Child's Ballads/252

From Wikisource
Jump to: navigation, search
Child's Collected Ballads by Francis James Child
"The Kitchie-Boy", no. 252


A[edit]

THERE was a lady fair,
An een a lady of birth an fame,
She eyed her father's kitchen-boy,
The greater was her shame.
She could never her love reveal,
Nor to him talk,
But in the forest wide an brade,
Where they were wont to walk.
It fell ance upon a day
Her father gaed frae home,
And she sent for the kitchen-boy
To her own room.
'Canna ye fancy me, Willie?
Canna ye fancy me?
By a' the lords I ever saw
There is nane I loo but ye.'
'O latna this be kent, lady,
O latna this be . . ,
For gin yer father got word of this
I vou he'd gar me die.'
'Yer life shall no be taen, Willie,
Yer life sal na be taen;
I wad er loss my ain heart's blood
Or thy body gat wrang.'
Wi her monny fair speeches
She made the boy bold,
Till he began to kiss an clap,
An on her sine lay hold.
They hadna kissed an love claped,
As lovers whan they meet,
. . . .
. . . .
'The master-cook he will on me call,
An answered he man be;
An it wer kent I war in bower wi thee,
I fear they wad gar me die.'
'The master-cook may on ye call,
But answerd he will never be,
. . . .
. . . .
'For I hae three coffers fu o goud,
Yer eyen did never see,
An I will build a bonny ship for my love,
An set her to the sea,
And sail she east or sail she wast
The ship sal be fair to see.'
She has built a bonny ship,
And set her to the sea;
The topmasts war o the red goud,
The sails of tafetie.
She gae him a gay goud ring,
. . .
To ming him on a gay lady
That ance bear love to him.
The day was fair, the ship was rare,
Whan that swain set to sea;
Whan that day twal-moth came and gaed,
At London landed he.
A lady looked our the castle-wa,
Beheld the day gae down,
And she beheld that bonny ship
Come hailing to the town.
'Come here, come here, my maries a',
Ye see na what I see;
The bonniest ship is come to land
Yer eyes did ever see.
'Gae busk ye, busk ye, my maries a',
Busk ye unco fine,
Till I gae down to yon shore-side,
To invite yon squar to dine.
'O ye come up, gay young squar,
An take wi me a dine;
Ye sal eat o the guid white loaf,
An drink the claret wine.'
'I thank ye for yer bread,
I thank ye for yer wine,
I that ye for yer courticie,
But indeed I hanna time.'
'Canna ye fancy me?' she says,
'Canna ye fancy me?
O a' the lords an lairds I see
There's nane I fancy but ye.'
'The'r far awa fra me,' he says,
'The'r clean ayont the sea,
That has my heart in hand,
An my love ae sal be.'
'Here is a guid goud ring,
. . .
It will mind ye on a gay lady
That ance bare love to ye.'
'I ha a ring on my finger
I loe thrice as well as thine,
Tho yours were o the guid red goud
An mine but simple tin.'
The day was fair, the ship was rare,
Whan that squar set to sea;
Whan that day twal-month came an gaed,
At hame again landed he.
The lady's father looked our castle-wa,
To see the day gae cown,
An he beheld that bonny ship
Come hailing to the town.
'Come here, my daughter,
Ye see na what I see;
The bonniest ship is come to land
My eyes did ever see.
'Gae busk ye, my dochter,
G[a]e busk ye unco fine,
An I'll gae down to yon shore-side,
To invite the squar to dine;
I wad gie a' my rents
To hae ye married to him.'
The'r far awa frae me,' she says,
'Far ayont the sea,
That has my heart in hand
An my love ai sal be.'
'O will ye come, ye gay hine squar,
An take wi me a dine?
Ye sal eat o the guid white bread,
And drink the claret wine.'
'I thank ye for yer bread,
I thank ye for yer wine,
I thank ye for yer courticie,
For indeed I hanna grait time.
'O canna ye fancy me?' he says,
'O canna ye fancy me?
O a' the ladys I eer did see
There's nane I loo by ye.'
'They are far awa fra me.' she says,
'The'r far ayont the sea,
That has my heart in hand,
An my love ay sall be.'
'Here it is, a gay goud ring,
. . .
It will mind ye on a gay hin chil
That ance bare love to ye.'
'O gat ye that ring on the sea sailing?
Or gat ye it on the land?
O gat ye it on the shore laying,
On a drowned man's hand?'
'I got na it on the sea sailing,
I got na it on the land,
But I got it on the shore lying,
On a drowned man's hand.
'O bonny was his cheek,
An lovely was his face!'
'Allas!' says she, 'it is my true-love Willie,'
. . .
He turned him round about,
An sweetly could he smile;
She turned her round, says, My love Willie,
How could ye me beguile?
'A priest! a priest!' the old man cries,
'An lat this twa married be:'
Little did the old man kin
It was his ain kitchen-boy.

