Child's Ballads/110

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A[edit]

THERE was a shepherd's daughter
Came triping on the way,
And there she met a courteous knight,
Which caused her to stay
     Refrain:Sing trang sil do lee
'Good morrow to you, beautious maid,'
These words pronounced he;
'O I shall dye this day,' he said,
'If I have not my will of thee.'
'The Lord forbid,' the maid reply'd,
'That such a thing should be,
That ever such a courteous yong knight
Should dye for love of me.'
He took her by the middle so small,
And laid her down on the plain,
And after he had had his will,
He took her up again.
'Now you have had your wil, good sir,
And put my body thus to shame,
Even as you are a courteous knight,
Tel me what is your name.'
'Some men do call me Jack, sweet heart,
And some do call me John,
But when I come to the king's [fair] court,
They call me Sweet William.'
He set his foot in the stirrop,
And away then did he ride;
She tuckt her kirtle about her middle,
And run close by his side.
But when she came to the broad water,
She set her brest and swom,
And when she was got out again,
She took her heels and run.
He never was the courteous knight
To say, Fair maid, will you ride?
Nor she never was so loving a maid
To say, Sir Knight, abide.
But when she came to the king's fair court,
She knocked at the ring;
So ready was the king himself
To let his fair maid in.
'O Christ you save, my gracious leige,
Your body christ save and see!
You have got a knight within your court
This day hath robbed me.
'What hath he robbed thee of, fair maid?
Of purple or of pall?
Or hath he took thy gay gold ring,
From off thy finger small?'
'He hath not robbed me, my liege,
Of purple nor of pall;
But he hath got my maidenhead,
Which grieves me worst of all.'
'Now if he be a batchelor,
His body I'le give to thee;
But if he be a married man,
High hanged shall he be.'
He called down his merry men all,
By one, by two, and by three;
Sweet William was us'd to be the first,
But now the last comes hee.
He brought her down full forty pound,
Ty'd up with[in] a glove:
'Fair maid, I give the same to the,
And seek another love.'
'O I'le have none of your gold,' she said,
'Nor I'le have none of your fee;
But I must have your fair body
The king hath given me.'
Sweet William ran and fetcht her then
Five hundred pound in gold,
Saying, Fair maid, take this unto thee;
Thy fault will never be told.
Tis not your gold that shall me tempt,'
These words then answered she,
'But I must have your own body;
So the king hath granted me.'
'Would I had drank the fair water
When I did drink the wine,
That ever any shepherd's daughter
Should be a fair lady of mine!
'Would I had drunk the puddle-water
When I did drink the ale,
That ever any shepherd's daughter
Should have told me such a tale!'
'A shepheard's daughter as I was,
You might have let me be;
I'd never come to the king's fair court
To have craved any love of thee.'
He set her on a milk-white steed,
And himselfe upon a gray;
He hung a bugle about his neck,
And so they rode away.
But when they came unto the place
Where marriage rites were done,
She provd her selfe a duke's daughter,
And he but a squire's son.
'Now you have married me, sir knight,
Your pleasures may be free;
If you make me lady of one good town,
I'le make you lord of three.'
'Accursed be the gold,' he said,
'If thou hadst not bin true,
That should have parted thee from me,
To have chang'd thee for a new.'
Their hearts being then so linked fast,
And joyning hand in hand,
He had both purse and person too,
And all at his command.

B[edit]

THERE was a shepherd's dochter
Kept sheep upon yon hill,
And by cam a gay braw gentleman,
And wad hae had his will.
He took her by the milk-white hand,
And laid her on the ground,
And whan he got his will o her
He lift her up again.
'O syne ye've got your will o me,
Your will o me ye've taen,
'Tis all I ask o you, kind sir,
Is to tell to me your name.'
'Sometimes they call me Jack,' he said,
'Sometimes they call me John,
But whan I am in the king's court,
My name is Wilfu Will.'
Then he loup on his milk-white steed,
And straught away he rade,
And she did kilt her petticoats,
And after him she gaed.
He never was sae kind as say,
O lassie, will ye ride?
Nor ever had she the courage to say,
O laddie, will ye bide!
Until they cam to a wan water,
Which was called Clyde,
And then he turned about his horse,
Said, Lassie, will ye ride?
'I learned it in my father's hall,
I learned it for my weel,
That whan I come to deep water,
I can swim as it were an eel.
'I learned it in my mother's bower,
I learned it for my better,
That whan I come to broad water,
I can swim like ony otter.'
He plunged his steed into the ford,
And straught way thro he rade,
And she set in her lilly feet,
And thro the water wade.
And whan she cam to the king's court,
She tirled on the pin,
And wha sae ready's the king himsel
To let the fair maid in?
'What is your will wi me, fair maid?
What is your will wi me?'
'There is a man into your court
This day has robbed me.'
'O has he taen your gold,' he said,
'Or has he taen your fee?
Or has he stown your maidenhead,
The flower of your bodye?'
'He has na taen my gold, kind sir,
Nor as little has he taen my fee,
But he has taen my maidenhead,
The flower of my bodye.'
'O gif he be a married man,
High hangit shall he be,
But gif he be a bachelor,
His body I'll grant thee.'
'Sometimes they call him Jack,' she said,
'Sometimes they call him John,
But whan he's in the king's court,
His name is Sweet William.'
'There's not a William in a' my court,
Never a one but three,
And one of them is the Queen's brother;
I wad laugh gif it war he.'
The king called on his merry men,
By thirty and by three;
Sweet Willie, wha used to be foremost man,
Was the hindmost a' but three.
O he cam cripple, and he cam blind,
Cam twa-fald oer a tree:
'O be he cripple, or be he blind,
This very same man is he.'
'O whether will ye marry the bonny may,
Or hang on the gallows-tree?'
'O I will rather marry the bonny may,
Afore that I do die.'
But he took out a purse of gold,
Weel locked in a glove:
'O tak ye that, my bonny may,
And seek anither love.'
'O I will hae none o your gold,' she says,
'Nor as little ony of your fee,
But I will hae your ain body,
The king has granted me.'
O he took out a purse of gold,
A purse of gold and store;
'O tak ye that, fair may,' he said,
'Frae me ye'll neer get mair.'
'O haud your tongue, young man,' she says,
'And I pray you let me be;
For I will hae your ain body,
The king has granted me.'
He mounted her on a bonny bay horse,
Himsel on the silver grey;
He drew his bonnet out oer his een,
He whipt and rade away.
O whan they cam to yon nettle bush,
The nettles they war spread:
'O an my mither war but here,' she says,
'These nettles she wad sued.'
'O an I had drank the wan water
Whan I did drink the wine,
That eer a shepherd's dochter
Should hae been a love o mine!'
'O may be I'm a shepherd's dochter,
And may be I am nane;
But you might hae ridden on your ways,
And hae let me alane.'
O whan they cam unto yon mill,
She heard the mill clap:
. . . . .
. . . . .
'Clap on, clap on, thou bonny mill,
Weel may thou, I say,
For mony a time thou's filled my pock
Wi baith oat-meal and grey.'
'O an I had drank the wan water
Whan I did drink the wine,
That eer a shepherd's dochter
Should hae been a love o mine!'
'O may be I'm a shepherd's dochter,
And may be I am nane;
But you might hae ridden on your ways,
And hae let me alane.
'But yet I think a fitter match
Could scarcely gang thegither
Than the King of France's auld dochter
And the Queen of Scotland's brither.'

