Part 4

3. O word’s gaen to the mighty mayor, As he sail’d on the sea, That the clerk’s twa sons o’ Owsenford Wi’ his twa daughters lay.

4. ‘If they hae lain wi’ my twa daughters, Meg and Marjorie, The morn, or I taste meat or drink, They shall be hangit hie.’

5. O word’s gaen to the clerk himself, As he sat drinkin’ wine, That his twa sons in fair Parish Were bound in prison strong.

6. Then up and spak the clerk’s ladye, And she spak pow’rfully: ‘O tak with ye a purse of gold, Or take with ye three, And if ye canna get William, Bring Andrew hame to me.’

7. ‘O lye ye here for owsen, dear sons, Or lie ye here for kye? Or what is it that ye lie for, Sae sair bound as ye lie?’

8. ‘We lie not here for owsen, dear father, Nor yet lie here for kye; But it’s for a little o’ dear-bought love Sae sair bound as we lye.’

9. O he’s gane to the mighty mayor And he spake powerfully:

‘Will ye grant me my twa sons’ lives, Either for gold or fee? Or will ye be sae gude a man As grant them baith to me?’

10. ‘I’ll no’ grant ye yere twa sons’ lives, Neither for gold or fee, Nor will I be sae gude a man As gie them back to thee; Before the morn at twelve o’clock Ye’ll see them hangit hie.’

11. Up and spak his twa daughters, And they spak pow’rfully: ‘Will ye grant us our twa loves’ lives, Either for gold or fee? Or will ye be sae gude a man As grant them baith to me?’

12. ‘I ‘ll no’ grant ye yere twa loves’ lives, Neither for gold or fee, Nor will I be sae gude a man As grant their lives to thee; Before the morn at twelve o’clock Ye’ll see them hangit hie.’

13. O he’s ta’en out these proper youths, And hang’d them on a tree, And he’s bidden the clerk o’ Owsenford Gang hame to his ladie.

14. His lady sits on yon castle-wa’, Beholding dale and doun, An’ there she saw her ain gude lord Come walkin’ to the toun.

15. ‘Ye’re welcome, welcome, my ain gude lord, Ye’re welcome hame to me; But where away are my twa sons? Ye should hae brought them wi’ ye.’

16. ‘It’s I’ve putten them to a deeper lair, An’ to a higher schule; Yere ain twa sons ’ill no’ be here Till the hallow days o’ Yule.’

17. ‘O sorrow, sorrow, come mak’ my bed, An’ dool come lay me doon! For I’ll neither eat nor drink, Nor set a fit on ground.’

18. The hallow days of Yule are come, The nights are lang and dark; An’ in an’ cam’ her ain twa sons, Wi’ their hats made o’ the bark.

19. ‘O eat an’ drink, my merry men a’, The better shall ye fare, For my twa sons the[y] are come hame To me for evermair.’

20. She has gaen an’ made their bed, An’ she’s made it saft an’ fine, An’ she’s happit them wi’ her gay mantel, Because they were her ain.

21. O the young cock crew i’ the merry Linkem, An’ the wild fowl chirp’d for day; The aulder to the younger did say, ‘Dear brother, we maun away.’

22. ‘Lie still, lie still, a little wee while, Lie still but if we may; For gin my mother miss us away, She’ll gae mad or it be day.’

23. O it’s they’ve ta’en up their mother’s mantel, And they’ve hang’d it on the pin: ‘O lang may ye hing, my mother’s mantel, Or ye hap us again!’

[Annotations: 1.4: ‘lair,’ lesson. Cp. 16.1. 7.1 etc.: ‘owsen,’ oxen. 17.2: ‘dool,’ grief. 18: Here begins _The Wife of Usher’s Well_ in a variant. 20.3: ‘happit,’ wrapped. 21.1: ‘Linkem,’ perhaps a stock ballad-locality, like ‘Lin,’ etc. See First Series, Introduction, p. 1.]

