5_The English and Scottish popular ballads, volume 1 (of 5)

'Wha gied ye the banes o the fishie till, my bonnie wee croodlin dow?'

'I gied them till a wee doggie; oh mak my bed, mammie, now!'

'O whare is the little wee doggie, my bonnie wee croodlin dow?

O whare is the little wee doggie, my bonnie wee croodlin doo?'

'It shot out its fit and died, and sae maun I do too;

Oh mak my bed, mammy, now, now, oh mak my bed, mammy, now!'

#a.# Chambers' Scottish Ballads, p. 324. #b.# Chambers'

Popular Rhymes of Scotland, 1842, p. 53. #c.# The

Stenhouse-Laing ed. of Johnson's Museum, IV, 364*,

communicated by Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe.

'O whaur hae ye been a' the day, my little wee croodlin doo?'

'O I 've been at my grandmother's; mak my bed, mammie, now!'

'O what gat ye at your grandmother's, my little wee croodlin doo?'

'I got a bonnie wee fishie; mak my bed, mammie, now!'

'O whaur did she catch the fishie, my bonnie wee croodlin doo?'

'She catchd it in the gutter hole: mak my bed, mammie, now!'

'And what did she do wi the fish, my little wee croodlin doo?'

'She boiled it in a brass pan; O mak my bed, mammie, now!'

'And what did ye do wi the banes o't, my bonnie wee croodlin doo?'

'I gied them to my little dog; mak my bed, mammie, now!'

'And what did your little doggie do, my bonnie wee croodlin doo?'

'He stretched out his head, his feet, and deed; and so will I, mammie,

now!'

Buchan's MSS, II, 322; Ballads of the North of Scotland,

II, 179.

'Whar hae ye been a' the day, Willie doo, Willie doo?

Whar hae ye been a' the day, Willie, my doo?'

'I've been to see my step-mother; make my bed, lay me down;

Make my bed, lay me down, die shall I now!'

'What got ye frae your step-mother, Willie doo, Willie doo?

What got ye frae your step-mother, Willie, my doo?'

'She gae me a speckled trout; make my bed, lay me down;

She gae me a speckled trout, die shall I now!'

'Whar got she the speckled trout, Willie doo, Willie doo?'

'She got it amang the heather hills; die shall I now.'

'What did she boil it in, Willie doo, Willie doo?'

'She boild it in the billy-pot; die shall I now!'

'What gaed she you for to drink, Willie doo, Willie doo?

What gaed she you for to drink, Willie, my doo?'

'She gaed me hemlock stocks; make my bed, lay me down;

Made in the brewing pot; die shall I now!'

They made his bed, laid him down, poor Willie doo, Willie doo;

He turnd his face to the wa; he 's dead now!

Popular Rhymes of Scotland, 1870, p. 51. "Mrs Lockhart's

copy."

'Where hae ye been a' the day, my bonny wee croodin doo?'

'O I hae been at my stepmother's house; make my bed, mammie, now, now,

now,

Make my bed, mammie, now!'

'Where did ye get your dinner?' my, etc.

'I got it at my stepmother's;' make, etc.

'What did she gie ye to your dinner?'

'She gae me a little four-footed fish.'

'Where got she the four-footed fish?'

'She got it down in yon well strand;' O make, etc.

'What did she do with the banes o't?'

'She gae them to the little dog.'

'O what became o the little dog?'

'O it shot out its feet and died;' O make, etc.

Kinloch's MSS, V, 347. In Dr John Hill Burton's hand.

'Fare hae ye been a' day, a' day, a' day,

Fare hae ye been a' day, my little wee croudlin doo?'

'I 've been at my step-mammie's, my step-mammie's, my step-mammie's,

I 've been at my step-mammie's; come mack my beddy now!'

'What got ye at yer step-mammie's,

My little wee croudlin doo?'

'She gied me a spreckled fishie;

Come mack my beddy now!'

'What did ye wi the baenies oet,

My little wee croudlin doo?'

'I gaed them till her little dogie;

Come mack my beddy now!'

'What did her little dogie syne,

My little wee croudlin doo?'

'He laid down his heed and feet;

And sae shall I dee now!'

From a manuscript collection, copied out in 1840 or 1850,

by a granddaughter of Alexander Fraser-Tytler, p. 67.