B[edit]

EARL RICHARD had but ae daughter,
A maid o birth and fame;
She loved her father's kitchen-boy,
The greater was her shame.
But she could neer her true-love see,
Nor with him could she talk,
In towns where she had wont to go,
Nor fields where she could walk.
But it fell ance upon a day
Her father went from home;
She's calld upon the kitchen boy
To come and clean her room.
'Come ye sit down by me, Willie,
Come sit ye down by me;
There's nae a lord in a' the north
That I can love but thee.'
'Let never the like be heard, lady,
Nor let it ever be;
For if your father get word o this
He will gar hang me hie.'
'O ye shall neer be hangd, Willie,
Your blude shall neer be drawn;
I'll lay my life in pledge o thine
Your body's neer get wrang.'
'Excuse me now, my comely dame,
No langer here I'll stay;
You know my time is near expir'd,
And now I must away.
'The master-cook will on me call,
And answered he must be;
If I am found in bower with thee,
Great anger will there be.'
'The master-cook will on you call,
But shall not answerd be;
I'll put you in a higher place
Than any cook's degree.
'I have a coffer full of gold,
Another of white monie,
And I will build a bonny ship,
And set my love to sea.
'Silk shall be your sailing-clothes,
Gold yellow is your hair,
As white like milk are your twa hands,
Your body neat and fair.'
This lady, with her fair speeches,
She made the boy grow bold,
And he began to kiss and clap,
And on his love lay hold.
And she has built a bonny ship,
Set her love to the sea,
Seven score o brisk young men
To bear him companie.
Then she's taen out a gay gold ring,
To him she did it gie:
'This will mind you on the ladie, Willie,
That's laid her love on thee.'
Then he's taen out a piece of gold,
And he brake it in two:
'All I have in the world, my dame,
For love I give to you.'
Now he is to his bonny ship,
And merrily taen the sea;
The lady lay oer castle-wa,
The tear blinded her ee.
They had not saild upon the sea
A week but barely three
When came a prosperous gale of wind,
On Spain's coast landed he.
A lady lay oer castle-wa,
Beholding dale and down,
And she beheld the bonny ship
Come sailing to the town.
'Come here, come here, my maries a',
Ye see not what I see;
For here I see the bonniest ship
That ever saild the sea.
'In her there is the bravest squire
That eer my eyes did see;
All clad in silk and rich attire,
And comely, comely 's he.
'O busk, O busk, my maries all,
O busk and make ye fine;
And we will on to yon shore-side,
Invite yon squire to dine.
'Will ye come up to my castle
Wi me and take your dine?
And ye shall eat the gude white bread,
And drink the claret wine.'
'I thank you for your bread, lady,
I thank you for your wine;
I thank you for your kind offer,
But now I have not time.'
'I would gie all my land,' she says,
'Your gay bride were I she;
And then to live on a small portion
Contented I would be.'
'She's far awa frae me, lady,
She's far awa frae me
That has my heart a-keeping fast,
And my love still she'll be.'
'But ladies they are unconstant,
When their loves go to sea,
And she'll be wed ere ye gae back;
My love, pray stay wi me.'
'If she be wed ere I go back,
And prove sae false to me,
I shall live single all my life;
I'll neer wed one but she.'
Then she's taen out a gay gold ring,
And gae him presentlie:
