Chapter XXIX: Appendix (5)

30
‘Ye’re welcome here, my uncle dear,
Ye’re welcome unto me;
Ye’ll loose the knot, and slack the rope,
And set me frae the tree.’

31
‘Is it for murder, or for theft?
Or is it for robberie?
If it is for ony heinous crime,
There’s nae remeid for thee.’

32
‘It’s nae for murder, nor for theft,
Nor yet for robberie;
A’ is for the loving a gay lady
They’re gaun to gar me die.’

33
‘O whar’s thy sword,’ says Jock o Noth,
‘Ye brought frae Scotland wi thee?
I never saw a Scotsman yet
But coud wield a sword or tree.’

34
‘A pox upo their lodomy,
On me had sic a sway
Four o their men, the bravest four,
They bore my blade away.’

35
‘Bring back his blade,’ says Jock o Noth,
‘And freely to him it gie,
Or I hae sworn a black Scot’s oath
I’ll gar five million die.

36
‘Now whar’s the lady?’ says Jock o Noth,
‘Sae fain I woud her see;’
‘She’s lockd up in her ain chamber,
The king he keeps the key.’

37
So they hae gane before the king,
With courage bauld and free;
Their armour bright cast sic a light
That almost dim’d his ee.

38
‘O whar’s the lady?’ says Jock o Noth,
‘Sae fain as I woud her see;
For we are come to her wedding,
Frae the foot o Benachie.’

39
‘O take the lady,’ said the king,
‘Ye welcome are for me;
I never thought to see sic men,
Frae the foot o Benachie.’

40
‘If I had kend,’ said Jock o Noth,
‘Ye’d wonderd sae muckle at me,
I woud hae brought ane larger far
By sizes three times three.

41
‘Likewise if I had thought I’d been
Sic a great fright to thee,
I’d brought Sir John o Erskine Park;
He’s thretty feet and three.’

42
‘Wae to the little boy,’ said the king,
‘Brought tidings unto thee!
Let all England say what they will,
High hangëd shall he be.’

43
‘O if ye hang the little wee boy
Brought tidings unto me,
We shall attend his burial,
And rewarded ye shall be.’

44
‘O take the lady,’ said the king,
‘And the boy shall be free;’
‘A priest, a priest,’ then Johnny cried,
‘To join my love and me.’

45
‘A clerk, a clerk,’ the king replied,
‘To seal her tocher wi thee;’
Out it speaks auld Johnny then,
These words pronounced he:

46
‘I want nae lands and rents at hame,
I’ll ask nae gowd frae thee;
I am possessd o riches great,
Hae fifty ploughs and three;
Likewise fa’s heir to ane estate
At the foot o Benachie.

47
‘Hae ye ony masons in this place,
Or ony at your call,
That ye may now send some o them
To build your broken wall?’

48
‘Yes, there are masons in this place,
And plenty at my call;
But ye may gang frae whence ye came,
Never mind my broken wall.’

49
They’ve taen the lady by the hand
And set her prison-free;
Wi drums beating, and fifes playing,
They spent the night wi glee.

50
Now auld Johnny Moir, and young Johnny Moir,
And Jock o Noth, a’ three,
The English lady, and little wee boy,
Went a’ to Benachie.

* * * * *

27^4. hae.

252

THE KITCHIE-BOY

#A.# Skene MS., p. 89.

#B.# ‘Earl Richard’s Daughter,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of
Scotland, I, 145.

#C.# ‘Bonny Foot-Boy,’ Alexander Fraser Tytler’s Brown MS., No 7.

#D.# ‘The Kitchie-Boy,’ Harris MS., fol. 21.

#E.# ‘Willie, the Kitchie-Boy,’ Joseph Robertson’s Note-Book,
‘Adversaria,’ p. 88.

