Chapter XXVIII: Appendix (4)

4
‘He’ll get half o my gowd, an half o my gear,
An the third pairt o my lan,
An gin he row me safe on shore
He shall hae my daughter Ann.’

5
‘O here am I, a bonny wee boy
That’ll tak your helm in han
Till ye gang up to your high topmast
An look oot for some dry lan.

6
‘I’ll nae seek your gowd, nor I’ll nae seek your gear,
Nor the third pairt o your lan,
But gin I row you safe to shore
I shall hae your daughter Ann.

7
‘Come doon, come doon, Young Allan,’ he cries,
‘Ye see nae what I see;
For through an through your bonnie ship-side
An I see the open sea.

8
‘Ye’ll tak twenty-four o your feather-beds,
Ye’ll busk your bonnie ship roon,
An as much o the guid canvas-claith
As gar her gang hale an soun.

9
‘An whar ye want an iron bolt
Ye’ll ca a siller pin,
An whar ye want an oaken bolt
Ye’ll beat the yellow gold in.’

10
He’s taen twenty-four o his feather-beds
An buskit’s bonnie ship roon,
An as much o the guid canvas-claith
As gar her gang hale an soun.

11
An whar he’s wantit an iron bolt
He’s ca’d a siller pin,
An whar he’s wantit an oaken bolt
He’s beat the yellow gold in.

12
The firstan shore that they cam till,
It was the shore o Linn;
They held their spears an beenits oot,
An they wouldna lat Allan in.

13
The neistan shore that they cam till
It was the shore o . . . ;
. . . . . . .
An they turned their ship aboot.

14
But the neistan shore that they cam till,
‘T was bonnie Aberdeen;
The fifes an drums they a’ did play,
To welcome Allan in.

15
‘O where is he, the bonnie wee boy
That took my helm in han
Till I gied up to my high topmast
An lookd oot for some dry lan?

16
‘He’s get half o my gowd, an half o my gear,
An the third pairt o my lan,
An since he’s rowt me safe to shore
He sall hae my daughter Ann.’

17
‘O here am I, the bonnie wee boy
That took your helm in han
Till ye gied up to your high topmast
An lookd oot for some dry lan.

18
‘I’ll nae seek half o your good, nor half o your gear,
Nor the third pairt o your lan,
But since I’ve rowt you safe to shore
I sall hae your daughter Ann.’

* * * * *

E

Kinloch MSS, V, 395; in the handwriting of John Hill Burton, when a
youth

1
The king he sits in Dumfermline,
Birlin at the wine,
And callin for the best skipper
That ever sailed the faem.

2
Then out it spak a bonny boy,
Sat at the king’s right knee;
‘Earl Patrick is the best skipper
That ever sailed the sea.’

3
The king he wrote a braed letter,
And sealed it wi his ring,
And sent it to Earl Patrick,
. . . . . .

4
‘Oh wha is this, or wha is that,
Has tald the king o me?
For I was niver a gude mariner,
And niver sailed the sea.

* * * * * *

5
‘Ye’ll eat and drink, my merry young men,
The red wine you amang,
For blaw it wind, or blaw it sleet,
Our ship maun sail the morn.

6
‘Late yestreen I saw the new meen
Wi the auld meen in hir arm,’
And sichand said him Earl Patrick,
‘I fear a deadly storm.’

7
They sailed up, sae did they down,
Thro mony a stormy stream,
Till they saw the Dam o Micklengaem,
When she sank amang the faem.

8
They sailed up, sae did they down,
Thro many a stormy stream,
Till they saw the Duke o Normandy,
And she sank among the faem.

9
They sailed up, sae did they down,
Thro many a stormy stream,
Till they saw the Black Shater o Leve London,
And her topmast gaed in nine.

10
‘Where will I get a bonny boy
That will tack my helm in hand
Till I gang up to my topmast,
And spy for some dry land?’

11
‘Now here am I, a bonny boy
Will tack yer helm in hand
Till ye go up to your topmast
But I fear ye’ll never see land.’

12
‘Cum down, cum down, my gude master,
Ye see not what I see,
For through and through yer bonny ship
I see the raging sea.’

13
‘Ye’ll tak four-and-twenty fether-beds
And lay my bonny ship roun,
And as muckle o the fine canvas
As make her haill and soun.

14
‘And where she wants an iron nail
O silver she’s hae three,
And where she wants a timmer-pin
We’ll rap the red goud in.’

* * * * * *

15
The firsten shore that they cam till,
They cad it shore the Linn;
Wi heart and hand and good command,
They towed their bonny ship in.

16
The nexten shore that they came till,
They caad it shore the Lee;
With heart and hand and good command,
They towed the bonny ship tee.

17
There was twenty ships gaed to the sea,
Twenty ships and ane,
And there was na ane came back again
But Earl Patrick alane.

* * * * *

#A.#

18^2. ill buckled _corruptly for the_ auld baucheld _of_ #C# 26
(baucheld==down at the heels).

#B.#

2^2. hind.

3^5. snakes o Leveland den; _and_ snakes o Levelanden, #C# 4^5. _I
have not found_ snake, _for_ ship, _in late English, but the A.
S._ snacc==_Icelandic_ snekkja, a fast ship, _may well have come
down_. _For_ Leve London _see_ #E# 9^3.

11^4. _We should perhaps read_ As make; _cf._ #A# 14^4, #D.# 8^4.

#C.#

4^5. black snakes o Levelanden.

#D.#

_After 2._ “A long, long gap, that I have got nobody to fill up. I
learned it from my mother, but she has quite forgotten it.”

9^1. whar he.

13^3. _Remark_: “Not let land here either.”

17^3. to yon, _or_ you.

O _is added at the end of every second line._

#E.#

6^3. sich and.

9^3. shater. Cf. _#B# 3^5, #C# 4^5, where the texts have_ snakes
_(corrected here to_ snake). _The writer of #E# had begun the
word with something different from_ sh, _but with what I cannot
make out._

11^4. feear.

14^1. when _or_ wher.

