Part 7

I'll gang unto my mither's bower,

Where I was bred and born."

Then Cow-me-doo took flight and flew

Beyond the raging sea;

And lighted near his mither's castle

On a tower o' gowd sae high.

As his mither was walking out,

To see what she could see,

And there she saw her little son

Set on the tower sae high.

"Get dancers here to dance," she said,

"And minstrels for to play;

For here's my young son, Florentine,

Come here wi' me to stay."

"Get nae dancers to dance, mither,

Nor minstrels for to play;

For the mither o' my seven sons,

The morn's her wedding-day."

"O tell me, tell me, Florentine,

Tell me, tell me true,

Tell me this day without a flaw,

What I will do for you."

"Instead of dancers to dance, mither,

Or minstrels for to play,

Turn four-and-twenty well-wight men,

Like storks, in feathers gray;

"My seven sons in seven swans,

Aboon their heads to flee;

And I, mysel', a gay gos-hawk,

A bird o' high degree."

Then sighin' said the queen hersel',

"That thing's too high for me;"

But she applied to an auld woman,

Who had mair skill than she.

Instead o' dancers to dance a dance,

Or minstrels for to play,

Four-and-twenty well-wight men

Turn'd birds o' feathers gray;

Her seven sons in seven swans,

Aboon their heads to flee;

And he, himsel', a gay gos-hawk,

A bird o' high degree.

This flock o' birds took flight and flew

Beyond the raging sea;

And landed near the Earl Mar's castle,

Took shelter in every tree.

(_well-wight_, picked.)

They were a flock o' pretty birds,

Right comely to be seen;

The people view'd them wi' surprise,

As they danc'd on the green.

These birds ascended frae the tree,

And lighted on the ha';

And at the last wi' force did flee

Amang the nobles a'.

The storks, there seized some o' the men,

They could neither fight nor flee;

The swans they bound the bride's best man

Below a green aik tree.

They lighted next on maidens fair,

Then on the bride's own head;

And wi' the twinkling o' an eye,

The bride and them were fled.

There's ancient men at weddings been

For sixty years or more;

But sic a curious wedding-day

They never saw before.

For naething could the company do,

Nor naething could they say;

But they saw a flock o' pretty birds

That took their bride away.

When that Earl Mar he came to know

Where his dochter did stay,

He sign'd a bond o' unity

And visits now they pay.

The Fause Lover

A fair maid sat in her bower door,

Wringing her lily hands;

And by it came a sprightly youth,

Fast tripping oer the strands.

"Where gang ye, young John," she says,

"Sae early in the day?

It gars me think, by your fast trip,

Your journey's far away."

He turn'd about wi' surly look,

And said, "What's that to thee?

I'm ga'en to see a lovely maid,

Mair fairer far than ye."

"Now hae ye play'd me this, fause love,

In simmer, mid the flowers?

I shall repay ye back again,

In winter, 'mid the showers.

"But again, dear love, and again, dear love,

Will ye not turn again?

For as ye look to ither women,

I shall to other men."

"Make your choice o' whom you please,

For I my choice will have;

I've chosen a maid more fair than thee,

I never will deceive."

But she's kilt up her claithing fine,

And after him gaed she;

But aye he said, "Ye'll turn again,

Nae farder gae wi' me."

"But again, dear love, and again, dear love,

Will ye never love me again?

Alas! for loving you sae well,

And you na me again."

The firstan' town that they come till,

He bought her brooch and ring;

But aye he bade her turn again,

And gang nae farder wi' him.

"But again, dear love, and again, dear love,'' &c.

The nextan' town that they came till,

He bought her muff and gloves;

But aye he bade her turn again,

And choose some other loves.

"But again, dear love, and again, dear love," &c.

The nextan' town that they came till,

His heart it grew mair fain;

And he was deep in love wi' her,

As she was ower again.

The nextan' town that they came till,

He bought her wedding gown;

And made her lady o' ha's and bowers,

In sweet Berwick town.

THE UNQUIET GRAVE.

|The wind doth blow to-day, my love,

And a few small drops of rain;

I never had but one true-love,

In cold grave she was lain.

I'll do as much for my true-love

As any young man may;

I'll sit and mourn all at her grave

For a twelvemonth and a day.

The twelvemonth and a day being up,

The dead began to speak:

"Oh, who sits weeping on my grave,

And will not let me sleep?"

"'Tis I, my love, sits on your grave,

And will not let you sleep;

For I crave one kiss of your clay-cold lips,

And that is all I seek."

"You crave one kiss of my clay-cold lips,

But my breath smells earthy strong;

If you have one kiss of my clay-cold lips,

Your time will not be long.