'O where hae ye been a' the day, my wee wee croodlin doo doo?

O where hae ye been a' the day, my bonnie wee croodlin doo?'

'O I hae been to my step-mammie's; mak my bed, mammy, noo, noo,

Mak my bed, mammy, noo!'

'O what did yere step-mammie gie to you?' etc.

'She gied to me a wee wee fish,' etc.

'[O] what did she boil the wee fishie in?'

'O she boiled it in a wee wee pan; it turned baith black an blue, blue,

It turned baith black an blue.'

'An what did she gie the banes o't to?'

'O she gied them to a wee wee dog;' mak, etc.

'An what did the wee wee doggie do then?'

'O it put out its tongue and its feet, an it deed; an sae maun I do

noo, noo,

An sae maun I do noo!'

* * * * *

#C.#

4^2. your father, King Henry, my son.

#I. a.#

1^4. _~faint to~, an obvious corruption of ~fain to~, is

found also in #b#, #c#; #d# has fain wad; #e#, ~faint~ or

~fain~; #f#, ~fain~; #g#, ~I faint to~. N. B. 8 stands 5

in the MS. copy, but is the last stanza in all others

which have it._

#b.#

2^1. for your dinner.

_After 2 follows_:

Who cooked you the eels, Tiranti, my son? etc.

O 't was my grandmother; mother, make my bed soon, etc.

#b# 5==#a# 3:

^1. Where did she get the, eels? etc.

^3. By the side of the haystack, etc.

#b# 6==#a# 7 : 7==#a# 8 : 8==#a# 5.

8^4. and die to lie down.

#a# is wanting in_ #b#.

#c.#

1^4. at my heart (_and always_).

2^1. O what did she give you? _etc._

2^3. Striped eels fried, etc.

3==#a# 4.

3^1. O how did they look? etc.

3^3. Ringed, streaked, and speckled, etc.

4==#a# 3.

4^1. O where did they come from?

5^1. O what will you give your father, my son?

5^2. O what will you give him?

5^3. A coach and six horses.

6^1. O what will you give your mother, my son? _as in 5._

6^3. All my gold and my silver.

7^1. O what will you give your granny? _as in 5._

8^1. O where'll, etc.

#c# _adds, as 9_:

So this is the end of Tiranti my son,

So this is the end of my sweet little one:

His grandmother poisoned him with an old dead snake,

And he left her a halter to hang by the neck.

#d.#

1^1, _etc._ Tyrante.

1^3. O I've been to my uncle's, _etc._

1^4. and fain wad lie doun.

2^3. eels and fresh butter.

3==#a# 4.

3^3. black stripëd with yellow.

4==#a# 7.

4^1. What'll ye will to your mither?

4^3. My gold and my silver.

5==#a# 6.

5^1 What'll ye will to your father?

5^3. My coach and my horses.

6==#a# 8.

6^1. What'll you will to your uncle?

_3, 5 of #a# are wanting._

#e.#

1^4. For I'm sick at heart, and faint [fain] to lie down.

3==#a# 7.

3^1. What will you leave your mother?

3^3. A box full of jewels.

4^1. What will you leave your sister?

4^3. A box of fine clothing.

5==#a# 8.

5^3. A rope to hang her with.

6==#a# 5.

6^1 Where shall I make it?

_3, 4 of #a# are wanting._

#f.#

_This copy was derived from the singing of the lady who

communicated #e#, and they naturally agree closely._

1^4, fain to lie down. #f# 3==e 4 : #f# 4==e 3.

#g.#

1^4. For I'm sick at the heart, and I faint to lie down.

2^1. What did you get at your grandmother's?

2^3. I got eels stewed in butter.

3==#a# 8.

3^1. What will you leave ...

4^1. What will you leave to your brother?

4^3. A full suit of mourning.

5==#a# 7.

5^1. leave to your mother.

5^3. A carriage and fine horses.

6==#a# 5.

_3, 4 of #a# are wanting._

#K.#

#a#, #b#, #c# are printed, in the publications in which

they occur, in four-line stanzas._

#b.#

_Omits 4._

6^1. the little doggie.

6^2. as I do, mammie, noo.

#c.#

1^1, my bonnie wee crooden doo: _and always_.

1^2. at my step-mither's.

And what did scho gie you to eat ...

Scho gied to me a wee fishie....

3^1. An what did she catch the fishie in ...