246

REDESDALE AND WISE WILLIAM

#A.# ‘Reedisdale and Wise William,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of
Scotland, II, 70; Motherwell’s MS., p. 452; Motherwell’s Minstrelsy,
p. 298.

#B.# ‘Roudesdales,’ Harris MS., fol. 14 b.

#C.# Kinloch MSS, V, 423, two stanzas.

Redesdale boasts to William that he can win any woman with a blink of his eye. William has a sister who, he maintains, is not to be had so easily. A wager is laid, William’s head against Redesdale’s lands. William is shut up to prevent his warning his sister, but sends her a letter by a carrier-bird. Redesdale rides to the maiden’s bower, and, seeing her at the window, tries to induce her to come down by a series of offers of silk-gowns, jewels, etc. His offers proving bootless, he threatens to fire the house, and does so. The maid and her women don wet mantles and pass the reek and flame unhurt. She sends word to her brother, who claims Redesdale’s lands.

#A# 1, 2, 5 are substantially a repetition of No 245, #A# 1, 2^{1,4}, 6, etc. The sharp shower in #B# 16–18, which puts out, and does not put out, the fire, is an inept interpolation.

This ballad may be an offshoot from a widely spread story which is tediously told further on in ‘Twa Knights.’

* * * * *

A

Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 70; written down from
memory by Mr Nicol, Strichen, as learned in his earlier years from
old people

1
When Reedisdale and Wise William
Were drinking at the wine,
There fell a roosing them amang,
On an unruly time.

2
For some o them hae roosd their hawks,
And other some their hounds,
And other some their ladies fair,
And their bowers whare they walkd in.

3
When out it spake him Reedisdale,
And a rash word spake he;
Says, There is not a lady fair,
In bower wherever she be,
But I could aye her favour win
Wi ae blink o my ee.

4
Then out it spake him Wise William,
And a rash word spake he;
Says, I have a sister of my own,
In bower where ever she be,
And ye will not her favour win
With three blinks of your ee.

5
‘What will ye wager, Wise William?
My lands I’ll wad with thee;’
‘I’ll wad my head against your land,
Till I get more monie.’

6
Then Reedisdale took Wise William,
Laid him in prison strang,
That he might neither gang nor ride,
Nor ae word to her send.

7
But he has written a braid letter,
Between the night and day,
And sent it to his own sister
By dun feather and gray.

8
When she had read Wise William’s letter,
She smilëd and she leugh;
Said, Very well, my dear brother,
Of this I have eneuch.

9
She looked out at her west window
To see what she could see,
And there she spied him Reedisdale
Come riding ower the lea.

10
Says, Come to me, my maidens all,
Come hitherward to me;
For here it comes him Reedisdale,
Who comes a-courting me.

11
‘Come down, come down, my lady fair,
A sight of you give me;’
‘Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale,
For me you will not see.’

12
‘Come down, come down, my lady fair,
A sight of you give me;
And bonny are the gowns of silk
That I will give to thee.’

13
‘If you have bonny gowns of silk,
O mine is bonny tee;
Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale,
For me you shall not see.’

14
‘Come down, come down, my lady fair,
A sight of you I’ll see;
And bonny jewels, brooches and rings
I will give unto thee.’

15
‘If you have bonny brooches and rings,
O mine are bonny tee;
Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale,
For me you shall not see.’

16
‘Come down, come down, my lady fair,
One sight of you I’ll see;
And bonny are the ha’s and bowers
That I will give to thee.’

17
‘If you have bonny ha’s and bowers,
O mine are bonny tee;
Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale,
For me you shall not see.’

18
‘Come down, come down, my lady fair,
A sight of you I’ll see;
And bonny are my lands so broad
That I will give to thee.’

19
‘If you have bonny lands so broad,
O mine are bonny tee;
Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale,
For me ye will not see.’

20
‘Come down, come down, my lady fair,
A sight of you I’ll see;
And bonny are the bags of gold
That I will give to thee.’

21
‘If you have bonny bags of gold,
I have bags of the same;
Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale,
For down I will not come.’

22
‘Come down, come down, my lady fair,
One sight of you I’ll see;
Or else I’ll set your house on fire,
If better cannot be.’

23
Then he has set the house on fire,
And all the rest it tuke;
He turned his wight horse head about,
Said, Alas, they’ll ne’er get out!

24
‘Look out, look out, my maidens fair,
And see what I do see,
How Reedisdale has fired our house,
And now rides oer the lea.

25
‘Come hitherwards, my maidens fair,
Come hither unto me;
For thro this reek, and thro this smeek,
O thro it we must be!’

26
They took wet mantles them about,
Their coffers by the band,
And thro the reek, and thro the flame,
Alive they all have wan.

27
When they had got out thro the fire,
And able all to stand,
She sent a maid to Wise William,
To bruik Reedisdale’s land.

28
‘Your lands is mine now, Reedisdale,
For I have won them free;’
‘If there is a gude woman in the world,
Your one sister is she.’

* * * * *

B

Harris MS., fol. 14 b; from Mrs Harris.

1
Roudesdales an Clerk William
Sat birlin at the wine,
An a’ the talk was them atween
Was aboot the ladies fine, fine,
Was aboot the ladies fine.

2
Says Roudesdales to Clerk William,
I’ll wad my lands wi thee,
I’ll wad my lands against thy head,
An that is what I’ll dee,

3
‘That there’s no a leddy in a’ the land,
That’s fair, baith ee an bree,
That I winna wed withoot courtin,
Wi ae blink o my ee.’

4
Says William, I’ve an ae sister,
She’s fair, baith ee an bree;
An you’ll no wed her withoot courtin,
Wi ae blink o your ee.’

5
He has wrote a broad letter,
Between the nicht an the day,
An sent it to his ae sister
Wi the white feather an the gray.

6
The firsten line she luekit on,
A licht lauchter gae she;
But eer she read it to the end
The tear blindit her ee.

7
‘Oh wae betide my ae brither,
Wald wad his head for me,
. . . . . .
. . . . . .’