C[edit]

THERE was a shepherd's dochter
Kept sheep on yonder hill;
Bye cam a knicht frae the High College,
And he wad hae his will.
Whan he had got his wills o her,
His will as he has taen:
'Wad ye be sae gude and kind
As tell to me your name?'
'Some ca's me Jock, some ca's me John,
Some disna ken my name,
But whan I'm into the king's court,
Mitchcock is my name.'
'Mitchcock! hey!' the lady did say,
And spelt it oure again;
'If that's your name in the Latin tongue,
Earl Richard is your name!'
O jumpt he upon his horse,
And said he wad go ride;
Kilted she her green claithing,
And said she wad na bide.
The knicht rade on, the lady ran,
A live-lang simmer's day,
Till they cam to a wan water
Was calld the river Tay.
'Jump on behind, ye weill-faurd may,
Or do ye chuse to ride?'
'No thank ye, sir,' the lady said,
'I rather chuse to wade;'
And afore that he was mid-water,
She was at the ither side.
'Turn back, turn back, ye weill-faurd may,
My heart will brak in three:'
'And sae did mine in yon bonny hill-side,
Whan ye wad [na] lat me be.'
'Whare gat ye that gay claithing
This day I see on thee?'
'My mither was a gude milk-nurse,
And a gude nourice was she;
She nursd the Earl of Stockford's daughter,
And gat aw this to me.'
Whan she cam to the king's court,
She rappit wi a ring;
Sae ready as the king himsel
Was to let the lady in!
'There is a knicht into your court
This day has robbed me:'
'O has he taen your gowd,' he says,
'Or has he taen your fee?'
'He has na taen my gowd,' she says,
'Nor yet has he my fee;
But he has taen my maiden-head,
The flowr o my fair bodie.'
Then out bespak the queen hersel,
Wha sat by the king's knee:
There's na a knicht in aw our court
Wad hae dune that to thee,
Unless it war my brither, Earl Richard,
And forbid it it war he!
Wad ye ken your love,
Amang a hunder men?
'I wad,' said the bonnie ladie,
'Amang five hunder and ten.'
The king made aw his merry men pass,
By ane, by twa, and three;
Earl Richard us'd to be the first man,
But he was hinmost man that day.
He cam hauping on ane foot,
And winking with ae ee;
But 'Ha! ha!' said the bonnie ladie,
'That same young man are ye.'
He's taen her up to a hie towr-head
And offerd her hunder punds in a glove:
'Gin ye be a courteous maid,
Ye'll choice anither love.'
'What care I for your hunder pund?
Na mair than ye wad for mine;
What's a hunder pund to me,
To a marriage wi a king!'
Whan the marriage it was oure,
And ilk ane took them horse,
'It never set a beggar's brat
At nae knicht's back to be.'
The ladie met wi a beggar-wife,
And gied her half o crown:
'Tell aw your neebours, whan ye gang hame,
That Earl Richard's your gude-son.'
'O hold your tongue, ye beggar's brat,
My heart will brak in three;'
'And sae did mine on yon bonny hill-side,
Whan ye wad na let me be.'
Whan she cam to yon nettle-dyke,
. . . . .
'An my auld mither she was here,
Sae weill as she wad ye pu.
'She wad boil ye weill, and butter ye weill,
And sup till she war fu,
And lay her head upon her dish-doup,
And sleep like onie sow.'
Whan she cam to Earl Richard's house,
The sheets war holland fine:
'O haud awa thae linen sheets,
And bring to me the linsey clouts
I hae been best used in.'
['Awa, awa wi your siller spoons,
Haud them awa frae me;
It would set me better to feed my flocks
Wi the brose-cap on my knee:
Sae bring to me the gude ram's horn,
The spoons I've been used wi.']
'Hold your tongue, ye beggar's brat,
My heart will brak in three;'
'And sae did mine on yon bonnie hillside,
Whan ye wadna lat me be.'
'I wish I had drank the well-water
Whan first I drank the wine!
Never a shepherd's dochter
Wad hae been a love o mine.
'O I wish I'd drank the well-water
Whan first I drank the beer,
That ever a shepherd's dochter
Shoud hae been my only dear!'

  • * * * *

'Ye'll turn about, Earl Richard,
And mak some mair o me;
An ye mak me lady o ae puir plow,
I can mak ye laird o three.'
'If ye be the Earl of Stockford's dochter,
As I've taen some thouchts ye be,
Aft hae I waited at your father's yett,
But your face I coud never see.'

D[edit]

D.* * * *
AND he was never sae discreet
As bid her loup on and ride,
And she was neer sae meanly bred
As for to bid him bide.
And whan she cam to yon water,
It was running like a flude:
'I've learned it in my mither's bouer,
I've learned it for my gude,
That I can soum this wan water
Like a fish in a flude.
'I've learned it in my father's bouer,
I've learned it for my better,
And I will soum this wan water
As tho I was ane otter.'

  • * * * *

'Gude day, gude day, my liege the king,
Gude day, gude day, to thee;'
'Gude day,' quoth he, 'My lady fair,
What want ye wi me?'

  • * * * *

'Gin he be a single man,
His bodie I'll gie thee;
But gin he be a married man,
I'll hang him on a tree.'

  • * * * *

He's powd out a hundred punds,
Weel lockit in a glove;
. . . .
. . . .
'I'll hae nane o your gowd,' she said,
'Nor either o your fee;
But I will hae your ain bodie
The king has granted me.'
'O was ye gentle gotten, maid?
Or was ye gentle born?
Or hae ye onie gerss growing?
Or hae ye onie corn?
'Or hae ye onie lands or rents,
Lying at libertie?
Or hae ye onie education,
To dance alang wi me?'
'I was na gentle gotten, madam,
Nor was I gentle born;
Neither hae I gerss growing,
Nor hae I onie corn.
'I have na onie lands or rents,
Lying at libertie;
Nor hae I onie education,
To dance alang wi thee.'
He lap on ae milk-white steed,
And she lap on anither,
And then the twa rade out the way
Like sister and like brither.
And whan she cam to Tyne's water,
She wililie did say,
Fareweil, ye mills o Tyne's water,
With thee I bid gude-day.
Fareweil, ye mills o Tyne's water,
To you I bid gud-een,
Whare monie a day I hae filld my pock,
Baith at midnicht and at een.