_4 is wanting_.

#L.#

_Written in the MS., and printed by Buchan, in stanzas of

4 lines._

#M.#

_Printed by Chambers in stanzas of 4 lines, the last

repeated._

#N.#

_The second line of each stanza is written as two in the

MS._

#O.#

_The stanza, being written with short lines in the

manuscript, is of seven lines, including the repetitions._

[144] Opera nuova, nella quale si contiene una incatenatura di più

villanelle ed altre cose ridiculose.... Data in luce per me Camillo,

detto il Bianchino, cieco Florentino. Fliegendes Blatt von Verona, 1629.

Egeria, p. 53; p. 260, note 31.--With the above (Egeria, p. 59) compare

especially the beginning of Italian #B#, further on.

[145] It begins:

"Dôve sî stâ jersira,

_Figliuol mio caro, fiorito e gentil?

Dôve sî stâ jersira_?"

"Sôn stâ dalla mia dama;

_Signóra Mama, mio core sta mal!

Son stâ dalla mia dama;

Ohimè! ch'io moro, ohimè_!"

[146] E.g. (#B#):

"E dove xestu stà gieri sera,

Figlio mio rico, sapio e gentil?

E dove xestu stà gieri sera,

Gentil mio cavalier?"

"E mi so' stato da la mia bela;

Signora madre, el mio cuor stà mal!

E mi so' stato da la mia bela;

Oh Dio, che moro, ohimè!"

"E cossa t'àla dato da çena,

Figlio mio?" etc.

"E la m'à dato 'n'anguila rostita;

Signora madre," etc.

[147] Grundtvig notices this absurdity, Eng. og skotske F. v, p. 286,

note **.

[148] "The nurse or nursery maid who sung these verses (to a very

plaintive air) always informed the juvenile audience that the

step-mother was a rank witch, and that the fish was an ask (newt), which

was in Scotland formerly deemed a most poisonous reptile." C. K. Sharpe,

in the Musical Museum, Laing-Stenhouse, IV, 364*.

[149] A golden bird, sitting on the bride's hand, sings, "You had better

not go there; you will have a bad mother-in-law and a bad

father-in-law." There are ill omens also in Passow, No 437.

EDWARD

#A. a.# Motherwell's MS., p. 139. #b.# Motherwell's

Minstrelsy, p. 339. From recitation.

#B.# Percy's Reliques, 1765, I, 53. Communicated by Sir

David Dalrymple.

#C.# MS. of A. Laing, one stanza.

#A b#, "given from the recitation of an old woman," is evidently #A a#

slightly regulated by Motherwell. #B#, we are informed in the 4th

edition of the Reliques, p. 61, was sent Percy by Sir David Dalrymple,

Lord Hailes. Motherwell thought there was reason to believe "that his

lordship made a few slight verbal improvements on the copy he

transmitted, and altered the hero's name to Edward,--a name which, by

the bye, never occurs in a Scottish ballad, except where allusion is

made to an English king."[150] Dalrymple, at least, would not be likely

to change a Scotch for an English name. The Bishop might doubtless

prefer Edward to Wat, or Jock, or even Davie. But as there is no

evidence that any change of name was made, the point need not be

discussed. As for other changes, the word "brand," in the first stanza,

is possibly more literary than popular; further than this the language

is entirely fit. The affectedly antique spelling[151] in Percy's copy

has given rise to vague suspicions concerning the authenticity of the

ballad, or of the language: but as spelling will not make an old ballad,

so it will not unmake one. We have, but do not need, the later

traditional copy to prove the other genuine. 'Edward' is not only

unimpeachable, but has ever been regarded as one of the noblest and most

sterling specimens of the popular ballad.

Motherwell seems to incline to regard 'Edward' rather as a detached

portion of a ballad than as complete in itself. "The verses of which it

consists," he says, "generally conclude the ballad of 'The Twa

Brothers,' and also some versions of 'Lizie Wan:'" Minstrelsy, LXVII,

12. The Finnish parallel which Motherwell refers to, might have

convinced him that the ballad is complete as it is; and he knew as well

as anybody that one ballad is often appended to another by reciters, to

lengthen the story or improve the conclusion.[152] More or less of

'Edward' will be found in four versions of 'The Twa Brothers' and two of

'Lizie Wan,' further on in this volume.

