Chapter 5

+The Texts+ of these two variations on the same theme are taken from T. Ravenscroft’s _Melismata_, 1611, and Scott’s _Minstrelsy_, 1803, respectively. There are several other versions of the Scots ballad, while Motherwell prints _The Three Ravens_, changing only the burden.

Chappell (_Popular Music of the Olden Time_) says of the English version that he has been ‘favored with a variety of copies of it, written down from memory; and all differing in some respects, both as to words and tune, but with sufficient resemblance to prove a similar origin.’ Consciously or not, the ballad, as set by him to its traditional tune, is to be sung without the threefold repetition shown by Ravenscroft, thus compressing two verses of the ballad into each repetition of the tune, and halving the length of the song.

THE THREE RAVENS

1. There were three rauens sat on a tree, _Downe a downe, hay down, hay downe_ There were three rauens sat on a tree, _With a downe_ There were three rauens sat on a tree, They were as blacke as they might be. _With a downe derrie, derrie, derrie, downe, downe._

2. The one of them said to his mate, ‘Where shall we our breakefast take?’

3. ‘Downe in yonder greene field, There lies a knight slain vnder his shield.

4. ‘His hounds they lie downe at his feete, So well they can their master keepe,

5. ‘His haukes they flie so eagerly, There’s no fowle dare him come nie.’

6. Downe there comes a fallow doe, As great with yong as she might goe.

7. She lift vp his bloudy hed, And kist his wounds that were so red.

8. She got him vp vpon her backe, And carried him to earthen lake.

9. She buried him before the prime, She was dead her selfe ere euen-song time.

10. God send euery gentleman Such haukes, such hounds, and such a leman.

[Annotations: 9.1: ‘prime,’ the first hour of the day.]

THE TWA CORBIES

1. As I was walking all alane, I heard twa corbies making a mane, The tane unto the t’other say, ‘Where sall we gang and dine to-day?’

2. ‘In behint yon auld fail dyke, I wot there lies a new slain knight; And nae body kens that he lies there, But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair.

3. ‘His hound is to the hunting gane, His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame, His lady’s ta’en another mate, So we may mak’ our dinner sweet.

4. ‘Ye’ll sit on his white hause bane, And I’ll pike out his bonny blue een: Wi’ ae lock o’ his gowden hair, We’ll theek our nest when it grows bare.

5. ‘Mony a one for him makes mane, But nane sall ken whare he is gane: O’er his white banes, when they are bare, The wind sall blaw for evermair.’

[Annotations: 2.1: ‘fail dyke,’ turf wall. 4.1: ‘hause-bane,’ neck-bone. 4.4: ‘theek,’ thatch.]

YOUNG BENJIE

+The Text+ is given from Scott’s _Minstrelsy_ (1803). He remarks, ‘The ballad is given from tradition.’ No. 29 in the Abbotsford MS., ‘Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,’ is _Young Benjie_ (or Boonjie as there written) in thirteen stanzas, headed ‘From Jean Scott,’ and written in William Laidlaw’s hand. All of this except the first stanza is transferred, with or without changes, to Scott’s ballad, which is nearly twice as long.

+The Story+ of this ballad, simple in itself, introduces to us the elaborate question of the ‘lyke-wake,’ or the practice of watching through the night by the side of a corpse. More about this will be found under _The Lyke-Wake Dirge_, and in the Appendix at the end of this volume. Here it will suffice to quote Sir Walter Scott’s introduction:--

‘In this ballad the reader will find traces of a singular superstition, not yet altogether discredited in the wilder parts of Scotland. The lykewake, or watching a dead body, in itself a melancholy office, is rendered, in the idea of the assistants, more dismally awful, by the mysterious horrors of superstition. In the interval betwixt death and interment, the disembodied spirit is supposed to hover around its mortal habitation, and, if provoked by certain rites, retains the power of communicating, through its organs, the cause of its dissolution. Such enquiries, however, are always dangerous, and never to be resorted to unless the deceased is suspected to have suffered _foul play_, as it is called.... One of the most potent ceremonies in the charm, for causing the dead body to speak, is setting the door ajar, or half open. On this account, the peasants of Scotland sedulously avoid leaving the door ajar while a corpse lies in the house. The door must either be left wide open or quite shut; but the first is always preferred, on account of the exercise of hospitality usual on such occasions. The attendants must be likewise careful never to leave the corpse for a moment alone, or, if it is left alone, to avoid, with a degree of superstitious horror, the first sight of it.’ --(Ed. 1803, vol. iii. pp. 251-2.)

YOUNG BENJIE

1. Of a’ the maids o’ fair Scotland, The fairest was Marjorie; And young Benjie was her ae true love, And a dear true-love was he.

