Child's Ballads/53

From Wikisource
Jump to: navigation, search
Child's Collected Ballads by Francis James Child
"Young Beichan", no. 053


A[edit]

IN London city was Bicham born,
He longd strange countries for to see,
But he was taen by a savage Moor,
Who handld him right cruely.
For thro his shoulder he put a bore,
An thro the bore has pitten a tree,
An he's gard him draw the carts o wine,
Where horse and oxen had wont to be.
He's casten [him] in a dungeon deep,
Where he coud neither hear nor see;
He's shut him up in a prison strong,
An he's handld him right cruely.
O this Moor he had but ae daughter,
I wot her name was Shusy Pye;
She's doen her to the prison-house,
And she's calld Young Bicham one word by.
'O hae ye ony lands or rents,
Or citys in your ain country,
Coud free you out of prison strong,
An coud mantain a lady free?'
'O London city is my own,
An other citys twa or three,
Coud loose me out o prison strong,
An coud mantain a lady free.'
O she has bribed her father's men
Wi meikle goud and white money,
She's gotten the key o the prison doors,
An she has set Young Bicham free.
She's gi'n him a loaf o good white bread,
But an a flask o Spanish wine,
An she bad him mind on the ladie's love
That sae kindly freed him out o pine.
'Go set your foot on good ship-board,
An haste you back to your ain country,
An before that seven years has an end,
Come back again, love, and marry me.'
It was long or seven years had an end
She longd fu sair her love to see;
She's set her foot on good ship-board,
An turnd her back on her ain country.
She's saild up, so has she doun,
Till she came to the other side;
She's landed at Young Bicham's gates,
An I hop this day she sal be his bride.
'Is this Young Bicham's gates?' says she,
'Or is that noble prince within?'
'He's up the stairs wi his bonny bride,
An monny a lord and lady wi him.'
'O has he taen a bonny bride,
An has he clean forgotten me!'
An sighing said that gay lady,
I wish I were in my ain country!
But she's pitten her han in her pocket,
An gin the porter guineas three;
Says, Take ye that, ye proud porter,
An bid the bridegroom speak to me.
O whan the porter came up the stair,
He's fa'n low down upon his knee:
'Won up, won up, ye proud porter,
An what makes a' this courtesy?'
I've been porter at your gates
This mair nor seven years an three,
But there is a lady at them now
The like of whom I never did see.
'For on every finger she has a ring,
An on the mid-finger she has three,
An there's as meikle goud aboon her brow
As woud buy an earldome o lan to me.'
Then up it started Young Bicham,
An sware so loud by Our Lady,
'It can be nane but Shusy Pye,
That has come oer the sea to me.'
O quickly ran he down the stair,
O fifteen steps he has made but three;
He's tane his bonny love in his arms,
An a wot he kissd her tenderly.
'O hae you tane a bonny bride?
An hae you quite forsaken me?
An hae ye quite forgotten her
That gae you life an liberty?'
She's lookit oer her left shoulder
To hide the tears stood in her ee;
'Now fare thee well, Young Bicham,' she says,
'I'll strive to think nae mair on thee.'
'Take back your daughter, madam,' he says,
'An a double dowry I'll gi her wi;
For I maun marry my first true love,
That's done and suffered so much for me.'
He's take his bonny love by the han,
And led her to yon fountain stane;
He's changd her name frae Shusy Pye,
An he's cald her his bonny love, Lady Jane.

B[edit]

IN England was Young Brechin born,
Of parents of a high degree;
The selld him to the savage Moor,
Where they abused him maist cruellie.
Thro evry shoulder they bord a bore,
And thro evry bore they pat a tree;
They made him draw the carts o wine,
Which horse and owsn were wont to drie.
The pat him into prison strong,
Where he could neither hear nor see;
They pat him in a dark dungeon,
Where he was sick and like to die.
'Is there neer an auld wife in this town
That'll borrow me to be her son?
Is there neer a young maid in this town
Will take me for her chiefest one?'
A Savoyen has an only daughter,
I wat she's called Young Brichen by;
'O sleepst thou, wakest thou, Brichen?' she says,
'Or who is't that does on me cry?
'O hast thou any house or lands,
Or hast thou any castles free,
That thou wadst gi to a lady fair
That out o prison wad bring thee?'
'O lady, Lundin it is mine,
And other castles twa or three;
These I wad gie to a lady fair
That out of prison wad set me free.'
She's taen him by the milk-white hand,
And led him to a towr sae hie,
She's made him drink the wine sae reid,
And sung to him like a mavosie.
O these two luvers made a bond,
For seven years, and that is lang,
That he was to marry no other wife,
And she's to marry no other man.
n seven years were past and gane,
This young lady began to lang,
And she's awa to Lundin gane,
To see if Brechin's got safe to land.
When she came to Young Brechin's yett,
She chappit gently at the gin;
'Is this Young Brechin's yett?' she says,
'Or is this lusty lord within?'
'O yes, this is Lord Brechin's yett,
And I wat this be his bridal een.'
She's put her hand in her pocket,
And thrawin the porter guineas three;
'Gang up the stair, young man,' she says,
'And bid your master come down to me.
'Bid him bring a bite o his ae best bread,
And a bottle o his ae best wine,
And neer forget that lady fair
That did him out o prison bring.'
The porter tripped up the stair,
And fell low down upon his knee:
'Rise up, rise up, ye proud porter,
What mean you by this courtesie?'
'O I hae been porter at your yett
This thirty years and a' but three;
There stands the fairest lady thereat
That ever my twa een did see.
'On evry finger she has a ring,
On her mid-finger she has three;
She's as much gold on her horse's neck
As wad by a earldom o land to me.
'She bids you send o your ae best bread,
And a bottle o your ae best wine,
And neer forget the lady fair
That out o prison did you bring.'
He's taen the table wi his foot,
And made the cups and cans to flee:
'I'll wager a' the lands I hae
That Susan Pye's come oer the sea.'

  • * * * *

Then up and spak the bride's mother:
'And O an ill deid may ye die!
If ye didna except the bonny bride,
Ye might hae ay excepted me.'
'O ye are fair, and fair, madam,
And ay the fairer may ye be!
But the fairest day that eer ye saw,
Ye were neer sae fair as yon lady.'
O when these lovers two did meet,
The tear it blinded baith their ee;
'Gie me my faith and troth,' she says,
'For now fain hame wad I be.'
'Tak hame your daughter, madam,' he says,
'She's neer a bit the war o me;
Except a kiss o her bonny lips,
Of her body I am free;
She came to me on a single horse,
Now I'll send her hame in chariots three.'
He's taen her by the milk-white hand,
And he's led her to a yard o stane;
He's changed her name frae Susan Pye,
And calld her lusty Lady Jane.

