The Book of Scottish Song/Captain Wedderburn
Captain Wedderburn.
[This diverting ditty was at one time very popular among the country people of Scotland. It can be traced no farther back than to the "New British Songster," a collection published at Falkirk in 1785.]
The Laird of Roslin's daughter
Walked through the wood her lane;
And by cam' Captain Wedderburn,
A servant to the king.
He said unto his serving man,
"Were't not against the law,
I wad tak' her to my ain bed,
And lay her neist the wa'."
"I am walking here alane," she says,
"Amang my father's trees;
And you must let me walk alane,
Kind sir, now, if you please:
The supper bell it will be rung,
And I'll be missed awa';
Sae I winna lie in your bed,
Either at stock or wa'."
He says, "My pretty lady,
I pray, lend me your hand,
And ye'll ha'e drums and trumpets
Always at your command;
And fifty men to guard you with,
That well their swords can draw;
Sae we'se baith lie in ae bed,
And ye'se lie neist the wa'."
"Haud awa' frae me," she said,
"And pray let gae my hand:
The supper bell it will be rung,
I can nae langer stand;
My father he will angry be,
Gin I be missed awa',
Sae I'll nae lie in your bed,
Either at stock or wa'."
Then said the pretty lady,
"I pray tell me your name?"
"My name is Captain Wedderburn,
A servant to the king.
Though thy father and his men were here,
O' them I'd have nae awe;
But wad tak' you to my ain bed,
And lay you neist the wa'."
He lichtit aff his milk-white steed,
And set this lady on;
And, a' the way he walked on foot,
He held her by the hand.
He held her by the middle jimp,
For fear that she should fa'.
To tak' her to his ain bed,
And lay her neist the wa'.
He took her to his lodging-house;
His landlady looked ben;
Says, "Mony a pretty lady
In Edinbruch I've seen;
But sic a lovely face as thine
In it I never saw,
Gae mak' her down a down-bed,
And lay her at the wa'."
"O haud away frae me," she says;
"I pray you let me be;
I winna gang to your bed,
Till ye dress me dishes three:
Dishes three ye maun dress me,
Gin I should eat them a',
Afore that I lie in your bed,
Either at stock or wa'.
It's ye maun get to my supper
A cherry without a stane;
And ye maun get to my supper
A chicken without a bane;
And ye maun get to my supper
A bird without a ga';
Or I winna lie in your bed,
Either at stock or wa'."
"It's when the cherry is in the blume,
I'm sure it has nae stane;
And when the chicken's in the egg,
I wat it has nae bane;
And, sin' the flood o' Noah,
The doo she had nae ga';
Sae we'll baith lie in ae bed,
And ye'se lie neist the wa'."
"O haud your tongue, young man," she says,
"Nor that gate me perplex;
For ye maun tell me questions yet,
And that is questions six
Questions six ye'll tell to me,
And that is three times twa,
Afore I lie in your bed,
Either at stock or wa'.
What's greener than the greenest grass?
What's hicher than the trees?
What's waur nor an ill woman's wish?
What's deeper than the seas?
What bird sings first? and whereupon
First doth the dew down fa'?
Ye sall tell afore I lay me doun,
Either at stock or wa'."
"Vergris is greener than the grass;
Heaven's hicher than the trees;
The deil's waur nor a woman's wish;
Hell's deeper than the seas;
The cock crows first; on cedar tap
The dew down first doth fa';
Sae we'll baith lie in ae bed,
And ye'se lie neist the wa'."
"O had your tongue, young man," she says
"And gi'e your fleechin' ower,
Unless ye find me ferlies,
And that is ferlies four,
Ferlies four ye maun find me,
And that is twa and twa;
Or I'll never lie in your bed,
Either at stock or wa'.
It's ye maun get to me a plum
That in December grew;
And ye maun get a silk mantel,
That waft was ne'er ca'd through;
A sparrow's horn; a priest unborn,
This night to join us twa;
Or I'll nae lie in your bed,
Either at stock or wa'."
"My father he has winter fruit,
That in December grew;
My mother has an Indian gown,
That waft was ne'er ca'd through;
A sparrow's horn is quickly found;
There's ane on every claw,
And twa upon the neb o' him;
And ye shall get them a'.
The priest, he's standing at the door,
Just ready to come in;
Nae man can say that he was born,
Nae man, unless he sin;
A wild boar tore his mother's side,
He out o' it did fa';
Sae we'll baith lie in ae bed,
And ye'll lie neist the wa'."
Little kenned Girzie Sinclair,
That morning when she rase,
That this wad be the hindermost
O' a' her maiden days.
But now there's no within the realm,
I think, a blyther twa;
And they baith lie in ae bed,
And she lies neist the wa'.