Chapter XIV: Appendix (3)

15
‘O had your tongue, father,’ she says,
‘An lat be till tomorrow!
A better lord there coudna be
Than he that died on Yarrow.’

16
She kissd his lips, an combd his hair,
As she had done before O,
An wi a crack her head did brack,
Upo the braes o Yarrow.

* * * * *

J

Taken down from the singing of Marion Miller, in Threepwood, in the
parish of Melrose. In Thomas Wilkie’s handwriting, “Scotch Ballads,
Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 107, Abbotsford. Another copy
in Thomas Wilkie’s MS., 1813–15, p. 57, No 67 of “Scotch Ballads,”
etc.

1
In Thoro town there lives a maid,
I am sure she has no marrow;
For she has forsaken both lords and knights,
And loved a servant-lad in Galla.

2
Evening and morning her page he ran,
Her page he ran wi sorrow,
With letters bound, just frae the town,
To the servant-lad in Galla.

3
Her father he got word of that,
And he’s bred all her sorrow;
He sent him forth to fight wi nine,
In the dowie glens of Yarrow.

4
She washd his face, she combd his hair,
She thought he had no marrow;
Wi a thrusty rapier by his side,
She sent him forth to Yarrow.

5
She’s taen fareweel of him that day,
As she had done before, O,
And she’s comd back to her bonny bower,
But her love’s away to Yarrow.

6
He wanderd up, he wandred down,
His heart was full of sorrow;
There he spied nine gentlemen,
Watering their steeds in Yarrow.

7
‘O come away, young man,’ they said,
‘I’m sure ye’r no our marrow;
Ye’r welcome here, young man,’ they said,
‘For the bonny lass o Thorro.’

8
‘Nine against one, weel do ye ken,
That’s no an equal marrow;
Yet for my love’s sake I’ll venture my life,
In the dowie glens of Yarrow.’

9
Five was wounded, and four was slain,
Amongst them a’ he had no marrow;
He’s mounted on his horse again,
Cries, I have won the bonny lass of Thorro!

10
Up then spake her father dear—
And he’s bred all her sororw—
And wi a broad sword ran him through,
In the dowie glens of Yarrow.

11
‘I have dreamd a dream, father,
I doubt I have dreamd for sorrow;
I dreamd I was pouing the heather green
Wi my true love in Yarrow.’

12
‘O I will read your dream, daughter,
Although it be for your sorrow;
Go, and ye’ll find your love lying sound,
In a heather-bush in Yarrow.’

13
She’s calld on her maidens then—
Her heart was full of sorrow—
And she’s away wi her maidens twa,
To the dowie glens o Yarrow.

14
She wandered up, she wandred down,
In the dowie glens of Yarrow,
And there she spied her love lying sound,
In a heather-bush in Yarrow.

15
She’s washd him in the clear well-strand,
She’s dry’d him wi the holland,
And aye she sighd, and said, Alass!
For my love I had him chosen.

16
His hair it was three quarters long,
Three quarters long and yellow;
And she’s rapt it round her middle small,
And brought it home to Thorro.

17
‘O hold your tongue, my daughter dear,
And talk no more of sorrow;
I’ll soon wed you on a better match
Than your servant-lad in Galla.’

18
‘O you may wed a’ your seven sons,
I wish you may wed them in sorrow:
O you may wed a’ your seven sons,
For you’ll neer wed the bonny lass of Thoro.’

19
This lady being big wi child,
And her heart was full wi sorrow,
She died between her father’s arms,
In the bonny house of Thorro.

* * * * *

K

Campbell MS., I, 8; “communicated by Janet Ormstone, Innerleithen,
who sung it to a beautiful old air.”

1
There lived a lady in the south,
She thought she had not her marrow;
And she was courted by nine gentlemen,
In the dowie dens in Yarrow.

2
All their offers they proved in vain,
She thought that they were not her marrow;
She has forsaken a’ the nine,
Loved a servant-lad on Galla.

3
Up bespoke her father dear,
Who bred them a’ this sorrow;
You must go far, far to fight the nine,
In the dowie den in Yarrow.’

4
She washd his face, she combd his hair,
Her heart being full of sorrow,
With a rusted rapier down by his side,
To fight his foes in Yarrow.

5
He’s ridden east, he’s ridden west,
He’s ridden into Yarrow,
And there he espied all the nine,
Watering their steeds in Yarrow.

6
‘Ye’r welcome, welcome, young man,’ they said,
‘But I think ye are not our marrow;’
‘But I’ll fight ye all out, one by one,
In the dowie dens o Yarrow.’

7
Four he has wounded, five he has slain,
He left them a’ sound in Yarrow;
He turned him round with rejoyfull looks,
Says, I wone the lady of Thoro.

8
Up then spoke her father dear,
Who bred them a’ this sorrow;
He’s taen out a broadsword and run him through,
In the dowie dens o Yarrow.