C[edit]

YOUNG Bekie was as brave a knight
As ever saild the sea;
An he's doen him to the court of France,
To serve for meat and fee.
He had nae been i the court of France
A twelvemonth nor sae long,
Til he fell in love with the king's daughter,
An was thrown in prison strong.
The king he had but ae daughter,
Burd Isbel was her name;
An she has to the prison-house gane,
To hear the prisoner's mane.
'O gin a lady woud borrow me,
At her stirrup-foot I wood rin;
Or gin a widow wad borrow me,
I woud swear to be her son.
'Or gin a virgin woud borrow me,
I woud wed her wi a ring;
I'd gi her ha's, I'd gie her bowers,
The bonny towrs o Linne.'
O barefoot, barefoot gaed she but,
An barefoot came she ben;
It was no for want o hose an shoone,
Nor time to put them on.
But a' for fear that her father dear
Had heard her making din:
She's stown the keys o the prison-house dor
An latten the prisoner gang.
O whan she saw him, Young Bekie,
Her heart was wondrous sair!
For the mice but an the bold rottons
Had eaten his yallow hair.
She's gien him a shaver for his beard,
A comber till his hair,
Five hunder pound in his pocket,
To spen, an nae to spair.
She's gien him a steed was good in need,
An a saddle o royal bone,
A leash o hounds o ae litter,
An Hector called one.
Atween this twa a vow was made,
'Twas made full solemnly,
That or three years was come an gane,
Well married they should be.
He had nae been in's ain country
A twelvemonth till an end,
Till he's forcd to marry a duke's daughter,
Or than lose a' his land.
'Ohon, alas!' says Young Beckie,
'I know not what to dee;
For I canno win to Burd Isbel,
And she kensnae to come to me.'
O it fell once upon a day
Burd Isbel fell asleep,
An up it starts the Belly Blin,
An stood at her bed-feet.
'O waken, waken, Burd Isbel,
How [can] you sleep so soun,
Whan this is Bekie's wedding day,
An the marriage gain on?
'Ye do ye to your mither's bowr,
Think neither sin nor shame;
An ye tak twa o your mither's marys,
To keep ye frae thinking lang.
'Ye dress yoursel in the red scarlet,
An your marys in dainty green,
An ye pit girdles about your middles
Woud buy an earldome.
'O ye gang down by yon sea-side,
An down by yon sea-stran;
Sae bonny will the Hollans boats
Come rowin till your han.
'Ye set your milk-white foot abord,
Cry, Hail ye, Domine!
An I shal be the steerer o't,
To row you oer the sea.'
She's tane her till her mither's bowr,
Thought neither sin nor shame,
An she took twa o her mither's marys,
To keep her frae thinking lang.
She dressd hersel i the red scarlet,
Her marys i dainty green,
And they pat girdles about their middles
Woud buy an earldome.
An they gid down by yon sea-side,
An down by yon sea-stran;
Sae bonny did the Hollan boats
Come rowin to their han.
She set her milk-white foot on board,
Cried, Hail ye, Domine!
An the Belly Blin was the steerer o't,
To row her oer the sea.
Whan she came to Young Bekie's gate,
She heard the music play;
Sae well she kent frae a' she heard,
It was his wedding day.
She's pitten her han in her pocket,
Gin the porter guineas three;
'Hae, tak ye that, ye proud porter,
Bid the bride-groom speake to me.'
O whan that he cam up the stair,
He fell low down on his knee:
He haild the king, an he haild the queen,
An he haild him, Young Bekie.
'O I've been porter at your gates
This thirty years an three;
But there's three ladies at them now,
Their like I never did see.
'There's ane o them dressd in red scarlet,
And twa in dainty green,
An they hae girdles about their middles
Woud buy an earldome.'
Then out it spake the bierly bride,
Was a' goud to the chin;
'Gin she be braw without,' she says,
'We's be as braw within.'
Then up it starts him, Young Bekie,
An the tears was in his ee:
'I'll lay my life it's Burd Isbel,
Come oer the sea to me.'
O quickly ran he down the stair,
An whan he saw 'twas shee,
He kindly took her in his arms,
And kissd her tenderly.
'O hae ye forgotten, Young Bekie,
The vow ye made to me,
Whan I took you out o the prison strong,
Whan ye was condemnd to die?
'I gae you a steed was good in need,
An a saddle o royal bone,
A leash o hounds o ae litter,
An Hector called one.'
It was well kent what the lady said,
That it wasnae a lee,
For at ilka word the lady spake,
The hound fell at her knee.
'Tak hame, tak hame your daughter dear,
A blessing gae her wi,
For I maun marry my Burd Isbel,
That's come oer the sea to me.'
'Is this the custom o your house,
Or the fashion o your lan,
To marry a maid in a May mornin,
An send her back at even?'

D[edit]

