Part 5

Too long have your tears run down like rain, One with another. For a long love lost and a sweet love slain, Mother, my mother.

Too long have your tears dripped down like dew, One with another. For a knight that my sire and my brethren slew, Mother, my mother.

Let past things perish and dead griefs lie, One with another. O fain would I weep not, and fain would I die, Mother, my mother.

Fair gifts we give ye, to laugh and live, One with another. But sair and strange are the gifts I give, Mother, my mother.

And what will ye give for your father's love? One with another. Fruits full few and thorns enough, Mother, my mother.

And what will ye give for your mother's sake? One with another. Tears to brew and tares to bake, Mother, my mother.

And what will ye give your sister Jean? One with another. A bier to build and a babe to wean, Mother, my mother.

And what will ye give your sister Nell? One with another. The end of life and beginning of hell, Mother, my mother.

And what will ye give your sister Kate? One with another. Earth's door and hell's gate, Mother, my mother.

And what will ye give your brother Will? One with another. Life's grief and world's ill, Mother, my mother.

And what will ye give your brother Hugh? One with another. A bed of turf to turn into, Mother, my mother.

And what will ye give your brother John? One with another. The dust of death to feed upon, Mother, my mother.

And what will ye give your bauld bridegroom? One with another. A barren bed and an empty room, Mother, my mother.

And what will ye give your bridegroom's friend? One with another. A weary foot to the weary end, Mother, my mother.

And what will ye give your blithe bridesmaid? One with another. Grief to sew and sorrow to braid, Mother, my mother.

And what will ye drink the day ye're wed? One with another. But ae drink of the wan well-head, Mother, my mother.

And whatten a water is that to draw? One with another. We maun draw thereof a', we maun drink thereof a', Mother, my mother.

And what shall ye pu' where the well rins deep? One with another. Green herb of death, fine flower of sleep, Mother, my mother.

Are there ony fishes that swim therein? One with another. The white fish grace, and the red fish sin, Mother, my mother.

Are there ony birds that sing thereby? One with another. O when they come thither they sing till they die, Mother, my mother.

Is there ony draw-bucket to that well-head? One with another. There's a wee well-bucket hangs low by a thread, Mother, my mother.

And whatten a thread is that to spin? One with another. It's green for grace, and it's black for sin, Mother, my mother.

And what will ye strew on your bride-chamber floor? One with another. But one strewing and no more, Mother, my mother.

And whatten a strewing shall that one be? One with another. The dust of earth and sand of the sea, Mother, my mother.

And what will ye take to build your bed? One with another. Sighing and shame and the bones of the dead, Mother, my mother.

And what will ye wear for your wedding gown? One with another. Grass for the green and dust for the brown, Mother, my mother.

And what will ye wear for your wedding lace? One with another. A heavy heart and a hidden face, Mother, my mother.

And what will ye wear for a wreath to your head? One with another. Ash for the white and blood for the red, Mother, my mother.

And what will ye wear for your wedding ring? One with another. A weary thought for a weary thing, Mother, my mother.

And what shall the chimes and the bell-ropes play? One with another. A weary tune on a weary day, Mother, my mother.

And what shall be sung for your wedding song? One with another. A weary word of a weary wrong, Mother, my mother.

The world's way with me runs back, One with another, Wedded in white and buried in black, Mother, my mother.

The world's day and the world's night, One with another, Wedded in black and buried in white, Mother, my mother.

The world's bliss and the world's teen, One with another, It's red for white and it's black for green, Mother, my mother.

The world's will and the world's way, One with another, It's sighing for night and crying for day, Mother, my mother.

The world's good and the world's worth, One with another, It's earth to flesh and it's flesh to earth, Mother, my mother.

* * * * *

When she came out at the kirkyard gate, (One with another) The bridegroom's mother was there in wait. (Mother, my mother.)

O mother, where is my great green bed, (One with another) Silk at the foot and gold at the head, Mother, my mother?

Yea, it is ready, the silk and the gold, One with another. But line it well that I lie not cold, Mother, my mother.

She laid her cheek to the velvet and vair, One with another; She laid her arms up under her hair. (Mother, my mother.)

Her gold hair fell through her arms fu' low, One with another: Lord God, bring me out of woe! (Mother, my mother.)

Her gold hair fell in the gay reeds green, One with another: Lord God, bring me out of teen! (Mother, my mother.)

* * * * *

O mother, where is my lady gone? (One with another.) In the bride-chamber she makes sore moan: (Mother, my mother.)

Her hair falls over the velvet and vair, (One with another) Her great soft tears fall over her hair. (Mother, my mother.)

When he came into the bride's chamber, (One with another) Her hands were like pale yellow amber. (Mother, my mother.)

Her tears made specks in the velvet and vair, (One with another) The seeds of the reeds made specks in her hair. (Mother, my mother.)