9
‘I dreamed a dream last night,’ she says,
‘I fear it is for sorrow;
I dreamd I was pulling the heather green
With my true love in Yarrow.’

10
‘I’ll read your dream now, daughter dear,
I fear it is for sorrow;
You will find your true-love lying sound,
In a heather bush in Yarrow.’

11
She’s ridden east, she’s ridden west,
She’s ridden into Yarrow;
There she found her true lover sound,
In a heather bush in Yarrow.

12
His hair it was five quarters lang,
It was baith lang and yellow;
She’s tied it to her horse’s mane,
She’s trailed him home from Yarrow.

13
‘O woe be to you, father dear!
You’ve bred me all this sorrow;’
So she died between her father’s arms,
In the dowie dens o Yarrow.

* * * * *

L

Blackwood’s Magazine, CXLVII, 741, June, 1890; communicated by
Professor John Veitch, as received from William Welsh, a
Peeblesshire cottar and poet, born 1799, whose mother used to recite
the ballad, and whose grandmother had a copy in her father’s
handwriting.

1
At Dryhope lived a lady fair,
The fairest flower in Yarrow,
And she refused nine noble men
For a servan lad in Gala.

2
Her father said that he should fight
The nine lords all to-morrow,
And he that should the victor be
Would get the Rose of Yarrow.

3
Quoth he, You’re nine, an I’m but ane,
And in that there’s no much marrow;
Yet I shall fecht ye, man for man,
In the dowie dens o Yarrow.

4
She kissed his lips, and combed his hair,
As oft she’d done before, O,
An set him on her milk-white steed,
Which bore him on to Yarrow.

5
When he got oer yon high, high hill,
An down the dens o Yarrow,
There did he see the nine lords all,
But there was not one his marrow.

6
‘Now here ye’re nine, an I’m but ane,
But yet I am not sorrow;
For here I’ll fecht ye, man for man,
For my true love in Yarrow.’

7
Then he wheeld round, and fought so fierce
Till the seventh fell in Yarrow,
When her brother sprang from a bush behind,
And ran his body thorough.

8
He never spoke more words than these,
An they were words o sorrow;
‘Ye may tell my true love, if ye please,
That I’m sleepin sound in Yarrow.’

9
They’ve taen the young man by the heels
And trailed him like a harrow,
And then they flung the comely youth
In a whirlpool o Yarrow.

10
The lady said, I dreamed yestreen—
I fear it bodes some sorrow—
That I was pu’in the heather green
On the scroggy braes o Yarrow.’

11
Her brother said, I’ll read your dream,
But it should cause nae sorrow;
Ye may go seek your lover hame,
For he’s sleepin sound in Yarrow.

12
Then she rode oer yon gloomy height,
An her heart was fu o sorrow,
But only saw the clud o night,
Or heard the roar o Yarrow.

13
But she wandered east, so did she wast,
And searched the forest thorough,
Until she spied her ain true love,
Lyin deeply drowned in Yarrow.

14
His hair it was five quarters lang,
Its colour was the yellow;
She twined it round her lily hand,
And drew him out o Yarrow.

15
She kissed his lips, and combed his head,
As oft she’d done before, O;
She laid him oer her milk-white steed,
An bore him home from Yarrow.

16
She washed his wounds in yon well-strand,
And dried him wi the hollan,
And aye she sighed, and said, Alas!
For my love I had him chosen.

17
‘Go hold your tongue,’ her father said,
‘There’s little cause for sorrow;
I’ll wed ye on a better lad
Than ye hae lost in Yarrow.’

18
‘Haud your ain tongue, my faither dear,
I canna help my sorrow;
A fairer flower neer sprang in May
Than I hae lost in Yarrow.

19
‘I meant to make my bed fu wide,
But you may make it narrow;
For now I’ve nane to be my guide
But a deid man drowned in Yarrow.’

20
An aye she screighed, and cried Alas!
Till her heart did break wi sorrow,
An sank into her faither’s arms,
Mang the dowie dens o Yarrow.

* * * * *

M

In the handwriting of James Hogg, the Ettrick Shepherd (later than
#E a#). “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 11 a,
Abbotsford.

1
O ay he sat, and ay he drank,
An ay he counted the laying,
An ay he drank to the lass’es health
Was to meet him in the dawning.

2
Up he gaes on yon high, high hill,
An a wat he gaes wi sorrow,
An in a den he spy’d nine well armd men,
On the dowie banks of Yarrow.

3
‘Oh woe be to young women’s wit!
For the’ve bred to me meikle sorrow;
She promisd for to meet me here,
An she’s sent nine men to slay me.

4
‘But there is two swords in my scabba[rd],
They cost me gold and money;
Tak ye the best, and I’ll tak the wa[rst],
An come man for man, I’ll not fly yo[u].’

