Part 26

14 ‘The warstan stable in a’ your stables, For my puir steed to stand! The warstan bower in a’ your bowers, For me to lie therein! My boots are fu o Clyde’s water, I’m shivering at the chin.’

15 ‘My barns are fu o corn, Willie, My stables are fu o hay; My bowers are fu o gentlemen, They’ll nae remove till day.’

16 ‘O fare ye well, my fause Meggie, O farewell, and adieu! I’ve gotten my mither’s malison This night coming to you.’

17 As he rode ower yon high, high hill, And down yon dowie den, The rushing that was in Clyde’s water Took Willie’s cane frae him.

18 He leand him ower his saddle-bow, To catch his cane again; The rushing that was in Clyde’s water Took Willie’s hat frae him.

19 He leand him ower his saddle-bow, To catch his hat thro force; The rushing that was in Clyde’s water Took Willie frae his horse.

20 His brither stood upo the bank, Says, Fye, man, will ye drown? Ye’ll turn ye to your high horse head And learn how to sowm.

21 ‘How can I turn to my horse head And learn how to sowm? I’ve gotten my mither’s malison, It’s here that I maun drown.’

22 The very hour this young man sank Into the pot sae deep, Up it wakend his love Meggie Out o her drowsy sleep.

23 ‘Come here, come here, my mither dear, And read this dreary dream; I dreamd my love was at our gates, And nane wad let him in.’

24 ‘Lye still, lye still now, my Meggie, Lye still and tak your rest; Sin your true-love was at your yates, It’s but twa quarters past.’

25 Nimbly, nimbly raise she up, And nimbly pat she on, And the higher that the lady cried, The louder blew the win.

26 The first an step that she steppd in, She stepped to the queet; ‘Ohon, alas!’ said that lady, ‘This water’s wondrous deep.’

27 The next an step that she wade in, She wadit to the knee; Says she, ‘I coud wide farther in, If I my love coud see.’

28 The next an step that she wade in, She wadit to the chin; The deepest pot in Clyde’s water She got sweet Willie in.

29 ‘You’ve had a cruel mither, Willie, And I have had anither; But we shall sleep in Clyde’s water Like sister an like brither.’

* * * * *

#A.#

_Not divided into stanzas in the MS.; sometimes not into verses._

15^3. For _is written after_ call _in the preceding line._

16^3. But ay _is written after_ agen _in the preceding line._

16^4. He _is written after_ crayed _in the preceding line._

18^2. Till _is written after_ in _in the preceding line._

19. Ther was na mare seen of that guid lord bat his hat frae his head ther was na mare seen of that lady bat her comb an her sneed.

20^1. Doun _stands at the beginning of the next line_.

#A# 14–16 _might perhaps be better put after the drowning, as in_ #C#.

#B.#

_Readings inserted by Motherwell in a copy of his Minstrelsy._

4^{3,4}. My malison and deidly curse Shall bear ye companie.

_After 7_:

He swam high, and he swam low, And he swam to and fro, Until he gript a hazel-bush, That brung him to the brow.

9^4. _Var._ But his mother answered him.

10. O rise, O rise, May Marget, h[e says], (_cut away by the binder_) O rise and let me in, For the very steed that I came on Does tremble at every limb.

11^3. mither and father’s baith awauk.

12. O hae ye neer a stable, he says, Or hae ye neer a barn, Or hae ye neer a wild-guse house, Where I might rest till morn?

14^1. My barn is.

14^2. My stable is.

14^3. The house is fu o wild, wild gees.

14^4. They canna be moved.

15^4. Rides in my companie.

16^1. his milk-white.

16^2. And who could ride like him.

16^4. ’Twas far outowre the brim.

_After 16_:

He swam high, and he swam low, And he swam to and fro, But he neer could spy the hazel-bush That would bring him to the brow.

_Comment_: The mother was a witch; made responses for Margaret; met him in a green habit on his return home. He inquired for the ford; she directed him to the deepest linn. When he got into the water, two hounds seized on his horse, and left him to struggle with the current.

_Willie’s mother had transferred herself to Margaret’s house according to the variation in 9^4; so she is the witch._

_All this is very paltry. The mother’s curse was enough to drown Willie without her bestirring herself further._

217

THE BROOM OF COWDENKNOWS

#A.# ‘The Laird of Knotington,’ Percy papers, 1768.

#B.# ‘Bonny May.’ #a.# Herd’s Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 308; 1776, I, 98. #b.# Johnson’s Museum, No 110, p. 113.

#C.# ‘Laird o Ochiltree,’ Kinloch MSS, VII, 143; Kinloch’s Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 160.