8
Roudesdales to her bour has gane,
An rade it round aboot,
An there he saw that fair ladie,
At a window lookin oot.

9
‘Come doon, come doon, you fair ladie,
Ae sicht o you to see;
For the rings are o the goud sae ried
That I will gie to thee.’

10
‘If yours are o the goud sae ried,
Mine’s o the silver clear;
So get you gone, you Roudesdales,
For you sall no be here.’

11
‘Come doon, come doon, you lady fair,
Ae sicht o you to see;
For the gouns are o the silk sae fine
That I will gie to thee.’

12
‘If yours are o the silk sae fine,
Mine’s o the bonnie broun;
Sa get you gone, you Roudesdales,
For I will no come doon.’

13
‘Come doon, come doon, you ladie fair,
Ae sicht o you to see;
For the steeds are o the milk sae white
That I will gie to thee.’

14
‘If yours are o the milk sae white,
Mine’s o the bonnie broun;
Sae get you gone, you Roudesdales,
For I will no come doon.’

15
‘Come doon, come doon, you ladie fair,
Ae sicht o you to see;
Or I will set your bour on fire
Atween your nurse an thee.’

16
‘You may set my bowr on fire,
As I doubt na you will dee,
But there’ll come a sharp shour frae the wast
Will slocken’t speedilie.’

17
He has set her bour on fire,
An quickly it did flame;
But there cam a sharp shour frae the wast
That put it oot again.

18
Oot amang the fire an smoke
That bonnie lady cam,
Wi as muckle goud aboon her bree
As wald bocht an earldom.

19
‘Oh wae betide you, ill woman,
An ill, ill died may you dee!
For ye hae won your brither’s head,
An I go landless free.’

* * * * *

C

Kinloch MSS, V, 423.

1
Redesdale and Clerk William
Sat drinking at the wine;
They hae fawn a wagering them atween
At a wanhappy time.

2
‘What will ye wad,’ says Redesdale,
‘O what will ye wad wi me
That there’s na a lady in a’ the land
But I wad win wi ae blink o my ee?’

* * * * *

#A.#

_There are some very trivial variations from Buchan’s text in
Motherwell’s copies; mostly_ is, _with a plural subject,
Scottice, for_ are. _Motherwell received the ballad from Buchan,
and was much in the way of making small betterments._

#B.#

_Air_, ‘Johnnie Brod.’

4^4. o her.

5^2. _Perhaps_ necht.

6^2. _Perhaps_ leiht.

247

LADY ELSPAT

‘Lady Elspat.’ #a.# Jamieson-Brown MS., p. 19. Printed in Jamieson’s
Popular Ballads, II, 191. #b.# “Scottish Songs,” MS., fol. 30,
Abbotsford Library, N. 3, in the handwriting of Walter Scott, about
1795

This ballad was No 10 of the fifteen of Mrs Brown’s which were obtained by William Tytler from Professor Thomas Gordon in 1783: Anderson to Percy, December 29, 1800, in Nichols’s Illustrations, VII, 177, where the first stanza (of twelve) is cited. These transcripts were accompanied with the airs. In #b#, which is now ascertained to be in the handwriting of Walter Scott,[149] there is a mawkish stanza after 4, and another after 9, which do not occur in #a#, and many verbal variations. These two stanzas are not likely to have been inserted by Scott, for, so far as we know, the ballad has been preserved only by Mrs Brown. As for the other variations, we are not in a condition to say which are Mrs Brown’s, which Scott’s.

An appointment for an elopement made by Lady Elspat with Sweet William is revealed to her mother by an eavesdropping page. William is bound with his own bow-string and brought before the Lord Justice. The mother accuses him of stealing her jewels; Lady Elspat denies this, and says that his only crime is too small an estate. The judge sees no fault in the young man (whom he discovers to be his sister’s son!), hands him over to Lady Elspat, and promises the pair as much land as a valuable horse of his can ride about in a summer’s day.

Truly not impressive in story or style, and very fit to have been forgotten by Mrs Brown.

Translated from Jamieson by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, p. 196, No 30; by Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder, p. 118, No 26; by Loève-Veimars, p. 337.

* * * * *

1
‘How brent’s your brow, my Lady Elspat!
How golden yallow is your hair!
Of all the maids of fair Scotland,
There’s nane like Lady Elspat fair.’

2
‘Perform your vows, Sweet William,’ she says,
‘The vows which ye ha made to me,
An at the back o my mother’s castle
This night I’ll surely meet wi thee.’

3
But wae be to her brother’s page,
Who heard the words this twa did say!
He’s told them to her lady mother,
Who wrought Sweet William mieckle wae.

4
For she has taen him Sweet William,
An she’s gard bind him wi his bow-string
Till the red bluide o his fair body
Frae ilka nail o his hand did spring.

5
O it fell once upon a time
That the Lord Justice came to town;
Out has she taen him Sweet William,
Brought him before Lord Justice boun.

6
‘An what is the crime, now, madame,’ he says,
‘Has been committed by this young man?’
‘O he has broken my bonny castel,
That was well biggit wi lime an stane.

7
‘An he has broken my bonny coffers,
That was well banded wi aiken ban,
An he has stoln my rich jewels;
I wot he has them every one.’

8
Then out it spake her Lady Elspat,
As she sat by Lord Justice knee;
‘Now ye hae taul your tale, mother,
I pray, Lord Justice, you’l now hear me.

9
‘He has na broken her bonny castel,
That was well biggit wi lime an stane,
Nor has he stoln her rich jewels,
For I wot she has them every one.

10
‘But tho he was my first true love,
An tho I had sworn to be his bride,
Cause he had not a great estate,
She would this way our loves divide.’

11
An out it spake the Lord Justice,
I wot the tear was in his ee;
‘I see nae fault in this young man,
Sae loose his bans, an set him free.

12
‘Take back your love, now, Lady Elspat,
An my best blessing you baith upon!
For gin he be your first true love,
He is my eldest sister’s son.

13
‘There is a steed in my stable
Cost me baith gold and white money;
Ye’s get as mieckle o my free lan
As he’ll ride about in a summer’s day.’