Twill mind you on the lady, young man,
That laid her love on thee.'
'The ring that's on my mid-finger
Is far dearer to me,
Tho yours were o the gude red gold,
And mine the metal free.'
He viewd them all, baith neat and small,
As they stood on the shore,
Then hoist the mainsail to the wind,
Adieu, for evermore!
He had not saild upon the sea
A week but barely three
Until there came a prosperous gale,
In scotland landed he.
But he put paint upon his face,
And oil upon his hair,
Likewise a mask above his brow,
Which did disguise him sair.
Earl Richard lay oer castle-wa,
Beholding dale and down,
And he beheld the bonny ship
Come sailing to the town.
'Come here, come here, my daughter dear,
Ye see not what I see;
For her I see the bonniest ship
That ever saild the sea.
'In her there is the bravest squire
That eer my eyes did see;
O busk, O busk, my daughter dear,
Come here, come here, to me.
'O busk, O busk, my daughter dear,
O busk, and make ye fine,
And we will on to the shore-side,
Invite yon squire to dine.'
'He's far awa frae me, father,
He's far awa frae me
Who has the keeping o my heart,
And I'll wed nane but he.'
'Whoever has your heart in hand,
Yon lad's the match for thee,
And he shall come to my castle
This day and dine wi me.
'Will ye come up to my castle
With me and take your dine?
And ye shall eat the gude white bread,
And drink the claret wine.'
'Yes, I'll come up to your castle
With you and take my dine,
For I would give my bonny ship
Were your fair daughter mine.'
'I would give all my lands,' he said,
'That your bride she would be;
Then to live on a small portion
Contented would I be.'
As they gaed up from yon sea-strand
And down the bowling-green,
He drew the mask out-oer his face,
For fear he should be seen.
He's done him down from bower to bower,
Likewise from bower to ha,
And there he saw that lady gay,
The flower out-oer them a'.
He's taen her in his arms twa,
And haild her courteouslie:
'Excuse me, sir, there's no strange man
Such freedom use with me.'
Her father turnd him round about,
A light laugh then gave he:
'Stay, I'll retire a little while,
Perhaps you may agree.'
Now Willie's taen a gay gold ring,
And gave her presentlie;
Says, Take ye that, ye lady fair,
A love-token from me.
O got ye 't on the sea sailing?
Or got ye 't on the sand?
Or got ye 't on the coast of Spain,
Upon a dead man's hand?'
'Fine silk it was his sailing-clothes,
Gold yellow was his hair;
It would hae made a hale heart bleed
To see him lying there.
'He was not dead as I passd by,
But no remeid could be;
He gave me this token to bear
Unto a fair ladie.
'And by the marks he has descryvd
I'm sure that you are she;
So take this token of free will,
For him you'll never see.'
In sorrow she tore her mantle,
With care she tore her hair:
'Now since I've lost my own true-love,
I'll neer love young men mair.'
He drew the mask from off his face,
The lady sweetly smiled:
'Awa, awa, ye fause Willie!
How have you me beguiled?'
Earl Richard he went thro the ha,
The wine-glass in his hand,
But little thought his kitchen-boy
Was heir oer a' his land.
But this she kept within her heart,
And never told to one
Until nine months they were expir'd,
That her young son came home.
She told it to her father dear;
He said, Daughter, well won;
You've married for love, not for gold,
Your joys will neer be done.