THE WIFE OF USHER’S WELL

1. There lived a wife at Usher’s Well, And a wealthy wife was she; She had three stout and stalwart sons, And sent them o’er the sea.

2. They hadna been a week from her, A week but barely ane, When word came to the carline wife That her three sons were gane.

3. They hadna been a week from her, A week but barely three, When word came to the carlin wife, That her sons she’d never see.

4. ‘I wish the wind may never cease, Nor fishes in the flood, Till my three sons come hame to me, In earthly flesh and blood.’

5. It fell about the Martinmass, When nights are lang and mirk, The carlin wife’s three sons came hame, And their hats were o’ the birk.

6. It neither grew in syke nor ditch, Nor yet in ony sheugh; But at the gates o’ Paradise That birk grew fair eneugh. ... ... ...

7. ‘Blow up the fire, my maidens, Bring water from the well; For a’ my house shall feast this night, Since my three sons are well.’

8. And she has made to them a bed, She’s made it large and wide, And she’s ta’en her mantle her about, Sat down at the bedside. ... ... ...

9. Up then crew the red, red cock, And up and crew the gray; The eldest to the youngest said, ‘’Tis time we were away.’

10. The cock he hadna craw’d but once, And clapp’d his wings at a’, Whan the youngest to the eldest said, ‘Brother, we must awa’.

11. ‘The cock doth craw, the day doth daw, The channerin’ worm doth chide; Gin we be mist out o’ our place, A sair pain we maun bide.

12. ‘Fare-ye-weel, my mother dear! Fareweel to barn and byre! And fare-ye-weel, the bonny lass That kindles my mother’s fire!’ ... ... ...

[Annotations: 2.3: ‘carline,’ old woman. 5.4: ‘birk,’ birch. 6.1: ‘syke,’ marsh. 6.2: ‘sheugh,’ ditch. 11.2: ‘channerin’,’ fretting.]

THE GREAT SILKIE OF SULE SKERRIE

+The Text+ was communicated to the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland by Captain F. W. L. Thomas, who took it down from the dictation of an old woman of Shetland.

+The Story+ is concerned with the Finn-myth. The Finns live in the depths of the sea. ‘Their transfiguration into seals seems to be more a kind of deception they practise. For the males are described as most daring boatmen, with powerful sweep of the oar, who chase foreign vessels on the sea.... By means of a “skin” which they possess, the men and the women among them are able to change themselves into seals. But on shore, after having taken off the wrappage, they are, and behave like, real human beings.... Many a Finn woman has got into the power of a Shetlander, and borne children to him; but if the Finn woman succeeded in re-obtaining her sea-skin, or seal-skin, she escaped across the water’ (Karl Blind in the _Contemporary Review_, September 1881, pp. 399-400). The same writer, in quoting a verse of this ballad, says, ‘Shöol Skerry means Seal’s Isle.’ The whole article is of great interest.

‘G. S. L.,’ the author of _Shetland Fireside Tales, or the Hermit of Trosswickness_ (1877), remarks: ‘The belief that witches and wizards came from the coast of Norway disguised as seals was entertained by many of the Shetland peasantry even so late as the beginning of the present century.’ He goes on to prove the supernatural character of seals by relating an exploit of his own, in which a gun pointed at a seal refused to go off.

Sule Skerrie is a lonely islet to the north-east of Cape Wrath, about as far therefrom as from the Shetland Isles.

Another version of this ballad, unknown to Child, is given in the Appendix.

THE GREAT SILKIE OF SULE SKERRIE

1. An eartly nourris sits and sings, And aye she sings, ‘Ba, lily wean! Little ken I my bairnis father, Far less the land that he staps in.’

2. Then ane arose at her bed-fit. An’ a grumly guest I’m sure was he: ‘Here am I, thy bairnis father, Although that I be not comelie.

3. ‘I am a man, upo’ the lan’, An’ I am a silkie in the sea; And when I’m far and far frae lan’, My dwelling is in Sule Skerrie.’