"'Tis down in yonder garden green,

Love, where we used to walk;

The finest flower that ere was seen

Is withered to a stalk.

"The stalk is withered,dry, my love,

So will our hearts decay;

So make yourself content, my love,

Till God call you away!"

PEASANT BALLADS

THE BROKEN TOKEN

|One summer evening, a maiden fair

Was walking forth in the balmy air,

She met a sailor upon the way;

"Maiden stay," he whispered,

"Maiden stay," he whispered,

"O pretty maiden stay.

"Why art thou walking abroad alone?

The stars are shining, the day is done."

O then her tears they began to flow,

For a dark-eyed sailor,

For a dark-eyed sailor,

Had filled her heart with woe.

"Three years are passed since he left this land,

A ring of gold he took off my hand,

He broke the token, a half to keep;

Half he bade me treasure,

Half he bade me treasure,

Then crossed the briny deep."

"O drive him, damsel, from out your mind,

For men are changeful as is the wind,

And love inconstant will quickly grow

Cold as winter morning,

Cold as winter morning,

When lands are white with snow."

"Above the snow is the holly seen,

In bitter blast it abideth green,

And blood-red drops it as berries bears;

So my aching bosom,

So my aching bosom,

Its truth and sorrow wears."

Then half the ring did the sailor show:

"Away with weeping and sorrow now!

In bands of marriage united we,

Like the Broken Token,

Like the Broken Token,

In one shall welded be."

YOUNG ROGER OF THE VALLEY

|Young Roger of the mill

One morning very soon,

Put on his best apparel,

New hose and clouted shoon;

And he a-wooing came

To bonny, buxom Nell.

"Adzooks!" cried he, "couldst fancy me?

For I like thee wondrous well.

"My horses I have dress'd,

And gi en them corn and hay,

Put on my best apparel;

And having come this way,

Let's sit and chat a while,

With thee, my bonny Nell;

Dear lass," cries he, "couldst fancy me?

I'se like thy person well."

"Young Roger, you re mistaken,"

The damsel then reply'd,

"I'm not in such a haste

To be a ploughman's bride;

Know I then live in hopes

To marry a farmer's son;"

"If it be so," says Hodge, "I'll go,

Sweet mistress, I have done."

"Your horses you have dress'd,

Good Hodge, I heard you say,

Put on your best apparel;

And being come this way,

Come sit and chat awhile."

"O no, indeed, not I,

I'll neither wait, nor sit, nor prate,

I've other fish to fry."

"Go, take your farmer's son,

With all my honest heart;

What tho' my name be Roger,

That goes at plough and cart?

I need not tarry long,

I soon may gain a wife:

There's buxom Joan, it is well known,

She loves me as her life."

"Pray, what of buxom Joan?

Can't I please you as well?

For she has ne'er a penny,

And I am buxom Nell;

And I have fifty shillings"

(The money made him smile):

"O then, my dear, I'll draw a chair,

And chat with thee a while."

Within the space of half-an-hour

This couple a bargain struck,

Hoping that with their money

They both would have good luck;

"To your fifty I've forty,

With which a cow we'll buy;

We'll join our hands in wedlock bands,

Then who but you and I?"

THE GOLDEN GLOVE

|A wealthy young squire of Tam worth, we hear,

He courted a noblemans daughter so fair;

And for to marry her it was his intent,

All friends and relations gave their consent.

The time was appointed for the wedding-day,

A young farmer chosen to give her away;

As soon as the farmer the young lady did spy,

He inflamed her heart; "O, my heart!" she

did cry.

She turned from the squire, but nothing she said,

Instead of being married she took to her bed;

The thought of the farmer soon run in her mind,

A way for to have him she quickly did find.

Coat, waistcoat, and breeches she then did put on,

And a hunting she went with her dog and her

gun;

She hunted all round where the farmer did dwell,

Because in her heart she did love him full well:

She oftentimes fired, but nothing she killed,

At length the young farmer came into the field;

And to discourse with him it was her intent,

With her dog and her gun to meet him she went.

"I thought you had been at the wedding," she cried,

"To wait on the squire, and give him his bride."

"No, sir," said the farmer, "if the truth I may tell,

I'll not give her away, for I love her too well."

"Suppose that the lady should grant you her love,

You know that the squire your rival will prove.''

"Why, then," says the farmer, "I'll take sword

in hand,

By honour I'll gain her when she shall command.''

It pleased the lady to find him so bold;

She gave him a glove that was flowered with gold,

And told him she found it when coming along,

As she was a hunting with her dog and gun.