C[edit]

O THERE was a ladie, a noble ladie,
She was a ladie of birth and fame,
But she fell in love wi her father's foot-boy,
I wis she was the mair to blame.
A word of him she neer could get
Till her father was a hunting gone;
Then she calld on the bonny foot-boy
To speak wi her in her bower alone.
Says, Ye ken you are my love, Willie,
And that I am a ladie free,
And there's naething ye can ask, Willie,
But at your bidding I maun be.
O the loving looks that ladie gave
Soon made the bonny boy grow bold,
And the loving words that ladie spake
As soon on them he did lay hold.
She has taen a ring frae her white finger,
And unto him she did it gie;
Says, Wear this token for my sake,
And keep it till the day you die.
'But shoud my father get word of this,
I fear we baith will have cause to rue,
For to some nunnery I shoud be sent,
And I fear, my love, he would ruin you.
'But here is a coffer of the good red gowd,
I wot my mother left it to me;
And wi it you'll buy a bonny ship,
And ye maun sail the raging sea;
Then like some earl or baron's son
You can come back and marrie me.
'But stay not lang awa, Willie,
O stay not lang across the fame,
For fear your ladie shoud lighter be,
Or your young son shoud want a name.'
He had not been o the sea sailing
But till three months were come and gane,
Till he has landed his bonny ship;
It was upon the coast of Spain.
There was a ladie of high degree
That saw him walking up and down;
She fell in love wi sweet Willie,
But she wist no how to make it known.
She has calld up her maries a',
Says, Hearken well to what I say;
There is a young man in yon ship
That has been my love this many a day.
'Now bear a hand, my maries a',
And busk my brave and make me fine,
And go wi me to yon shore-side
To invite that noble youth to dine.'
O they have buskit that ladie gay
In velvet pall and jewels rare;
A poor man might have been made rich
Wi half the pearles they pat in her hair.
Her mantle was of gowd sae red,
It glaned as far as ane coud see;
Sweet Willie thought she had been the queen,
And bowd full low and bent his knee.
She's gard her maries step aside,
And on sweet Willie sae did smile;
She thought that man was not on earth
But of his heart she could beguile.
Says, Ye maun leave your bonny ship
And go this day wi me and dine,
And you shall eat the baken meat,
And you shall drink the Spanish wine.
'I canna leave my bonny ship,
Nor go this day to dine wi thee,
For a' my sails are ready bent
To bear me back to my ain countrie.'
'O gin you'd forsake your bonny ship
And wed a ladie of this countrie,
I would make you lord of a' this town,
And towns and castles twa or three.'
'Should I wed a ladie of this countrie,
In sooth I woud be sair to blame,
For the fairest ladie in fair Scotland
Woud break her heart gin I gaed na hame.'
'That ladie may choose another lord,
And you another love may choose;
There is not a lord in this countrie
That such a proffer could refuse.'
'O ladie, shoud I your proffer take,
You'd soon yoursell have cause to rue,
For the man that his first love forsakes
Woud to a second neer prove true.'
She has taen a ring frae her white finger,
It might have been a prince's fee;
Says, Wear this token for my sake,
And give me that which now I see.
'Take back your token, ye ladie fair;
This ring you see on my right hand
Was gien me by my ain true-love,
Before I left my native land.
'And tho yours woud buy it nine times oer
I far more dearly prize my ain;
Nor woud I make the niffer,' he says,
'For a' the gowd that is in Spain.'
The ladie turnd her head away
To dry the sat tears frae her eyne;
She naething more to him did say
But, I wish your face I neer had seen!
He has set his foot on good ship-board,
The ladie waved her milk-white hand,
The wind sprang up and filld his sails,
And he quickly left the Spanish land.
He soon came back to his native strand,
He langd his ain true-love to see;
Her father saw him come to land,
And took him some great lord to be.
Says, Will ye leave your bonny ship
And come with me this day to dine?
And you shall eat the baken meat,
And you shall drink the claret wine.
'O I will leave my bonny ship,
And glacly go with you to dine,
And I woud gie thrice three thousand pounds
That you fair daughter were but mine.'
'O gin ye will part wi your bonny ship
And wed a ladie of this countrie,
I will gie you my ae daughter,
Gin she'll consent your bride to be.'
O he has blaket his bonny face
And closs tuckd up his yellow hair;
His true-love met them at the yate,
But she little thought her love was there.
'O will you marrie this lord, daughter,
That I've brought hame to dine wi me?
You shall be heir of a' my lands,
Gin you'll consent his bride to be.'
She looked oer her left shoulder,
I wot the tears stood in her eye;
Says, The man is on the sea sailling
That fair wedding shall get of me.
Then Willie has washd his bonny face,
And he's kaimd down his yellow hair;
He took his true-love in his arms,
And kindly has he kissd her there.
She's looked in his bonny face,
And thro her tears did sweetly smile,
Then sayd, Awa, awa, Willie!
How could you thus your love beguile?
She kept the secret in her breast,
Full seven years she's kept the same,
Till it fell out at a christning-feast,
And then of it she made good game.
And her father laughd aboon the rest,
And said, My daughter, you'r nae to blame;
For you've married for love, and no for land,
So a' my gowd is yours to claim.