He kissed her under the gold on her head; (One with another) The lids of her eyes were like cold lead. (Mother, my mother.)

He kissed her under the fall of her chin; (One with another) There was right little blood therein. (Mother, my mother.)

He kissed her under her shoulder sweet; (One with another) Her throat was weak, with little heat. (Mother, my mother.)

He kissed her down by her breast-flowers red, One with another; They were like river-flowers dead. (Mother, my mother.)

What ails you now o' your weeping, wife? (One with another.) It ails me sair o' my very life. (Mother, my mother.)

What ails you now o' your weary ways? (One with another.) It ails me sair o' my long life-days. (Mother, my mother.)

Nay, ye are young, ye are over fair. (One with another.) Though I be young, what needs ye care? (Mother, my mother.)

Nay, ye are fair, ye are over sweet. (One with another.) Though I be fair, what needs ye greet? (Mother, my mother.)

Nay, ye are mine while I hold my life. (One with another.) O fool, will ye marry the worm for a wife? (Mother, my mother.)

Nay, ye are mine while I have my breath. (One with another.) O fool, will ye marry the dust of death? (Mother, my mother.)

Yea, ye are mine, we are handfast wed, One with another. Nay, I am no man's; nay, I am dead, Mother, my mother.

THE WINDS

O weary fa' the east wind, And weary fa' the west: And gin I were under the wan waves wide I wot weel wad I rest.

O weary fa' the north wind, And weary fa' the south: The sea went ower my good lord's head Or ever he kissed my mouth.

Weary fa' the windward rocks, And weary fa' the lee: They might hae sunken sevenscore ships, And let my love's gang free.

And weary fa' ye, mariners a', And weary fa' the sea: It might hae taken an hundred men, And let my ae love be.

A LYKE-WAKE SONG

Fair of face, full of pride, Sit ye down by a dead man's side.

Ye sang songs a' the day: Sit down at night in the red worm's way.

Proud ye were a' day long: Ye'll be but lean at evensong.

Ye had gowd kells on your hair: Nae man kens what ye were.

Ye set scorn by the silken stuff: Now the grave is clean enough.

Ye set scorn by the rubis ring: Now the worm is a saft sweet thing.

Fine gold and blithe fair face, Ye are come to a grimly place.

Gold hair and glad grey een, Nae man kens if ye have been.

A REIVER'S NECK-VERSE

Some die singing, and some die swinging, And weel mot a' they be: Some die playing, and some die praying, And I wot sae winna we, my dear, And I wot sae winna we.

Some die sailing, and some die wailing, And some die fair and free: Some die flyting, and some die fighting, But I for a fause love's fee, my dear, But I for a fause love's fee.

Some die laughing, and some die quaffing, And some die high on tree: Some die spinning, and some die sinning, But faggot and fire for ye, my dear, Faggot and fire for ye.

Some die weeping, and some die sleeping, And some die under sea: Some die ganging, and some die hanging, And a twine of a tow for me, my dear, A twine of a tow for me.

THE WITCH-MOTHER

"O where will ye gang to and where will ye sleep, Against the night begins?" "My bed is made wi' cauld sorrows, My sheets are lined wi' sins.

"And a sair grief sitting at my foot, And a sair grief at my head; And dule to lay me my laigh pillows, And teen till I be dead.

"And the rain is sair upon my face, And sair upon my hair; And the wind upon my weary mouth, That never may man kiss mair.

"And the snow upon my heavy lips, That never shall drink nor eat; And shame to cledding, and woe to wedding, And pain to drink and meat.

"But woe be to my bairns' father, And ever ill fare he: He has tane a braw bride hame to him, Cast out my bairns and me."

"And what shall they have to their marriage meat This day they twain are wed?" "Meat of strong crying, salt of sad sighing, And God restore the dead."

"And what shall they have to their wedding wine This day they twain are wed?" "Wine of weeping, and draughts of sleeping, And God raise up the dead."

She's tane her to the wild woodside, Between the flood and fell: She's sought a rede against her need Of the fiend that bides in hell.

She's tane her to the wan burnside, She's wrought wi' sang and spell: She's plighted her soul for doom and dole To the fiend that bides in hell.

She's set her young son to her breast, Her auld son to her knee: Says, "Weel for you the night, bairnies, And weel the morn for me."

She looked fu' lang in their een, sighing, And sair and sair grat she: She has slain her young son at her breast, Her auld son at her knee.

She's sodden their flesh wi' saft water, She's mixed their blood with wine: She's tane her to the braw bride-house, Where a' were boun' to dine.

She poured the red wine in his cup, And his een grew fain to greet: She set the baked meats at his hand, And bade him drink and eat.