2. And wow! but they were lovers dear, And loved fu’ constantlie; But ay the mair when they fell out, The sairer was their plea.

3. And they hae quarrelled on a day, Till Marjorie’s heart grew wae, And she said she’d chuse another luve. And let young Benjie gae.

4. And he was stout, and proud hearted, And thought o’t bitterlie, And he’s gaen by the wan moon-light, To meet his Marjorie.

5. ‘O open, open, my true love! O open, and let me in!’ ‘I dare na open, young Benjie, My three brothers are within.

6. ‘Ye lied, ye lied, my bonny burd, Sae loud’s I hear ye lie; As I came by the Lowden banks, They bade gude e’en to me.

7. ‘But fare ye weel, my ae fause love, That I hae loved sae lang! It sets ye chuse another love, And let young Benjie gang.’

8. Then Marjorie turned her round about, The tear blinding her ee, ‘I darena, darena let thee in, But I’ll come down to thee.’

9. Then saft she smiled, and said to him, ‘O what ill hae I done?’ He took her in his armis twa, And threw her o’er the linn.

10. The stream was strang, the maid was stout, And laith laith to be dang, But, ere she wan the Lowden banks, Her fair colour was wan.

11. Then up bespak her eldest brother, ‘O see na ye what I see?’ And out then spak her second brother, ‘It’s our sister Marjorie!’

12. Out then spak her eldest brother, ‘O how shall we her ken?’ And out then spak her youngest brother, ‘There’s a honey mark on her chin.’

13. Then they’ve ta’en up the comely corpse, And laid it on the grund: ‘O wha has killed our ae sister, And how can he be found?

14. ‘The night it is her low lykewake, The morn her burial day, And we maun watch at mirk midnight, And hear what she will say.’

15. Wi’ doors ajar, and candle-light, And torches burning clear, The streikit corpse, till still midnight, They waked, but naething hear.

16. About the middle o’ the night, The cocks began to craw, And at the dead hour o’ the night, The corpse began to thraw.

17. ‘O wha has done the wrang, sister, Or dared the deadly sin? Wha was sae stout, and feared nae dout, As thraw ye o’er the linn?’

18. ‘Young Benjie was the first ae man, I laid my love upon; He was sae stout and proud-hearted, He threw me o’er the linn.’

19. ‘Sall we young Benjie head, sister, Sall we young Benjie hang, Or sall we pike out his twa gray een, And punish him ere he gang?’

20. ‘Ye mauna Benjie head, brothers, Ye mauna Benjie hang, But ye maun pike out his twa gray een, And punish him ere he gang.

21. ‘Tie a green gravat round his neck, And lead him out and in, And the best ae servant about your house, To wait young Benjie on.

22. ‘And ay, at every seven years’ end, Ye’ll tak him to the linn; For that’s the penance he maun drie, To scug his deadly sin.’

[Annotations: 2.4: ‘plea,’ quarrel. 7.3: ‘sets,’ befits. 9.4: ‘linn,’ stream. 10.3: ‘dang,’ overcome. 15.3: ‘streikit,’ stretched out. 15.4: ‘wake,’ watch. 16.4: ‘thraw,’ twist. 22.4: ‘scug,’ expiate.]

THE LYKE-WAKE DIRGE

+The Text+ is given _verbatim et literatim_ from John Aubrey’s MS. of his _Remains of Gentilisme & Judaisme_ (1686-7) in the Lansdowne MSS., No. 231, folio 114 _recto_ and _verso_. This text has often been printed before (see Appendix), but always with errors. The only change made here is the placing of Aubrey’s marginal notes among the footnotes: the spelling is Aubrey’s spelling. The present version was obtained by Aubrey in 1686 from an informant whose father had heard it sung sixty years previously.

Sir Walter Scott’s text, better known than Aubrey’s, presents very few variations, the chief being ‘sleete’ for ‘fleet’ in 1.3 (see below). This would seem to point to the fact that Scott obtained his version from a manuscript, and confused the antique ‘ſ’ (= s) with ‘f.’ A collation, incomplete and inexact, of the two texts is given by T. F. Henderson in his edition of the _Minstrelsy_ (1902), vol. iii. pp. 170-2.

+The Story.+--This dirge, of course, is not a ballad in the true sense of the word. But it is concerned with myths so widespread and ancient, that as much could be written about the dirge as almost any one of the ballads proper. I have added an Appendix at the end of this volume, to which those interested in the subject may refer. For the present, the following account may suffice.