A lady of birth falls in love with her father’s kitchen-boy (foot-boy, #C#). She makes her passion known to him. He begs for secrecy, for her father would hang him; this is quite too likely, and she would be sent to a nunnery. The danger quickens her wits: she will send him off in a fine ship, and he can come back ‘like some earl or baron’s son’ and marry her (#C#). Being well provided with gold, her mother’s legacy, she has no difficulty in carrying out her plan; a very noble ship is provided, and she gives Willie (#B#, #C#, #E#) a ring to mind him of her. She warns him, #C# 8, #E# 13, that there are pressing reasons why he should not stay away very long. After a voyage of from three weeks to twelve months, Willie lands at London, #A#, #E#; in Spain, #B#, #C#, #D#. A lady, looking over her castle-wall, sees the ship coming in, and goes down to the shore with her maries to invite the master to dine. The master excuses himself; she asks him if he can fancy her; the woman he loves is far over the sea; the fairest woman in Scotland would break her heart if he should not return to her. The Spanish (or English) lady offers him a rich ring, to wear for her sake; he has a ring on his finger which is far dearer than any she could give him. He sails homeward; the lady’s father sees the ship coming in, and is as much impressed as his daughter could desire; he thinks some man of mark must be aboard, and tells his daughter to busk herself, for he means to ask the squire or lord to dine; he would give all his rents to have this same marry his daughter. Willie blackens or paints or masks or veils his face, and goes with the father to the castle. He asks the lady if she can fancy him; her father asks her if she will marry this lord, #C#. The man is far over sea that shall have her love, she replies. Willie hands her the ring which she had given him. Gat ye that by sea? or gat ye that by land? or gat ye it on the Spanish coast upon a dead man’s hand? He gat it on a drowned man’s hand. Alas! she cries, my true-love Willie! Upon this, Willie reveals himself. The father calls for a priest, little knowing that this lord was his own kitchen-boy.

The ballad is a modern “adaptation” of ‘King Horn,’ No 17, from which #A# 33, 34, #B# 47, #D# 7, 8, are taken outright. In the particular of the hero’s having his choice of two women it is more like the _gest_ of ‘King Horn,’ or ‘Horn Childe and Maiden Rimnild;’ but an independent invention of the Spanish lady is not beyond the humble ability of the composer of ‘The Kitchie-Boy.’

* * * * *

A

Skene MS., p. 89; taken down in the north of Scotland, 1802–3.

1
There was a lady fair,
An een a lady of birth an fame,
She eyed her father’s kitchen-boy,
The greater was her shame.

2
She could never her love reveal,
Nor to him talk,
But in the forest wide an brade,
Where they were wont to walk.

3
It fell ance upon a day
Her father gaed frae home,
And she sent for the kitchen-boy
To her own room.

4
‘Canna ye fancy me, Willie?
Canna ye fancy me?
By a’ the lords I ever saw
There is nane I loo but ye.’

5
‘O latna this be kent, lady,
O latna this be . . . ,
For gin yer father got word of this
I vou he’d gar me die.’

6
‘Yer life shall no be taen, Willie,
Yer life sal na be taen;
I wad er loss my ain heart’s blood
Or thy body gat wrang.’

7
Wi her monny fair speeches
She made the boy bold,
Till he began to kiss an clap,
An on her sine lay hold.

8
They hadna kissed an love claped,
As lovers whan they meet,
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .

9
‘The master-cook he will on me call,
An answered he man be;
An it wer kent I war in bower wi thee,
I fear they wad gar me die.’

10
‘The master-cook may on ye call,
But answerd he will never be,
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .

11
‘For I hae three coffers fu o goud,
Yer eyen did never see,
An I will build a bonny ship for my love,
An set her to the sea,
And sail she east or sail she wast
The ship sal be fair to see.’

12
She has built a bonny ship,
And set her to the sea;
The topmasts war o the red goud,
The sails of tafetie.

13
She gae him a gay goud ring,
. . . . . . .
To mind him on a gay lady
That ance bear love to him.

14
The day was fair, the ship was rare,
Whan that swain set to sea;
Whan that day twal-moth came and gaed,
At London landed he.

15
A lady looked our the castle-wa,
Beheld the day gae down,
And she beheld that bonny ship
Come hailing to the town.

16
‘Come here, come here, my maries a’,
Ye see na what I see;
The bonniest ship is come to land
Yer eyes did ever see.

17
‘Gae busk ye, busk ye, my maries a’,
Busk ye unco fine,
Till I gae down to yon shore-side,
To invite yon squar to dine.

18
‘O ye come up, gay young squar,
An take wi me a dine;
Ye sal eat o the guid white loaf,
An drink the claret wine.’

19
‘I thank ye for yer bread,
I thank ye for yer wine,
I thank ye for yer courticie,
But indeed I hanna time.’

20
‘Canna ye fancy me?’ she says,
‘Canna ye fancy me?
O a’ the lords an lairds I see
There’s nane I fancy but ye.’

21
‘The’r far awa fra me,’ he says,
‘The’r clean ayont the sea,
That has my heart in hand,
An my love ae sal be.’

22
‘Here is a guid goud ring,
. . . . . .
It will mind ye on a gay lady
That ance bare love to ye.’

