will ye return back again to your mammie?

‘I’ll follow you through frost and snow,

I’ll follow you through dangers many,

And wherever ye go I will go alongst with you,

For I’ll never return back again to my mammie.’

‘I hae four-and-twenty gude milk-kye,

They’re a’ bun in yon byre sae bonny,

And I am the earl o the Isle o Skye,

And why should not Peggy be called a lady?

‘I hae fifty acres o gude land,

A’ ploughed ower and sawn sae bonny,

And I am young Donald o the Isle o Skye,

And wherever I’m laird I’ll make ye lady.’

231. The Earl of Errol.

P. 284. =B= as it stands in “The Old Lady’s Collection,” No 26.

Earell is a bonny place,

Itt stands upon yon plain;

The gratest faut about the toun,

Earell’s na a man.

For fat ye caa the danton o’tt,

According as ye ken,

For the pearting. .. .,

Lady Earel lays her lean.

Eearel is a bonny place,

It stans upon yon plain;

The rosses they grou read an whit,

An the apples they grou green.

‘Fatt nead I my apron wash

An hing upon yon pinn?

For lang will I gaa out an in

Or I hear my barn’s dinn.