  • * * * *

Whan they cam to her father's yett,
She tirled on the pin;
And an auld belly-blind man was sitting there,
As they war entering in.
'The meetest marriage,' the belly-blind did cry,
'Atween the ane and the ither,
Atween the Earl of Stockford's dochter
And the Queen o England's brither.'

E[edit]

EARL RICHARD, once upon a day,
And all his valiant men so wight,
He did him down to Barnisdale,
Where all the land is fair and light.
He was aware of a damosel-+-
I wot fast on she did her bound-+-
With towers of gold upon her head,
As fair a woman as could be found.
He said, Busk on you, fair ladye,
The white flowers and the red;
For I would give my bonnie ship
To get your maidenhead.
'I wish your bonnie ship rent and rive,
And drown you in the sea;
For all this would not mend the miss
That ye would do to me.'
'The miss is not so great, ladye;
Soon mended it might be.
'I have four an twenty mills in Scotland,
Stands on the water of Tay;
You'll have them, and as much flour
As they'll grind in a day.'
'I wish your bonnie ship rent and rive,
And drown you in the sea;
For all that would not mend the miss
That ye would do to me.'
'The miss is not so great, ladye;
Soon mended it will be.
'I have four an twenty milk-white cows,
All calved in a day;
You'll have them, and as much haind grass
As they all on can gae.'
'I wish your bonnie ship rent and rive,
And drown you in the sea;
For all that would not mend the miss
That ye would do to me.'
'The miss is not so great, ladye;
Soon mended it might be.
'I have four an twenty milk-white steeds,
All foaled in one year;
You'll have them, and as much red gold
As all their backs can bear.'
She turned her right and round about,
And she swore by the mold;
'I would not be your love,' said she,
'For that church full of gold.'
He turned him right and round about,
And he swore by the mess;
Says, Ladye, ye my love shall be,
And gold ye shall have less.
She turned her right and round about,
And she swore by the moon;
'I would not be your love,' says she,
'For all the gold in Rome.'
He turned him right and round about,
And he swore by the moon;
Says, Ladye, ye my love shall be,
And gold ye shall have none.
He caught her by the milk-white hand,
And by the grass-green sleeve,
And there has taken his will of her,
Wholly without her leave.
The ladye frownd, and sadly blushd,
And oh, but she thought shame!
Says, If you are a knight at all,
You surely will tell me your name.
'In some places they call me Jack,
In other some they call me John;
But when into the queen's court,
O then Lithcock it is my name!'
'Lithcock! Lithcock!' the ladye said,
And oft she spelt it ower again;
'Lithcock! it's Latin,' the ladye said,
'Richard's the English of that name.'
The knight he rode, the ladye ran,
A live-long summer's day,
Till they came to the wan water
That all men do call Tay.
He set his horse head to the water,
Just thro it for to ride,
And the ladye was as ready as him
The waters for to wade.
For he had never been as kind-hearted
As to bid the ladye ride,
And she had never been so low-hearted
As for to bid him bide.
But deep into the wan water
There stands a great big stone;
He turned his wight horse head about,
Said Ladye fair, will ye loup on?
She's taken the wand was in her hand
And struck it on the faem,
And before he got the middle-stream
The ladye was on dry land:
'By help of God and our Lady,
My help lyes not in your hand!
'I learned it from my mother dear,
Few are there that have learned better,
When I come to deep water,
I can swim thro like ony otter.
'I learned it from my mother dear,
I find I learnd it for my weel,
When I come to a deep water,
I can swim thro like ony eel.'
'Turn back, turn back, you ladye fair,
You know not what I see;
There is a ladye in that castle
That will burn you and me.'
'Betide me weel, betide me wae,
That ladye I will see.'
She took a ring from her finger,
And gave it the porter for his fee;
Says, Take you that, my good porter,
And bid the queen speak to me.
And when she came before the queen,
There she fell low down on her knee;
Says, There is a knight into your court
This day has robbed me.
'O has he robbed you of your gold,
Or has he robbed you of your fee?'
'He has not robbed me of my gold,
He has not robbed me of my fee;
He has robbed me of my maidenhead,
The fairest flower of my bodie.'
'There is no knight in all my court,
That thus has robbed thee,
But you'll have the truth of his right hand,
Or else for your sake he'll die:
'Tho it were Earl Richard, my own brother,
And, Oh, forbid that it be!'
Then sighing said the ladye fair,
I wot the same man is he.
The queen called on her merry men,
Even fifty men and three;
Earl Richard used to be the first man,
But now the hindmost man was he.
He's taken out one hundred pounds,
And told it in his glove;
Says, Take you that, my ladye fair,
And seek another love.
'Oh, no! oh, no!' the ladye cried,
'That's what shall never be;
I'll have the truth of your right hand,
The queen it gave to me.'
['I wish I'd drunken your water, sister,
When I did drink thus of your ale,
That for a carl's fair daughter
It does me gar dree all this bale!]
'I wish I had drunk of your water, sister,
When I did drink your wine,
That for a carle's fair daughter
It does gar me dree all this pine!'
'May be I am a carle's daughter,
And may be never nane;
When ye met me in the greenwood,
Why did you not let me alane?'
'Will you wear the short clothes,
Or will you wear the side?
Or will you walk to your wedding,
Or will you till it ride?'
'I will not wear the short clothes,
But I will wear the side;
I will not walk to my wedding,
But I to it will ride.'
When he was set upon the horse,
The lady him behin,
Then cauld and eerie were the words
The twa had them between.
She said, Good e'en, ye nettles tall,
Just there where ye grow at the dyke;
If the auld carline my mother were here,
Sae weel's she would your pates pyke!
How she would stap you in her poke-+-
I wot at that she wadna fail-+-
And boil ye in her auld brass pan,
And of ye make right good kail!
And she would meal you with millering,
That she gathers at the mill,
And make you thick as ony daigh:
And when the pan was brimful,
Would mess you up in scuttle-dishes,
Syne bid us sup till we were fou,
Lay down her head upon a poke,
Then sleep and snore like ony sow.
'Away, away, you bad woman!
For all your vile words grieveth me;
When you hide so little for yourself,
I'm sure ye'll hide far less for me.
'I wish I had drunk your water, sister,
When that I did drink of your wine,
Since for a carle's fair daughter,
It aye gars me dree all this pine.'
'May be I am a carle's daughter,
And may be never nane;
When ye met me in the good greenwood,
Why did you not let me alane?
'Gude een, gude een, ye heather-berries,
As ye're growing on yon hill;
If the auld carline and her bags were here,
I wot she would get meat her fill.
'Late, late at night, I knit our pokes,
With even four an twenty knots;
And in the morn at breakfast time
I'll carry the keys of an earl's locks.
'Late, late at night, I knit our pokes,
With even four an twenty strings;
And if you look to my white fingers,
They have as many gay gold rings.'
'Away, away, ye ill woman!
So sore your vile words grieveth me;
When you hide so little for yourself,
I'm sure ye'll hide far less for me.
'But if you are a carle's daughter,
As I take you to be,
How did you get the gay cloathing
In greenwood ye had on thee?
'My mother, she's a poor woman,
She nursed earl's chidren three,
And I got them from a foster-sister,
For to beguile such sparks as thee.'
'But if you be a carle's daughter,
As I believe you be,
How did you learn the good Latin
In greenwood ye spoke to me?'
'My mother, she's a mean woman,
She nursd earl's children three;
I learnt it from their chaplain,
To beguile such sparks as ye.'
When mass was sung, and bells were rung,
And all men bound for bed,
Then Earl Richard and this ladye
In ae bed they were laid.
He turned his face unto the stock,
And she her's to the stane,
And cauld and dreary was the love
That was these twa between.
Great mirth was in the kitchen,
Likewise intill the ha,
But in his bed lay Earl Richard,
Wiping the tears awa.
He wept till he fell fast asleep,
Then slept till light was come;
Then he did hear the gentlemen
That talked in the room:
Said, Saw ye ever a fitter match,
Betwixt the ane and ither,
The king of Scotland's fair dochter
And the queen of England's brither?
'And is she the king o Scotland's fair dochter?
This day, O weel is me!
For seven times has my steed been saddled,
To come to court with thee;
And with this witty lady fair,
How happy must I be!'