This ballad has been familiarly known to have an exact counterpart in

#Swedish#. There are four versions, differing only as to length: 'Sven i

Rosengård,' #A#, Afzelius, No 67, III, 4, eleven two-line stanzas, with

three more lines of burden; #B#, III, 3, six stanzas (Bergström's ed.,

No 54, 1, 2); #C#, Arwidsson, No 87 #A#, II, 83, eighteen stanzas; #D#,

No 87 B, II, 86, sixteen stanzas. The same in #Danish#: #A#, Grundtvig,

Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, p. 175, nine stanzas; #B#, Boisen, Nye

og gamle Viser, 10th ed., No 95, p. 185, 'Brodermordet.' And in

#Finnish#, probably derived from the Swedish, but with traits of its

own: #A#, Schröter's Finnische Runen, p. 124, 'Werinen Pojka,' The

Bloodstained Son, fifteen two-line stanzas, with two lines of refrain;

#B#, 'Velisurmaaja,' Brother-Murderer, Kanteletar, p. x, twenty stanzas.

All these are a dialogue between mother and son, with a question and

answer in each stanza. The mother asks, Where have you been? The son

replies that he has been in the stable [Danish, grove, fields; Finnish

#A#, on the sea-strand]. "How is it that your foot is bloody?"[153]

[clothes, shirt; Finnish, "How came your jerkin muddy?" etc.] A horse

has kicked or trod on him. "How came your sword so bloody?" He then

confesses that he has killed his brother. [Swedish #D# and the Danish

copies have no question about the foot, etc.] Then follows a series of

questions as to what the son will do with himself, and what shall become

of his wife, children, etc., which are answered much as in the English

ballad. Finally, in all, the mother asks when he will come back, and he

replies (with some variations), When crows are white. And that will be?

When swans are black. And that? When stones float. And that? When

feathers sink, etc. This last feature, stupidly exaggerated in some

copies, and even approaching burlesque, is one of the commonplaces of

ballad poetry, and may or may not have been, from the beginning, a part

of the ballads in which it occurs. Such a conclusion could not be made

to adhere to 'Edward,' the last stanza of which is peculiar in

implicating the mother in the guilt of the murder. Several versions of

'The Twa Brothers' preserve this trait, and 'Lizie Wan' also.

The stanza of this ballad was originally, in all probability, one of two

lines--a question and an answer--with refrains, as we find it in #A# 10,

11, 12, and the corresponding Swedish and Finnish ballad; and in 'Lord

Randal,' #J#, #K#, etc., and also the corresponding Swedish and German

ballad. #A# 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 8, 9 are now essentially stanzas of one line,

with refrains; that is, the story advances in these at that rate. #A# 4,

7 (==#C#) are entirely irregular, substituting narrative or descriptive

circumstances for the last line of the refrain, and so far forth

departing from primitive simplicity.[154] The stanza in #B# embraces

always a question and a reply, but for what is refrain in other forms of

the ballad we have epical matter in many cases. #A# 1, 2,

substantially,==#B# 1; #A# 3, 4==#B# 2; #A# 5, 6==#B# 3; #A# 8, 9==#B#

4; #A# 11==6; #A# 12==7.

Testaments such as this ballad ends with have been spoken of under No

11.

* * * * *

#A# is translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, No 26,

p. 172; by Rosa Warrens, Schottische V. L., No 21, p. 96; by Wolff,

Halle des Völker, I, 22, and Hausschatz, p. 223. #B#, in Afzelius, III,

10; "often in Danish," Grundtvig; by Herder, Volkslieder, II, 207; by

Döring, p. 217; Gerhard, p. 88; Knortz, Schottische Balladen, No 27.

Swedish #A#, by W. and M. Howitt, Literature and Romance of Northern

Europe, I, 263.[155]

#a.# Motherwell's MS., p. 139. From Mrs King, Kilbarchan.

#b.# Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 339.

'What bluid's that on thy coat lap,

Son Davie, son Davie?

What bluid's that on thy coat lap?

And the truth come tell to me.'

'It is the bluid of my great hawk,

Mother lady, mother lady:

It is the bluid of my great hawk,

And the truth I have told to thee.'

'Hawk's bluid was neer sae red,

Son Davie, son Davie:

Hawk's bluid was neer sae red,

And the truth come tell to me.'