#D.# ‘The Laird o Ochiltree Wa’s,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 517.

#E.# Motherwell’s MS., p. 175.

#F.# ‘Bonny May,’ Gibb MS., p. 9.

#G.# ‘The Broom of Cowdenknows,’ Scott’s Minstrelsy, III, 280, 1803; III, 37, 1833.

#H.# ‘The Maid o the Cowdenknows,’ Kinloch MSS, I, 137.

#I.# ‘Laird o Lochnie,’ Kinloch MSS, VII, 153; Kinloch’s Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 167.

#J.# Kinloch MSS, VI, 11.

#K.# ‘Maiden o the Cowdenknowes,’ Dr Joseph Robertson’s Journal of Excursions, No 6.

#L.# ‘The Broom of the Cowden Knowes,’ Buchan’s MSS, II, 178.

#M.# ‘Broom o the Cowdenknowes,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 172.

#N.# ‘The Laird of Lochinvar,’ Kinloch MSS, I, 145.

This ballad was widely diffused in Scotland. “It would be useless,” says Motherwell, “to enumerate the titles of the different versions which are common among reciters.” “Each district has its own version,” says Kinloch. So it must have done no little mischief in its day. The earliest known copies, #A#, #B#, are of the second half of the last century.

There is an English “ditty” (not a traditional ballad) of a northern lass who got harm while milking her father’s ewes, which was printed in the first half of the seventeenth century. It is here given in an appendix. This ditty is “to a pleasant Scotch tune called The broom of Cowden Knowes,” and the burden is:

With, O the broome, the bonny broome, The broome of Cowden Knowes! Fain would I be in the North Countrey, To milk my dadyes ewes.

The tune was remarkably popular, and the burden is found, variously modified, in connection with several songs: see Chappell’s Popular Music, pp. 458–461, 613, 783. ‘The Broom of Cowdenknows,’ a “new” song, in the Tea-Table Miscellany, p. 22, Dublin, 1729, has the burden not greatly changed; also #G#, #L#, #M#, of this ballad.

There is very little story to the English ditty. A maid is beguiled by a shepherd-boy while milking her father’s ewes; the consequences are what might be expected; her mother puts her out of doors, and she ranges the world; a young man who hears her complaint offers to marry her, and go to the North Country with her to milk her father’s ewes. The Scottish ballad could not have been developed from a story of this description. On the other hand, it is scarcely to be believed that the author of the English ditty, if he had known the Scottish ballad, would have dropped all the interesting particulars. It is possible that he may have just heard about it, but much more likely that he knew only the burden and built his very slight tale on that. It may be observed that his maid, though she haunts Liddesdale, and should have belonged to Cowdenknowes, was born in Danby Forest, Yorkshire.

Two passages which do not occur in #A# may have been later additions: #D# 9, 10, #F# 5, 6, #G# 13, 14, #M# 19, 20, in which the laird, returning to his men, is told that he has tarried long, and answers that, east or west, he has never seen so bonny a lass as was in the ewe-buchts; and #H# 12–15, #J# 2–5, #L# 5–8, where the laird tries to pass himself off for one of his men, and the maid for one of her mother’s servants (found in part, also, in #G# 9, 10, #I# 5, #M# 12–14). “The maid of a place, such as the maid of the Cowdenknows,” as Dr Joseph Robertson remarks, “means the eldest daughter of the tenant or proprietor, who is generally called by the name of his farm.”[115]

It is obvious that the maid would keep her counsel when she came back to her father. She puts him off with a riddle, #C# 9, #D# 13, #E# 11, #F# 9, #G# 18, #H# 20, #J# 6, #L# 14, #M# 23, #N# 7, which it is the height of absurdity to make her explain, as is done in #A# 11, #B# 4, #C# 10, #D# 14, #E# 12; and so of the exclamation against the shepherd if uttered in the father’s presence, as in #F# 8, #H# 19, #I# 11, #L# 13, #N# 8.

#H# 10, 11 (cf. #D# 6), where the maid asks the man’s name, is a familiar commonplace: see No 39, I, 340 a; No 50, I, 444, 446; No 110, II, 458 ff. (especially p. 473, #H# 3, 4); No 111, II, 478 f.

#M# has many spurious stanzas of its own; as 3–5, 25, 30–32, 35. #N# is quite perverted from 9 to 28. It is impossible that 9–14 should follow upon 8, and stanzas 15–27 have not a genuine word in them.

Cunningham has rewritten the ballad, Songs of Scotland, II, 113. He says that through Dumfriesshire and Galloway the hero is always Lord Lochinvar, and cites this stanza, which he had heard sung:

For I do guess, by your golden-rimmed hat, And by the silken string, That ye are the lord of the Lochinvar, Who beguiles all our young women.