F[edit]

EARL LITHGOW he's a hunting gane,
Upon a summer's day,
And he's fa'en in with a weel-far'd maid,
Was gathering at the slaes.
He's taen her by the milk-white hand,
And by the grass-green sleeve;
He led her to the foot of a tree,
At her he spierd nae leave.
The lassie being well learned,
She turned her right around;
Says, Will ye be as good, kind sir,
As tell to me your name?
'Whiles they call me Jack,' he says,
'And whiles they call me John;
But when I'm in the queen's high court,
Earl Litchcock is my name.'
The lassie being well learned,
She spelld it ower again;
Says, Litchcock is a Latin word,
But Lithgow is your name.
The lassie being well learned,
She spelld it ower again;
Says, Lithgow is a gentle word,
But Richard is your name.
She has kilted her green claithing
A little abeen her knee;
The gentleman rode, and the lassie ran,
Till at the water o Dee.
When they were at the water o Dee,
And at the narrow side,
He turned about his high horse head,
Says, Lassie, will ye ride?
'I learned it in my mother's bower,
I wish I had learned it better,
When I came to this wan water,
To swim like ony otter.
'I learned it in my mother's bower,
I wish I had learned it weel,
That when I came to a wan water,
To swim like ony eel.'
She has kilted her green claithing
A little abeen her knee;
The gentleman rode, the lassie swam,
Thro the water o Dee:
Before he was at the middle o the water,
At the other side was she.
She sat there and drest hersell,
And sat upon a stone;
There she sat to rest hersell,
And see how he'd come on.
'How mony miles hae ye to ride?
How mony hae I to gang?'
'I've thirty miles to ride,' he says,
'And ye've as mony to gang.'
'If ye've thirty miles to ride,' she says,
'And I've as mony to gae,
Ye'll get leave to gang yoursell;
It will never be gane by me.'
She's gane to the queen's high court,
And knocked at the pin;
Who was sae ready as the proud porter,
To let this lady in!
She's put her hand in her pocket,
And gien him guineas three:
'Ye will gang to the queen hersell,
And tell her this frae me.
'There is a lady at your yetts
Can neither card nor spin;
But she can sit in a lady's bower,
And lay gold on a seam.'
He's gane ben thro ae lang room,
And he's gane ben thro twa,
Till he came to a lang, lang trance,
And then came to the ha.
When he came before the queen,
Sat low down on his knee:
'Win up, win up, my proud porter,
What makes this courtesie?'
'There is a lady at your yetts
Can neither card nor spin;
But she can sit in a lady's bower,
And lay gold on a seam.'
'If there is a lady at my yetts
That cannot card nor spin,
Ye'll open my yetts baith wide and braid,
And let this lady in.'
Now she has gane ben thro ae room,
And she's gane ben thro twa,
And she gaed ben a lang, lang trance,
Till she came to the ha.
When she came before the queen,
Sat low down on her knee:
'Win up, win up, my fair woman,
What makes such courtesie?'
'My errand it's to thee, O queen,
My errand it's to thee;
There is a man within your courts
This day has robbed me.'
'O has he taen your purse, your purse,
Or taen your penny-fee?
Or has he taen your maidenhead,
The flower of your bodie?'
He hasna taen my purse, my purse,
Nor yet my penny-fee,
But he has taen my maidenhead,
The flower of my bodi'
'It is if he be a batchelor,
Your husband he shall be;
But if he be a married man,
High hanged he shall be.
'Except it be my brother, Litchcock,
I hinna will it be he;'
Sighd and said that gay lady,
That very man is he.
She's calld on her merry men a',
By ane, by twa, by three;
Earl Litchcock used to be the first,
But the hindmost man was he.
He came cripple on the back,
Stane blind upon an ee;
And sighd and said Earl Richard,
I doubt this calls for me.
He's laid down a brand, a brand,
And next laid down a ring;
It's thrice she minted to the brand,
But she's taen up the ring:
There's not a knight in a' the court,
But calld her a wise woman.
He's taen out a purse of gold,
And tauld it on a stane;
Says, Take ye that, my fair woman,
And ye'll frae me be gane.
'I will hae nane o your purse[s] o gold,
That ye tell on a stane;
But I will hae yoursell,' she says,
'Another I'll hae nane.'
He has taen out another purse,
And tauld it in a glove;
Says, Take ye that, my fair woman,
And choice another love.
'I'll hae nane o your purses o gold,
That ye tell in a glove;
But I will hae yoursell,' she says,
'I'll hae nae ither love.'
But he's taen out another purse,
And tauld it on his knee;
Said, Take ye that, ye fair woman,
Ye'll get nae mair frae me.
'I'll hae nane o your purses o gold,
That ye tell on your knee;
But I will hae yoursell,' she says,
'The queen has granted it me.'
'O will ye hae the short claithing,
Or will ye hae the side?
Or will ye gang to your wedding,
Or will ye to it ride?'
'I winna hae the short claithing,
But I will hae the side;
I winna gang to my wedding,
But to it I will ride.'
The first town that they came till
They made the mass be sung,
And the next town that they came till
They made the bells be rung.
And the next town that they came till
He bought her gay claithing,
And the next town that they came till
They held a fair wedding.
When they came to Mary-kirk,
The nettles grew on the dyke:
'If my auld mither, the carlin, were here,
Sae well's she would you pyke.
'Sae well's she would you pyke,' she says,
'She woud you pyke and pou,
And wi the dust lyes in the mill
Sae woud she mingle you.
'She'd take a speen intill her hand,
And sup ere she be fou,
Syne lay her head upon a sod,
And snore like ony sow.'
When she came to yon mill-dams,
Says, Well may ye clap;
I wyte my minnie neer gaed by you
Wanting mony a lick.
He's drawn his hat out ower his face,
Muckle shame thought he;
She's driven her cap out ower her locks,
And a light laugh gae she.
When they were wedded, and well bedded,
And hame at dinner set,
Then out it spake our bride hersell,
And she spake never blate.
Put far awa your china plates,
Put them far awa frae me,
And bring to me my humble gockies,
That I was best used wi.
Put far awa your siller speens,
Had them far awa frae me,
And bring to me my horn cutties,
That I was best used wi.
When they were dined and well served,
And to their dancing set,
Out it spake our bride again,
For she spake never blate.
If the auld carlin, my mither, were here,
As I trust she will be,
She'll fear the dancing frae us a',
And gar her meal-bags flee.
When bells were rung, and mass was sung,
And a' men bound for rest,
Earl Richard and the beggar's daughter
In ae chamber were placed.
'Had far awa your fine claithing,
Had them far awa frae me,
And bring to me my fleachy clouts,
That I was best used wi.
'Had far awa your holland sheets,
Had them far awa frae me,
And bring to me my canvas clouts,
That I was best used wi.
'Lay a pock o meal beneath my head,
Another aneath my feet,
A pock o seeds beneath my knees,
And soundly will I sleep.'
'Had far awa, ye carlin's get,
Had far awa frae me;
I disna set a carlin's get
My bed-fellow to be.'
'It's may be I'm a carlin's get,
And may be I am nane;
But when ye got me in good greenwood,
How letna you me alane?'
'It is if you be a carlin's get,
As I trust well ye be,
Where got ye all the gay claithing
You brought to greenwood with thee?'
'My mother was an auld nourice,
She nursed bairns three;
And whiles she got, and whiles she staw.
And she kept them a' for me;
And I put them on in good greenwood,
To beguile fause squires like thee.'
It's out then spake the Billy-Blin,
Says, I speak nane out of time;
If ye make her lady o nine cities,
She'll make you lord o ten.
Out it spake the Billy-Blin,
Says, The one may serve the other;
The King of Gosford's ae daughter,
And the Queen of Scotland's brother.
'Wae but worth you, Billy-Blin,
An ill death may ye die!
My bed-fellow he'd been for seven years
Or he'd kend sae muckle frae me.'
'Fair fa ye, ye Billy-Blin,
And well may ye aye be!
In my stable is the ninth horse I've killd,
Seeking this fair ladie:
Now we're married, and now we're bedded,
And in each other's arms shall lie.'