Ritson found an illustration of this dirge in a manuscript letter, written by one signing himself ‘H. Tr.’ to Sir Thomas Chaloner, in the Cotton MSS. (Julius, F. vi., fols. 453-462). The date approximately is the end of the sixteenth century (Sir Thomas Chaloner the elder, 1521-1565; the younger, 1561-1615). The letter is concerned with antiquities in Durham and Yorkshire, especially near Guisborough, an estate of the Chaloner family. The sentence referring to the Lyke-Wake Dirge was printed by Scott, to whom it was communicated by Ritson’s executor after his death. It is here given as re-transcribed from the manuscript (f. 461 _verso_).

‘When any dieth, certaine women singe a songe to the dead body, recytinge the iorney that the partie deceased must goe, and they are of beleife (such is their fondnesse) that once in their liues yt is good to giue a payre of newe shoes to a poore man; forasmuch as after this life they are to pass barefoote through a greate launde full of thornes & furzen, excepte by the meryte of the Almes aforesaid they have redeemed their forfeyte; for at the edge of the launde an aulde man shall meete them with the same shoes that were giuen by the partie when he was liuinge, and after he hath shodde them he dismisseth them to goe through thicke and thin without scratch or scalle.’

The myth of Hell-shoon (Norse, _helsko_) appears under various guises in many folklores. (See Appendix.)

Sir Walter Scott, in printing ‘sleete’ in 1.3, said: ‘The word _sleet_, in the chorus,[1] seems to be corrupted from _selt_, or salt; a quantity of which, in compliance with a popular superstition, is frequently placed on the breast of a corpse.’ It is true that a superstition to this effect does exist: but ‘fleet’ is doubtless the right reading. Aubrey glosses it as ‘water’; but Murray has shown (_New English Dictionary, s.v._), by three quotations from wills dated between 1533 and 1570, that ‘fire and flet’ is an expression meaning simply ‘fire and house-room.’ ‘Flet,’ in short, is our modern ‘flat’ in an unspecialised and uncorrupted form.

[Footnote 1: Scott repeats the first stanza at the end of his version.]

THE LYKE-WAKE DIRGE

(Lansdowne MS., 231, fol. 114 _recto_.)

1. This ean night, this ean night, eve[r]y night and awle: Fire and Fleet and Candle-light and Christ recieve thy Sawle.

2. When thou from hence doest pass away every night and awle To Whinny-moor thou comest at last and Christ recieve thy [thy silly poor] Sawle.

3. If ever thou gave either hosen or shun every night and awle Sitt thee downe and putt them on and Christ recieve thy Sawle.

4. But if hosen nor shoon thou never gave nean every night &c: The Whinnes shall prick thee to the bare beane and Christ recieve thy Sawle.

5. From Whinny-moor that thou mayst pass every night &c: To Brig o’ Dread thou comest at last and Christ &c: [fol. 114 _verso_] no brader than a thread.

6. From Brig of Dread that thou mayst pass every night &c: To Purgatory fire thou com’st at last and Christ &c:

7. If ever thou gave either Milke or drinke every night &c: The fire shall never make thee shrink and Christ &c:

8. But if milk nor drink thou never gave nean every night &c: The Fire shall burn thee to the bare bane and Christ recive thy Sawle.

[Annotations: 1.1: ‘ean,’ one. 1.3: ‘Fleet,’ water. --_Aubrey’s marginal note._ See above. 2.3: Whin is a Furze. --_Aubrey_. 2.4: This line stands in the MS. as here printed. 3.1: Job cap. xxxi. 19. If I have seen any perish for want of cloathing, or any poor without covering: 20. If his loyns have not blessed me, and if he were not warmed with the fleece of my sheep, &c. --_Aubrey_. 3.3: There will be hosen and shoon for them. --_Aubrey_. 4.3: ‘beane.’ The ‘a’ was inserted by Aubrey after writing ‘bene.’ 6.1: ‘no brader than a thread.’ Written by Aubrey as here printed over the second half of the line. Probably it indicates a lost stanza. See Appendix. 8.3: ‘bane’ might be read ‘bene.’]

THE BONNY EARL OF MURRAY

+The Text+ is given from Allan Ramsay’s _Tea-Table Miscellany_, where it first appeared in the tenth edition (1740) in vol. iv. pp. 356-7. Child had not seen this, and gave his text from the eleventh edition of 1750. There is, however, scarcely any difference.