* * * * *

#a.#

3^1. to our.

5^3. has he.

#b.#

1^3. maids in.

2^1. said.

3^{1,2}.
And this beheard her mother’s foot-page,
Who listed the words thae twa.

3^3. He tauld them ower to.

4^2. Gart bind: his ain.

4^4. hands.

_After 4_:

They threw him into dungeon-keep;
Full little he reckd the pain;
But sair he mournd each springing hope
That was blasted a’ sae sune.

5^1. fell out.

5^2. That _wanting_.

5^3. And they hae.

5^4. him to thole a deadly doom.

6^{3,4}. For gin I judge frae his gentle look I think he is where
he should na stand.

7.
‘Yet has he broken my highest towr,
Was bigged strong wi stane and lime,
And stolen forth my rich jewels
Frae my coffer bound wi aiken beam.’

8^1. out and spak sweet.

8^2. sat near hir mother’s.

8^3. hae ye tauld.

8^4. Justice, hear you.

9^{1,2}. has not broken her highest towr, Was bigged strong wi
stane and lime.

9^4. ane. _After 9_:

‘Yet has he stolen a dearer pledge,
Not frae my mother, but frae me;
For he has stolen a virgin’s heart
Should have waited for ane o high degree.’

10^1. first fair.

11^1. Then out and spake the good.

11^3. nae harm.

11^4. his hands.

12^1. love, sweet Lady.

12^3. first fair.

13. _Wanting, and probably also in W. Tytler’s copy._

248

THE GREY COCK, OR, SAW YOU MY FATHER?

#a.#.’The Grey Cock,’ Herd’s Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p.
324; Herd’s MSS, I, 4; Herd’s Ancient and Modern Scottish Songs,
1776, II, 208. #b.# ‘Saw you my father?’ Chappell’s Popular Music,
p. 731

Stanzas 1, 4, 6, 7, are printed in Herd, 1769; the three others are among the “Additions to songs in the former volume” [of 1769], at the beginning of the first volume of the MS.; the whole is given in Herd, 1776.

Repeated from Herd, 1776 (with a change or two) in Pinkerton’s Select Scotish Ballads II, 155, 1783, and in Johnson’s Museum, p. 77, No 76, 1787, ‘O saw ye my father?’ Stenhouse had not found the verses in any collection prior to that of Herd, but asserts that the song had been “a great favorite in Scotland for a long time past” (1820, Museum, ed. 1853, IV, 81).

“This song,” says Chappell, “is printed on broadsides, with the tune, and in Vocal Music, or the Songster’s Companion, II, 36, second edition, 1772. This collection was printed by Robert Horsfield, in Ludgate Street, and probably the words and music will also be found in the first edition, which I have not seen.” The words, he adds, are in several “Songsters.”

Three stanzas from recitation, wrongly attached to ‘The Broomfield Hill,’ No 43, #E#, have been given at p. 399 of the first volume of this collection. Much of the ballad has been adopted into ‘Willie’s Fatal Visit,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 259, the two concluding stanzas with little change. These two stanzas are given by a correspondent[150] of Notes and Queries, First Series, XII, 227, as heard by him in the nursery about 1787. They have been made the kernel of a song by Allan Cunningham, impudently put forward as “the precious relique of the original,” Cromek, Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, 1810, p. 72.

The injunction to the cock is found in ‘The Swain’s Resolve,’ Lyle’s Ancient Ballads and Songs, 1827, p. 142:

She cries to the cock, saying, Thou must not crow
Until that the day be worn,
And thy wings shall be made of the silvery gray,
And thy voice of the silver horn.

It is also cited in Graves’s Irish Songs and Ballads, London, 1882, p. 249, No 50, as occurring “in a ballad descriptive of the visit of a lover’s ghost to his betrothed,” in which the woman, to protract the interview, says:

‘O my pretty cock, O my handsome cock,
I pray you do not crow before day,
And your comb shall be made of the very beaten gold,
And your wings of the silver so gray.’

The cock is remiss or unfaithful, again, in a little ballad picked up by Burns in Nithsdale, ‘A Waukrife Minnie,’ Cromek, Select Scotish Songs, 1810, II, 116 (of which another version is furnished by Lyle, p. 155, ‘The Wakerife Mammy’):

O weary fa the waukrife cock,
And the foumart lay his crawin!
He waukend the auld wife frae her sleep
A wee blink or the dawin.

The first stanza of ‘The Grey Cock’ seems to have been suggested by ‘Sweet William’s Ghost’ (of which the Irish ballad noted by Graves may have been a variety), as again is the case in Buchan’s ‘James Herries.’ The fantastic reward promised the cock in stanza 6 is an imitation, or a corruption, of the bribe to the parrot in No 4, #D# 23, #E# 15, #F# 10, or in No 68, #A# 10, #B# 13, #C# 14, etc.

Of the same general description is ‘Le Chant de l’Alouette,’ Victor Smith, Chansons de Velay, etc., Romania, VII, 56 (see further note 6 of Smith); ‘Le Rendez-vous,’ Mélusine, I, 285 ff., Rolland, Recueil, etc., IV, 43, No 196. Again, ‘La Rondinella,’ Kopisch, Agrumi, p. 80, 1837; ‘La Visita,’ Wolf, Volkslieder aus Venetien, p. 8; ‘La Rondine importuna,’ Ferraro, C. p. monferrini, p. 75, No 54; ‘Il Furto amoroso’ Gianandrea, C. p. marchigiani, p. 274; ‘La Rondinella,’ Archivio, VII, 401, No 6. The treacherous or troublesome bird is in French the lark, in one case the cock; in Italian the swallow.

This piece is a variety of the _aube_ (concerning which species see Jeanroy, Les Origines de la Poésie lyrique en France, the third chapter), but is none the less quite modern.

* * * * *

1
‘O saw ye my father? or saw ye my mother?
Or saw ye my true-love John?’
‘I saw not your father, I saw not your mother,
But I saw your true-love John.