The lady went home with a heart full of love,

And gave out a notice that she'd lost a glove;

And said, "Who has found it, and brings it to

me,

Whoever he is, he my husband shall be."

The farmer was pleased when he heard of the

news,

With heart full of joy to the lady he goes:

"Dear, honoured lady, I've picked up your glove,

And hope you'll be pleased to grant me your love."

Sir Arthur s'

215

"It's already granted, I will be your bride;

I love the sweet breath of a farmer," she cried.

"I'll be mistress of my dairy, and milking my cow,

While my jolly brisk farmer is whistling at plough."

And when she was married she told of her fun,

How she went a hunting with her dog and gun:

"And "[said]" now I've got him so fast in my snare,

I'll enjoy him for ever, I vow and declare!"

SIR ARTHUR AND CHARMING MOLLEE

|As noble Sir Arthur one morning did ride,

With his hounds at his feet, and his sword by his side,

He saw a fair maid sitting under a tree,

He asked her name, and she said 'twas Mollee.

"Oh, charming Mollee, you my butler shall be,

To draw the red wine for yourself and for me!

Ill make you a lady so high in degree,

If you will but love me, my charming Mollee!

"I'll give you fine ribbons, I'll give you fine rings,

I'll give you fine jewels, and many fine things;

I'll give you a petticoat flounced to the knee,

If you will but love me, my charming Mollee!"

"V have none of your ribbons, and none of your rings,

None of your jewels, and other fine things;

And I've got a petticoat suits my degree,

And I'll ne er love a married man till his wife dee.''

"Oh, charming Mollee, lend me then your pen-knife,

And I will go home, and I'll kill my own wife;

I'll kill my own wife, and my bairnies three,

If you will but love me, my charming Mollee!"

"Oh, noble Sir Arthur, it must not be so,

Go home to your wife, and let nobody know;

For seven long years I will wait upon thee,

But I'll ne'er love a married man till his wife dee.''

Now seven long years are gone and are past,

The old woman went to her long home at last;

The old woman died, and Sir Arthur was free,

And he soon came a-courting to charming Mollee.

Now charming Mollee in her carriage doth ride,

With her hounds at her feet, and her lord by her side:

Now all ye fair maids, take a warning by me,

And ne er love a married man till his wife dee.

UNDAUNTED MARY

|It's of a Farmer's daughter, so beautiful I'm told,

Her parents died and left her five hundred pounds in gold,

She lived with her uncle, the cause of all her woe,

And you shall hear this maiden fair did prove his overthrow.

Her uncle had a ploughboy, young Mary loved full well,

And in her uncle's garden their tales of love would tell;

There was a wealthy squire who oft came her to see,

But still she loved her ploughboy, on the bank of sweet Dundee.

It was on one summer's morning, her uncle went straightway,

He knocked at her chamber door, and unto her did say,

"Come, rise up, pretty maiden, a lady you may be,

The squire is waiting for you on the banks of sweet Dundee."

"A fig for all your squires, your lords and dukes likewise,

For William's hand appears to me like diamonds in my eyes;"

"Begone, unruly maiden, you ne'er shall happy be,

For I mean to banish William from the banks of sweet Dundee."

Her uncle and the squire rode out one summer day,

"Young William he's in favour," her uncle he did say,

"But indeed it's my intention to tie him to a tree,

Or else to bribe the pressgang, on the banks of sweet Dundee."

The pressgang came to William when he was all alone,

He bravely fought for liberty, but they were six to one,

The blood did flow, in torrents: "Pray kill me now," said he,

"I'd rather die for Mary I, on the banks of sweet Dundee."

This maid one day was walking, lamenting for her love,

She met the wealthy squire down in her uncles grove,

He put his arm around her: "Stand off, base man," said she,

"For you've sent the only lad I love, from the banks of sweet Dundee."

He clasped his arms around her, and tried to throw her down,

Two pistols and a sword she spied beneath his morning gown,

The pistol proved so active, the sword she used so free,

That she shot and slew the squire, on the banks of sweet Dundee.

Her uncle overheard the noise, and hastened to the ground,

"Since you have slain the squire, I'll give you your death wound,"

"Stand off, stand off," said Mary, "undaunted I will be,"

She the trigger drew, and her uncle slew, on the banks of sweet Dundee.

The doctor he was sent for, a man of noted skill,

And likewise was a lawyer, all for to sign his will,

He willed his gold to Mary, who fought so manfully,

And closed his eyes no more to rise on the banks of sweet Dundee.