5
Ay he stood, an ay he fought,
Till it was near the dawning,
Then up an rose her brother James,
An has slain him in the dawning.

6
‘O the last night I dreamd a dream,
God keep us a’ frae sorrow!
I dreamd I was powing the heather green
In the dowie banks of Yarrow.’

7
Up she gaes on yon high, high hill,
An a wat she gaes with sorrow,
An in a den she spy’d nine slain men,
In the dowie banks of Yarrow.

8
‘O the last time I saw my love
He was a’ clad oer in tartan;
But now he’s a’ clad oer in red,
An he’s a’ blood to the gartin.’

9
She kist his mouth, an she’s combd his hair,
As she had done before, O,
She drank the blood that from him ran,
In the dowie banks of Yarrow.

10
‘O hold your tongue now, daughter,’ he says,
‘An breed to me no more sorrow;
For I’ll wed you on a better match
Than you have lost on Yarrow.’

11
‘Hold your tongue now, father,’ she says,
‘An breed to me no more sorrow;
For a better rose will never spring
Than I have lost on Yarrow.’

* * * * *

N

Communicated to Scott by Mrs Christiana Greenwood, London, May 27,
1806 (Letters, I, No 189); presumably learned by her at Longnewton,
near Jedburgh. “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No
84, Abbotsford.

1
The cock did craw, and the day did daw,
And the moon shone fair and clearly;
Sir James gade out o his castle-yett,
To meet fair Anne, his dearie.

2
‘O come down, come down, my true-love Anne;
And speak but ae word to me!
But ae kiss o your bonny mouth
Wad yield much comfort to me.’

3
‘O how can I come down?’ she says,
‘Or how can I win to thee?
When there is nane that I can trust
Wad safe convey me to thee.

4
‘But gang doun, gang doun, to yon hostess’ house,
And there take on yere lawing,
And, as I’m a woman kind and true,
I’ll meet you at the dawing.’

5
Then he gade thro the good green-wood,
And oer the moor sae eerie,
And lang he stayd, and sair he sighd,
But he never mair saw his dearie.

6
And ay he sat, and lang he drank,
And ay he counted his lawing,
Till fifteen men did him surround,
To slay him or the dawing.

7
‘O she promisd ance to meet me this night,
But I find she has deceived me;
She promisd ance to meet me this night,
And she’s sent fifteen to slay me!

8
‘There are twa swords in my scabard,
They cost me gowd and money;
Take ye the best, and gie me the warst,
And man for man I’ll try ye.’

9
Then they fought on, and on they fought,
Till maist o them were fallen,
When her brother John cam him behind,
And slew him at the dawing.

10
Then he’s away to his sister Anne,
To the chamber where’s she’s lying:
‘Come doun, come doun, my sister Anne,
And take up your true-love Jamie!

11
‘Come doun, come doun now, sister Anne!
For he’s sleeping in yon logie;
Sound, sound he sleeps, nae mair to wake,
And nae mair need ye be vogie.’

12
‘I dreamd a drearie dream yestreen,
Gin it be true, it will prove my sorrow;
I dreamd my luive had lost his life,
Within the yetts o Gowrie.

13
‘O wae betide ye, lassies o Gowrie
For ye hae sleepit soundly;
Gin ye had keepit your yetts shut,
Ye might hae sav’d the life o my Jamie.

14
‘Yestreen my luive had a suit o claise
Were o the finest tartan;
But lang or ere the day did daw
They war a’ red bluid to the garten.

15
‘Yestreen my luive had a suit o claise
Were o the apple reamin;
But lang or ere the day did daw
The red bluid had them streamin.’

16
In yon fair ha, where the winds did blaw,
When the moon shone fair and clearly,
She’s thrawn her green skirt oer her head,
And ay she cried out mercy.

* * * * *

O

Herd’s MSS, I, 35, II, 181.

1
‘I dreamd a dreary dream last night,
God keep us a’ frae sorrow!
I dreamd I pu’d the birk sae green
Wi my true luve on Yarrow.’

2
‘I’ll read your dream, my sister dear,
I’ll tell you a’ your sorrow;
You pu’d the birk wi your true luve,
He’s killd, he’s killd on Yarrow!’

3
‘O gentle wind, that blaweth south
To where my love repaireth,
Convey a kiss from his dear mouth,
And tell me how he fareth!

4
‘But oer yon glen run armed men,
Have wrought me dule and sorrow;
They’ve slain, they’ve slain the comliest swain,
He bleeding lies on Yarrow.’

* * * * *

P

Cromek’s Select Scotish Songs, 1810, II, 196, the seventh and tenth
stanzas; sent by Burns to William Tytler in 1790.

1
‘Get up, get up now, sister Ann,
I fear we’ve wrought you sorrow;
Get up, ye’ll find your true love slain,
Among the banks of Yarrow.’