2
‘It’s now ten at night, and the stars gie nae light,
And the bells they ring ding, dang;
He’s met wi some delay that causeth him to stay,
But he will be here ere lang.’

3
The surly auld carl did naething but snarl,
And Johny’s face it grew red;
Yet, tho he often sighd, he neer a word replied
Till all were asleep in bed.

4
Up Johny rose, and to the door he goes,
And gently tirlëd the pin;
The lassie taking tent unto the door she went,
And she opend and let him in.

5
‘And are ye come at last? and do I hold ye fast?
And is my Johny true?’
‘I hae nae time to tell, but sae lang’s I like mysell
Sae lang will I love you.’

6
‘Flee, flee up, my bonny grey cock,
And craw whan it is day;
Your neck shall be like the bonny beaten gold,
And your wings of the silver grey.’

7
The cock prov’d false, and untrue he was,
For he crew an hour oer soon;
The lassie thought it day when she sent her love away,
And it was but a blink of the moon

* * * * *

#a.#

4^1. _MS._ Then up.

5^4. _Ed._ 1776, sall I.

#b.#

1^1. Saw you my father? Saw you my mother.

1^2. Saw you.

1^{3,4}. He told his only dear that he soon would be here, But he
to another is gone.

2^{1,2}==1^{3,4}.

2^3. has met with ... which has caused.

2^4. here anon.

3. _Wanting._

4^1. Then John he up arose.

4^2. And he twirld, he twirld at.

4^3. lassie took the hint and to the.

4^4. she let her true love in.

5. _Wanting._

6^1. Fly up, fly up.

6^3. Your breast shall be of the beaming gold.

7^1. cock he.

7^2. crowd an hour too soon.

7^3. day, so she.

7^4. it prov’d but the.

_Notes and Queries_, I, xii, 227:

6^2. But crow not until it be day.

6^3. And your breast shall be made of the burnishd gold.

249

AULD MATRONS

‘Auld Matrons,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 238;
Motherwell’s MS., p. 585, with the title

‘Love Annie.’

Willie tirls at Annie’s bower-door and is admitted. After the exchange of familiar formulas, Willie expresses apprehension of “Matrons,” an old woman who is sitting by the kitchen-fire. Annie says there is no occasion to mind the old woman; she has not walked for seven years. But while the lovers are occupied with endearments the old woman makes speed to the sheriff, and informs him that Willie is with his daughter. The sheriff, guided by Matrons, goes to the bower, with men in mail. Annie hears the bridles ring, and wakens Willie. There is shooting of arrows and fire is set to the bower (_cf._ st. 17 and st. 33 of No 116). Willie maintains himself with spirit, but is so hard pressed that he is fain to blow his horn for his brother John, who is lying in Ringlewood. John wounds fifty and fifteen with his first shot, and with the next strikes out the sheriff’s eyes. The sheriff orders a retreat, and threatens, very illogically, to burn the old woman.

This piece was made by some one who had acquaintance with the first fit of ‘Adam Bell.’ The anonymous ‘old wife’ becomes ‘auld Matrons;’ Inglewood, Ringlewood. The conclusion is in imitation of the rescues in Robin Hood ballads. Stanzas 2–5 are hacknied commonplaces.

It is not considerate of Willie to take a foot-groom with him when he goes to pass a night at the bower of an unprovided seamstress, though the seamstress be a gentlewoman and the daughter of a sheriff. William of Cloudesly did not so. That the sheriff’s unmarried daughter should be living apart from her father is unusual, but a separate establishment was probably a necessity in Kelso for a gentlewoman who had ‘her living by the seam.’

* * * * *

1
My love she is a gentlewoman,
Has her living by the seam;
I kenna how she is provided
This night for me and my foot-groom.

2
He is gane to Annie’s bower-door,
And gently tirled at the pin:
‘Ye sleep, ye wake, my love Annie,
Ye’ll rise and lat your true-love in.’

3
Wi her white fingers lang and sma
She gently lifted up the pin;
Wi her arms lang and bent
She kindly caught sweet Willie in.

4
‘O will ye go to cards or dice?
Or will ye go to play?
Or will ye go to a well made bed,
And sleep a while till day?’

5
‘I winna gang to cards nor dice,
Nor yet will I to play;
But I will gang to a well made bed,
And sleep a while till day.

6
‘My love Annie, my dear Annie,
I would be at your desire;
But wae mat fa the auld Matrons,
As she sits by the kitchen fire!’

7
‘Keep up your heart, Willie,’ she said,
‘Keep up your heart, dinna fear;
It’s seven years, and some guid mair,
Sin her foot did file the flear.’

8
They hadna kissd nor love clapped,
As lovers when they meet,
Till up it raise the auld Matrons,
Sae well’s she spread her feet.

9
O wae mat fa the auld Matrons,
Sae clever’s she took the gate!
And she’s gaen ower yon lang, lang hill,
Knockd at the sheriff’s yate.

10
‘Ye sleep, ye wake, my lord?’ she said;
‘Are ye not your bower within?
There’s a knight in bed wi your daughter,
I fear she’s gotten wrang.’

11
‘Ye’ll do ye down thro Kelso town,
Waken my wall-wight men;
And gin ye hae your wark well dune
I’ll be there at command.’

12
She’s done her down thro Kelso town,
Wakend his wall-wight men;
But gin she had her wark well done
He was there at command.

13
He had his horse wi corn fodderd,
His men armd in mail;
He gae the Matrons half a merk
To show them ower the hill.

14
Willie sleepd, but Annie waked
Till she heard their bridles ring;
Then tapped on her love’s shoulder,
And said, Ye’ve sleepit lang.

15
‘O save me, save me, my blessd lady,
Till I’ve on my shooting-gear;
I dinna fear the king himsell,
Tho he an’s men were here.’

16
Then they shot in, and Willie out,
The arrows graz’d his brow;
The maid she wept and tore her hair,
Says, This can never do.

17
Then they shot in, and he shot out,
The bow brunt Willie’s hand;
But aye he kissd her ruby lips,
Said, My dear, thinkna lang.