‘Malfred og Sadelmand,’ Kristensen, I, 258, No 99, is an independent ballad, but has some of the traits of this: the maid, who is treated with great violence, asks the knight’s name, as in #H#, #D#; he comes back to marry her, after she has borne twins.

Cowdenknowes is on the east bank of Leader, near Earlston, and some four or five miles from Melrose. Auchentrone, in #B# #b# 11, Stenhouse conjectures to be a corruption of Auchentroich, an estate in the county of Stirling, and Oakland Hills, in #G#, to be Ochil Hills, in the same county: Musical Museum, IV, 112.

#B# is translated by Knortz, Schottische Balladen, p. 92, No 29.

* * * * *

A

Percy papers; communicated to Percy by R. Lambe, of Norham, August 17, 1768, and dated May, 1768.

1 There was a troop of merry gentlemen Was riding atween twa knows, And they heard the voice of a bonny lass, In a bught milking her ews.

2 There’s ane o them lighted frae off his steed, And has ty’d him to a tree, And he’s gane away to yon ew-bught, To hear what it might be.

3 ‘O pity me, fair maid,’ he said, ‘Take pity upon me; O pity me, and my milk-white steed That’s trembling at yon tree.’

4 ‘As for your steed, he shall not want The best of corn and hay; But as to you yoursel, kind sir, I’ve naething for to say.’

5 He’s taen her by the milk-white hand, And by the green gown-sleeve, And he as led her into the ew-bught, Of her friends he speerd nae leave.

6 He as put his hand in his pocket, And given her guineas three: ‘If I dinna come back in half a year, Then luke nae mair for me.

7 ‘Now show to me the king’s hie street, Now show to me the way; Now show to me the king’s hie street, And the fair water of Tay.’

8 She showd to him the king’s hie street, She showd to him the way; She showd him the way that he was to go, By the fair water of Tay.

9 When she came hame, her father said, ‘Come, tell to me right plain; I doubt you’ve met some in the way, You have not been your lain.’

10 ‘The night it is baith mist and mirk, You may gan out and see; The night is mirk and misty too, There’s nae body been wi me.

11 ‘There was a tod came to your flock, The like I neer did see; When he spake, he lifted his hat, He had a bonny twinkling eee.’

12 When fifteen weeks were past and gane, Full fifteen weeks and three, Then she began to think it lang For the man wi the twinkling eee.

13 It fell out on a certain day, When she cawd out her father’s ky, There was a troop of gentlemen Came merrily riding by.

14 ‘Weel may ye sigh and sob,’ says ane, ‘Weel may you sigh and see; Weel may you sigh, and say, fair maid, Wha’s gotten this bairn wi thee?’

15 She turned her sel then quickly about, And thinking meikle shame, ‘O no kind sir, it is na sae, For it has a dad at hame.’

16 ‘O hawd your tongue, my bonny lass, Sae loud as I hear you lee! For dinna you mind that summer night I was in the bught wi thee?’

17 He lighted off his milk-white steed, And set this fair maid on; ‘Now caw out your ky, good father,’ he said, ‘She’ll neer caw them out again.

18 ‘I am the laird of Knottington, I’ve fifty plows and three; I’ve gotten now the bonniest lass That is in the hale country.’

* * * * *

B

#a.# Herd’s Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 308. #b.# Johnson’s Museum, No 110, p. 113.

1 It was on an evning sae saft and sae clear A bonny lass was milking the kye, And by came a troup of gentlemen, And rode the bonny lassie by.

2 Then one of them said unto her, ‘Bonny lass, prythee shew me the way:’ ‘O if I do sae, it may breed me wae, For langer I dare nae stay.’

* * * * * *

3 But dark and misty was the night Before the bonny lass came hame: ‘Now where hae you been, my ae doughter? I am sure you was nae your lane.’

4 ‘O father, a tod has come oer your lamb, A gentleman of high degree, And ay whan he spake he lifted his hat, And bonny, bonny blinkit his ee.’

5 Or eer six months were past and gane, Six months but and other three, The lassie begud for to fret and to frown, And think lang for his blinkin ee.

6 ‘O wae be to my father’s shepherd, An ill death may he die! He bigged the bughts sae far frae hame, And trysted a gentleman to me!’

7 It fell upon another fair evening The bonny lassie was milking her ky, And by came the troop of gentlemen, And rode the bonny lassie by.

8 Then one of them stopt, and said to her, ‘Whae’s aught that baby ye are wi?’ The lassie began for to blush, and think, To a father as good as ye.