Says, "Eat your fill of your flesh, my lord, And drink your fill of your wine; For a' thing's yours and only yours That has been yours and mine."

Says, "Drink your fill of your wine, my lord, And eat your fill of your bread: I would they were quick in my body again, Or I that bare them dead."

He struck her head frae her fair body, And dead for grief he fell: And there were twae mair sangs in heaven, And twae mair sauls in hell.

THE BRIDE'S TRAGEDY

"The wind wears roun', the day wears doun, The moon is grisly grey; There's nae man rides by the mirk muirsides, Nor down the dark Tyne's way." In, in, out and in, Blaws the wind and whirls the whin.

"And winna ye watch the night wi' me, And winna ye wake the morn? Foul shame it were that your ae mither Should brook her ae son's scorn." In, in, out and in, Blaws the wind and whirls the whin.

"O mither, I may not sleep nor stay, My weird is ill to dree; For a fause faint lord of the south seaboard Wad win my bride of me." In, in, out and in, Blaws the wind and whirls the whin.

"The winds are strang, and the nights are lang, And the ways are sair to ride: And I maun gang to wreak my wrang, And ye maun bide and bide." In, in, out and in, Blaws the wind and whirls the whin.

"Gin I maun bide and bide, Willie, I wot my weird is sair: Weel may ye get ye a light love yet, But never a mither mair." In, in, out and in, Blaws the wind and whirls the whin.

"O gin the morrow be great wi' sorrow, The wyte be yours of a': But though ye slay me that haud and stay me, The weird ye will maun fa'." In, in, out and in, Blaws the wind and whirls the whin.

When cocks were crawing and day was dawing, He's boun' him forth to ride: And the ae first may he's met that day Was fause Earl Robert's bride. In, in, out and in, Blaws the wind and whirls the whin.

O blithe and braw were the bride-folk a', But sad and saft rade she; And sad as doom was her fause bridegroom, But fair and fain was he. In, in, out and in, Blaws the wind and whirls the whin.

"And winna ye bide, sae saft ye ride, And winna ye speak wi' me? For mony's the word and the kindly word I have spoken aft wi' thee." In, in, out and in, Blaws the wind and whirls the whin.

"My lamp was lit yestreen, Willie, My window-gate was wide: But ye camena nigh me till day came by me And made me not your bride." In, in, out and in, Blaws the wind and whirls the whin.

He's set his hand to her bridle-rein, He's turned her horse away: And the cry was sair, and the wrath was mair, And fast and fain rode they. In, in, out and in, Blaws the wind and whirls the whin.

But when they came by Chollerford, I wot the ways were fell; For broad and brown the spate swang down, And the lift was mirk as hell. In, in, out and in, Blaws the wind and whirls the whin.

"And will ye ride yon fell water, Or will ye bide for fear? Nae scathe ye'll win o' your father's kin, Though they should slay me here." In, in, out and in, Blaws the wind and whirls the whin.

"I had liefer ride yon fell water, Though strange it be to ride, Than I wad stand on the fair green strand And thou be slain beside." In, in, out and in, Blaws the wind and whirls the whin.

"I had liefer swim yon wild water, Though sair it be to bide, Than I wad stand at a strange man's hand, To be a strange man's bride." In, in, out and in, Blaws the wind and whirls the whin.

"I had liefer drink yon dark water, Wi' the stanes to make my bed, And the faem to hide me, and thou beside me, Than I wad see thee dead." In, in, out and in, Blaws the wind and whirls the whin.

He's kissed her twice, he's kissed her thrice, On cheek and lip and chin: He's wound her rein to his hand again, And lightly they leapt in. In, in, out and in, Blaws the wind and whirls the whin.

Their hearts were high to live or die, Their steeds were stark of limb: But the stream was starker, the spate was darker, Than man might live and swim. In, in, out and in, Blaws the wind and whirls the whin.

The first ae step they strode therein, It smote them foot and knee: But ere they wan to the mid water The spate was as the sea. In, in, out and in, Blaws the wind and whirls the whin.

But when they wan to the mid water, It smote them hand and head: And nae man knows but the wave that flows Where they lie drowned and dead. In, in, out and in, Blaws the wind and whirls the whin.

A JACOBITE'S FAREWELL

1716

There's nae mair lands to tyne, my dear, And nae mair lives to gie: Though a man think sair to live nae mair, There's but one day to die.

For a' things come and a' days gane, What needs ye rend your hair? But kiss me till the morn's morrow, Then I'll kiss ye nae mair.

O lands are lost and life's losing, And what were they to gie? Fu' mony a man gives all he can, But nae man else gives ye.

Our king wons ower the sea's water, And I in prison sair: But I'll win out the morn's morrow, And ye'll see me nae mair.

A JACOBITE'S EXILE

1746

The weary day rins down and dies, The weary night wears through: And never an hour is fair wi' flower, And never a flower wi' dew.