18
He set his horn to his mouth,
And has blawn loud and shrill,
And he’s calld on his brother John,
In Ringlewood he lay still.

19
The first an shot that Lord John shot,
He wound fifty and fifteen;
The next an shot that Lord John shot,
He ca’d out the sheriff’s een.

20
‘O some o you lend me an arm,
Some o you lend me twa;
And they that came for strife this day,
Take horse, ride fast awa.

21
‘But wae mat fa yon, auld Matrons,
An ill death mat ye die!
I’ll burn you on yon high hill-head,
Blaw your ashes in the sea.’

* * * * *

2^3. Ye sleep ye, wake ye: _cf._ 10^1.

21^2: All ill.

21^3: And burn. _Motherwell_, I’ll.

250

HENRY MARTYN

#A.# #a, b.# ‘Henry Martyn;’ taken down from recitation, by the Rev.
S. Baring-Gould.

#B.# #a.# A broadside, Catnach, Seven Dials. #b.# ‘Henry Martin,’
Kidson, Traditional Tunes, p. 31. #c.# The same, p. 30.

#C.# ‘Robin Hood,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 660.

#D.# [‘Andrew Bodee’], from New Hampshire, U. S. A., communicated by
Mr George M. Richardson; two stanzas.

A copy edited from #A#, #B a#, with the addition of one stanza for a “snapper,” is printed in Baring-Gould and Sheppard’s Songs and Ballads of the West, No 53. Four traditional versions were obtained by Mr Baring-Gould.

Three brothers in Scotland cast lots to determine which of them shall rob on the sea to maintain them. The lot falls on the youngest, Henry Martyn, #A#, #B#; Robin Hood, #C#; Andrew Bodee, #D#. The pirate meets and stops an English ship the very first day (third, #A b#; fifth, #B#, #C#). There is a brisk fight, and the English ship is sunk by shot, #A#, #B#. She is plundered and then scuttled, #C#. In #A a#, Henry Martyn gets a deep wound and falls by the mast.

The ballad must have sprung from the ashes of ‘Andrew Barton,’ of which name Henry Martyn would be no extraordinary corruption. Only one copy, #A a#, preserves the trait of Barton’s death, an incident not quite in keeping with the rest of the story of the new ballad.

Robin Hood, #C#, is always at the service of any ballad-monger who wants a name for his hero. But it will be remembered that he is credited with taking a French ship in ‘The Noble Fisherman,’ No 148, and that is enough to explain his appearance here. ‘Andrew Bodee’ may just conceivably be a corruption of Andrew Wood, who displaces Patrick Spens in two versions of No 58 (#A b#, #D#). Motherwell knew of a copy in which the hero was called Roberton: MS., p. 660.

* * * * *

A

Taken down by the Rev. S. Baring-Gould. #a.# From Matthew Baker, an
old cripple, Lew Down, Devon. #b.# From Roger Luxton, an old man at
Halwell, North Devon.

1
In merry Scotland, in merry Scotland
There lived brothers three;
They all did cast lots which of them should go
A robbing upon the salt sea,

2
The lot it fell on Henry Martyn,
The youngest of the three;
That he should go rob on the salt, salt sea,
To maintain his brothers and he.

3
He had not a sailed a long winter’s night,
Nor yet a short winter’s day,
Before that he met with a lofty old ship,
Come sailing along that way.

4
O when she came by Henry Martyn,
‘I prithee now, let us go!’
‘O no! God wot, that, that will I not,
O that will I never do.

5
‘Stand off! stand off!’ said Henry Martyn,
‘For you shall not pass by me;
For I am a robber all on the salt seas,
To maintain us brothers three.

6
‘How far, how far,’ cries Henry Martyn,
‘How far do you make it?’ said he;
‘For I am a robber all on the salt seas,
To maintain us brothers three.’

7
For three long hours they merrily fought,
For hours they fought full three;
At last a deep wound got Henry Martyn,
And down by the mast fell he.

8
’Twas broadside to a broadside then,
And a rain and hail of blows,
But the salt sea ran in, ran in, ran in,
To the bottom then she goes.

9
Bad news, bad news for old England,
Bad news has come to the town,
For a rich merchant’s vessel is cast away,
And all her brave seamen drown.

10
Bad news, bad news through London street,
Bad news has come to the king,
For all the brave lives of the mariners lost,
That are sunk in the watery main.

* * * * *

B

#a.# A broadside, Catnach, Seven Dials. #b.# Kidson, Traditional
Tunes, p. 31, 1891; from fishermen at Flamborough, Yorkshire. #c.#
Kidson, etc., p. 30; “sung by a very old woman ... about ninety
years ago.”

1
There was three brothers in merry Scotland,
In merry Scotland there were three,
And each of these brothers they did cast lots,
To see which should rob the salt sea.

2
Then this lot did fall on young Henry Martyn,
The youngest of these brothers three,
So now he’s turnd robber all on the salt seas,
To maintain his two brothers and he.

3
He had not saild one long winter’s night,
One cold winter’s night before day,
Before he espied a rich merchant-ship,
Come bearing straight down that way.

4
‘Who are you? Who are you?’ said Henry Martyn,
‘Or how durst thou come so nigh?’
‘I’m a rich merchant-ship for old England bound,
If you please, will you let me pass by.’

5
‘O no! O no!’ cried Henry Martyn,
‘O no! that never can be,
Since I have turnd robber all on the salt seas,
To maintain my two brothers and me.

6
‘Now lower your topsails, you alderman bold,
Come lower them under my lee;’
Saying, ‘I am resolved to pirate you here,
To maintain my two brothers and me.’

7
Then broadside to broadside to battle they went
For two or three hours or more;
At last Henry Martyn gave her a death-wound,
And down to the bottom went she.

8
Bad news, bad news to England has come,
Bad news I will tell to you all,
’Twas a rich merchant-ship to England was bound,
And most of her merry men drownd.

* * * * *

C

Motherwell’s MS., p. 660; from the recitation of Alexander
Macdonald, coal-heaver, Barkip, parish of Dalry, Ayr; a song of his
mother’s, a native of Ireland.