YOUNG BEACHEN was born in fair London,
And foreign lands he langed to see;
He was taen by the savage Moor,
An the used him most cruellie.
Through his showlder they pat a bore,
And through the bore the pat a tree;
They made him trail their ousen carts,
And they used him most cruellie.
The savage Moor had ae daughter,
I wat her name was Susan Pay;
And she is to the prison house,
To hear the prisoner's moan.
He made na his moan to a stocke,
He made na it to a stone,
Bit it was to the Queen of Heaven
That he made his moan.
'Gin a lady wad borrow me,
I at her foot wad run;
An a widdow wad borrow me,
I wad become her son.
'But an a maid wad borrow me,
I wad wed her wi a ring;
I wad make her lady of haas and bowers,
An of the high towers of Line.'
'Sing oer yer sang, Young Beachen,' she says,
'Sing oer yer sang to me;'
'I never sang that sang, lady,
But I wad sing to thee.
'Gin a lady wad borrow me,
I at her foot wad run;
An a widdow wad borrow me,
I wad become her son.
'But an a maid wad borrow me,
I wad wed her wi a ring;
I wad make her lady of haas and bowers,
An of the high towers of Line.'
Saftly, [saftly] gaed she but,
An saftlly gaed she ben,
It was na for want of hose nor shoon,
Nor time to pet them on.
. . . . .
. . . . .
An she has staen the keys of the prison,
An latten Young Beachen gang.
She gae him a leaf of her white bread,
An a bottle of her wine,
She bad him mind on the lady's love
That freed him out of pine.
She gae him a steed was guid in need,
A saddle of the bane,
Five hundred pown in his pocket,
Bad him gae speeding hame.
An a leash of guid grayhounds,
. . . . .
. . . . .
. . . . .
Whan seven lang years were come and gane,
Shusie Pay thought lang,
An she is on to fair London,
As fast as she could gang.
Whan she cam to Young Beachen's gate,
. . . . .
'Is Young Beachan at hame,
Or is he in this countrie?'
'He is at hame, is hear,' they said,
. . . . .
An sighan says her Susie Pay,
Has he quite forgotten me?
On every finger she had a ring,
On the middle finger three;
She gae the porter ane of them:
'Get a word o your lord to me.'
He gaed up the stair,
Fell low down on his knee:
'Win up, my proud porter,
What is your will wi me?'
'I hae been porter at yer gate
This thirty year and three;
The fairst lady is at yer gate
Mine eyes did ever see.'
Out spak the bride's mither,
An a haghty woman was she:
'If ye had na eccepted the bonny bride,
Ye might well ha eccepted me.'
'No disparagement to you, madam,
Nor none unto her Grace;
The sole of yonr lady's foot
Is fairer than her face.'
He's gaen the table wi his foot,
And couped it wi his knee:
'I wad my head and a' my land
'Tis Susie Pay, come oer the sea.'
The stair was thirty steps,
I wat he made them three;
He took her in his arms twa:
'Susie Pay, ye'r welcome to me.'
'Gie me a shive of your white bread,
An a bottle of your wine;
Dinna ye mind on the lady's love
That freed ye out of pine?'
He took her . . . .
Down to yon garden green,
An changed her name fra Susie Pay,
An called her bonny Lady Jean.
'Yer daughter came here on high horse-back,
She sal gae hame in coaches three,
An I sall double her tocher our,
She's nane the war o me.'
'It's na the fashion o our countrie,
Nor yet o yer nane,
To wed a maid in the morning,
An send her hame at een.'
'It's na the fashion o my countrie,
Nor is it of my nane,
But I man mind on the lady's love
That freed me out of pine.'

E[edit]

IN London was Young Beichan born,
He longed strange countries for to see,
But he was taen by a savage Moor,
Who handled him right cruellie.
For he viewed the fashions of that land,
Their way of worship viewed he,
But to Mahound or Termagant
Would Beichan never bend a knee.
So in every shoulder they've putten a bore,
In every bore they've putten a tree,
And they have made him trail the wine
And spices on his fair bodie.
They've casten him in a dungeon deep,
Where he could neither hear nor see,
For seven years they kept him there,
Till he for hunger's like to die.
This Moor he had but ae daughter,
Her name was called Susie Pye,
And every day as she took the air,
Near Beichan's prison she passed by.
O so it fell upon a day
She heard Young Beichan sadly sing:
'My hounds they all go masterless,
My hawks they flee from tree to tree,
My younger brother will heir my land,
Fair England again I'll never see!'
All night long no rest she got,
Young Beichan's song for thinking on;
She's stown the keys from her father's head,
And to the prison strong is gone.
And she has opend the prison doors,
I wot she opend two or three,
Ere she could come Young Beichan at,
He was locked up so curiouslie.
But when she came Young Beichan before,
Sore wonderd he that may to see;
He took her for some fair captive:
'Fair Lady, I pray, of what countrie?'
'O have ye any lands,' she said,
'Or castles in your own countrie,
That ye could give to a lady fair,
From prison strong to set you free?'
'Near London town I have a hall,
With other castles two or three;
I'll give them all to the lady fair
That out of prison will set me free.'
'Give me the truth of your right hand,
The truth of it give unto me,
That for seven years ye'll no lady wed,
Unless it be along with me.'
'I'll give thee the truth of my right hand,
The truth of it I'll freely gie,
That for seven years I'll stay unwed,
For the kindness thou dost show to me.'
And she has brib'd the proud warder
Wi mickle gold and white monie,
She's gotten the keys of the prison strong,
And she has set Young Beichan free.
She's gien him to eat the good spice-cake,
She's gien him to drink the blood-red wine,
She's bidden him sometimes think on her,
That sae kindly freed him out of pine.
She's broken a ring from her finger,
And to Beichan half of it gave she:
'Keep it, to mind you of that love
The lady bore that set you free.
'And set your foot on good ship-board,
And haste ye back to your own countrie,
And before that seven years have an end,
Come back again, love, and marry me.'
But long ere seven years had an end,
She longd full sore her love to see,
For ever a voice within her breast
Said, 'Beichan has broke his vow to thee:'
So she's set her foot on good ship-board,
And turnd her back on her own countrie.
She sailed east, she sailed west,
Till to fair England's shore she came,
Where a bonny shepherd she espied,
Feeding his sheep upon the plain.
'What news, what news, thou bonny shepherd?
What news hast thou to tell to me?'
'Such news I hear, ladie,' he says,
'The like was never in this countrie.
'There is a wedding in yonder hall,
Has lasted these thirty days and three;
Young Beichan will not bed with his bride,
For love of one that's yond the sea.'
She's put her hand in her pocket,
Gien him the gold and white monie:
'Hae, take ye that, my bonny boy,
For the good news thou tellst to me.'
When she came to Young Beichan's gate,
She tirled softly at the pin;
So ready was the proud porter
To open and let this lady in.
'Is this Young Beichan's hall,' she said,
'O is that noble lord within?'
'Yea, he's in the hall among them all,
And this is the day o his weddin.'
'And has he wed anither love?
And has he clean forgotten me?'
And sighin said that gay ladie,
I wish I were in my own countrie!
And she has taen her gay gold ring,
That with her love she brake so free;
Says, Gie him that, ye proud porter,
And bid the bridegroom speak to me.
When the porter came his lord before,
He kneeled down low on his knee:
'What aileth thee, my proud porter,
Thou art so full of courtesie?'
'I've been porter at your gates,
It's thirty long years now and three;
But there stands a lady at them now,
The like o her did I never see.
'For on every finger she has a ring,
And on her mid-finger she has three,
And as meickle gold aboon her brow
As would buy an earldom to me.'
It's out then spak the bride's mother,
Aye and an angry woman was shee:
'Ye might have excepted our bonny bride,
And twa or three of our companie.'
'O hold your tongue, thou bride's mother,
Of all your folly let me be;
She's ten times fairer nor the bride,
And all that's in your companie.
'She begs one sheave of your white bread,
But and a cup of your red wine,
And to remember the lady's love
That last relievd you out of pine.'
'O well-a-day!' said Beichan then,
'That I so soon have married thee!
For it can be none but Susie Pye,
That sailed the sea for love of me.'
And quickly hied he down the stair;
Of fifteen steps he made but three;
He's taen his bonny love in his arms,
And kist and kist her tenderlie.
'O hae ye taen anither bride?
And hae ye quite forgotten me?
And hae ye quite forgotten her
That gave your life and libertie?'
She looked oer her left shoulder,
To hide the tears stood in her ee:
'Now fare thee well, Young Beichan,' she says,
'I'll try to think no more on thee.'
'O never, never, Susie Pye,
For surely this can never be,
Nor ever shall I wed but her
That's done and dreed so much for me.'
Then out and spak the forenoon bride:
'My lord, your love it changeth soon;
This morning I was made your bride,
And another chose ere it be noon.'
O hold thy tongue, thou forenoon bride,
Ye're neer a whit the worse for me,
And whan ye return to your own countrie,
A double dower I'll send with thee.'
He's taen Susie Pye by the white hand,
And gently led her up and down,
And ay as he kist her red rosy lips,
'Ye're welcome, jewel, to your own.'
He's taen her by the milk-white hand,
And led her to yon fountain stane;
He's changed her name from Susie Pye,
And he's call'd her his bonny love, Lady Jane.