THE WILTSHIRE WEDDING

|All in a misty morning,

Cloudy was the weather,

I meeting with an old man,

Was clothed all in leather,

With ne er a shirt unto his back,

But wool unto his skin;

_With how do you do? and how do you do?_

_And how do you do agen?_

The rustic was a thresher,

And on his way he hied,

And with a leather bottle,

Fast buckl'd by his side;

And with a cap of woollen,

Which cover'd cheek and chin,

_With how do you do? and how do you do?_

_And how do you do agen?_

I went a little further,

And there I met a maid,

Was going then a milking,

A milking, sir, she said:

Then I began to compliment,

And she began to sing;

_With how do you do? and how do you do?_

_And how do you do agen?_

This maid her name was Dolly,

Clothed in a gown of gray,

I being somewhat jolly,

Persuaded her to stay:

Then straight I fell to courting her,

In hopes her love to win,

_With how do you do? and how do you do?_

And how do you do agen?_

Then having time and leisure,

I spent a vacant hour,

Telling of all my treasure,

Whilst sitting in the bower:

With many kind embraces,

I strok'd her double chin:

_With how do you do? and how do you do?_

_And how do you do agen?_

I told her I would married be,

And she should be my bride,

And long we should not tarry,

With twenty things beside:

"Til plough and sow, and reap and mow,

While thou shalt sit and spin;"

_With how do you do? and how do you do?_

And how do you do agen?_

"Did you not know my Father?"

The damsel then reply 'd;

"His jerkin was of leather,

A bottle by his side:"

"Yes, I did meet him trudging,

As fast as he could win,"

_With how do you do? and how do you do?_

_And how do you do agen?_

"Kind sir, I have a mother,

Beside a father, still,

Those friends above all other,

You must ask their good-will:

For if I be undutiful

To them, it is a sin;"

_With how do you do? and how do you do?_

_And how do you do agen?_

Now there we left the milk-pail,

And to her mother went,

And when I was come thither,

I asked her consent,

And doft my hat, and made a leg,.

For why she was within;

_With how do you do? and how do you do?_

_And how do you do agen?_

"My husband is a thresher,

Who is her father dear,

He'll give with her his blessing,

Kind sir, you need not fear:

He is of such good nature,

That he would never lin,"

_With how do you do? and how do you do?_

_And how do you do agen?_

"For by your courteous carriage,

You seem an honest man,

You may have her in marriage,

My husband he anon

Will bid you very welcome,

Tho' he be poor and thin,"

With how do you do? and how do you do?_

And how do you do agen?_

Her dad came home full weary,

Alas! he could not choose;

Her mother being merry,

She told him all the news:

(_lin_, hinder or stop.)

Then he was mighty jovial too,

His son did soon begin,

_With how do you do? and how do you do?_

_And how do you do agen?_

Her parents being willing,

All parties was agreed;

Her portion thirty shilling,

They married were with speed;

Then Will the piper he did play,

While others dance and sing;

_With how do you do? and how do you do?_

_And how do you do agen?_

In pleasant recreation,

They pass'd away the night,

And likewise by relation,

With her he takes delight,

To walk abroad on holy-days,

To visit kiff and kin:

_With how do you do? and how do you do?_

_And how do you do agen?_

Then lusty Ralph and Robin,

With many damsels gay,

Did ride on Roan and Dobbin,

To celebrate the day:

When being met together,

Their caps they off did fling,

_With how do you do? and how do you do?_

_And how do you do agen?_

THE TREES THEY ARE SO HIGH

|All the trees they are so high,

The leaves they are so green,

The day is past and gone, sweet-heart,

That you and I have seen.

It is cold winter's night,

You and I must bide alone:

Whilst my pretty lad is young

And is growing.

O father, father dear,

Great wrong to me is done,

That I should married be this day,

Before the set of sun.

At the huffle of the gale,

Here I toss and cannot sleep:

Whilst my pretty lad is young

And is growing.

O daughter, daughter dear,

No wrong to thee is done,

For I have married thee this day

Unto a rich Lord's son.

O the wind is on the thatch

Here and I alone must weep:

Whilst my pretty lad is young

And is growing.

O father, father dear,

If that you think it fit,

Then send him to the school awhile,

To be a year there yet.

At the huffle of the gale

Here I toss and cannot sleep:

Whilst my pretty lad is young

And is growing.

To let the lovely ladies know

They may not touch and taste,

I'll bind a bunch of ribbons blue

About his little waist,

And I'll wait another year

O he roaring of the sea:

Whilst my pretty lad is young

And is growing.