4. ‘It was na weel,’ quo’ the maiden fair, ‘It was na weel, indeed,’ quo’ she, ‘That the Great Silkie of Sule Skerrie Suld hae come and aught a bairn to me.’

5. Now he has ta’en a purse of goud, And he has pat it upo’ her knee, Sayin’, ‘Gie to me my little young son, An’ tak thee up thy nourris-fee.

6. ‘An’ it sall come to pass on a simmer’s day, When the sin shines het on evera stane, That I will tak my little young son, An’ teach him for to swim the faem.

7. ‘An’ thu sall marry a proud gunner, An’ a proud gunner I’m sure he’ll be, An’ the very first schot that ere he schoots, He’ll schoot baith my young son and me.’

[Annotations: 1.1: ‘nourris,’ nurse, nursing-mother. 2.2: ‘grumly,’ muddy, dreggy. --Jamieson. 3.2: ‘silkie,’ seal. 4.4: ‘aught,’ have.]

CLERK SANDERS

+The Text+ is given in full from Herd’s MSS., where it concludes with a version of _Sweet William’s Ghost_; and the last three stanzas, 42-44, are from Scott’s later version of the ballad (1833) from recitation. Child divides the ballad as follows:-- _Clerk Sanders_, 1-26 of the present version; _Sweet William’s Ghost_, 27-41. Scott made ‘one or two conjectural emendations in the arrangement of the stanzas.’

+The Story+ of this admirable ballad in its various forms is paralleled in one or two of its incidents by a similar collection of Scandinavian ballads. Jamieson introduced into his version certain questions and answers (of the prevaricating type found in a baser form in _Our Goodman_) which are professedly of Scandinavian origin.

CLERK SANDERS

1. Clark Sanders and May Margret Walkt ower yon gravel’d green; And sad and heavy was the love, I wat, it fell this twa between.

2. ‘A bed, a bed,’ Clark Sanders said, ‘A bed, a bed, for you and I:’ ‘Fye no, fye no,’ the lady said, ‘Until the day we married be.

3. ‘For in it will come my seven brothers, And a’ their torches burning bright; They’ll say, We hae but ae sister, And here her lying wi’ a knight.’

4. ‘Ye’l take the sourde fray my scabbord, And lowly, lowly lift the gin, And you may say, your oth to save, You never let Clerk Sanders in.

5. ‘Yele take a napken in your hand, And ye’l ty up baith your een, An’ ye may say, your oth to save, That ye saw na Sandy sen late yestreen.

6. ‘Yele take me in your armes twa, Yele carrey me ben into your bed, And ye may say, your oth to save, In your bower-floor I never tread.’

7. She has ta’en the sourde fray his scabbord. And lowly, lowly lifted the gin; She was to swear, her oth to save, She never let Clerk Sanders in.

8. She has tain a napkin in her hand, And she ty’d up baith her een; She was to swear, her oth to save, She saw na him sene late yestreen.

9. She has ta’en him in her armes twa, And carried him ben into her bed; She was to swear, her oth to save, He never in her bower-floor tread.

10. In and came her seven brothers, And all their torches burning bright; Says thay, We hae but ae sister, And see there her lying wi’ a knight.

11. Out and speaks the first of them, ‘A wat they hay been lovers dear;’ Out and speaks the next of them, ‘They hay been in love this many a year.’

12. Out an’ speaks the third of them, ‘It wear great sin this twa to twain;’ Out an’ speaks the fourth of them, ‘It wear a sin to kill a sleeping man.’

13. Out an’ speaks the fifth of them, ‘A wat they’ll near be twain’d by me;’ Out an’ speaks the sixt of them, ‘We’l tak our leave an’ gae our way.’

14. Out an’ speaks the seventh of them, ‘Altho’ there wear no a man but me, I’se bear the brand into my hand Shall quickly gar Clark Sanders die.’

15. Out he has ta’en a bright long brand, And he has striped it throw the straw, And throw and throw Clarke Sanders’ body A wat he has gard cold iron gae.