2
‘I made my love a suit of clothes,
I clad him all in tartan,
But ere the morning sun arose,
He was a’ bluid to the gartan.’

* * * * *

#A.#

_The words in ’ ’ are so distinguished in the MS., and are of
course emendations._ ‘Than,’ 9^1, _is obviously an insertion_;
‘Now Douglas,’ 11^1, _is entirely unauthorized, and, as before
said, is taken from Hamilton’s ballad_; ‘wiped,’ 14^3, _is
probably substituted for_ drank, _cf._ 12^3, _etc._; _and_
‘her,’ 15^3, _is very likely to have been_ his.

#B.#

12^1. _Var._ O father dear, I pray forbear.

#C.#

7^1. He.

7^3. SHe, _originally_ He.

9^{1,3}. a _in_ came _is not closed_; _possibly_ cume. _A few
changes were, as usual, made by Motherwell in printing._

#D.#

1^4. Wha _is blotted_.

#E. b.#

_A minute collation of a copy constructed by Scott would be
useless and deceptive, and therefore only the larger variations
will be noted._

1^2. And ere they paid the lawing.

5^1. As he gaed up the Tennies bank.

6^{1,2}.
O come ye here to part your land,
The bonnie forest thorough.

7^{1,2}.
I come not here to part my land,
And neither to beg nor borrow.

_After 7_:

If I see all, ye’re nine to ane, (_Cf._ #F# 4^1.)
And that’s an unequal marrow; (_Cf._ #G# 3^2.)
Yet will I fight while lasts my brand, (_Cf._ #F# 4^3, #G# 3^3.)
On the bonny banks of Yarrow. (_Cf._ #E a# 6^4.)

10^4. Wi my true love, on Yarrow. (_Cf._ #O# 1^4.)

_After 10, two stanzas which are nearly_ #O# 3, 4.

11^3. ten slain men. (_Cf._ #F# 9^3.)

12^{2,3}.
She searchd his wounds all thorough;
She kissd them till her lips grew red.

13^2. For a’ this breeds but sorrow. (_Cf._ #F# 13^2.)

14^2. Ye mind me but of sorrow.

14^{3,4}.
A fairer rose did never bloom
Than now lies croppd on Yarrow.

(_Cf._ #M# 11^{3,4}.)

_Scott gives in a note_, III, 79, 1803, “the last stanza, as
(_since?_) it occurs in most copies.” (_Cf._ #F#, #G#, #H#.)

That lady, being big with child,
And full of consternation,
She swooned in her father’s arms,
Amidst that stubborn nation.

#F.#

2^3. browns, _and so again_ #G# 1^3. _A derivation from_ bruny,
_mail-coat, is scarcely to be thought of_. _Apparently a
corruption of_ brand, (_cf._ #E# 4^3); _but_ brand _occurs in_
#F# 4^3, #G# 3^3.

#G.#

1^2. before him. 1^3. and his noble brouns.

10^3. shalt.

#H.#

3, 4. The stubborn lord _in 3^3 is the wife’s father, and the
race, or family, is_ stubborn _according to 10_. _Stubborn folk
think opposers stubborn, no doubt; still the epithet is unlikely
in 4^3._ Lad _I suppose to refer to the man who in the other
versions stabs from behind_.

5^3. dern _for_ den. _The_ nine men _must be dead, as in_ #E# 11,
#F# 9, #G# 6. _The_ well armd _belongs to an earlier (lost)
stanza, corresponding to_ #E# 5, #F# 3, #G# 2.

#I.# _Variations in Buchan’s printed copy_:

1^1. Ten lords. The lords _in my copy of the MS., but, as Dixon
has also_ Ten, _I presume_ The _to be an error. Otherwise I
should have read_ Th[re]e, _as in_ #B#, #C#, #D#.

4^2. As aft he’d.

7^4. thrust him thro body and mell, O.

8^3. mother to. 14^4. ower his.

#J.#

_The first copy seems to be the earlier, and that which was
transcribed into the MS. to have been slightly edited, but the
variations are few, mostly spellings. The first copy has no
title. The title of the second is altered from_ The Braes of
Yarrow _to_ The Dowie Glens of Yarrow. _At the end of the second
is this note_: This song I took down from Marion Miller in
Threepwood, in the Parish of Melrose. The air was plaintive and
extremely wild. I consider this song more valuable on account
that Mern had never sung it to any but myself for fifteen years,
and she had almost said, or rather promised, that she would
never sing it to another.

Thoro, 1^1, _etc._, _is spelt_ Thorough, Thorrough, _in the first
copy_, Thorough, Thorrough, Thorro, Thoro, _in the second_; _but
in the latter_ ugh _is struck out wherever it occurs_.

4^3. thrusty, _in both_; _i.e._, trusty.

11^3. the (birks) heather green, _in both_.