9 ‘O had your tongue, my bonny may, Sae loud I hear you lie! O dinnae you mind the misty night I was in the bught with thee?’

10 Now he’s come aff his milk-white steed, And he has taen her hame: ‘Now let your father bring hame the ky, You neer mair shall ca them agen.

11 ‘I am a lord of castles and towers, With fifty ploughs of land and three, And I have gotten the bonniest lass That is in this countrie.’

* * * * *

C

Kinloch MSS, VII, 143, from the recitation of Jenny Watson, 24 April, 1826; Clydesdale.

1 It was on a day whan a lovely may Was cawing out her father’s kye, And she spied a troop o’ gentlemen, As they war passing bye.

2 ‘O show me the way, my pretty maid, O show me the way,’ said he; ‘My steed has just now rode wrong, And the way I canna see.’

3 ‘O haud you on the same way,’ she said, ‘O haud ye on ‘t again, For, if ye haud on the king’s hieway, Rank rievers will do ye na harm.’

4 He took her by the milk-white hand, And by the gerss-green sleeve, And he has taiglet wi the fair may, And of her he askd na leave.

5 Whan ance he got her gudwill, Of her he craved na mair, But he poud out a ribbon frae his pouch, And snooded up the may’s hair.

6 He put his hand into his pouch, And gave her guineas three: ‘If I come na back in twenty weeks, Ye need na look mair for me.’

7 But whan the may did gang hame, Her father did her blame; ‘Whare hae ye been now, dame?’ he said ‘For ye’ve na been your lane.’

8 ‘The nicht is misty and mirk, father, Ye may come to the door and see; The nicht is misty and mirk, father, And there’s na body wi me.

9 ‘But there cam a tod to your flock, father, The like o him I never saw; Or he had tane the lambie that he had, I wad rather he had tane them aw.

10 ‘But he seemd to be a gentleman, Or a man of some pious degree; For whanever he spak, he lifted up his hat, And he had [a] bonnie twinkling ee.’

11 Whan twenty weeks were come and gane, Twenty weeks and three, The lassie began to grow thick in the waist, And thoucht lang for his twinkling ee.

12 It fell upon a day whan bonnie may Was cawing out the kye, She spied the same troop o gentlemen, As they war passing bye.

13 ‘O well may you save, my pretty may, Weill may you save and see! Weill may ye save, my lovely may! Go ye wi child to me?’

14 But the may she turnd her back to him, She begoud to think meikle shame; ‘Na, na, na, na, kind sir,’ she said, ‘I’ve a gudeman o my ain.’

15 ‘Sae loud as I hear ye lie, fair may, Sae loud as I hear ye lee! Dinna ye mind o yon misty nicht Whan I was in the bucht wi thee?’

16 He lichted aff his hie, hie horse, And he set the bonnie may on: ‘Now caw out your kye, gud father, Ye maun caw them out your lone.

17 ‘For lang will ye caw them out, And weary will ye be, Or ye get your dochter again . . . . . . .

18 He was the laird o Ochiltree, Of therty ploughs and three, And he has stown awa the loveliest may In aw the south cuntree.

* * * * *

D

Motherwell’s MS., p. 517; from the singing of Mrs Storie, of Lochwinnoch.

1 O bonnie May is to the yowe-buchts gane, For to milk her daddie’s yowes, And ay she sang, and her voice it rang Out-ower the tap o the knows, knows, knowes, Out-owr the tap o the knowes.

2 Ther cam a troop o gentilmen, As they were rydand by, And ane o them he lichtit doun, For to see May milkand her kye.

3 ‘Milk on, milk on, my bonnie lass, Milk on, milk on,’ said he, ‘For out o the buchts I winna gang Till ye shaw me owr the lee.’

4 ‘Ryde on, ryde on, ye rank rydars, Your steeds are stout and strang, For out o the yowe-buchts I winna gae, For fear that ye do me some wrang.’

5 He took her by the milk-white hand, And by the green gown-sleive, And thare he took his will o her, Bot o her he askit nae leive.

6 But whan he gat his will o her He loot her up again, And a’ this bonny maid said or did Was, Kind sir, tell me your name.

7 He pou’t out a sillar kame, Sayand, Kame your yellow hair; And, gin I be na back in three quarters o a year, It’s o me ye’ll see nae mair.

8 He pu’t out a silken purse And he gied her guineas thrie, Saying, Gin I may na be back in three quarters o a year, It will pay the nourice fee.

9 He put his fut into the stirrup And rade after his men, And a’ that his men said or did Was, Kind maister, ye’ve taiglit lang.