+The Story+ of the murder of the Earl of Murray by the Earl of Huntly in February 1592 is found in several histories and other accounts:-- _The History of the Church of Scotland_ (1655) by John Spottiswoode, Archbishop of Glasgow and of St. Andrews: _History of the Western Highlands and Isles of Scotland_ (1836) by Donald Gregory: _The History and Life of King James_ (the Sixth), ed. T. Thomson, Bannatyne Club, (1825): _Extracts from the Diarey of R[obert] B[irrel], Burges of Edinburgh_ (? 1820): and Sir Walter Scott’s _Tales of a Grandfather_. The following condensed account may suffice:--James Stewart, son of Sir James Stewart of Doune (‘Down,’ 6.2), Earl of Murray by his marriage with the heiress of the Regent Murray, ‘was a comely personage, of a great stature, and strong of body like a kemp,’ whence he was generally known as the Bonny Earl of Murray. In the last months of 1591, a rumour reached the King’s ears that the Earl of Murray had assisted in, or at least countenanced, the attack recently made on Holyrood House by Stewart, Earl of Bothwell; and Huntly was commissioned to arrest Murray and bring him to trial. Murray, apprehended at Donibristle (or Dunnibirsel), his mother the Lady Doune’s house, refused to surrender to his feudal enemy the Earl of Huntly, and the house was fired. Murray, after remaining behind the rest of his party, rushed out and broke through the enemy, but was subsequently discovered (by the plumes on his headpiece, which had caught fire) and mortally wounded. Tradition says that Huntly was compelled by his followers to incriminate himself in the deed, and struck the dying Murray in the face, whereat the bonny Earl said, ‘You have spoiled a better face than your own.’

THE BONNY EARL OF MURRAY

1. Ye Highlands and ye Lawlands, Oh! where have you been? They have slain the Earl of Murray, And they lay’d him on the green! _They have, &c._

2. Now wae be to thee, Huntly, And wherefore did you sae? I bade you bring him wi’ you, But forbade you him to slay. _I bade, &c._

3. He was a braw gallant, And he rid at the ring; And the bonny Earl of Murray, Oh! he might have been a King. _And the, &c._

4. He was a braw gallant, And he play’d at the ba’; And the bonny Earl of Murray Was the flower amang them a’. _And the, &c._

5. He was a braw gallant, And he play’d at the glove; And the bonny Earl of Murray, Oh! he was the Queen’s love. _And the, &c._

6. Oh! lang will his lady Look o’er the castle Down, E’er she see the Earl of Murray Come sounding thro’ the town. _E’er she, &c._

[Annotations: 3.2: A game of skill and horsemanship. 5.2: Probably like the last. 6.3: ‘E’er’ = ere.]

BONNIE GEORGE CAMPBELL

+The Text+ is from Motherwell’s _Minstrelsy_, pp. 44-5.

+The Story.+--Motherwell says it ‘is probably a lament for one of the adherents of the house of Argyle, who fell in the battle of Glenlivat, stricken on Thursday, the third day of October, 1594 years.’ Another suggestion is that it refers to a Campbell of Calder killed in a feud with Campbell of Ardkinglas, the murder being the result of the same conspiracy which brought the Bonny Earl of Murray to his death. Another version of the ballad, however, gives the name as James, and it is useless and unnecessary to particularise.

BONNIE GEORGE CAMPBELL

1. Hie upon Hielands And low upon Tay, Bonnie George Campbell Rade out on a day. Saddled and bridled And gallant rade he; Hame came his gude horse, But never cam he!

2. Out cam his auld mither Greeting fu’ sair, And out cam his bonnie bride Rivin’ her hair. Saddled and bridled And booted rade he; Toom hame cam the saddle, But never cam he!

3. ‘My meadow lies green, And my corn is unshorn; My barn is to big, And my babie’s unborn.’ Saddled and bridled And booted rade he; Toom hame cam the saddle, But never cam he!

[Annotations: 2.4: ‘rivin’,’ tearing. 2.7: ‘Toom,’ empty. 3.3: ‘is to big,’ remains to be built.]

THE LAMENT OF THE BORDER WIDOW

+The Text+ is given from Scott’s _Minstrelsy_ (1803), vol. iii. pp. 83-4. His introduction states that it was obtained from recitation in the Forest of Ettrick, and that it relates to the execution of a Border freebooter, named Cokburne, by James V., in 1529.

+The Story+ referred to above may have once existed in the ballad, but the lyrical dirge as it now stands is obviously corrupted with a broadside-ballad, _The Lady turned Serving-man_, given with ‘improvements’ by Percy (_Reliques_, 1765, vol. iii. p. 87, etc.). Compare the first three stanzas of the _Lament_ with stanzas 3, 4, and 5 of the broadside:--

3. And then my love built me a bower, Bedeckt with many a fragrant flower; A braver bower you never did see Than my true-love did build for me.