16. Sanders he started, an’ Margret she lapt Intill his arms where she lay; And well and wellsom was the night, A wat it was between these twa.

17. And they lay still, and sleeped sound, Untill the day began to daw; And kindly till him she did say, ‘It is time, trew-love, ye wear awa’.’

18. They lay still, and sleeped sound, Untill the sun began to shine; She lookt between her and the wa’, And dull and heavy was his een.

19. She thought it had been a loathsome sweat, A wat it had fallen this twa between; But it was the blood of his fair body, A wat his life days wair na lang.

20. ‘O Sanders, I’le do for your sake What other ladys would na thoule; When seven years is come and gone, There’s near a shoe go on my sole.

21. ‘O Sanders, I’le do for your sake What other ladies would think mare; When seven years is come and gone, There’s nere a comb go in my hair.

22. ‘O Sanders, I’le do for your sake, What other ladies would think lack; When seven years is come and gone, I’le wear nought but dowy black.’

23. The bells gaed clinking throw the towne, To carry the dead corps to the clay; An’ sighing says her May Margret, ‘A wat I bide a doulfou’ day.’

24. In an’ come her father dear, Stout steping on the floor; ... ... ... ... ... ...

25. ‘Hold your toung, my doughter dear, Let a’ your mourning a-bee; I’le carry the dead corps to the clay, An’ I’le come back an’ comfort thee.’

26. ‘Comfort well your seven sons; For comforted will I never bee; For it was neither lord nor loune That was in bower last night wi’ mee.’

27. Whan bells war rung, an’ mass was sung, A wat a’ man to bed were gone, Clark Sanders came to Margret’s window, With mony a sad sigh and groan.

28. ‘Are ye sleeping, Margret?’ he says, ‘Or are ye waking presentlie? Give me my faith and trouthe again, A wat, trew-love, I gied to thee.’

29. ‘Your faith and trouth ye’s never get, Nor our trew love shall never twain, Till ye come with me in my bower, And kiss me both cheek and chin.’

30. ‘My mouth it is full cold, Margret, It has the smell now of the ground; And if I kiss thy comely mouth, Thy life days will not be long.

31. ‘Cocks are crowing a merry mid-larf, I wat the wild fule boded day; Gie me my faith and trouthe again. And let me fare me on my way.’

32. ‘Thy faith and trouth thou shall na get, And our trew love shall never twin, Till ye tell me what comes of women A wat that dy’s in strong traveling?’

33. ‘Their beds are made in the heavens high, Down at the foot of our good Lord’s knee, Well set about wi’ gillyflowers: A wat sweet company for to see.

34. ‘O, cocks are crowing a merry mid-larf, A wat the wilde foule boded day; The salms of Heaven will be sung, And ere now I’le be misst away.’

35. Up she has tain a bright long wand, And she has straked her trouth thereon; She has given [it] him out at the shot-window, Wi’ many a sad sigh and heavy groan.

36. ‘I thank you, Margret; I thank you, Margret, And I thank you heartilie; Gin ever the dead come for the quick, Be sure, Margret, I’ll come again for thee.’

37. It’s hose an’ shoon an’ gound alane, She clame the wall and follow’d him, Until she came to a green forest, On this she lost the sight of him.

38. ‘Is there any room at your head, Sanders? Is there any room at your feet? Or any room at your twa sides, Whare fain, fain woud I sleep?’

39. ‘Thair is na room at my head, Margret, Thair is na room at my feet; There is room at my twa sides, For ladys for to sleep.

40. ‘Cold meal is my covering owre, But an’ my winding sheet; My bed it is full low, I say, Down among the hongerey worms I sleep.

41. ‘Cold meal is my covering owre, But an’ my winding sheet; The dew it falls na sooner down Then ay it is full weet.

42. ‘But plait a wand o’ bonny birk, And lay it on my breast; And shed a tear upon my grave, And wish my saul gude rest.