F[edit]

IN the lands whre Lord Beichan was born,
Amang the stately steps of stane,
He wore the goud at his left shoulder,
But to the Holy Land he's gane.
He was na lang in the Holy Land,
Amang the Prudents that was black,
He was na lang in the Holy Land,
Till the Prudent did Lord Beichan tak.
The gard him draw baith pleugh and harrow,
And horse and oxen twa or three;
They cast him in a dark dungeon,
Whare he coud neither hear nor see.
The Prudent had a fair daughter,
I wot they ca'd her Susy Pye,
And all the keys in that city
Hang at that lady by and bye.
It once fell out upon a day
That into the prison she did gae,
And whan she cam to the prison door,
She kneeled low down on her knee.
'O hae ye ony lands, Beichan,
Or hae ye ony castles hie,
Whar ye wad tak a young thing to,
If out of prison I wad let thee?'
'Fair London's mine, dear lady,' he said,
'And other places twa or three,
Whar I wad tak a young thing to,
If out of prison ye wad let me.'
O she has opened the prison door,
And other places twa or three,
And gien him bread, and wine to drink,
In her own chamber privately.
O then she built a bonny ship,
And she has set it on the main,
And she has built a bonny ship,
It's for to tak Lord Beichan hame.
O she's gaen murning up and down,
And she's gaen murnin to the sea,
Then to her father she has gane in,
Wha spak to her right angrily.
'O do ye mourn for the goud, daughter,
Or do ye mourn for the whyte monie?
Or do ye mourn for the English squire?
I wat I will gar hang him hie.'
'I neither mourn for the goud, father,
Nor do I for the whyte monie,
Nor do I for the English squire;
And I care na tho ye hang him hie.
'But I hae promised an errand to go,
Seven lang miles ayont the sea,
And blythe and merry I never will be
Untill that errand you let me.'
'That errand, daughter, you may gang,
Seven long miles beyond the sea,
Since blythe and merry you'll neer be
Untill that errand I'll let thee.'
O she has built a bonny ship,
And she has set it in the sea,
And she has built a bonny ship,
It's all for to tak her a long journie.
And she's sailed a' the summer day,
I wat the wind blew wondrous fair;
In sight of fair London she has come,
And till Lord Beichan's yett she walked.
Whan she cam till Lord Beichan's yett,
She rappit loudly at the pin:
'Is Beichan lord of this bonny place?
I pray ye open and let me in.
'And O is this Lord Beichan's yett,
And is the noble lord within?'
'O yes, it is Lord Beichan's yett,
He's wi his bride and mony a ane.'
'If you'll gang up to Lord Beichan,
Tell him the words that I tell thee;
It will put him in mind of Susy Pye,
And the Holy Land, whareer he be.
'Tell him to send one bite of bread,
It's and a glass of his gude red wine,
Nor to forget the lady's love
That loosed him out of prison strong.'

  • * * * *

'I hae been porter at your yett,
I'm sure this therty lang years and three,
But the fairest lady stands thereat
That evir my twa eyes did see.
'On ilka finger she has a ring,
And on the foremost she has three;
As muckle goud is on her head
As wad buy an earldom of land to thee.
'She bids you send a bite of bread,
It's and a glass of your gude red wine,
Nor to forget the lady's love
That let you out of prison strong.'
It's up and spak the bride's mother,
A weight of goud hung at her chin:
'There is no one so fair without
But there are, I wat, as fair within.'
It's up and spak the bride hersel,
As she sat by the gude lord's knee:
'Awa, awa, ye proud porter,
This day ye might hae excepted me.'

  • * * * *

'Tak hence, tak hence your fair daughter,
Tak hame your daughter fair frae me;
For saving one kiss of her bonny lips,
I'm sure of her body I am free.
'Awa, awa, ye proud mither,
It's tak your daughter fair frae me;
For I brought her home with chariots six,
And I'll send her back wi coaches three.'
It's he's taen the table wi his fit,
And syne he took it wi his knee;
He gard the glasses and wine so red,
He gard them all in flinders flee.
O he's gane down the steps of stairs,
And a' the stately steps of stane,
Until he cam to Susy Pye;
I wat the tears blinded baith their eyne.
He led her up the steps of stairs,
And a' the stately steps of stane,
And changed her name from Susy Pye,
And ca'd her lusty Lady Jane.
'O fye, gar cooks mak ready meat,
O fye, gar cooks the pots supply,
That it may be talked of in fair London,
I've been twice married in ae day.'

G[edit]

  • * * *

'O WHARR'rrS aught a' yon flock o sheep,
An wha's aught a' yon flock o kye?
An wha's aught a' yon pretty castles,
That you sae often do pass bye?'
'They're a' Lord Beekin's sheep,
They're a' Lord Beekin's kye;
They're a' Lord Beekin's castles,
That you sae often do pass bye.'

  • * * * *

He's tane [the] table wi his feet,
Made cups an candlesticks to flee:
'I'll lay my life 'tis Susy Pie,
Come owr the seas to marry me.'

