A Collection of Ballads | Page 9

fetch the wild-fowl hame,?His lady's ta'en another mate,?So we may make our dinner sweet.
"Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane,?And I'll pike out his bonny blue een;?Wi ae lock o his gowden hair?We'll theek our nest when it grows bare.
"Mony a one for him makes mane,?But nane sall ken whae he is gane,?Oer his white banes, when they are bare,?The wind sall blaw for evermair."
Ballad: The Bonnie Earl Moray
(Child, vol. vi.)
A.
Ye Highlands, and ye Lawlands?Oh where have you been??They have slain the Earl of Murray,?And they layd him on the green.
"Now wae be to thee, Huntly!?And wherefore did you sae??I bade you bring him wi you,?But forbade you him to slay."
He was a braw gallant,?And he rid at the ring;?And the bonny Earl of Murray,?Oh he might have been a King!
He was a braw gallant,?And he playd at the ba;?And the bonny Earl of Murray,?Was the flower amang them a'.
He was a braw gallant,?And he playd at the glove;?And the bonny Earl of Murray,?Oh he was the Queen's love!
Oh lang will his lady?Look oer the castle Down,?Eer she see the Earl of Murray?Come sounding thro the town!?Eer she, etc.
B.
"Open the gates?and let him come in;?He is my brother Huntly,?he'll do him nae harm."
The gates they were opent,?they let him come in,?But fause traitor Huntly,?he did him great harm.
He's ben and ben,?and ben to his bed,?And with a sharp rapier?he stabbed him dead.
The lady came down the stair,?wringing her hands:?"He has slain the Earl o Murray,?the flower o Scotland."
But Huntly lap on his horse,?rade to the King:?"Ye're welcome hame, Huntly,?and whare hae ye been?
"Where hae ye been??and how hae ye sped?"?"I've killed the Earl o Murray?dead in his bed."
"Foul fa you, Huntly!?and why did ye so??You might have taen the Earl o Murray,?and saved his life too."
"Her bread it's to bake,?her yill is to brew;?My sister's a widow,?and sair do I rue.
"Her corn grows ripe,?her meadows grow green,?But in bonnie Dinnibristle?I darena be seen."
Ballad: Clerk Saunders
(Child, vol. iii.)
Clerk Saunders and may Margaret?Walked ower yon garden green;?And sad and heavy was the love?That fell thir twa between.
"A bed, a bed," Clerk Saunders said,?"A bed for you and me!"?"Fye na, fye na," said may Margaret,?"'Till anes we married be.
"For in may come my seven bauld brothers,?Wi' torches burning bright;?They'll say,--'We hae but ae sister,?And behold she's wi a knight!'"
"Then take the sword frae my scabbard,?And slowly lift the pin;?And you may swear, and save your aith.?Ye never let Clerk Saunders in.
"And take a napkin in your hand,?And tie up baith your bonny e'en,?And you may swear, and save your aith,?Ye saw me na since late yestreen."
It was about the midnight hour,?When they asleep were laid,?When in and came her seven brothers,?Wi' torches burning red.
When in and came her seven brothers,?Wi' torches burning bright:?They said, "We hae but ae sister,?And behold her lying with a knight!"
Then out and spake the first o' them,?"I bear the sword shall gar him die!"?And out and spake the second o' them,?"His father has nae mair than he!"
And out and spake the third o' them,?"I wot that they are lovers dear!"?And out and spake the fourth o' them,?"They hae been in love this mony a year!"
Then out and spake the fifth o' them,?"It were great sin true love to twain!"?And out and spake the sixth o' them,?"It were shame to slay a sleeping man!"
Then up and gat the seventh o' them,?And never a word spake he;?But he has striped his bright brown brand?Out through Clerk Saunders' fair bodye.
Clerk Saunders he started, and Margaret she turned?Into his arms as asleep she lay;?And sad and silent was the night?That was atween thir twae.
And they lay still and sleeped sound?Until the day began to daw;?And kindly to him she did say,?"It is time, true love, you were awa'."
But he lay still, and sleeped sound,?Albeit the sun began to sheen;?She looked atween her and the wa',?And dull and drowsie were his e'en.
Then in and came her father dear;?Said,--"Let a' your mourning be:?I'll carry the dead corpse to the clay,?And I'll come back and comfort thee."
"Comfort weel your seven sons;?For comforted will I never be:?I ween 'twas neither knave nor loon?Was in the bower last night wi' me."
The clinking bell gaed through the town,?To carry the dead corse to the clay;?And Clerk Saunders stood at may Margaret's window,?I wot, an hour before the day.
"Are ye sleeping, Margaret?" he says,?"Or are ye waking presentlie??Give me my faith and troth again,?I wot, true love, I gied to thee."
"Your faith and troth ye sall never get,?Nor our true love sall never twin,?Until ye come within my bower,?And kiss me cheik and chin."
"My mouth it is full cold, Margaret,?It has the smell, now, of the ground;?And if I kiss thy comely mouth,?Thy days of life will not be lang.
"O, cocks are crowing a merry midnight,?I wot the wild fowls