_First._ 5^2, 17^1, 18^1. oh, Oh.

_Second._ 5^2. What she had neer done before, O.

6^2, 19^2. was filled wi.

9^1. Five he. 9^2. nae. 9^3. steed.

12^2. to your.

18^2. wi _for_ in.

#K.#

3^3. far far _should probably be_ forth, _as in_ #J#; _possibly_
forth for.

#L.#

12^{3,4}, 13^{1,2}. _Compare Logan’s_ Braes of Yarrow.

They sought him east, they sought him west,
They sought him all the forest thorough;
They only saw the cloud of night
They only heard the roar of Yarrow.

#O.#

“A fragment, to the tune of Leaderhaughs and Yarrow.”

215

RARE WILLIE DROWNED IN YARROW, OR, THE WATER O GAMRIE

#A.# ‘Willy’s rare and Willy’s fair,’ Thomson’s Orpheus Caledonius,
II, 110, 1733.

#B. a.# Cromek’s Select Scotish Songs, 1810, II, 196. #b.# Stenhouse,
Musical Museum, 1853, IV, 464.

#C.# ‘The Dowie Dens o Yarrow,’ Gibb MS., p. 37.

#D.# Skene MS., p. 47.

#E.# ‘Willie’s drowned in Gamery,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of
Scotland, I, 245.

#F.# ‘The Water o Gamery,’ Buchan’s MSS, II, 159. Dixon, Scottish
Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads, p. 66, Percy Society, vol.
xvii.

#G.# ‘The Water o Ganrie,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 637.

#H.# ‘The Water o Gemrie,’ Campbell MSS, II, 78.

#A# was inserted in the fourth volume of The Tea-Table Miscellany, and stands in the edition of 1763 at p. 321, ‘Rare Willie drowned in Yarrow,’ It is given in Herd’s Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 197 (with two or three trifling changes); in Johnson’s Museum, p. 542, No 525. #F# is epitomized in Christie’s Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 66, “with some changes from the way the editor has heard it sung.”

The fragment in Cromek’s Select Scotish Songs, 1810, II, 196, sent by Burns in a letter to William Tytler, 1790, belongs, as already said, mostly with ‘The Duke of Athole’s Nurse,’ but has two stanzas of ‘Willie drowned in Yarrow’ (#B#).

‘The Braes of Yarrow,’ Ritson’s Scotish Song, I, 154, composed upon the story of this ballad by the Rev. John Logan (1748–88), has two of the original lines (nearly):

They sought him east, they sought him west,
They sought him all the forest thorough.

Willie is drowned in Yarrow according to the older (southern) tradition, #A#; also #B#, #C#. In the northern copies, #D#, #E#, #F#, with which #G#, #H#, agree, the scene is transferred to Gamrie, on the coast of the Moray Frith, where, as Christie remarks, “there is no water that Willie could have been drowned in but the sea, on his way along the sands to the old kirk.”[109] In the ballad which follows this, a western variety of the same story, Willie is drowned in the Clyde.

#C# 2, 3, 5, 6, belong to the preceding ballad, and 4 is common to that and this.

#A# 2 would come in better at the end of the story (as it does in #C#, a copy of slight authority), if it might properly find a place anywhere in the ballad. But this stanza suits only a woman who has been for some time living with her husband. A woman on her wedding-day could have no call to make her bed broad in her mother’s house, whether yestreen or the morrow. I therefore conclude that #A# 2 does not belong to this ballad.[110]

#D-H.# Rare Willie has promised to marry Meggie, #E# (also #A#, #C#, #D#). His mother would give her the wale of all her other sons, but not Willie; she will have him only; #D#, #E# (cf. #G# 1). The bridegroom, with a large company, is mounted to ride for the bride; he tells his friends to go forward, he has forgotten to ask his mother’s blessing; #D#, #E#, #F#, #H#. He receives the blessing, #D#, #F#, #H#; her blessing goes not with him, #G#; he gets her heavy curse, #E#; even in #F# his mother, after giving her blessing, says that he will never see his wedding. (The mother’s curse is the characteristic feature of the next following ballad.) The bridal party come to the river, or burn, of Gamrie; all the others pass the stream safely, but Willie is washed from his saddle, #D-H#. The rest ride on to the kirk of Gamrie. The bride asks where is the man who was to marry her, and is told that Willie is drowned. She tears the ribbons from her hair and runs to the river, plunges in, and finds Willie in the deepest pot, the middle, the deepest weil. She will make her bed with him in Gamrie; both mothers shall be alike sorry; #D-G#.

In #H#, Willie’s horse comes home with an empty saddle. His mother is sure that her son is dead; her daughter tries in vain to persuade her that all is well; Meggie takes her lover’s body from the river and lays it on the grass; she will sleep with him in the same grave at Gamrie.