H[edit]

YOUNG BEICHAN was in London born,
He was a man of hie degree;
He past thro monie kingdoms great,
Until he cam unto Grand Turkie.
He viewd the fashions of that land,
Their way of worship viewed he,
But unto onie of their stocks
He wadna sae much as bow a knee:
Which made him to be taken straight,
And brought afore their hie jurie;
The savage Moor did speak upricht,
And made him meikle ill to dree.
In ilka shoulder they've bord a hole,
And in ilka hole they've put a tree;
They've made him to draw carts and wains,
Till he was sick and like to dee.
But Young Beichan was a Christian born,
And still a Christian was he;
Which made them put him in prison strang,
And cauld and hunger sair to dree,
And fed on nocht but bread and water,
Until the day that he mot dee.
In this prison there grew a tree,
And it was unco stout and strang,
Where he was chained by the middle,
Until his life was almaist gane.
The savage Moor had but ae dochter,
And her name it was Susie Pye,
And ilka day as she took the air,
The prison door she passed bye.
But it fell ance upon a day,
As she was walking, she heard him sing;
She listend to his tale of woe,
A happy day for Young Beichan!
'My hounds they all go masterless,
My hawks they flee frae tree to tree,
My youngest brother will heir my lands,
My native land I'll never see.'
'O were I but the prison-keeper,
As I'm a ladie o hie degree,
I soon wad set this youth at large,
And send him to his ain countrie.'
She went away into her chamber,
All nicht she never closd her ee;
And when the morning begoud to dawn,
At the prison door alane was she.
She gied the keeper a piece of gowd,
And monie pieces o white monie,
To tak her thro the bolts and bars,
The lord frae Scotland she langd to see;
She saw young Beichan at the stake,
Which made her weep maist bitterlie.
'O hae ye got onie lands,' she says,
'Or castles in your ain countrie?
It's what wad ye gie to the ladie fair
Wha out o prison wad set you free?'
'It's I hae houses, and I hae lands,
Wi monie castles fair to see,
And I wad gie a' to that ladie gay,
Wha out o prison wad set me free.'
The keeper syne brak aff his chains,
And set Lord Beichan at libertie;
She filld his pockets baith wi gowd,
To tak him till his ain countrie.
She took him frae her father's prison,
And gied to him the best o wine,
And a brave health she drank to him:
'I wish, Lord Beichan, ye were mine!
'It's seven lang years I'll mak a vow,
And seven lang years I'll keep it true;
If ye'll wed wi na ither woman,
It's I will wed na man but you.'
She's tane him to her father's port,
And gien to him a ship o fame:
'Farewell, farewell, my Scottish lord,
I fear I'll neer see you again.'
Lord Beichan turnd him round about,
And lowly, lowly loutit he:
'Ere seven lang years come to an end,
I'll tak you to mine ain countrie.'

  • * * * *

Then whan he cam to Glosgow town,
A happy, happy man was he;
The ladies a' around him thrangd,
To see him come frae slaverie.
His mother she had died o sorrow,
And a' his brothers were dead but he;
His lands they a' were lying waste,
In ruins were his castles free.
Na porter there stood at his yett,
Na human creature he could see,
Except the screeching owls and bats,
Had he to bear him companie.
But gowd will gar the castles grow,
And he had gowd and jewels free,
And soon the pages around him thrangd,
To serve him on their bended knee.
His hall was hung wi silk and satin,
His table rung wi mirth and glee,
He soon forgot the lady fair
That lowsd him out o slaverie.
Lord Beichan courted a lady gay,
To heir wi him his lands sae free,
Neer thinking that a lady fair
Was on her way frae Grand Turkie.
For Susie Pye could get na rest,
Nor day nor nicht could happy be,
Still thinking on the Scottish lord,
Till she was sick and like to dee.
But she has builded a bonnie ship,
Weel mannd wi seamen o hie degree,
And secretly she stept on board,
And bid adieu to her ain countrie.
But whan she cam to the Scottish shore,
The bells were ringing sae merrilie;
It was Lord Beichan's wedding day,
Wi a lady fair o hie degree.
But sic a vessel was never seen;
The very masts were tappd wi gold,
Her sails were made o the satin fine,
Maist beautiful for to behold.
But whan the lady cam on shore,
Attended wi her pages three,
Her shoon were of the beaten gowd,
And she a lady of great beautie.
Then to the skipper she did say,
'Can ye this answer gie to me?
Where are Lord Beichan's lands sae braid?
He surely lives in this countrie.'
Then up bespak the skipper bold,
For he could speak the Turkish tongue:
'Lord Beichan lives not far away;
This is the day of his wedding.'
'If ye will guide me to Beichan's yetts,
I will ye well reward,' said she;
Then she and all her pages went,
A very gallant companie.
When she cam to Lord Beichan's yetts,
She tirld gently at the pin;
Sae ready was the proud porter
To let the wedding guests come in.
'Is this Lord Beichan's house,' she says,
'Or is that noble lord within?'
'Yes, he is gane into the hall,
With his brave bride and monie ane.'
'Ye'll bid him send me a piece of bread,
Bot and a cup of his best wine;
And bid him mind the lady's love
That ance did lowse him out o pyne.'
Then in and cam the porter bold,
I wat he gae three shouts and three:
'The fairest lady stands at your yetts
That ever my twa een did see.'
Then up bespak the bride's mither,
I wat an angry woman was she:
'You micht hae excepted our bonnie bride,
Tho she'd been three times as fair as she.'
'My dame, your daughter's fair enough,
And aye the fairer mot she be!
But the fairest time that eer she was,
She'll na compare wi this ladie.
'She has a gowd ring on ilka finger,
And on her mid-finger she has three;
She has as meikle gowd upon her head
As wad buy an earldom o land to thee.
'My lord, she begs some o your bread,
Bot and a cup o your best wine,
And bids you mind the lady's love
That ance did lowse ye out o pyne.'
Then up and started Lord Beichan,
I wat he made the table flee:
'I wad gie a' my yearlie rent
'Twere Susie Pye come owre the sea.'
Syne up bespak the bride's mother,
She was never heard to speak sae free:
'Ye'll no forsake my ae dochter,
Tho Susie Pye has crossd the sea?'
'Tak hame, tak hame, your dochter, madam,
For she is neer the waur o me;
She cam to me on horseback riding,
And she sall gang hame in chariot free.'
He's tane Susie Pye by the milk-white hand,
And led her thro his halls sae hie:
'Ye're now Lord Beichan's lawful wife,
And thrice ye're welcome unto me.'
Lord Beichan prepard for another wedding,
Wi baith their hearts sae fu o glee;
Says, 'I'll range na mair in foreign lands,
Sin Susie Pye has crossd the sea.
'Fy! gar a' our cooks mak ready,
And fy! gar a' our pipers play,
And fy! gar trumpets gae thro the toun,
That Lord Beichan's wedded twice in a day!'