43. ‘And fair Margret, and rare Margret, And Margret o’ veritie, Gin e’er ye love another man, Ne’er love him as ye did me.’

44. Then up and crew the milk-white cock, And up and crew the grey; The lover vanish’d in the air, And she gaed weeping away.

[Annotations: 1.2: ‘gravel’d green’; probably corrupt: perhaps a green with gravelled walks. 1.4: ‘I wat’; cp. 11.2, 13.2, 15.4, etc. 4.2: ‘gin,’ altered in the MS. to ‘pin.’ In either case, it ... part of the door-latch. 6.2: ‘ben,’ within. 12.2: ‘twain,’ separate. 15: Cp. _The Bonny Birdy_, 15.1-4 (First Series, p. 28). 15.2: ‘striped,’ whetted. See First Series, Introduction, pp. xlix-l. 16.3: ‘well and wellsom,’ probably a corruption of ‘wae and waesome,’ sad and woful. 20.2: ‘thoule,’ endure. 22.2: ‘lack,’ discredit. 22.4: ‘dowy,’ mournful. 30.3,4: Cp. _The Unquiet Grave_, 5.3,4. 31.1: ‘mid-larf,’ probably corrupt: changed by Scott to ‘midnight.’ The meaning is unknown. 35.3: ‘shot-window,’ a window which opens and shuts. See First Series, Introduction, p. 1. 40.1: ‘meal,’ mould, earth.]

YOUNG HUNTING

+The Text+ is given from two copies in Herd’s MSS. as collated by Child, with the exception of two lines, 9.3,4, which are taken from a third and shorter copy in Herd’s MSS., printed by him in the _Scottish Songs_. Scott’s ballad, _Earl Richard_, is described by him as made up from the above-mentioned copies of Herd, with some trivial alterations adopted from tradition--a totally inadequate account of wholesale alterations. Scott also gives a similar ballad in _Lord William_.

+The Story.+--Young Hunting, a king’s son, tells a former mistress that he has a new sweetheart whom he loves thrice as well. The lady conceals her anger, plies him with wine, and slays him in his drunken sleep. Her deed unluckily is overseen by a bonny bird, whom she attempts to coax into captivity, but fails. She dresses Young Hunting for riding, and throws him into the Clyde. The king his father asks for him. She swears by corn (see First Series, _Glasgerion_, p. 1) that she has not seen him since yesterday at noon. The king’s divers search for him in vain, until the bonny bird reminds them of the method of finding a drowned corpse by the means of candles. The lady still denies her guilt, and accuses her maid ‘Catheren,’ but the bonfire refuses to consume the innocent Catheren. When the real culprit is put in, she burns like hoky-gren.

The discovery of a drowned body by candles is a recognised piece of folklore. Usually the candle is stuck in a loaf of bread or on a cork, and set afloat in the river; sometimes a hole is cut in a loaf of bread and mercury poured in to weight it; even a chip of wood is used. The superstition still survives. The most rational explanation offered is that as eddies in rapid streams form deep pools, in which a body might easily be caught, so a floating substance indicates the place by being caught in the centre of the eddy.

The failure of the fire to burn an innocent maid is also, of course, a well-known incident.

YOUNG HUNTING

1. ‘O Lady, rock never your young son young One hour longer for me, For I have a sweetheart in Garlick’s Wells I love thrice better than thee.

2. ‘The very sols of my love’s feet Is whiter then thy face:’ ‘But nevertheless na, Young Hunting, Ye’l stay wi’ me all night.’

3. She has birl’d in him Young Hunting The good ale and the beer, Till he was as fou drunken As any wild-wood steer.

4. She has birl’d in him Young Hunting The good ale and the wine, Till he was as fou drunken As any wild-wood swine.

5. Up she has tain him Young Hunting, And she has had him to her bed, ... ... ... ... ... ...

6. And she has minded her on a little penknife, That hangs low down by her gare, And she has gin him Young Hunting A deep wound and a sare.

