P. 157 f. Scandinavian ballads. See Danmarks gamle Folkeviser, now
edited by Axel Olrik, V, II, 210, No 304, ‘De hurtige Svar.’ There are
two Färöe versions, #A a#, #A b#, #B#, now No 124 of the MS.
Føroyjakvæði. Hammershaimb’s ballad is a compound of #A a#, #B#. There
is a Norwegian copy, which I failed to note, in Danske Viser, IV, 363 f,
and there are others in the hands of Professor Bugge. There are two
Swedish unprinted copies in Arwidsson’s collection, and others are
referred to by Afzelius. #Danish#, #A-D# : #A a# and #B c# are the
copies referred to at p. 158, #C, D# were published in 1889, in
Kristensen’s Jyske Folkeminder, X, 210 ff., No 51. For the Icelandic
ballads see Olrik, No 294, p. 69 ff. A tendency to the comic is to be
remarked in the Swedish and Danish group, in which (with one exception)
a brother takes the place of the father.
158 a, III, 509 a. #Spanish#, add: ‘Mañanita, mañanita,’ El Folk-Lore
Frexnense y Bético-Extremeño, Fregenal, 1883–84, p. 171.
158 ff. ‘Clerk Sandy,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border
Minstrelsy,” No 22 c; in the handwriting of Richard Heber.
1
Clerk Sandy an his true-love
Came oer the bent so brown,
There was never sic a word between them tua
Till the bells rang in the toun.
2
‘Ye maun take out your pocket-napkin
An put it on my een,
That safely I may say the morn
I saw na yow yestreen.
3
‘Take me on your back, lady,
An carry me to your bed,
That safely I may say the morn
Yere bouer’s floor I never tread.’
4
She’s taen him in her armeys tua,
An carried him to her bed,
That safely he may say the morn
Her bouer’s floor he never tread.
5
‘I have seven brethren,’ she says,
‘An bold young men they be;
If they see me an you thegether,
Yere butcher they will be.’
6
They had na sutten as lang, as lang
As other lovers when they meet,
Till Clerk Sandy an his true-love
They fell baith sound asleep.
7
In an came her seven brethren,
An bold young men they’ve been:
‘We have only ae sister in a’ the world,
An wi Clerk Sandy she’s lein.’
8
Out an spake her second brother:
‘I’m sure it’s nae injury;
If there was na another man in a’ the world.
His butcher I will be.’
9
He’s taen out a little pen-knife,
Hang low doun by his gaer,
An thro an thro Clerk Sandy’s middle;
A word spake he never mair.
10
They lay lang, an lang they lay,
Till the bird in its cage did sing;
She softly unto him did say,
I wonder ye sleep sae soun.
11
They lay lang, an lang they lay,
Till the sun shane on their feet;
She softly unto him did say,
Ye ly too sound asleep.
12
She softly turnd her round about,
An wondred he slept sae soun;
An she lookd ovr her left shoulder,
An the blood about them ran.
1^2. bents o Broun.