I would the day were night for me, I would the night were day: For then would I stand in my ain fair land, As now in dreams I may.

O lordly flow the Loire and Seine, And loud the dark Durance: But bonnier shine the braes of Tyne Than a' the fields of France; And the waves of Till that speak sae still Gleam goodlier where they glance.

O weel were they that fell fighting On dark Drumossie's day: They keep their hame ayont the faem, And we die far away.

O sound they sleep, and saft, and deep, But night and day wake we; And ever between the sea-banks green Sounds loud the sundering sea.

And ill we sleep, sae sair we weep, But sweet and fast sleep they; And the mool that haps them roun' and laps them Is e'en their country's clay; But the land we tread that are not dead Is strange as night by day.

Strange as night in a strange man's sight, Though fair as dawn it be: For what is here that a stranger's cheer Should yet wax blithe to see?

The hills stand steep, the dells lie deep, The fields are green and gold: The hill-streams sing, and the hill-sides ring, As ours at home of old.

But hills and flowers are nane of ours, And ours are oversea: And the kind strange land whereon we stand, It wotsna what were we Or ever we came, wi' scathe and shame, To try what end might be.

Scathe, and shame, and a waefu' name, And a weary time and strange, Have they that seeing a weird for dreeing Can die, and cannot change.

Shame and scorn may we thole that mourn, Though sair be they to dree: But ill may we bide the thoughts we hide, Mair keen than wind and sea.

Ill may we thole the night's watches, And ill the weary day: And the dreams that keep the gates of sleep, A waefu' gift gie they; For the sangs they sing us, the sights they bring us, The morn blaws all away.

On Aikenshaw the sun blinks braw, The burn rins blithe and fain: There's nought wi' me I wadna gie To look thereon again.

On Keilder-side the wind blaws wide; There sounds nae hunting-horn That rings sae sweet as the winds that beat Round banks where Tyne is born.

The Wansbeck sings with all her springs, The bents and braes give ear; But the wood that rings wi' the sang she sings I may not see nor hear; For far and far thae blithe burns are, And strange is a' thing near.

The light there lightens, the day there brightens, The loud wind there lives free: Nae light comes nigh me or wind blaws by me That I wad hear or see.

But O gin I were there again, Afar ayont the faem, Cauld and dead in the sweet saft bed That haps my sires at hame!

We'll see nae mair the sea-banks fair, And the sweet grey gleaming sky, And the lordly strand of Northumberland, And the goodly towers thereby: And none shall know but the winds that blow The graves wherein we lie.

THE TYNESIDE WIDOW

There's mony a man loves land and life, Loves life and land and fee; And mony a man loves fair women, But never a man loves me, my love, But never a man loves me.

O weel and weel for a' lovers, I wot weel may they be; And weel and weel for a' fair maidens, But aye mair woe for me, my love, But aye mair woe for me.

O weel be wi' you, ye sma' flowers, Ye flowers and every tree; And weel be wi' you, a' birdies, But teen and tears wi' me, my love, But teen and tears wi' me.

O weel be yours, my three brethren, And ever weel be ye; Wi' deeds for doing and loves for wooing, But never a love for me, my love, But never a love for me.

And weel be yours, my seven sisters, And good love-days to see, And long life-days and true lovers, But never a day for me, my love, But never a day for me.

Good times wi' you, ye bauld riders, By the hieland and the lee; And by the leeland and by the hieland It's weary times wi' me, my love, It's weary times wi' me.

Good days wi' you, ye good sailors, Sail in and out the sea; And by the beaches and by the reaches It's heavy days wi' me, my love, It's heavy days wi' me.

I had his kiss upon my mouth, His bairn upon my knee; I would my soul and body were twain, And the bairn and the kiss wi' me, my love, And the bairn and the kiss wi' me.

The bairn down in the mools, my dear, O saft and saft lies she; I would the mools were ower my head, And the young bairn fast wi' me, my love, And the young bairn fast wi' me.

The father under the faem, my dear, O sound and sound sleeps he; I would the faem were ower my face, And the father lay by me, my love, And the father lay by me.

I would the faem were ower my face, Or the mools on my ee-bree; And waking-time with a' lovers, But sleeping-time wi' me, my love, But sleeping-time wi' me.

I would the mools were meat in my mouth, The saut faem in my ee; And the land-worm and the water-worm To feed fu' sweet on me, my love, To feed fu' sweet on me.

My life is sealed with a seal of love, And locked with love for a key; And I lie wrang and I wake lang, But ye tak' nae thought for me, my love, But ye tak' nae thought for me.

We were weel fain of love, my dear, O fain and fain were we; It was weel with a' the weary world, But O, sae weel wi' me, my love, But O, sae weel wi' me.