In a garden as I walked,

I heard them laugh and call;

There were four-and-twenty playing there,

They played with bat and ball;

I must wait awhile, must wait,

And then his bride will be:

O my pretty lad is young

And is growing.

I listened in the garden,

I looked o'er the wall;

Amidst five-and-twenty gallants there,

My love exceeded all.

The Trees they are so High s'

O the snow, the snowflakes fall,

O and I am chill and freeze:

But my pretty lad is young

And is growing.

I'll cut my yellow hair,

I'll cut it close my brow,

I'll go unto the high college

And none shall know me so;

O the clouds are driving by

And they shake the leafy trees:

But my pretty lad is young

And is growing.

To the college I did go,

I cut my yellow hair;

To be with him in sun and shower,

His sports and studies share.

O the taller that he grew

The sweeter still grew he:

O my pretty lad is young

And is growing.

As it fell upon a day,

A bright and summer day,

We went into the green green wood

To frolic and to play,

O and what did there befall

I tell not unto thee:

But my pretty lad so young,

Was still growing.

At thirteen he married was,

A father at fourteen,

At fifteen his face was white as milk,

And then his grave was green;

And the daisies were outspread,

And buttercups of gold

O'er my pretty lad so young,

Now ceased growing.

I'll make my pretty love

A shroud of holland fine,

And all the time Im making it

My tears run down the twine;

And as the bell doth knell

I shiver as one cold,

And weep o'er my pretty lad

Now done growing.

GREEN BROOM

|There was an old man lived out in the wood,

His trade was a-cutting of broom, green broom;

He had but one son, without thrift, without good,

Who lay in his bed till 'twas noon, bright noon.

The old man awoke, one morning, and spoke,

He swore he would fire the room, that room,

If his John would not rise, and opet his eyes,

And away to the wood to cut broom, green broom.

So Johnny arose, and he slipped on his clothes,

And away to the wood to cut broom, green

broom;

He sharpened his knives, for once he contrives

To cut a great bundle of broom, green broom.

When Johnny passed under a lady's fine house,

Passed under a lady's fine room, fine room,

She call'd to her maid, "Go fetch me,'' she said,

"Go fetch me the boy that sells broom, green broom."

When Johnny came into the lady's fine house,

And stood in the lady's fine room, fine room;

"Young Johnny," she said, "will you give up your trade,

And marry a lady in bloom, full bloom?"

Johnny gave his consent, and to church they

both went,

And he wedded the lady is bloom, full bloom;

At market and fair, all folks do declare,

There is none like the boy that sold broom, green broom.

BONNY BARBARA ALLAN

|It was in and about the Martinmas time,

When the green leaves were a falling,

That Sir John Graeme in the west country

Fell in love with Barbara Allan.

He sent his man down through the town,

To the place where she was dwelling;

"O haste and come to my master dear,

Gin ye be Barbara Allan."

O hooly, hooly rose she up,

To the place where he was lying,

And when she drew the curtain by,

"Young man, I think you're dying."

"O it's I'm sick, and very, very sick,

And 'tis a' for Barbara Allan:"

"O the better for me ye's never be,

Tho' your heart's blood were a spilling.

"O dinna ye mind, young man," said she,

"When ye was in the tavern a drinking,

That ye made the healths gae round and round,

And slighted Barbara Allan."

(_hooly_, slowly.)

As Johnny walked out s''

He turn'd his face unto the wall,

And death was with him dealing;

"Adieu, adieu, my dear friends all,

And be kind to Barbara Allan."

And slowly, slowly raise she up,

And slowly, slowly left him;

And sighing said, she could not stay,

Since death of life had reft him.

She had not gane a mile but twa,

When she heard the dead-bell ringing,

And every jow that the dead-bell gi'ed,

It cried "Woe to Barbara Allan!"

"O mother, mother, make my bed,

O make it saft and narrow;

Since my love died for me to-day,

Til die for him to-morrow."

AS JOHNNY WALKED OUT

|As Johnny walked out one day

It was a summer morn,

Himself he laid beneath the shade,

To rest him, of a thorn.

(_jow,_ stroke.)

He had not long been tarrying there

Before his love passed by:

And 'twas down in yonder valley, love,

Where the water glideth by.

"O have you seen a pretty ewe

That hath a tender lamb;

Astrayed from the orchard glade

That little one and dam?"

"O pretty maid," he answered,

"They passed as here I lie!"

And 'twas down in yonder valley, love,

Where the water glideth by.

She traced the country o'er

No lambs nor ewe could find;

And many times upbraided she

Young Johnny in her mind.

Then coming back....

And 'twas down in yonder valley, love,

Where the water glideth by.

She turned heraelf right curiously,