1
There were three brothers in bonnie Scotland,
In bonnie Scotland lived they,
And they cuist kevels themsells amang,
Wha sould gae rob upon the salt sea.

2
The lot it fell upon bold Robin Hood,
The youngest brither of the hale three:
‘O, I sall gae rob upon the salt sea,
And it’s all to mauntain my two brothers and me.’

3
They hadna sailed a lang winter night,
A lang winter night scarselie,
Till they were aware of a tall, tall ship,
Coming sailin down under the lee.

4
‘O where are you bound for, my bonnie ship?’
Bold Robin Hood he did cry;
‘O I’m a bold merchantman, for London bound,
And I pray you, good sir, let us by.’

5
‘O no! O no!’ said bold Robin Hood,
‘O no such thing may be;
For I will gae in and plunder your ship,
And your fair bodies I’ll drown in the sea.’

6
O he has gone in and plundered their ship,
And holes in her bottom bored three;
The water came in so thick and so fast
That down, down to the bottom gade she.

7
Bad news, bad news to old England is gone,
Bad news to our king, old Henrie,
That his merchant-goods were taken on board,
And thirty-five seamen drownd in the sea.

* * * * *

D

Communicated by Mr George M. Richardson, as learned by a lady in
northern New Hampshire more than fifty years ago from an aged aunt.

1
Three loving brothers in Scotland dwelt,
Three loving brothers were they,
And they cast lots to see which of the three
Should go robbing all oer the salt sea, salt sea,
Should go robbing all oer the salt sea.

2
The lot it fell to Andrew Bodee,
The youngest of the three,
That he should leave the other two,
And go robbing all oer the salt sea.

* * * * *

#A. b.#

3^1. a sailed three winter’s nights.

3^2. When a little before the day.

3^3. He spied the king his gay gallant ship.

4. _Wanting._

5.
‘Stand off! Stand off!’ the captain he cried,
‘The life-guards they are aboard;
My cannons are loaden with powder and shot,
And every man hath a sword.’

7.
They merrily fought for three long hours,
They fought for hours full three,
And many a blow dealt many a wound,
As they fought on the salt, salt sea.

8.
’Twas a broadside to a broadside then,
And at it the which should win;
A shot in the gallant ship bored a hole,
And then did the water rush in.

9. _Wanting._

10^3. of the life-guards.

10^4. O the tidings be sad that I bring.

#B. b.#

1
In Scotland there lived three brothers of late,
In Scotland there lived brothers three;
Now the youngest cast lots with the other two,
Which should go rob on the salt sea.

2
The lot it did fall to bold Henry Martin,
The youngest of all the three,
And he had to turn robber all on the salt seas,
To maintain his two brothers and he.

3
He had not been sailing past a long winter’s night,
Past a long winter’s night before day,
Before he espied a lofty fine ship
Come sailing all on the salt sea.

4
‘O where are you bound for?’ cried Henry Martin,
‘O where are you bound for?’ cried he;
‘I’m a rich-loaded ship bound for fair England,
I pray you to let me pass free.’

5
‘O no! O no!’ cried Henry Martin,
‘O no! that can never be,
Since I have turned robber all on the salt sea,
To maintain my two brothers and me.

6
‘Heave down your main tack, likewise your main tie,
And lig yourself under my lee;
For your rich glowing gold I will take it away,
And your fair bodies drown in the salt sea.’

7
Then broadside to broadside they merrily fought,
For fully two hours or three,
When by chance Henry Martin gave her a broadside,
And right down to the bottom went she.

8
Bad news, bad news unto old England,
Bad news I tell unto thee;
For your rich glowing gold is all wasted away,
And your mariners are drownd in the salt sea.

#c.#

1
There lived three brothers in merry Scotland,
In merry Scotland lived brothers three,
And they did cast lots which should rob on the sea,
To maintain his two brothers and he.

2
And the lot it did light on Henry Martin,
The youngest of all the brothers three,
And he went a roaming on the salt sea,
To maintain his two brothers and he.

3
And when they had sailëd five days and more
On a rich merchant-ship coming down they then bore,
As he went a roaming on the salt sea,
To maintain his two brothers and he.

4
The rich merchant-ship got wounded by he,
And right down to the bottom of the salt sea went she,
As he went a roaming on the salt sea,
To maintain his two brothers and he.

#B. c.#

1^2. three brothers.

#C.#

1^4. sould _may possibly_ be wuld.

2^3, 4^1, 6^1. Oh.

251

LANG JOHNNY MORE

‘Lang Johnny Moir,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I,
248.

‘Lang Johnny More,’ Christie’s Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 44, is epitomized from Buchan, “with a few alterations from the way the editor has heard it sung.” The variations are absolutely of no account, as in other cases in which Christie has used this phrase.

Johnny More, a youth fourteen feet tall and three yards round the waist, goes to London to bear the king’s banner. He falls in love with the king’s daughter, and she with him, and the king locks the lady up in her chamber and swears that he will hang the Scot. Johnny laughs at the hanging; but the English give him laudanum, and when he wakes he finds his jaws and hands in iron bands and his feet in fetters. He sends a boy with a letter asking his uncle to come to his aid, and to bring with him Jock o Noth. These champions, ‘twa grizly ghosts to see,’ have three feet between their brows and three yards between their shoulders. Coming to London they find the gates locked, because, as they learn from a keeper, a Scot is to be hanged that morn. The keeper declining to open the gates, Jock o Noth drives in three yards of the wall with his foot. Johnny More is standing with the rope round his neck, ready to be turned off. Though the portentous pair have a giant’s strength, they are quite too superior to use it like a giant; they tell Johnny that there is no help for him if he has been guilty of a heinous crime. Learning that his only crime is loving a gay lady, they require that his sword shall be given back to him, then go before the king and demand the lady; they have come to her wedding. Take her, says the king. I never thought to see such men. Jock of Noth could have brought a man thrice three times bigger, if he had supposed that his own size would cause such astonishment. Any way, says the craven king, the boy that took the message shall be hanged. In that case, replies Jock, we shall attend the burial and see that you get your reward. The king yields everything. Johnny More calls for a priest to join him and his love; the king for a clerk to seal the tocher. Johnny is rich, and spurns tocher. Auld Johnny More, Young Johnny More, Jock o Noth and the boy go off with the lady.