G[edit]

JOJANET has to the greenwood gane,
Wi a' her maidens free,
. . . . .
. . . . .

  • * * * *

'Some ca me Jack, some ca me John,
Some ca me Jing-ga-lee,
But when I am in the queen's court
Earl Hitchcock they ca me.'
'Hitchcock, Hitchcock,' Jo Janet she said,
An spelled it ower agane,
'Hitchcock it's a Latin word;
Earl Richard is your name.'
But when he saw she was book-learned,
Fast to his horse hied he;
But she kilted up her gay claithing,
An fast, fast followed she.
Aye he rade, an aye she ran,
The live-lang simmer's day,
Till they came to the wan water,
An a' men call it Tay.
She has tane the narrow fuird,
An he has tane the wide,
An ere he was in the middle-water,
Jo Janet was at the ither side.
. . . . .
. . . .
. . . . .
As swift as eel or otter.
An when she cam to the queen's court
She tirled at the pin,
An wha sae ready as the queen hersel
To let Jo Janet in!
. . . . .
. . . . .
'There is a knicht into your court
This day has robbed me.'
'Has he robbed you o your gold, fair may,
Or robbed you o your fee?
Or robbed you o your maidenhead,
The flower o your bodie?'
'He has nae robbed me o my gold,' she said,
'Nor o my weel won fee,
But he has robbed me o my maidenhead,
The flower o my bodie.'
'It's if he be a married knight,
It's hanged he shall be;
But if he be a single knight,
It's married ye sall be.
'There's but three knichts into my court
This day hae been frae me,
An ane is Earl Richard, my brither,
An I hope it is na he:'
Then sichin said Jo Janet,
The very same man is he.
The queen has called on her merry men
By thirty and by three;
He wont to be the foremost man,
But hinmost in cam he.
'If this your tricks abroad, Richard,
Is this your tricks abroad,
Wheneer ye meet a bonny may
To lay her on the road?'

  • * * * *

But he took out a purse o gold,
. . . . .
Says, Tak you that, my bonny may,
An seek nae mair o me.
'I winna hae your gold,' she said,
'I winna hae your fee;
I'll hae the troth o your right hand
The queen has promised me.'

  • * * * *

As they rade bye yon bonny mill-town
Sae fair's the nettles grew;
Quoth she, If my auld mither were here,
Sae finely's she wad you pu.
She wad you nip, she wad you clip,
Sae finely's she wad you pu,
An pit you on in a wee, wee pat,
An sup till she were fu,
Syne rowe her heid in her gown-tail,
An sleep like ony soo.
He drew his hat down ower his broos,
An a doon look gae he,
But she threw her locks out ower her cocks,
An nae ways dung was she.
'It's if ye be a beggar's brat,
As I dout na but ye be,
It's where gat ye the gay claithing
That hings down to your knee?'
'My mither was nurse to Earl Marshall's dother,
An a fine lady is she,
An aye when she gets new claithing
She casts the auld to me:'
An sichin said Earl Richard,
My ain true-love is she!
But if you be a beggar's brat,
As I doutna but ye be,
Where got ye the Latin words
Ye said in greenwood to me?
'My mither was a bad woman,
She served sic men as thee,
An a' the gear at ever she got
She waired it a' on me,
An learned me weel the Latin tongue,
To beguile sic sparks as thee.'
'Awa, awa, ye ill woman,
An ill death mat ye dee!
. . . .
. . . .
When they were a' at supper set,
An siller spoons gaen roun,
It's, 'Haud awa yer siller spoons,
Haud them far awa frae me,
An bring to me a guid ramshorn,
The thing I'm best used wi.'
An when they were at supper set,
An the ale-caup gaen about,
She took it in her arms twa,
An sae clean's she lickit it oot.
He drew his hat doun ower his broos,
An a doun look gae he,
But she threw her locks out ower her cocks,
An nae ways dung was she.
When mass was sung, and bells were rung,
An a' men boun to bed,
Earl Richard an Jo Janet
In ae bed they were laid.
He turned his face unto the stock,
An sair, sair did he weep;
She turned her face unto the wa,
An sound she fell asleep.
. . . . . .
. . . . . .
. . . . . .
The Billie Blin stood up at their bed-feet.
Said, Saw ye ever a fitter match
Atween the tane and the tither,
The Earl Marshall['s] ae dother
An the Queen o Scotland's brither?
'Wae be to you for an ill woman,
An ill death mat ye dee!
For mony's the mare and mare's foal
I've bursten seekin thee.'
. . . a cup o wine,
Quoth, Here's to thee and me!
If ye mak me lady o ae puir pleugh,
I'll mak ye lord o three.