D[edit]

THERE lived a lady in the north
O muckle birth an fame;
She's faun in love wi her kitchie-boy,
The greater was her shame.

  • * * * *

'Maister cook, he will cry oot,
An answered he maun be;'
. . . .
. . .
'I hae a coffer o ried gowd
My mither left to me,
An I will build a bonnie ship,
And send her ower the sea,
An you'll come hame like lord or squire,
An answered you maun be.'
She has biggit a bonnie ship,
Sent her across the main,
An in less that sax months an a day
That ship cam back again.
'Go dress, go dress, my dochter Janet,
Go dress, an mak you fine,
An we'll go doun to yon shore-side
An bid yon lords to dine.'
He's pued the black mask ower his face,
Kaimed doun his yellow hair,
A' no to lat her father ken
That ere he had been there.

  • * * * *

'Oh, got you that by sea sailin?
Or got you that by land?
Or got you that on Spanish coast,
Upon a died man's hand?'
'I got na that by sea sailin,
I got na that by land;
But I got that on Spanish coast,
Upon a died man's hand.'
He's pued the black mask aff his face,
Threw back his yellow hair,
. . . .
. . . .
'A priest, a priest,' the lady she cried,
'To marry my love an me;'
'A clerk, a clerk,' her father cried,
'To sign her tocher free.'

E[edit]

E.* * * *
AND she has built a lofty ship,
And set her to the main;
The masts o her were gude reed gowd,
And the sails o silver clear.
'Ye winna bide three months awa
When ye'll return again,
In case your lady lichter be,
And your baby want the name.'
But the wind blew high,
The mariners they did land at Lundin soon.
A lady sat on the castell-wa,
Beheld baith dale and down,
And there she saw this lofty ship,
Comin sailin in the Downs.
'Look out, look out, my maidens a',
Ye seena what I see;
For I do see as bonny a ship
As ever sailied the sea,
And the master o her's the bonniest boy
That ever my eyes did see.'
She's taen her mantell her about,
Her cane intill her han,
And she's away to the shore-side,
Till invite the square to dine.
'O will ye come to our castell?
Or will ye sup or dine?'
'O excuse me, madam,' he said,
'For I hae but little time.'

  • * * * *

The wind blew high,
The mariners they did land at home again.
The old man sat in the castell-wa,
Beholding dale and down,
And there he spied this goodly ship
Come sailin to the town.
'Look out, look out, my dauchter dear,
Ye see not what I see;
For I do see as bonny a ship
As ever sailed the sea.
'And the master o her's the bonniest boy
That my eyes did ever see,
And if I were a woman as I'm a man
My husband he should be.'
'Haud far awa frae me, fader,
Haud far awa frae me,
For I never had a lad but ane,
And he's far awa at sea.
'There is a love-token atween us twa,
It'll be mair ere it be less,
An aye the langer he bides awa
It will the mair encreass.'
He's taen his mantell him about,
His cane intil his hand,
And he's awa to the shore-side,
To invite the square to dine.
'O will ye come to our castle?
Or will ye sup or dine?'
'Indeed I will, kind sir,' he said,
'Tho I've but little time.'
The lady sat on castle-wa,
Beholding dale and down,
But he's put his veil upon his face,
That she might not him ken.

  • * * * *