I[edit]

IN London was Young Bechin born,
Foreign nations he longed to see;
He passed through many kingdoms great,
At length he came unto Turkie.
He viewed the fashions of that land,
The ways of worship viewed he,
But unto any of their gods
He would not so much as bow the knee.
every shoulder they made a bore,
In every bore they put a tree,
Then they made him the winepress tread,
And all in spite of his fair bodie.
They put him into a deep dungeon,
Where he could neither hear nor see,
And for seven years they kept him there,
Till for hunger he was like to die.
Stephen, their king, had a daughter fair,
Yet never a man to her came nigh;
And every day she took the air,
Near to his prison she passed by.
One day she heard Young Bechin sing
A song that pleased her so well,
No rest she got till she came to him,
All in his lonely prison cell.
'I have a hall in London town,
With other buildings two or three,
And I'll give them all to the ladye fair
That from this dungeon shall set me free.'
She stole the keys from her dad's head,
And if she oped one door ay she opened three,
Till she Young Bechin could find out,
He was locked up so curiouslie.

  • * * * *

'I've been a porter at your gate
This thirty years now, ay and three;
There stands a ladye at your gate,
The like of her I neer did see.
'On every finger she has a ring,
On the mid-finger she has three;
She's as much gold about her brow
As would an earldom buy to me.'

  • * * * *

He's taen her by the milk-white hand,
He gently led her through the green;
He changed her name from Susie Pie,
An he's called her lovely Ladye Jean.

J[edit]

  • * * *

SHERR'rrS taen the keys frae her fadder's coffer,
Tho he keeps them most sacredlie,
And she has opend the prison strong,
And set Young Beichan at libertie.

  • * * * *

. . . . . .
. . . . .
'Gae up the countrie, my chile,' she says,
'Till your fadder's wrath be turned from thee.'

  • * * * *

She's put her han intill her purse,
And gave the porter guineas three;
Says, 'Tak ye that, ye proud porter,
And tell your master to speak wi me.
'Ye'll bid him bring a shower o his best love,
But and a bottle o his wine,
And do to me as I did to him in time past,
And brought him out o muckle pine.'
He's taen the table wi his foot,
And he has keppit it wi his knee:
'I'll wager my life and a' my lan,
It's Susan Pie come ower the sea.
'Rise up, rise up, my bonnie bride,
Ye're neither better nor waur for me;
Ye cam to me on a horse and saddle,
But ye may gang back in a coach and three.'

K[edit]

  • * * *

'There is a marriage in yonder hall,
Has lasted thirty days and three;
The bridegroom winna bed the bride,
For the sake of one that's owre the sea.'

  • * * * *

'What news, what news, my brave young porter?
What news, what news have ye for me?'
'As beautiful a ladye stands at your gate
As eer my two eyes yet did see.'
'A slice of bread to her get ready,
And a bottle of the best of wine;
Not to forget that fair young ladye
Who did release thee out of close confine.'
Lord Bechin in a passion flew,
And rent himself like a sword in three,
Saying, 'I would give all my father's riches
If my Sophia was 'cross the sea.'
Up spoke the young bride's mother,
Who never was heard to speak so free,
Saying, 'I hope you'll not forget my only daughter,
Though your Sophia be 'cross the sea.'
'I own a bride I've wed your daughter,
She's nothing else the worse of me;
She came to me on a horse and saddle,
She may go back in a coach and three.'

L[edit]

LORD BATEMAN was a noble lord,
A noble lord of high degree;
He shipped himself all aboard of a ship,
Some foreign country for to see.
He sailed east, he sailed west,
Until he came to famed Turkey,
Where he was taken and put to prison,
Until his life was quite weary.
All in this prison there grew a tree,
O there it grew so stout and strong!
Where he was chained all by the middle,
Until his life was almost gone.
This Turk he had one only daughter,
The fairest my two eyes eer see;
She steel the keys of her father's prison,
And swore Lord Bateman she would let go free.
O she took him to her father's cellar,
And gave to him the best of wine;
And every health she drank unto him
Was, 'I wish, Lord Bateman, as you was mine.'
'O have you got houses, have you got land,
And does Northumberland belong to thee?
And what would you give to the fair young lady
As out of prison would let you go free?'
'O I've got houses and I've got land,
And half Northumberland belongs to me;
And I will give it all to the fair young lady
As out of prison would let me go free.'
'O in seven long years, I'll make a vow
For seven long years, and keep it strong,
That if you'll wed no other woman,
O I will wed no other man.'
O she took him to her father's harbor,
And gave to him a ship of fame,
Saying, Farewell, farewell to you, Lord Bateman,
I fear I never shall see you again.
Now seven long years is gone and past,
And fourteen days, well known to me;
She packed up all her gay clothing,
And swore Lord Bateman she would go see.
O when she arrived at Lord Bateman's castle,
How boldly then she rang the bell!
'Who's there? who's there?' cries the proud young porter,
'O come unto me pray quickly tell.'
'O is this here Lord Bateman's castle,
And is his lordship here within?'
'O yes, O yes,' cries the proud young porter,
'He's just now taking his young bride in.'
'O bid him to send me a slice of bread,
And a bottle of the very best wine,
And not forgetting the fair young lady
As did release him when close confine.'
O away and away went this proud young porter,
O away and away and away went he,
Until he come to Lord Bateman's chamber,
When he went down on his bended knee.
'What news, what news, my proud young porter?
What news, what news? Come tell to me:'
'O there is the fairest young lady
As ever my two eyes did see.
'She has got rings on every finger,
And on one finger she has got three;
With as much gay gold about her middle
As would buy half Northumberlee.
'O she bids you to send her a slice of bread,
And a bottle of the very best wine,
And not forgetting the fair young lady
As did release you when close confine.'
Lord Bateman then in passion flew,
And broke his sword in splinters three,
Saying, I will give half of my father's land,
If so be as Sophia has crossed the sea.
Then up and spoke this young bride's mother,
Who never was heard to speak so free;
Saying, You'll not forget my only daughter,
If so be as Sophia has crossed the sea.
'O it's true I made a bride of your daughter,
But she's neither the better nor the worse for me;
She came to me with a horse and saddle,
But she may go home in a coach and three.'
Lord Bateman then prepared another marriage,
With both their hearts so full of glee,
Saying, I will roam no more to foreign countries,
Now that Sophia has crossed the sea.