'It is the bluid of my greyhound,

Mother lady, mother lady:

It is the bluid of my greyhound,

And it wadna rin for me.'

'Hound's bluid was neer sae red,

Son Davie, son Davie:

Hound's bluid was neer sae red,

And the truth come tell to me.'

'It is the bluid o my brither John,

Mother lady, mother lady:

It is the bluid o my brither John,

And the truth I have told to thee.'

'What about did the plea begin,

Son Davie, son Davie?'

'It began about the cutting of a willow wand

That would never been a tree.'

'What death dost thou desire to die,

Son Davie, son Davie?

What death dost thou desire to die?

And the truth come tell to me.'

'I'll set my foot in a bottomless ship,

Mother lady, mother lady:

I'll set my foot in a bottomless ship,

And ye'll never see mair o me.'

'What wilt thou leave to thy poor wife,

Son Davie, son Davie?'

'Grief and sorrow all her life,

And she'll never see mair o me.'

'What wilt thou leave to thy old son,

Son Davie, son Davie?'

'I'll leave him the weary world to wander up and down,

And he'll never get mair o me.'

'What wilt thou leave to thy mother dear,

Son Davie, son Davie?'

'A fire o coals to burn her, wi hearty cheer,

And she'll never get mair o me.'

Percy's Reliques, 1765, I, 53. Communicated by Sir David

Dalrymple.

'Why dois your brand sae drap wi bluid,

Edward, Edward,

Why dois your brand sae drap wi bluid,

And why sae sad gang yee O?'

'O I hae killed my hauke sae guid,

Mither, mither,

O I hae killed my hauke sae guid,

And I had nae mair bot hee O.'

'Your haukis bluid was nevir sae reid,

Edward, Edward,

Your haukis bluid was nevir sae reid,

My deir son I tell thee O.'

'O I hae killed my reid-roan steid,

Mither, mither,

O I hae killed my reid-roan steid,

That erst was sae fair and frie O.'

'Your steid was auld, and ye hae gat mair,

Edward, Edward,

Your steid was auld, and ye hae gat mair,

Sum other dule ye drie O.'

'O I hae killed my fadir deir,

Mither, mither,

O I hae killed my fadir deir,

Alas, and wae is mee O!'

'And whatten penance wul ye drie, for that,

Edward, Edward?

And whatten penance will ye drie for that?

My deir son, now tell me O.'

'Ile set my feit in yonder boat,

Mither, mither,

Ile set my feit in yonder boat,

And Ile fare ovir the sea O.'

'And what wul ye doe wi your towirs and your ha,

Edward, Edward?

And what wul ye doe wi your towirs and your ha,

That were sae fair to see O?'

'Ile let thame stand tul they doun fa,

Mither, mither,

Ile let thame stand tul they doun fa,

For here nevir mair maun I bee O.'

'And what wul ye leive to your bairns and your wife,

Edward, Edward?

And what wul ye leive to your bairns and your wife,

Whan ye gang ovir the sea O?'

'The warldis room, late them beg thrae life,

Mither, mither,

The warldis room, late them beg thrae life,

For thame nevir mair wul I see O.'

'And what wul ye leive to your ain mither deir,

Edward, Edward?

And what wul ye leive to your ain mither deir?

My deir son, now tell me O.'

'The curse of hell frae me sall ye beir,

Mither, mither,

The curse of hell frae me sall ye beir,

Sic counseils ye gave to me O.'

MS. of Alexander Laing, 1829, p. 25.

'O what did the fray begin about?

My son, come tell to me:'

'It began about the breaking o the bonny hazel wand,

And a penny wad hae bought the tree.'

* * * * *

#A. b.#

1^4. tell to me O. _And so every fourth line._

7^4. That would never hae been a tree O.

10^4. And she'll never get mair frae me O.

11^3. The weary warld to wander up and down.

#B.#

_Initial ~qu~ for ~w~ and ~z~ for ~y~ have been changed

throughout to ~w~ and ~y~._

6^7. let.

[150] An eager "Englishman" might turn Motherwell's objection to the

name into an argument for 'Edward' being an "English" ballad.