In #A#, #B#, the drowned body is found in the cleft of a rock, the clifting or clintin of a craig; in #C# 4 neath a buss of brume, that stanza belonging, as most of the copy does, to the preceding ballad; cf. #J# 14, #K# 11 of No 214. The bride ties three links of her hair, which is three quarters long, round Willie’s waist, and draws him out of the water, #B# 2, #C# 5; for the hair, cf. No 214, where also it is not advantageously used. The bride’s tearing the ribbons from her head, #D# 12, #E# 15, #F# 8, #G# 7, #H# 14, is found also in No 214, #D# 11, #I# 12, but is inappropriate there. A brother, brother John, whether the man’s or the woman’s, tells the bad news in No 214, #A# 11, #E# 9, #I# 8, #L# 11, #N# 9, 10, as here #D# 11, #E# 14, #F# 7, #G# 6, #H# 13.

‘Annan Water,’ a ballad in which a lover is drowned on his way to visit his mistress, is given in an appendix.

* * * * *

A

Thomson’s Orpheus Caledonius, II, 110, 1733.

1
‘Willy’s rare, and Willy’s fair,
And Willy’s wondrous bony,
And Willy heght to marry me,
Gin eer he marryd ony.

2
‘Yestreen I made my bed fu brade,
The night I’ll make it narrow,
For a’ the live-long winter’s night
I lie twin’d of my marrow.

3
‘O came you by yon water-side?
Pu’d you the rose or lilly?
Or came you by yon meadow green?
Or saw you my sweet Willy?’

4
She sought him east, she sought him west,
She sought him brade and narrow;
Sine, in the clifting of a craig,
She found him drownd in Yarrow.

* * * * *

B

#a.# Cromek’s Select Scotish Songs, 1810, II, 196; eighth and ninth
stanzas of a fragment sent William Tytler by Burns in 1790. #b.#
Stenhouse’s edition of the Musical Museum, 1853, IV, 464.

1
She sought him east, she sought him west,
She sought him braid and narrow,
Till in the clintin of a craig
She found him drownd in Yarrow.

2
She’s taen three links of her yellow hair,
That hung down lang and yellow,
And she’s tied it about sweet Willie’s waist,
An drawn him out o Yarrow.

* * * * *

C

Gibb MS., No 7, p. 37; from recitation. “Traced to Eppie Fraser,
daughter of a tramp, and unable to read, _circa_ 1840.”

1
‘Willie’s fair, an Willie’s rare,
An Willie’s wondrous bonny,
An Willie’s promised to marry me,
If eer he marry ony.’

2
‘O sister dear, I’ve dreamed a dream,
I’m afraid it’s unco sorrow;
I dreamed I was pu’in the heather green,
In the dowie dens o Yarrow.’

3
‘O sister dear, I’ll read your dream,
I’m afraid it will be sorrow;
Ye’ll get a letter ere it’s een
Your lover’s drowned in Yarrow.’

4
She socht him up, she socht him doun,
In mickle dule an sorrow;
She found him neath a buss o brume,
In the dowie dens o Yarrow.

5
Her hair it was three quarters lang,
Its colour it was yallow;
She tied it to his middle sma,
An pu’ed him oot o Yarrow.

6
‘My bed it was made wide yestreen,
The nicht it sall be narrow;
There’s neer a man lie by my side
Since Willie’s drowned in Yarrow.’

* * * * *

D

Skene MS., p. 47; taken down from recitation in the north of
Scotland, 1802–3.

1
‘Willie’s fair, and Willie’s rare,
An he is wondrous bonnie,
An Willie has promist to marry me,
Gin ever he marry ony.’

2
‘Ye’s get Jammie, or ye’s [get] Johnnie,
Or ye’s get bonny Peter;
Ye’s get the wale o a’ my sons,
But leave me Willie the writer.’

3
‘I winna hae Jamie, I winna hae Johnie,
I winna hae bonny Peter;
I winna hae ony o a’ your sons,
An I get na Willie the writer.’

4
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
There was threescore and ten brisk young men
Was boun to briddal-stool wi him:

5
‘Ride on, ride on, my merry men a’,
I forgot something behind me;
I forgat my mither’s blessing,
To hae to bride-stool wi me.’

6
‘God’s blessin an mine gae wi ye, Willie,
God’s blessing an mine gae wi ye;
For ye’re nae ane hour but bare nineteen,
Fan ye’re gauin to meet your Meggie.’

7
They rode on, and farther on,
Till they came to the water of Gamrie,
An they a’ wan safe through,
Unless it was sweet Willie.

8
The first ae step that Willie’s horse steppit,
He steppit to the bridle;
The next ae step that Willie’s horse steppit,
Toom grew Willie’s saddle.

9
They rod on, an farther on,
Till they came to the kirk of Gamrie.
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .

10
Out spak the bonny bride,
. . . . . . .
‘Whar is the man that’s to gie me his han
This day at the kirk of Gamrie?’

11
Out spak his brother John,
An O bat he was sorrie!
‘It fears me much, my bonny bride,
He sleeps oure soun in Gamerie.’

12
The ribbons that were on her haír—
An they were thick and monny—
She rive them a’, let them down fa,
An is on[to] the water o Gamerie.

13
She sought it up, she sought it down,
She sought it braid and narrow;
An in the deepest pot o Gamerie,
There she got sweet Willie.

14
She has kissd his comely mouth,
As she had done before [O]:
‘Baith our mithers sall be alike sorry,
For we’s baith sleep in Gamery.’

* * * * *

E

Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, #I#, 245.

1
‘O Willie is fair, and Willie is rare,
And Willie is wondrous bonny,
And Willie says he’ll marry me,
Gin ever he marry ony.’

2
‘O ye’se get James, or ye’se get George,
Or ye’s get bonny Johnnie;
Ye’se get the flower o a’ my sons,
Gin ye’ll forsake my Willie.’

3
‘O what care I for James or George,
Or yet for bonny Peter?
I dinna value their love a leek,
An I getna Willie the writer.

4
‘O Willie has a bonny hand,
And dear but it is bonny!’
‘He has nae mair for a’ his land;
What woud ye do wi Willie?’

5
‘O Willie has a bonny face,
And dear but it is bonny!’
‘But Willie has nae other grace;
What woud ye do wi Willie?’

6
‘Willie’s fair, and Willie’s rare,
And Willie’s wondrous bonny;
There’s nane wi him that can compare,
I love him best of ony.’

7
On Wednesday, that fatal day,
The people were convening;
Besides all this, threescore and ten,
To gang to the bride-steel wi him.

8
‘Ride on, ride on, my merry men a’,
I’ve forgot something behind me;
I’ve forgot to get my mother’s blessing,
To gae to the bride-steel wi me.’

9
‘Your Peggy she’s but bare fifteen,
And ye are scarcely twenty;
The water o Gamery is wide and braid;
My heavy curse gang wi thee!’

10
Then they rode on, and further on,
Till they came on to Gamery;
The wind was loud, the stream was proud,
And wi the stream gaed Willie.

11
Then they rode on, and further on,
Till they came to the kirk o Gamery;
And every one on high horse sat,
But Willie’s horse rade toomly.

12
When they were settled at that place,
The people fell a mourning,
And a council held amo them a’,
But sair, sair wept Kinmundy.

13
Then out it speaks the bride hersell,
Says, What means a’ this mourning?
Where is the man amo them a’
That shoud gie me fair wedding?

14
Then out it speaks his brother John,
Says, Meg, I’ll tell you plainly;
The stream was strong, the clerk rade wrong,
And Willie’s drownd in Gamery.

15
She put her hand up to her head,
Where were the ribbons many;
She rave them a’, let them down fa’,
And straightway ran to Gamery.

16
She sought it up, she sought it down,
Till she was wet and weary;
And in the middle part o it,
There she got her deary.

17
Then she stroakd back his yellow hair,
And kissd his mou sae comely:
‘My mother’s heart’s be as wae as thine!
We’se baith asleep in the water o Gamery.’

* * * * *

F

Buchan MSS, II, 159.

1
Whan Willie was in his saddle set,
And all his merry men wi him,
‘Stay still, stay still, my merry men all,
I’ve forgot something behind me.

2
‘Gie me God’s blessing an yours, mither,
To hae me on to Gamery;
Gie me God’s blessing an yours, mither,
To gae to the bride-stool wi me.’

3
‘I’ll gie ye God’s blessing an mine, Willie,
To hae you on to Gamery;
Ye’s hae God’s blessing an mine, Willie,
To gae to the bride-stool wi you.

4
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
‘But Gamery it is wide and deep,
An ye’ll never see your wedding;’

5
Some rede back, an some rede fore,
An some rede on to Gamery;
The bonniest knight’s saddle among them all
Stood teem in the Water o Gamery.

6
Out it spake the bride hersell,
Says, What makes all this riding?
Where is the knight amongst you all
Aught me this day for wedding?

7
Out it spake the bridegroom’s brother,
Says, Margaret, I’ll tell you plainly;
The knight ye should hae been wedded on
Is drownd in the Water o Gamery.

8
She’s torn the ribbons aff her head—
They were baith thick an mony—
She kilted up her green claithing,
And she has passed the Gamery.

9
She’s plunged in, so did she down,
That was baith black an jumly,
And in the middle o that water
She found her ain sweet Willie.

10
She’s taen him in her arms twa
And gied him kisses many:
‘My mother’s be as wae as thine!
We’ll baith lie in the Water o Gamery.’

* * * * *

G

Motherwell’s MS., p. 637; from the recitation of the wife of James
Baird, forester at Dalrymple.