23
‘I ha a ring on my finger
I loe thrice as well as thine,
Tho yours were o the guid red goud
An mine but simple tin.’

24
The day was fair, the ship was rare,
Whan that squar set to sea;
Whan that day twal-month came an gaed,
At hame again landed he.

25
The lady’s father looked our castle-wa,
To see the day gae down,
An he beheld that bonny ship
Come hailing to the town.

26
‘Come here, my daughter,
Ye see na what I see;
The bonniest ship is come to land
My eyes did ever see.

27
‘Gae busk ye, my dochter,
G[a]e busk ye unco fine,
An I’ll gae down to yon shore-side,
To invite the squar to dine;
I wad gie a’ my rents
To hae ye married to him.’

28
‘The’r far awa frae me,’ she says,
‘Far ayont the sea,
That has my heart in hand
An my love ai sal be.’

29
‘O will ye come, ye gay hine squar,
An take wi me a dine?
Ye sal eat o the guid white bread,
And drink the claret wine.’

30
‘I thank ye for yer bread,
I thank ye for yer wine,
I thank ye for yer courticie,
For indeed I hanna grait time.

31
‘O canna ye fancy me?’ he says,
‘O canna ye fancy me?
O a’ the ladys I eer did see
There’s nane I loo by ye.’

32
‘They are far awa fra me,’ she says,
‘The’r far ayont the sea,
That has my heart in hand,
An my love ay sall be.’

33
‘Here it is, a gay goud ring,
. . . . . .
It will mind ye on a gay hin chil
That ance bare love to ye.’

34
‘O gat ye that ring on the sea sailing?
Or gat ye it on the land?
O gat ye it on the shore laying,
On a drowned man’s hand?’

35
‘I got na it on the sea sailing,
I got na it on the land,
But I got it on the shore lying,
On a drowned man’s hand.

36
‘O bonny was his cheek,
An lovely was his face!’
‘Allas!’ says she, ‘it is my true-love Willie,’
. . . . . .

37
He turned him round about,
An sweetly could he smile;
She turned her round, says, My love Willie,
How could ye me beguile?

38
‘A priest! a priest!’ the old man cries,
‘An lat this twa married be:’
Little did the old man kin
It was his ain kitchen-boy.

* * * * *

B

Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 145.

1
Earl Richard had but ae daughter,
A maid o birth and fame;
She loved her father’s kitchen-boy,
The greater was her shame.

2
But she could neer her true-love see,
Nor with him could she talk,
In towns where she had wont to go,
Nor fields where she could walk.

3
But it fell ance upon a day
Her father went from home;
She’s calld upon the kitchen boy
To come and clean her room.

4
‘Come sit ye down by me, Willie,
Come sit ye down by me;
There ‘s nae a lord in a’ the north
That I can love but thee.’

5
‘Let never the like be heard, lady,
Nor let it ever be;
For if your father get word o this
He will gar hang me hie.’

6
‘O ye shall neer be hangd, Willie,
Your blude shall neer be drawn;
I’ll lay my life in pledge o thine
Your body’s neer get wrang.’

7
‘Excuse me now, my comely dame,
No langer here I’ll stay;
You know my time is near expir’d,
And now I must away.

8
‘The master-cook will on me call,
And answered he must be;
If I am found in bower with thee,
Great anger will there be.’

9
‘The master-cook will on you call,
But shall not answerd be;
I’ll put you in a higher place
Than any cook’s degree.

10
‘I have a coffer full of gold,
Another of white monie,
And I will build a bonny ship,
And set my love to sea.

11
‘Silk shall be your sailing-clothes,
Gold yellow is your hair,
As white like milk are your twa hands,
Your body neat and fair.’

12
This lady, with her fair speeches,
She made the boy grow bold,
And he began to kiss and clap,
And on his love lay hold.

13
And she has built a bonny ship,
Set her love to the sea,
Seven score o brisk young men
To bear him companie.

14
Then she’s taen out a gay gold ring,
To him she did it gie:
‘This will mind you on the ladie, Willie,
That’s laid her love on thee.’

15
Then he’s taen out a piece of gold,
And he brake it in two:
‘All I have in the world, my dame,
For love I give to you.’

16
Now he is to his bonny ship,
And merrily taen the sea;
The lady lay oer castle-wa,
The tear blinded her ee.

17
They had not saild upon the sea
A week but barely three
When came a prosperous gale of wind,
On Spain’s coast landed he.