[151] That is to say, initial _quh_ and _z_ for modern _wh_ and _y_, for

nothing else would have excited attention. Perhaps a transcriber thought

he ought to give the language a look at least as old as Gavin Douglas,

who spells _quhy_, _dois_, _ȝour_. The _quh_ would serve a purpose,

if understood as indicating that the aspirate was not to be dropped, as

it often is in English _why_. The _z_ is the successor of ȝ, and was

meant to be pronounced _y_, as _z_ is, or was, pronounced in

_gaberlunzie_ and other Scottish words. See Dr J. A. H. Murray's Dialect

of the Southern Counties of Scotland, pp. 118, 129. Since _quh_ and _z_

serve rather as rocks of offence than landmarks, I have thought it best

to use _wh_ and _y_.

[152] Motherwell also speaks of a ballad of the same nature as quoted in

Werner's 'Twenty-Fourth of February.' The stanza cited (in Act I, Scene

1) seems to be Herder's translation of 'Edward' given from memory.

[153] We have a similar passage in most of the copies of the third class

of the German ballads corresponding to No 4. A brother asks the man who

has killed his sister why his shoes [sword, hands] are bloody. See p.

36, p. 38. So in 'Herr Axel,' Arwidsson, No 46, I, 308.

[154] These have perhaps been adapted to the stanza of 'The Twa

Brothers,' with some versions of which, as already remarked, the present

ballad is blended.

[155] With regard to translations, I may say now, what I might well have

said earlier, that I do not aim at making a complete list, but give such

as have fallen under my notice.

BABYLON; OR, THE BONNIE BANKS O FORDIE

#A. a, b.# 'Babylon; or, The Bonnie Banks o Fordie,'

Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 88. #c.# The same, Appendix,

p. xxii, No XXVI.

#B. a.# Herd's MSS, I, 38, II, 76. #b.# 'The Banishd Man,'

The Scots Magazine, October, 1803, p. 699, evidently

derived from Herd.

#C.# Motherwell's MS., p. 172.

#D.# Motherwell's MS., p. 174.

#E.# 'Duke of Perth's Three Daughters,' Kinloch's Ancient

Scottish Ballads, p. 212.

#B a# is from tradition of the latter half of the eighteenth century;

the other copies from the earlier part of this.

Three sisters go out (together, #A#, #B#, #C#, successively, #D#, #E#)

to gather flowers (#A#, #B#, #E#). A banished man (outlyer bold, #D#,

Loudon lord, #E#) starts up from a hiding-place, and offers them one

after the other the choice of being his wife or dying by his hand.

(#A.#)

'It's whether will ye be a rank robber's wife,

Or will ye die by my wee penknife?'

(#D.#)

'Wiltow twinn with thy maidenhead, or thy sweet life?'

The first and the second express a simple preference for death, and are

killed and laid by, "to bear the red rose company" (#A#). The youngest,

in #A#, says she has a brother in the wood, who will kill him if he

kills her. The outlaw asks the brother's name, finds that he himself is

the man, and takes his own life with the same weapon that had shed the

blood of his sisters. #B#, #C#, #D# have three brothers, the youngest of

whom is the banished lord (#C#), the outlyer bold (#D#). The story is

defective in #B#, #C#. In #D# the outlaw, on finding what he has done,

takes a long race, and falls on his knife. The conclusion of #E# is not

so finely tragic. A brother John comes riding by just as the robber is

about to kill the third sister, apprehends him by the agency of his

three pages, and reserves him to be hanged on a tree,

Or thrown into the poisond lake,

To feed the toads and rattle-snake.

According to the account given by Herd, and repeated by Jamieson, the

story of the lost conclusion of #B# made the banished man discover that

he had killed his two brothers as well as his two sisters.

This ballad, with additional circumstances, is familiar to all branches

of the Scandinavian race.

#Danish.# There are many versions from oral tradition, as yet unprinted,

besides these two: #A#, 'Hr. Truels's Døttre,' Danske Viser, III, 392,

No 164, there reprinted from Sandvig, Beskrivelse over Øen Møen, 1776:

#B#, 'Herr Thors Børn,' from recent tradition of North Sleswig,

Berggreen, Danske Folke-Sange, 3d ed., p. 88, No 42.

#A.# Herr Truels' three daughters oversleep their matins one morning,

and are roused by their mother. If we have overslept our matins, they

say, we will make up at high mass. They set out for church, and in a

wood fall in with three robbers, who say:

'Whether will ye be three robbers' wives,

Or will ye rather lose your lives?'