H[edit]

THERE was a shepherd's daughter,
Kept sheep on yonder hill;
There came a knight o courage bright,
And he wad have his will. Diddle, 'C..
He's taen her by the milk-white hand,
Gien her a gown o green;
'O take you that, fair may,' he says,
'There's nae mair o me to be seen.'
'Since ye have taen your wills o me,
Your wills o me you've taen,
Since ye have taen your wills o me,
Pray tell to me your name.'
'O some they call me Jack, lady,
And others call me John;
But when I'm in the king's court,
Sweet William is my name.'
She's kilted up her green clothing
A little below her knee,
And she is to the king's court,
As fast as she could gae.
And when she came unto the king,
She knelt low on her knee:
'There is a man into your court
This day has robbed me.'
'Has he robbd you of your gold,' he says,
'Or of your white monie?
Or robbed you of the flowery branch,
The flower of your bodie?'
'He has not robbd me of my gold,' she says,
'Nor of my white monie,
But he's robbd me of the flowery branch,
The flower of my bodie.'
'O if he be a bond-man,
High hanged shall he be;
But if he be a free man,
He'se well provide for thee.'
The king's called on his nobles all,
By thirty and by three;
Sweet William should have been the foremost man,
But the hindmost man was he.
'Do you not mind yon shepherd's daughter,
You met on yonder hill?
When a' her flocks were feeding round,
Of her you took your will.'
And he's taen out a purse o gold,
And tied up in a glove;
'Take you that, fair may,' he says,
'And choice for you a love.'
O he's taen out three hundred pounds,
Tied up in a purse;
'See, take you that, fair may,' he says,
'And that will pay the nurse.'
'I'll neither have your gold,' she says,
'Nor yet your white monie,
But I will have the king's grant,
That he has granted me.'
Then he's taen her on a milk-white steed,
Himsell upon another,
And to his castle they have rode,
Like sister and like brother.
O ilka nettle that they came to,
'O well mote you grow!
For mony a day's my minny and me
Pilkit at your pow.'
O ilka mill that they came to,
'O well mote you clack!
For monie a day's my minnie and me
Buckled up our lap.'

  • * * * *

'You're the king of England's ae brother,
I trust well that you be;
I'm the Earl of Stampford's ae daughter,
And he has nae mair but me.'
O saw you eer such a near marriage,
Between the one and the other,
The Earl of Stampford's ae daughter,
And the King of England's brother!

I[edit]

THERE was a shepherd's daughter,
Kept flocks on yonder hill,
And by there cam a courteous knight,
Wud fain and hae his will.

  • * * * *

'Some do ca me Jock,' he said,
'And some do ca me John,
But when I do ride i the king's high court,
Gulelmus is my name.'

  • * * * *

And when she came to the kinges court
She tirled at the pin,
And wha was there but the king himsel,
To lat this fair maid in!
'Now Christ you save, my lord,' she said,
'Now Christ you save and see;
There is a knicht into your court
This day has robbed me.
'He's na robbed me o my silken purse,
Nor o my white money,
But he's robbed me o my maidenheid,
The flower o my bodie.'
'O gin he be a single man,
Weel married sall ye be,
But an he be a married man,
He's hang upon a tree.'
Then he called up his merry men a',
By one, by two, and by three,
And William should a been the first,
But the hindmost man was he.
And he cam hirplin on a stick,
And blin upon an ee,
But sighand said that gay ladie,
That same man robbed me.

  • * * * *

'Gin I had drunk the wan water,
When I did drink the wine,
A cairdman's daughter
Should never be a true-love o mine.'
'Maybe I'm a cairdman's daughter,
And maybe I am nane;
But when ye did come to good green wood,
Ye sud hae latten me alane.'
She set upon a milk-white steed,
An himsel on a dapple grey,
An she had as much lan in fair Scotlan
'S ye cud ride in a lang simmer's day.

J[edit]

J.* * * *
'SOME ca'ss me James, some ca'as me John,
I carena what they ca me,
But when I [am] at hame in my ain country,
It's Lispcock that they ca me.'
The lassie being well beuk-learned,
She spelled it ower again;
Says, Lispcock in a Latin beuk
Spells Erl Richard in plain.
. . . . .
. . . . .
The lassie kilted up her green claithing,
And fast, fast followed on.
Till they cam till a wide water,
. . . . .
He's turned his hie horse head about,
Says, Lassie will ye ride?
'I learned it in my mother's bower,
I wish I'd learned it better,
Whanever I cam to any wide water,
To soum like ony otter.'
The laird he chused the ford to ride,
The ladie the pot to swim,
And or the laird was half water,
The ladie was on dry lan.
O he rade on to yon hie castell,
He rade it richt and roun about;
The laird gaed in at ae back-door,
But the ladie beet to knock.
Out it cam the proud porter,
Wi his hat into his han,
. . . . .
. . . . .
She's pitten her hand in her pocket,
Pulld out guineas three,
And that she's given to the proud porter,
To cause her to get entrance there.
The proud porter ran up the stair,
O fifteen steps he made but three:
'The prettiest lady stands at yer yetts
That ever my een did see.'
. . . . .
. . . . .
'Goe doun, goe doun, you proud porter,
Cause her to cum up to me.'
When she gaed in before the queen,
She fell low down on her knee:
'There is a man into your courts
This day has robbed me.'
'Has he robbed you o your fine clothing,
Or o your white monie?
Or taen frae you your maidenhead,
The flower o your bodie?'
'He hasna robbed me o my fine clothing,
Nor o my white monie,
But he's taen frae me my maidenhead,
The flower o my bodie.'
'O gin he be a married man,
High hanged sall he be;
And gin he be a batchelere,
Well wedded shall ye be.'
O she has called in her merry young men,
By thirties and by threes;
Earl Richard should hae been the foremost man,
But the hindmost man was he.
He cam limpin on a staff,
And blinkin on an ee,
And sichand says that gay ladie,
That samen man is he.