1
‘O stay at hame, my ain son Willie,
And let your bride tak Johnie!
O stay at hame, my ain son Willie!
For my blessing gaes not wi thee.’

2
‘I canna stay, nor I winna stay,
And let my bride tak Johnie;
I canna stay, nor I winna stay,
Though your blessing gaes na wi me.

3
‘I have a steed in my stable
That cost me monie a pennie,
And on that steed I winna dread
To ride the water o Genrie.’

4
The firsten step that Willie stept,
He steppit to the bellie;
The wind blew loud, the stream ran proud,
And awa wi it gaed Willie.

5
And when the bride gaed to the kirk,
Into the kirk o Ganrie,
She cuist her ee among them a’,
But she sawna her love Willie.

6
Out and spak her auld brither,
Saying, Peggie, I will tell thee;
The man ye should been married till
Lyes in the water o Genrie.

7
She tore the ribbons aff her head,
That were baith rich and manie,
And she has kiltit up her coat,
And ran to the water o Ganrie.

8
She’s sought him up, sae did she doun,
Thro a’ the water o Ganrie;
In the deepest weil in a’ the burn,
Oh, there she fand her Willie!

9
She has taen him in her arms twa,
Sae fondly as she kisst him!
Said, ‘My mither sall be wae as thine,’
And she’s lain doun aside him.

* * * * *

H

Campbell MSS, II, 78.

1
They were saddled a’, they were briddled a’,
Bridegroom and a’ was ready;
‘Stop,’ says he, ‘my nobles a’,
For I’ve left something behind me.

2
‘It is your blessing, mother dear,
To bound [to] the bride-styl with me:’
‘God’s blessing now, my son,’ says she,
‘And mine and a’ gang wi ye!

3
‘For ye are scarce nineteen years of age
When ye met in wi bonny Maggie,
And I’m sure, my dear, she’ll welcome you
This day in the kirk o Gemrie.’

4
It’s they have ridden up, it’s they have ridden down,
And joy was in their gallant company;
It’s they have ridden up, and they have ridden down,
Till they came to the water o Gemrie.

5
When they came to the water, it was flooded;
In the middle Sweet William he fell;
The spray brook over his horse’s mane,
And the wind sang his funeral knell.

6
‘O much is the pity! O much is the pity!’
Cried that joyful company;
‘O much is the pity! O much is the pity!’
But alas! now are woeful and wae.

7
Hame and hame came his stead,
And ran to its ain stable;
They’ve gien it corn and hay to eat,
As much as it was able.

8
His mother she was a waefu woman,
As dung as woman could be;
‘My son,’ says she, ‘is either hurt or slain,
Or drowned in the waters of Gemrie.’

9
It’s up and spak her daughter Ann:
‘What needs be a’ this mourning?
He’s lighted at yon bonny kirk-style,
And his steed has run away from him.’

10
‘O had yer tongue, my daughter Ann,
Nor scold na me about mourning;
Hadna my son there men enew
To hae taken his steed from him?’

11
They’ve ridden up, they’ve ridden down,
Till they came to the kirk o Gemrie;
There they saw his winsome bride,
Alone at the kirk-style standing.

12
‘Where away is the man,’ says she,
‘That promised me fair wedding?
This day he vowd to meet me here,
But O he’s lang o coming!’

13
Up and spak his brother John,
Says, ‘Meg, I’ll tell ye plainly;
The stream was strang, and we rade wrang,
And he’s drownd in the water o Gemrie.’

14
She’s torn the ribons frae her hair,
That were baith thick and many;
She’s torn them a’, lettin them fa’,
And she’s away to the waters o Gemrie.

15
She[’s] sought him up, she’s sought him down,
Until that she’s gotten his body,
And she’s laid it on the green, green grass,
And flung her mantle oer him.

16
‘O Willie was red, but O now he’s white!
And Willie was wondrous bonny,
And Willie he said he’d marry me,
Gin ere he married oney.

17
‘He was red, he was white, he was my delight,
And aye, aye I thought him bonny;
But now since Willie has dy’d for me,
I will sleep wi him in the same grave at Gemrie.’

* * * * *

#B. b.#

“The editor has often heard the following additional stanza [_the
second_], though it is omitted by Thomson.”

2^1. links o her gowden locks.

2^3. She’s tied them about.

#D.#

_Not divided into stanzas in the MS._

#E.#

_Variations in Christie_, I, 66:

2^{1–3}. ye’ll.

6^1. O Willie’s.

7^3. And there were mair than threescore and ten.

14^4. at Gamery.

15^2. Where she had ribbons.

15^3. And tore them a’ and let.

15^4. And syne she ran.

16^4. ’Twas there.

17^1. She straiked back.

17^4. We’ll baith sleep.

#G.#

6^1. _Originally_ But out.

#H.#

2^2. bound the bridgestyle.