18
A lady lay oer castle-wa,
Beholding dale and down,
And she beheld the bonny ship
Come sailing to the town.

19
‘Come here, come here, my maries a’,
Ye see not what I see;
For here I see the bonniest ship
That ever saild the sea.

20
‘In her there is the bravest squire
That eer my eyes did see;
All clad in silk and rich attire,
And comely, comely’s he.

21
‘O busk, O busk, my maries all,
O busk and make ye fine;
And we will on to yon shore-side,
Invite yon squire to dine.

22
‘Will ye come up to my castle
Wi me and take your dine?
And ye shall eat the gude white bread,
And drink the claret wine.’

23
‘I thank you for your bread, lady,
I thank you for your wine;
I thank you for your kind offer,
But now I have not time.’

24
‘I would gie all my land,’ she says,
‘Your gay bride were I she;
And then to live on a small portion
Contented I would be.’

25
‘She’s far awa frae me, lady,
She’s far awa frae me
That has my heart a-keeping fast,
And my love still she’ll be.’

26
‘But ladies they are unconstant,
When their loves go to sea,
And she’ll be wed ere ye gae back;
My love, pray stay wi me.’

27
‘If she be wed ere I go back,
And prove sae false to me,
I shall live single all my life;
I’ll neer wed one but she.’

28
Then she’s taen out a gay gold ring,
And gae him presentlie:
‘'T will mind you on the lady, young man,
That laid her love on thee.’

29
‘The ring that’s on my mid-finger
Is far dearer to me,
Tho yours were o the gude red gold,
And mine the metal free.’

30
He viewd them all, baith neat and small,
As they stood on the shore,
Then hoist the mainsail to the wind,
Adieu, for evermore!

31
He had not saild upon the sea
A week but barely three
Until there came a prosperous gale,
In Scotland landed he.

32
But he put paint upon his face,
And oil upon his hair,
Likewise a mask above his brow,
Which did disguise him sair.

33
Earl Richard lay oer castle-wa,
Beholding dale and down,
And he beheld the bonny ship
Come sailing to the town.

34
‘Come here, come here, my daughter dear,
Ye see not what I see;
For here I see the bonniest ship
That ever saild the sea.

35
‘In her there is the bravest squire
That eer my eyes did see;
O busk, O busk, my daughter dear,
Come here, come here, to me.

36
‘O busk, O busk, my daughter dear,
O busk, and make ye fine,
And we will on to the shore-side,
Invite yon squire to dine.’

37
‘He’s far awa frae me, father,
He’s far awa frae me
Who has the keeping o my heart,
And I’ll wed nane but he.’

38
‘Whoever has your heart in hand,
Yon lad’s the match for thee,
And he shall come to my castle
This day and dine wi me.

39
‘Will ye come up to my castle
With me and take your dine?
And ye shall eat the gude white bread,
And drink the claret wine.’

40
‘Yes, I’ll come up to your castle
With you and take my dine,
For I would give my bonny ship
Were your fair daughter mine.’

41
‘I would give all my lands,’ he said,
‘That your bride she would be;
Then to live on a small portion
Contented would I be.’

42
As they gaed up from yon sea-strand
And down the bowling-green,
He drew the mask out-oer his face,
For fear he should be seen.

43
He’s done him down from bower to bower,
Likewise from bower to ha,
And there he saw that lady gay,
The flower out-oer them a’.

44
He’s taen her in his arms twa,
And haild her courteouslie:
‘Excuse me, sir, there’s no strange man
Such freedom use with me.’

45
Her father turnd him round about,
A light laugh then gave he:
‘Stay, I’ll retire a little while,
Perhaps you may agree.’

46
Now Willie’s taen a gay gold ring,
And gave her presentlie;
Says, Take ye that, ye lady fair,
A love-token from me.

47
‘O got ye’t on the sea sailing?
Or got ye’t on the sand?
Or got ye’t on the coast of Spain,
Upon a dead man’s hand?’

48
‘Fine silk it was his sailing-clothes,
Gold yellow was his hair;
It would hae made a hale heart bleed
To see him lying there.

49
‘He was not dead as I passd by,
But no remeid could be;
He gave me this token to bear
Unto a fair ladie.

50
‘And by the marks he has descryvd
I’m sure that you are she;
So take this token of free will,
For him you’ll never see.’

51
In sorrow she tore her mantle,
With care she tore her hair:
‘Now since I’ve lost my own true-love,
I’ll neer love young men mair.’