M[edit]

YOUNG BONWELL was a squire's ae son,
And a squire's ae son was he;
He went abroad to a foreign land,
To serve for meat and fee.
He hadna been in that country
A twalmonth and a day,
Till he was cast in prison strong,
For the sake of a lovely may.
'O if my father get word of this,
At hame in his ain country,
He'll send red gowd for my relief,
And a bag o white money.
'O gin an earl woud borrow me,
At his bridle I woud rin;
Or gin a widow woud borrow me,
I'd swear to be her son.
'Or gin a may woud borrow me,
I'd wed her wi a ring,
Infeft her wi the ha's and bowers
O the bonny towers o Linne.'
But it fell ance upon a day
Dame Essels she thought lang,
And she is to the jail-house door,
To hear Young Bondwell's sang.
'Sing on, sing on, my bonny Bondwell,
The sang ye sang just now:'
'I never sang the sang, lady,
But I woud war't on you.
'O gin my father get word o this,
At hame in his ain country,
He'll send red gowd for my relief,
And a bag o white money.
'O gin an earl woud borrow me,
At his bridle I woud rin;
Or gin a widow would borrow me,
I'd swear to be her son.
'O gin a may woud borrow me,
I woud wed her wi a ring,
Infeft her wi the ha's and bowers
O the bonny towers o Linne.'
She's stole the keys o the jail-house door,
Where under the bed they lay;
She's opend to him the jail-house door,
And set Young Bondwell free.
She gae'm a steed was swift in need,
A saddle o royal ben,
A hunder pund o pennies round,
Bade him gae roav an spend.
A couple o hounds o ae litter,
And Cain they ca'd the one;
Twa gay gos-hawks she gae likeways,
To keep him onthought lang.
When mony days were past and gane,
Dame Essels thought fell lang,
And she is to her lonely bower,
To shorten her wi a sang.
The sang has such a melody,
It lulld her fast asleep;
Up starts a woman, clad in green,
And stood at her bed-feet.
'Win up, win up, Dame Essels,' she says,
'This day ye sleep ower lang;
The morn is the squire's wedding day,
In the bonny towers o Linne.
'Ye'll dress yoursell in the robes o green,
Your maids in robes sae fair,
And ye'll put girdles about their middles,
Sae costly, rich and rare.
'Ye'll take your maries alang wi you,
Till ye come to yon strand;
There ye'll see a ship, wi sails all up,
Come sailing to dry land.
'Ye'll take a wand into your hand,
Ye'll stroke her round about,
And ye'll take God your pilot to be,
To drown ye'll take nae doubt.'
Then up it raise her Dame Essels,
Sought water to wash her hands,
But aye the faster that she washd,
The tears they trickling ran.
Then in it came her father dear,
And in the floor steps he:
'What ails Dame Essels, my daughter dear,
Ye weep sae bitterlie?
'Want ye a small fish frae the flood,
Or turtle frae the sea?
Or is there man in a' my realm
This day has offended thee?'
'I want nae small fish frae the flood,
Nor turtle frae the sea;
But Young Bondwell, your ain prisoner,
This day has offended me.'
Her father turnd him round about,
A solemn oath sware he:
'If this be true ye tell me now
High hanged he shall be.
'To-morrow morning he shall be
Hung high upon a tree:'
Dame Essels whisperd to hersel,
'Father, ye've made a lie.'
She dressd hersel in robes o green,
Her maids in robes sae fair,
Wi gowden girdles round their middles,
Sae costly, rich and rare.
She's taen her mantle her about,
A maiden in every hand;
They saw a ship, wi sails a' up,
Come sailing to dry land.
She's taen a wand intill her hand,
And stroked her round about,
And she's taen God her pilot to be,
To drown she took nae doubt.
So they saild on, and further on,
Till to the water o Tay;
There they spied a bonny little boy,
Was watering his steeds sae gay.
'What news, what news, my little boy,
What news hae ye to me?
Are there any weddings in this place,
Or any gaun to be?'
'There is a wedding in this place,
A wedding very soon;
The morn's the young squire's wedding day,
In the bonny towers of Linne.'
O then she walked alang the way
To see what coud be seen,
And there she saw the proud porter,
Drest in a mantle green.
'What news, what news, porter?' she said,
'What news hae ye to me?
Are there any weddings in this place,
Or any gaun to be?'
'There is a wedding in this place,
A wedding very soon;
The morn is Young Bondwell's wedding day,
The bonny squire o Linne.'
'Gae to your master, porter,' she said,
'Gae ye right speedilie;
Bid him come and speak wi a maid
That wishes his face to see.'
The porter's up to his master gane,
Fell low down on his knee;
'Win up, win up, my porter,' he said,
'Why bow ye low to me?'
hae been porter at your yetts
These thirty years and three,
But fairer maids than's at them now
My eyes did never see.
'The foremost she is drest in green,
The rest in fine attire,
Wi gowden girdles round their middles,
Well worth a sheriff's hire.'
Then out it speaks Bondwell's own bride,
Was a' gowd to the chin;
'They canno be fairer thereout,' she says,
'Than we that are therein.'
'There is a difference, my dame,' he said,
Tween that ladye's colour and yours;
As much difference as you were a stock,
She o the lily flowers.'
Then out it speaks him Young Bondwell,
An angry man was he:
'Cast up the yetts baith wide an braid,
These ladies I may see.'
Quickly up stairs Dame Essel's gane,
Her maidens next her wi;
Then said the bride, This lady's face
Shows the porter's tauld nae lie.
The lady unto Bondwell spake,
These words pronounced she:
O hearken, hearken, fause Bondwell,
These words that I tell thee.
Is this the way ye keep your vows
That ye did make to me,
When your feet were in iron fetters,
Ae foot ye coudna flee?
I stole the keys o the jail-house door
Frae under the bed they lay,
And opend up the jail-house door,
Set you at liberty.
Gae you a steed was swift in need,
A saddle o royal ben,
A hunder pund o pennies round,
Bade you gae rove an spend.
A couple o hounds o ae litter,
Cain they ca'ed the ane,
Twa gay gos-hawks as swift's eer flew,
To keep you onthought lang.
But since this day ye've broke your vow,
For which ye're sair to blame,
And since nae mair I'll get o you,
O Cain, will ye gae hame?
'O Cain! O Cain!' the lady cried,
And Cain did her ken;
They baith flappd round the lady's knee,
Like a couple o armed men.
He's to his bride wi hat in hand,
And haild her courteouslie:
'Sit down by me, my bonny Bondwell,
What makes this courtesie?'
'An asking, asking, fair lady,
An asking ye'll grant me;'
'Ask on, ask on, my bonny Bondwell,
What may your askings be?'
'Five hundred pounds to you I'll gie,
Of gowd an white monie,
If ye'll wed John, my ain cousin;
He looks as fair as me.'
'Keep well your monie, Bondwell,' she said,
'Nae monie I ask o thee;
Your cousin John was my first love,
My husband now he's be.'
Bondwell was married at morning ear,
John in the afternoon;
Dame Essels is lady ower a' the bowers
And the high towers o Linne.