  • * * * *

K[edit]

THERE was a shepherd's daughter,
Kept sheep on yonder hill;
O by comes a courtier,
And fain wud hae his will.
     Refrain:We'll go no more a roving,
A roving in the night,
We'll go no more a roving,
Let the moon shine neer so bright.
O we'll go [no] more a roving.
He took her by the middle so small,
And by the grass-green sleeve;
He bended her body unto the ground,
And of her parents he askd no leave.
'Now since you've got your will o me,
And brought my fair bodie to shame,
All the request I ask of you is,
Pray tell me what's your name.'
'O some do call me Jack,' he says,
'And some do call me John,
But when I am in the king's court,
My name is Sweet William.'
She took her petticoats by the band,
Her mantle oer her arm,
And she's awa to the king's court,
As fast as she could run.
When she came to the king's court,
She tinkled at the ring;
Who was so ready as the king himsel
To let this fair maid in!
And when she came before the king,
She kneeled low by his knee;
'What's this? what's this, fair maid,' he says,
'What's this you ask of me?'
. . . . .
. . . . .
'There is a knight into your court
This day has robbed me.'
'If he robbed you of your gold,' he said,
'It's hanged he must be;
If he's robbed you of your maidenhead,
His body I grant to thee.'
'He's not robbed me of my gold,' she said,
'Nor of my white money,
But he's robbed me of my maidenhead,
The flower of my bodie.'
He's called down his merry men all,
By one, by two, by three;
John used to be the foremost man,
But the hindmost man was he.
He took a long purse of gold
And wrapped it in a glove:
'Here's to thee, my dearest dear,
Go seek some other love.'
'I'll have none of your gold,' she says,
'Nor any of your white money,
But I'll just have your own bodie
The king has granted to me.'
'I wish I was drinking the well-water
When I drank of the ale,
Before a shepherd's daughter
Would tell me such a tale.'
He got her on a milk-white steed,
Himself upon a grey,
Then on a day . . .
This couple rode away.
It's when they were coming by the nettle-bush,
She said, So well may you grow!
For many a day my mammy and me
Hae pickled at your pow.
When they cam by the mill-door, she said,
So well may you clatter!
For many a day my mammy and me
Pickled at your happer.
When they came to the king's court,
They reckoned up their kin;
She was a king's one dochter,
And he but a blacksmith's son.

L[edit]

L.* * * *
'I LEARNED it in my father's bower,
And I learned it for the better,
That every water I coudna wade,
I swam it like an otter,
With my low silver ee.
'I learned it in my father's bower,
And I learned it for my weel,
That every water I coudna wade,
I swam it like an eel.'

  • * * * *

And he cam hirpling on a stick,
And leaning on a tree:
'Be he cripple, or be he blind,
The same man is he.'

M[edit]

There was a shepherd's daughter
Kept hogs upo yon hill,
By cam her a gentle knight,
And he would hae his will.
Whan his will o her he had,
[His will] as he had taen,
'Kind sir, for yer courtesy,
Will ye tell me yer name?'
'Some they ca me Jock,' he says,
'And some they ca me John;
But whan 'm in our king's court
Hitchcock is my name.'
They lady being well book-read
She spelt it oer again:
'Hitchcock in our king's court
Is Earl Richard at hame.'
He pat his leg out-oer his steed
And to the get he's gane;
She keltit up her green clothing,
And fast, fast followed him.
'Turn back, turn back, ye carl's daughter,
And dinna follow me;
It sets na carl's daughters
Kings' courts for to see.'
'Perhaps I am a cerl's daughter,
Perhaps I am nane,
But whan ye gat me in free forest
Ye might ha latten's alane.'
Whan they cam to yon wan water
That a' man does call Clyde,
He looket oer his left shuder,
Says, Fair may, will ye ride?
'I learnt it in my mother's bowr,
I wis I had learnt it better,
Whan I cam to wan water
To soom as does the otter.'
Or the knight was i the middle o the water,
The lady she was oer;
She took out a came o gold,
To came down her yellow hair.
'Whar gat ye that, ye cerl's daughter?
I pray ye tell to me:'
'I got it fra my mither,' she says,
'To beguil sick chaps as thee.'
Whan they cam to our king's court,
He rade it round about,
And he gade in at a shot-window,
And left the lady without.
She gade to our king hersel,
She fell low down upon her knee:
'There is a knight into your court
This day has robbed me.'
'Has he robbd ye o your goud?
Or o yer well-won fee?
Or o yer maidenhead,
The flower o yer body?'
'He has na robbd me o my goud,
For I ha nane to gee;
But he has robbd me o my maidenhead,
The flower o my body.'
'O wud ye ken the knight,' he says,
'If that ye did him see?'
'I wud him ken by his well-fared face
And the blyth blink o his ee.'
'An he be a married man,
High hanged sall he be,
And an he be a free man,
Well wedded to him ye's be,
Altho it be my brother Richie,
And I wiss it be no he.'
The king called on his merry young men,
By ane, by twa, by three;
Earl Richmond had used to be the first,
But the hindmost was he.
By that ye mith ha well kent
That the quilty man was he;
She took him by the milk-white hand,
Says, This same ane is he.
There was a brand laid down to her,
A brand but an a ring,
Three times she minted to the brand,
But she took up the ring;
A' that was in our king's court
Countet her a wise woman.
'I'll gi ye five hundred pounds,
To mak yer marriage we,
An ye'l turn back, ye cerl's daughter,
And fash nae mere wi me.'
'Gae keep yer five hundred pounds
To mak yer merriage we,
For I'll hae nathing but yersel
The king he promised me.'
'I'll gae ye one thousand pounds
To mak yer marriage we,
An ye'l turn back, ye cerl's daughter,
And fash nae mere wi me.'
'Gae keep yer one thousand pounds,
To mak yer merriage we,
For I'll hae nathing but yersel
The king he promised me.'
He took her down to yon garden,
And clothed her in the green;
Whan she cam up again,
Sh[e] was fairer than the queen.
They gad on to Mary kirk, and on to Mary quire,
The nettles they grew by the dyke:
'O, an my mither wer her[e],
So clean as she wud them pick!'
'I wiss I had druken water,' he says,
'Whan I drank the ale,
That ony cerl's daughter
Sud tell me sick a tale.'
'Perhaps I am a cerl's daughter,
Perhaps I am nane;
But whan ye gat me in free forest
Ye might ha latten's alane.
'Well mat this mill be,
And well mat the gae!
Mony a day they ha filled me pock
O the white meal and the gray.'
'I wiss I had druken water,' he says,
'When I drank the ale,
That ony cerl's daughter
Sud tell me sick a tale.'
'Perhaps I am a cerl's daughter,
Perhaps I am nane;
But whan ye gat me in free forest
Ye might ha latten's alane.
'Tak awa yer siller spoons,
Tak awa fra me,
An gae me the gude horn spoons,
It's what I'm used tee.
'O an my mukle dish wer here,
And sine we hit were fu,
I wud sup file I am saerd,
An sine lay down me head and sleep wi ony sow.'
'I wiss I had druken water,' he says,
'Whan I drank the ale,
That any cerl's daughter
Sud tell me sick a tale.'
'Perhaps I am a cerl's daughter,
Perhaps I am nane,
But whan ye gat me in free forest,
Ye might ha latten's alane.'
He took his hat in oer his face,
The tear blindit his ee;
She threw back her yellow locks,
And a light laughter leugh she.
'Bot an ye be a beggar geet,
As I trust well ye be,
Whar gat ye their fine clothing
Yer body was covered we?'
'My mother was an ill woman,
And an ill woman was she;
She gat them . . . .
Fra sic chaps as thee.'
Whan bells were rung, and mess was sung,
And aa man bound to bed,
Earl Richard and the carl's daughter
In a chamer were laid.
'Lie yont, lie yont, ye carl's daughter,
Yer hot skin burns me;
It sets na carl's daughters
In earls' beds to be.'
'Perhaps I am a carl's daughter,
Perhaps I am nane;
But whan ye gat me in free forest
Ye might ha latten's alane.'
Up it starts the Belly Blin,
Just at their bed-feet.
'I think it is a meet marrige
Atween the taen and the tither,
The Earl of Hertford's ae daughter
And the Queen of England's brither.'
'An this be the Earl of Hertford's ae daughter,
As I trust well it be,
Mony a gude horse ha I ridden
For the love o thee.'