7. Out an’ spake the bonny bird, That flew abon her head: ‘Lady, keep well thy green clothing Fra that good lord’s blood.’

8. ‘O better I’ll keep my green clothing Fra that good lord’s blood, Nor thou can keep thy flattering toung, That flatters in thy head.

9. ‘Light down, light down, my bonny bird, Light down upon my hand, And ye sail hae a cage o’ the gowd Where ye hae but the wand.

10. ‘O siller, O siller shall be thy hire, An’ goud shall be thy fee, An’ every month into the year Thy cage shall changed be.’

11. ‘I winna light down, I shanna light down, I winna light on thy hand; For soon, soon wad ye do to me As ye done to Young Hunting.’

12. She has booted and spir’d him Young Hunting As he had been gan to ride, A hunting-horn about his neck, An’ the sharp sourd by his side; And she has had him to yon wan water, For a’ man calls it Clyde.

13. The deepest pot intill it a’ She has puten Young Hunting in; A green truff upon his breast, To hold that good lord down.

14. It fell once upon a day The king was going to ride, And he sent for him Young Hunting, To ride on his right side.

15. She has turn’d her right and round about, She sware now by the corn: ‘I saw na thy son, Young Hunting, Sen yesterday at morn.’

16. She has turn’d her right and round about, She sware now by the moon: ‘I saw na thy son, Young Hunting, Sen yesterday at noon.

17. ‘It fears me sair in Clyde Water That he is drown’d therein:’ O they ha’ sent for the king’s duckers To duck for Young Hunting.

18. They ducked in at the tae water-bank, They ducked out at the tither: ‘We’ll duck no more for Young Hunting All tho’ he wear our brother.’

19. Out an’ spake the bonny bird, That flew abon their heads: ... ... ... ... ... ...

20. ‘O he’s na drown’d in Clyde Water, He is slain and put therein; The lady that lives in yon castil Slew him and put him in.

21. ‘Leave aff your ducking on the day, And duck upon the night; Whear ever that sakeless knight lys slain, The candels will shine bright.’

22. Thay left off their ducking o’ the day, And ducked upon the night, And where that sakeless knight lay slain, The candles shone full bright.

23. The deepest pot intill it a’ Thay got Young Hunting in; A green turff upon his brest, To hold that good lord down.

24. O thay hae sent aff men to the wood To hew down baith thorn an’ fern, That they might get a great bonefire To burn that lady in. ‘Put na the wyte on me,’ she says, ‘It was her May Catheren.’

25. Whan thay had tane her May Catheren, In the bonefire set her in, It wad na take upon her cheeks, Nor take upon her chin, Nor yet upon her yallow hair, To healle the deadly sin.

26. Out they hae tain her May Catheren And they hay put that lady in; O it took upon her cheek, her cheek, An’ it took upon her chin, An’ it took on her fair body, She burnt like hoky-gren.

[Annotations: 3.1: ‘birl’d,’ poured; ‘him,’ _i.e._ for him. 4.4: See First Series, _Brown Robin_, 7.4; _Fause Footrage_, 16.4; and Introduction, p. li. 6.2: ‘gare,’ part of the dress. See First Series, Introduction, p. 1. 8.3: ‘flattering,’ wagging. 9.4: ‘wand,’ wood, wicker. 13.1: ‘pot,’ pot-hole: a hole scooped by the action of the stream in the rock-bed of a river. 13.3: ‘truff’ = turf. 17.3: ‘duckers,’ divers. 21.3: ‘sakeless,’ innocent. 24.5: ‘wyte,’ blame. 24.6: ‘May,’ maid. 26.6: ‘hoky-gren’; ‘gren’ is a bough or twig; ‘hoakie,’ according to Jamieson, is a fire that has been covered up with cinders. ‘Hoky-gren,’ therefore, is perhaps a kind of charcoal. Scott substitutes ‘hollin green,’ green holly.]

THE THREE RAVENS

and

THE TWA CORBIES