N[edit]

IN London was Young Bichen born,
He longd strange lands to see;
He set his foot on good ship-board,
And he sailed over the sea.
He had not been in a foreign land
A day but only three,
Till he was taken by a savage Moor,
And they used him most cruelly.
In every shoulder they put a pin,
To every pin they put a tree;
They made him draw the plow and cart,
Like horse and oxen in his country.
He had not servd the savage Moor
A week, nay scarcely but only three,
Till he has casten him in prison strong,
Till he with hunger was like to die.
It fell out once upon a day
That Young Bichen he made his moan,
As he lay bound in irons strong,
In a dark and deep dungeon.
'An I were again in fair England,
As many merry day I have been,
Then I would curb my roving youth
No more to see a strange land.
'O an I were free again now,
And my feet well set on the sea,
I would live in peace in my own country,
And a foreign land I no more would see.'
The savage Moor had but one daughter,
I wot her name was Susan Py;
She heard Young Bichen make his moan,
At the prison-door as she past by.
'O have ye any lands,' she said,
'Or have you any money free,
Or have you any revenues,
To maintain a lady like me?'
'O I have land in fair England,
And I have estates two or three,
And likewise I have revenues,
To maintain a lady like thee.'
'O will you promise, Young Bichen,' she says,
'And keep your vow faithful to me,
That at the end of seven years
In fair England you'll marry me?
'I'll steal the keys from my father dear,
Tho he keeps them most secretly;
I'll risk my life for to save thine,
And set thee safe upon the sea.'
She's stolen the keys from her father,
From under the bed where they lay;
She opened the prison strong
And set Young Bichen at liberty.
She's gone to her father's coffer,
Where the gold was red and fair to see;
She filled his pockets with good red gold,
And she set him far upon the sea.
'O mind you well, Young Bichen,' she says,
'The vows and oaths you made to me;
When you are come to your native land,
O then remember Susan Py!'
But when her father he came home
He missd the keys there where they lay;
He went into the prison strong,
But he saw Young Bichen was away.
'Go bring your daughter, madam,' he says,
'And bring her here unto me;
Altho I have no more but her,
Tomorrow I'll gar hang her high.'
The lady calld on the maiden fair
To come to her most speedily;
'Go up the country, my child,' she says,
'Stay with my brother two years or three.
'I have a brother, he lives in the isles,
He will keep thee most courteously
And stay with him, my child,' she says,
'Till thy father's wrath be turnd from thee.'
Now will we leave young Susan Py
A while in her own country,
And will return to Young Bichen,
Who is safe arrived in fair England.
He had not been in fair England
Above years scarcely three,
Till he has courted another maid,
And so forgot his Susan Py.
The youth being young and in his prime,
Of Susan Py thought not upon,
But his love was laid on another maid,
And the marriage-day it did draw on.
But eer the seven years were run,
Susan Py she thought full long;
She set her foot on good ship-board,
And she has saild for fair England.
On every finger she put a ring,
On her mid-finger she put three;
She filld her pockets with good red gold,
And she has sailed oer the sea.
She had not been in fair England
A day, a day, but only three,
Till she heard Young Bichen was a bridegroom,
And the morrow to be the wedding-day.
'Since it is so,' said young Susan,
'That he has provd so false to me,
I'll hie me to Young Bichen's gates,
And see if he minds Susan Py.'
She has gone up thro London town,
Where many a lady she there did spy;
There was not a lady in all London
Young Susan that could outvie.
She has calld upon a waiting-man,
A waiting-man who stood near by:
'Convey me to Young Bichen's gates,
And well rewarded shals thou be.'
When she came to Young Bichen's gate
She chapped loudly at the pin,
Till down there came the proud porter;
'Who's there,' he says, 'That would be in?'
'Open the gates, porter,' she says,
'Open them to a lady gay,
And tell your master, porter,' she says,
'To speak a word or two with me.'
The porter he has opend the gates;
His eyes were dazzled to see
A lady dressd in gold and jewels;
No page nor waiting-man had she.
'O pardon me, madam,' he cried,
'This day it is his wedding-day;
He's up the stairs with his lovely bride,
And a sight of him you cannot see.'
She put her hand in her pocket,
And therefrom took out guineas three,
And gave to him, saying, Please, kind sir,
Bring down your master straight to me.
The porter up again has gone,
And he fell low down on his knee,
Saying, Master, you will please come down
To a lady who wants you to see.
A lady gay stands at your gates,
The like of her I neer did see;
She has more gold above her eye
Nor would buy a baron's land to me.
Out then spake the bride's mother,
I'm sure an angry woman was she:
'You're impudent and insolent,
For ye might excepted the bride and me.'
'Ye lie, ye lie, ye proud woman,
I'm sure sae loud as I hear you lie;
She has more gold on her body
Than would buy the lands, the bride, and thee!'
'Go down, go down, porter,' he says,
'And tell the lady gay from me
That I'm up-stairs wi my lovely bride,
And a sight of her I cannot see.'
The porter he goes down again,
The lady waited patiently:
'My master's with his lovely bride,
And he'll not win down my dame to see.'
From off her finger she's taen a ring;
'Give that your master,' she says, 'From me,
And tell him now, young man,' she says,
'To send down a cup of wine to me.'
'Here's ring for you, master,' he says,
'On her mid-finger she has three,
And you are desird, my lord,' he says,
'To send down a cup of wine with me.'
He hit the table with his foot,
He kepd it with his right knee:
'I'll wed my life and all my land
That is Susan Py, come o'er the sea!'
He has gone unto the stair-head,
A step he took but barely three;
He opend the gates most speedily,
And Susan Py he there could see.
'Is this the way, Young Bichen,' she says,
'Is this the way you've guided me?
I relieved you from prison strong,
And ill have you rewarded me.
mind ye, Young Bichen,' she says,
'The vows and oaths that ye made to me,
When ye lay bound in prison strong,
In a deep dungeon of misery?'
He took her by the milk-white hand,
And led her into the palace fine;
There was not a lady in all the palace
But Susan Py did all outshine.
The day concluded with joy and mirth,
On every side there might you see;
There was great joy in all England
For the wedding-day of Susan Py.