N[edit]

Ther was a sheperd's daughter
Keeped hogs upon yon hill,
An by came [t]her a gentell knight,
An he wad haa his will.
Fan his will
Of her he had taiin,
'Kind sir, for your curtisy,
Will ye tell me yer name?'
'Some they caa me Joke,
An some caa me John,
Bat fan I am in our king's court
Hichkoke is my name.'
The lady bieng well book-read
She spealled it our agen:
'Hichkoke in Latin
Is Earl Richerd att heam.'
He patt his liag out-our his stead
An to the gate has gain;
She kilted up her green clathing
An fast folloued she.
'Turn back, ye carl's dother,
An dinn follou me;
It setts no carl's dothers
King's courts to see.'
'Perhaps I am a carle's dother,
Perhaps I am nean,
Bat fan ye gat me in free forest
Ye sud haa latten alean.'
Fan they came to yon wan water
That a' man cas Clide,
He luked our his left shoulder,
Says, Fair maid, will ye ride?
'I learned it in my mother's bour,
I watt I learned it well,
Fan I came to wan water
To soum as dos the eall.
'I learned it in my mother's bour,
I wiss I had learned it better,
Fan I came to wan watter
To sume as dos the otter.'
She touk a golden comb,
Combed out her yallou hear,
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
'Far gatt ye that, ye carl's dother,
I pray ye tell to me;'
'I gatt it fra my mither,' she says,
'To begulle sick sparks as ye.'
'Gin ye be a carl's gett,
As I trou well ye be,
Far gatt ye a' that fine clothing,
To cloath yer body we?'
'My mother was an ill woman,
An ill woman was she,
An she gatt a' that fine clathing,
Frae sick chaps as ye.'
Fan they came to our king's court,
She fell lou doun on her knee:
'Win up, ye fair may,
What may ye want we me?'
'Ther is a knight in your court
This day has robbed me.'
'Has he robbed you of your goud?
Or of your whit monie?
Or of your meadnhead,
The flour of your body?'
'He has no robbed me of my goud,
Nor yet of my fiee,
Bat he has robed me of my madinhead,
The flour of my body.'
'Wad ye keen the knight,
If ye did him see?'
'I wad keen him well by his well-fared face
An the blieth blink of his eay.'
An sighan says the king,
I wiss it bin my brother Richie!
The king called on his merry men a',
By an, by tua, by three;
Earl Richerd had ay ben the first,
Bat the last man was he.
By that ye might a well kent
The gulty man was he;
She took him by the hand,
Says, That same is hee.
Ther was a brand laid doun to her,
A brand batt an a ring,
Three times she minted to the brand,
Bat she took up the ring;
A' that was in the court
'S counted her a wise woman.
'I will gee ye five hundred pound,
To make yer marrage we,
An ye gie hame, ye carl's dother,
An fash na mare we me.'
'Ye keep yer five hundred pound,
To make yer marreg we,
For I will ha nathing bat yer sell,
The king he promised me.'
'I ill gee ye a thousand poun,
To make yer marrage we,
An ye gae hame, ye carl's gett,
An fash na mare we me.'
'Ye keep yer thousand pound,
To make yer marreg we,
For I ill ha nathing batt yer sell,
The king he promised me.'
He toke her doun
An clothed her in green;
Fan she cam up,
She was fairer then the quin.
Fan they gaid to Mary Kirk,
The nettels grue by dike:
'O gin my midder war hear,
Sai clean as she wad them peak!'
He drue his hat out-our his eayn,
The tear blinded his eay;
She drue back her yallou loaks,
An a light laughter luke she.
Fan she came by yon mill-toun,
. . . . . .
'O well may the mill goo,
An well matt she be!
For aften ha ye filled my poke
We the whit meall an the gray.'
'I wiss I had druken the water
Fan I drank the aill,
Or any carl's dother
Suld ha tald me siken a teall.'
'Perhaps I am a carl's dother,
Perhaps I am nean;
Fan ye gatt me in frie forest,
Ye sud ha latten alean.

  • * * * * *

'Take awa yer silver spons,
Far awa fra me,
An ye gee me t[he] ram-horn [s]pons,
Them I am best used we.
'Ye take awa yer tabel-cloths,
Far awa fra me,
An ye gee me a mukell dish
I am best used we.
'For if I had my mukel dish hear,
An sayn an it war fou,
I wad sup till I war sared,
An sayn lay doun my head an slep like ony sou.
'Ye take away yer hollan shits,
Far awa fra me,
An ye bring me a cannas,
It's the thing I ben eased we.'
Fan bells wer rung, an mess was sung,
An a' man boun to bed,
Earl Richerd an the carl's dother
In a bed [were laid].
'Lay yond, lay yond, ye carl's dother,
Your hot skin . . me;
It setts na carl's dothers
In earls' beds to be.'
'Perhaps I am a carl's dother,
Perhaps I am nean;
Bat fan ye gat me in free forest
Ye might a latten alean.'
Up starts the Bellie Blind,
Att ther bed-head:
'I think it is a meatt marrage
Betuen the ane an the eather,
The Earl of Heartfourds ae daughter
An the Quien of England's brother.'
'If this be the Earl of Heartfourd's ae doughter,
As I trust well it be,
Mony a gued hors have I redden
For the love of the.'

O[edit]

There was a shepherd's daughter
Who kept sheep on yon hill;
There came a young man riding by,
Who swore he'd have his will.
b]Fol lol lay
Fol lol di diddle lol di day
He took her by the lilly-white hand
And by her silken sleeve,
Or tell to me your name.
'Oh, some they call me Jack, sweetheart,
And some they call me Will,
But when I ride the king's high-gate
My name is sweet William.'
.j]But name,

P[edit]

'Tis said a shepherd's ae daughter
Kept sheep upon a hill,
An by there cam a courteous knight,
An he wad hae his will.
He's taen her by the milk-white hand
An by the grass-green sleeve,
He's laid her doon at the fit o a bush,
An neer ance speired her leave.