This ballad has been referred to under No 99, II, 378, as perhaps an imitation, and in fact almost a parody, of ‘Johnie Scot.’ In No 99 John is the little Scot; here he is the muckle Scot, stanza 6 (Gaelic mor==big), and his helpmates, as well as he, are of gigantic size. Excepting in this and one other particular, the stories are materially the same. In both Johnie goes to England to bear the king’s banner; a love-affair ensues between him and the king’s daughter; the king puts his daughter into confinement, and threatens to hang Johnie, but in the end is constrained to give him his daughter; Johnie calls for a priest to marry him and the princess, the king calls for a clerk to arrange the tocher; Johnie refuses tocher, and goes off with his love or bride.

In No 99 Johnie, who has escaped, comes to the rescue of the princess with a redoubtable force; in this ballad Johnie is made prisoner, and sends for his uncle and another giant to come to his help. Their monstrous dimensions make them, for ballad-purposes, fairly equivalent to the five hundred men who accompany Johnie in No 99.

Some versions of No 99, as already remarked, have borrowed features from this ballad. Auld Johnie and Jock o Noth are presented here, stanza 21, as twa grizly ghosts to see, and their brows are three feet apart, their shoulders three yards; and so with the champion in #A#, #H#, #L#, of No 99.

Quite curiously, the hero of the Breton ballad which resembles ‘Johnie Scot’ is described as a giant (we must suppose on traditionary authority) in the title of two copies.

Auchindoir and Rhynie (parishes) are in the west of Aberdeenshire, north of the Don. Noth is a considerable hill in the latter.

* * * * *

1
There lives a man in Rynie’s land,
Anither in Auchindore,
The bravest lad amo them a’
Was lang Johnny Moir.

2
Young Johnny was an airy blade,
Fu sturdy, stout, and strang;
The sword that hang by Johnny’s side
Was just full ten feet lang.

3
Young Johnny was a clever youth,
Fu sturdy, stout, and wight,
Just full three yards around the waist,
And fourteen feet in hight.

4
But if a’ be true they tell me now,
And a’ be true I hear,
Young Johnny’s on to Lundan gane,
The king’s banner to bear.

5
He hadna been in fair Lundan
But twalmonths twa or three
Till the fairest lady in a’ Lundan
Fell in love wi young Johnny.

6
This news did sound thro Lundan town,
Till it came to the king
That the muckle Scot had fa’in in love
Wi his daughter, Lady Jean.

7
Whan the king got word o that,
A solemn oath sware he,
This weighty Scot sall strait a rope,
And hanged he shall be.

8
When Johnny heard the sentence past,
A light laugh then gae he:
‘While I hae strength to wield my blade,
Ye darena a’ hang me.’

9
The English dogs were cunning rogues;
About him they did creep,
And gae him draps o lodomy
That laid him fast asleep.

10
Whan Johnny wakend frae his sleep
A sorry heart had he;
His jaws and hands in iron bands,
His feet in fetters three.

11
‘O whar will I get a little wee boy
Will work for meat and fee,
That will rin on to my uncle,
At the foot of Benachie?’

12
‘Here am I, a little wee boy
Will work for meat and fee,
That will rin on to your uncle,
At the foot of Benachie.’

13
‘Whan ye come whar grass grows green,
Slack your shoes and rin;
And whan ye come whar water’s strong,
Ye’ll bend your bow and swim.

14
‘And whan ye come to Benachie
Ye’ll neither chap nor ca;
Sae well’s ye’ll ken auld Johnny there,
Three feet abeen them a’.

15
‘Ye’ll gie to him this braid letter,
Seald wi my faith and troth,
And ye’ll bid him bring alang wi him
The body Jock o Noth.’

16
Whan he came whar grass grew green,
He slackt his shoes and ran;
And whan he came whar water’s strong
He bent his bow and swam.

17
And whan he came to Benachie
Did neither chap nor ca;
Sae well’s he kent auld Johnny there,
Three feet abeen them a’.

18
‘What news, what news, my little wee boy?
Ye never were here before;’
‘Nae news, nae news, but a letter from
Your nephew, Johnny Moir.

19
‘Ye’ll take here this braid letter,
Seald wi his faith and troth,
And ye’re bidden bring alang wi you
The body Jock o Noth.’

20
Benachie lyes very low,
The tap o Noth lyes high;
For a’ the distance that’s between,
He heard auld Johnny cry.

21
Whan on the plain these champions met,
Twa grizly ghosts to see,
There were three feet between their brows,
And shoulders were yards three.

22
These men they ran ower hills and dales,
And ower mountains high,
Till they came on to Lundan town,
At the dawn o the third day.

23
And whan they came to Lundan town
The yetts were lockit wi bands,
And wha were there but a trumpeter,
Wi trumpet in his hands?

24
‘What is the matter, ye keepers all?
Or what’s the matter within
That the drums do beat and bells do ring,
And make sic dolefu din?’

25
‘There’s naething the matter,’ the keeper said,
‘There’s naething the matter to thee,
But a weighty Scot to strait the rope,
And the morn he maun die.’

26
‘O open the yetts, ye proud keepers,
Ye’ll open without delay;’
The trembling keeper, smiling, said,
‘O I hae not the key.’

27
‘Ye’ll open the yetts, ye proud keepers,
Ye’ll open without delay,
Or here is a body at my back
Frae Scotland has brought the key.’

28
‘Ye’ll open the yetts,’ says Jock o Noth,
‘Ye’ll open them at my call;’
Then wi his foot he has drove in
Three yards braid o the wall.

29
As they gaed in by Drury Lane,
And down by the town’s hall,
And there they saw young Johnny Moir
Stand on their English wall.