4. But there came thieves late in the night, They rob’d my bower, and slew my knight, And after that my knight was slain, I could no longer there remain.

5. My servants all from me did flye, In the midst of my extremity, And left me by my self alone, With a heart more cold then any stone.

It is of course impossible to compare the bald style of the broadside with the beautiful Scottish dirge; and the difficulty of clothing a bower with lilies, which offends Professor Child, may be disregarded.

THE LAMENT OF THE BORDER WIDOW

1. My love he built me a bonny bower, And clad it a’ wi’ lilye flour; A brawer bower ye ne’er did see, Than my true love he built for me.

2. There came a man, by middle day, He spied his sport, and went away; And brought the king, that very night, Who brake my bower, and slew my knight.

3. He slew my knight, to me sae dear; He slew my knight, and poin’d his gear; My servants all for life did flee, And left me in extremitie.

4. I sew’d his sheet, making my mane; I watched the corpse, myself alane; I watched his body, night and day; No living creature came that way.

5. I took his body on my back, And whiles I gaed, and whiles I sate; I digg’d a grave, and laid him in, And happ’d him with the sod sae green.

6. But think na ye my heart was sair, When I laid the moul’ on his yellow hair? O think na ye my heart was wae, When I turn’d about, away to gae?

7. Nae living man I’ll love again, Since that my lovely knight is slain; Wi’ ae lock of his yellow hair, I’ll chain my heart for evermair.

[Annotation: 3.2: ‘poin’d’ = poinded, distrained.]

BONNY BEE HO’M and THE LOWLANDS OF HOLLAND

+The Texts+ are taken respectively from Alexander Fraser Tytler’s Brown MS., and from Herd’s MSS., vol. i. fol. 49, where it is stated that a verse is wanting.

+The Story+ of _Bonny Bee Ho’m_ is of the slightest. The gift of the ring and chain occurs in many ballads and folk-tales. For the ring, see _Hind Horn_, 4-6 (First Series, p. 187).

For the lady’s vow to put no comb in her hair, occurring in both ballads, compare _Clerk Sanders_, 21.4

_The Lowlands of Holland_ is merely a lyrical version of the same theme.

BONNY BEE HO’M

1. By Arthur’s Dale as late I went I heard a heavy moan; I heard a ladie lammenting sair, And ay she cried ‘Ohone!

2. ‘Ohon, alas! what shall I do, Tormented night and day! I never loved a love but ane, And now he’s gone away.

3. ‘But I will do for my true-love What ladies woud think sair; For seven year shall come and go Ere a kaim gang in my hair.

3. ‘There shall neither a shoe gang on my foot, Nor a kaim gang in my hair, Nor e’er a coal nor candle-light Shine in my bower nae mair.’

5. She thought her love had been on the sea, Fast sailling to Bee Ho’m; But he was in a quiet chamer, Hearing his ladie’s moan.

6. ‘Be husht, be husht, my ladie dear, I pray thee mourn not so; For I am deep sworn on a book To Bee Ho’m for to go.’

7. She has gi’en him a chain of the beaten gowd, And a ring with a ruby stone: ‘As lang as this chain your body binds, Your blude can never be drawn.

8. ‘But gin this ring shoud fade or fail, Or the stone shoud change its hue, Be sure your love is dead and gone, Or she has proved untrue.’

9. He had no been at Bonny Bee Ho’m A twelve mouth and a day, Till, looking on his gay gowd ring, The stone grew dark and gray.

10. ‘O ye take my riches to Bee Ho’m, And deal them presentlie, To the young that canna, the auld that maunna, And the blind that does not see.’

11. Now death has come into his bower, And split his heart in twain; So their twa souls flew up to heaven, And there shall ever remain.

[Annotation: 1.4: ‘twin’d’ = twinned, separated.]

THE LOWLANDS OF HOLLAND

1. ‘My love has built a bony ship, and set her on the sea, With seven score good mariners to bear her company; There’s three score is sunk, and three score dead at sea, And the Lowlands of Holland has twin’d my love and me.

2. ‘My love he built another ship, and set her on the main, And nane but twenty mariners for to bring her hame; But the weary wind began to rise, and the sea began to rout, My love then and his bonny ship turn’d withershins about.

3. ‘There shall neither coif come on my head nor comb come in my hair; There shall neither coal nor candle-light shine in my bower mair; Nor will I love another one until the day I die, For I never lov’d a love but one, and he’s drowned in the sea.’

4. ‘O had your tongue, my daughter dear, be still and be content, There are mair lads in Galloway, ye neen nae sair lament:’ ‘O there is none in Gallow, there’s none at a’ for me, For I never lov’d a love but one, and he’s drowned in the sea.’