10 ‘I hae rade east, I hae rade wast, And I hae rade owr the knowes, But the bonniest lassie that I ever saw Was in the yowe-buchts, milkand her yowes.’

11 She put the pail upon her heid, And she’s gane merrilie hame, And a’ that her faither said or did Was, Kind dochter, ye’ve taiglit lang.

12 ‘Oh, wae be to your men, faither, And an ill deth may they die! For they cawit a’ the yowes out-owre the knowes, And they left naebody wi me.

13 ‘There cam a tod unto the bucht, The like I never saw, An, afore that he took the ane that he took, I wad leifar he had tane ither twa.

14 ‘There cam a tod unto the bucht, The like I never did see, And, ay as he spak, he liftit his hat, And he had a bonnie twinkland ee.’

15 It was on a day, and it was a fine simmer day, She was cawing out her faither’s kye, There cam a troup o gentilmen, And they rade ways the lass near by.

16 ‘Wha has dune to you this ill, my dear? Wha has dune to you this wrang?’ And she had na a word to say for hersell But, ‘Kind sir, I hae a man o my ain.’

17 ‘Ye lie, ye lie, bonnie May,’ he says, ‘Aloud I hear ye lie! For dinna ye mind yon bonnie simmer nicht Whan ye war in the yowe-buchts wi me?

18 ‘Licht doun, licht doun, my foremaist man, Licht doun and let her on, For monie a time she cawit her faither’s kye, But she’ll neir caw them again.

19 ‘For I am the laird o Ochiltree Wawis, I hae threttie pleuchs and thrie, And I hae tane awa the bonniest lass That is in a’ the north countrie.’

* * * * *

E

Motherwell’s Manuscript, p. 175; “from the recitation of Mrs Thomson, Kilbarchan, a native of Dumbartonshire, where she learned it.”

1 There was a may, and a bonnie may, In the bught, milking the ewes, And by came a troop of gentlemen, And they rode by and by.

2 ‘O I’ll give thee my milk-white steed, It cost me three hundred pound, If ye’ll go to yon sheep-bught, And bring yon fair maid doun.’

3 ‘Your steed ye canna want, master, But pay to ane a fee; Fifty pound of good red gold, To be paid down to me.’

4 ‘Come shew me the way, pretty may,’ he said, ‘For our steeds are quite gone wrong; Will you do to me such a courtesy As to shew us the near-hand way?’

5 ‘O go ye doun to yon meadow, Where the people are mowing the hay; Go ye doun to yon meadow, And they’ll shew you the near-hand way.’

6 But he’s taen her by the milk-white hand, And by the grass-green sleeve; He’s bowed her body to the ground, Of her kin he asked no leave.

7 When he lifted her up again He’s gien her guineas three: ‘If I be na back gin three quarters o a year, Ye need neer think mair on me.’

* * * * * *

8 ‘O where hast thou been, bonnie may,’ he said, ‘O where hast thou been sae lang? O where hast thou been, bonnie may?’ he said, ‘Thou hast na been sae lang thy lane.’

9 ‘O come to the door and see, father, O come to the door and see, And see such a weety and a windy night; There were nobody wi me.

10 ‘But wae be to your herd, father, And an ill death may he die! For he left the ewes strayed owre the knowes, And he left naebody wi me.

11 ‘But there came a tod to your bught, father, The like o him I neer saw; For or he had taen the bonnie lamb he took, Ye had as weel hae gien them a’.

12 ‘There came a tod to your bught, father, The like o him I neer did see; For aye when he spak he lifted up his hat, And he had a bonnie twinkling ee.’

13 But when twenty weeks were come and gane, Aye, twenty weeks and three, This lassie began to spit and to spew, And to lang for the twinkling ee.

14 It fell on a day, and a bonnie summer day, She was ca‘ing out her father’s kye, And by came a troop of gentlemen, And they rode by and by.

15 ‘O wha got the bairn wi thee, bonnie may? O wha got the bairn wi thee?’ . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

16 She turned hersell right round about. She began to blush and think shame, And never a word this bonnie lassie spok But ‘I have a good-man at hame.’

17 ‘Thou lie, thou lie, my bonnie may, Sae loud I hear thee lie! Do ye mind o the weety and windy night When I was in the ewe-bught wi thee?

18 ‘Light off, light off, the gentlest of my men, And set her on behind, And ca out your kye, good father, yoursell, For she’ll never ca them out again.’

19 He was the laird o twenty plough o land, Aye, twenty plough and three, And he’s taen awa the bonniest lass Was in a’ the south countrie.

* * * * *

F