52
He drew the mask from off his face,
The lady sweetly smiled:
‘Awa, awa, ye fause Willie!
How have you me beguiled?’

53
Earl Richard he went thro the ha,
The wine-glass in his hand,
But little thought his kitchen-boy
Was heir oer a’ his land.

54
But this she kept within her heart,
And never told to one
Until nine months they were expir’d,
That her young son came home.

55
She told it to her father dear;
He said, Daughter, well won;
You’ve married for love, not for gold,
Your joys will neer be done.

* * * * *

C

Alexander Fraser Tytler’s Brown MS., No 7.

1
O there was a ladie, a noble ladie,
She was a ladie of birth and fame,
But she fell in love wi her father’s foot-boy,
I wis she was the mair to blame.

2
A word of him she neer could get
Till her father was a hunting gone;
Then she calld on the bonny foot-boy
To speak wi her in her bower alone.

3
Says, Ye ken you are my love, Willie,
And that I am a ladie free,
And there’s naething ye can ask, Willie,
But at your bidding I maun be.

4
O the loving looks that ladie gave
Soon made the bonny boy grow bold,
And the loving words that ladie spake
As soon on them he did lay hold.

5
She has taen a ring frae her white finger,
And unto him she did it gie;
Says, Wear this token for my sake,
And keep it till the day you die.

6
‘But shoud my father get word of this
I fear we baith will have cause to rue,
For to some nunnery I shoud be sent,
And I fear, my love, he would ruin you.

7
‘But here is a coffer of the good red gowd,
I wot my mother left it to me;
And wi it you’ll buy a bonny ship,
And ye maun sail the raging sea;
Then like some earl or baron’s son
You can come back and marrie me.

8
‘But stay not lang awa, Willie,
O stay not lang across the fame,
For fear your ladie shoud lighter be,
Or your young son shoud want a name.’

9
He had not been o the sea sailling
But till three months were come and gane,
Till he has landed his bonny ship;
It was upon the coast of Spain.

10
There was a ladie of high degree
That saw him walking up and down;
She fell in love wi sweet Willie,
But she wist no how to make it known.

11
She has calld up her maries a’,
Says, Hearken well to what I say;
There is a young man in yon ship
That has been my love this many a day.

12
‘Now bear a hand, my maries a’,
And busk me brave and make me fine,
And go wi me to yon shore-side
To invite that noble youth to dine.’

13
O they have buskit that ladie gay
In velvet pall and jewels rare;
A poor man might have been made rich
Wi half the pearles they pat in her hair.

14
Her mantle was of gowd sae red,
It glaned as far as ane coud see;
Sweet Willie thought she had been the queen,
And bowd full low and bent his knee.

15
She’s gard her maries step aside,
And on sweet Willie sae did smile;
She thought that man was not on earth
But of his heart she could beguile.

16
Says, Ye maun leave your bonny ship
And go this day wi me and dine,
And you shall eat the baken meat,
And you shall drink the Spanish wine.

17
‘I canna leave my bonny ship,
Nor go this day to dine wi thee,
For a’ my sails are ready bent
To bear me back to my ain countrie.’

18
‘O gin you’d forsake your bonny ship
And wed a ladie of this countrie,
I would make you lord of a’ this town,
And towns and castles twa or three.’

19
‘Should I wed a ladie of this countrie,
In sooth I woud be sair to blame,
For the fairest ladie in fair Scotland
Woud break her heart gin I gaed na hame.’

20
‘That ladie may choose another lord,
And you another love may choose;
There is not a lord in this countrie
That such a proffer could refuse.’

21
‘O ladie, shoud I your proffer take,
You’d soon yoursell have cause to rue,
For the man that his first love forsakes
Woud to a seccond neer prove true.’

22
She has taen a ring frae her white finger,
It might have been a prince’s fee;
Says, Wear this token for my sake,
And give me that which now I see.

23
‘Take back your token, ye ladie fair;
This ring you see on my right hand
Was gien me by my ain true-love,
Before I left my native land.

24
‘And tho yours woud buy it nine times oer
I far more dearly prize my ain;
Nor woud I make the niffer,’ he says,
‘For a’ the gowd that is in Spain.’

25
The ladie turnd her head away
To dry the sat tears frae her eyne;
She naething more to him did say
But, I wish your face I neer had seen!

26
He has set his foot on good ship-board,
The ladie waved her milk-white hand,
The wind sprang up and filld his sails,
And he quickly left the Spanish land.

27
He soon came back to his native strand,
He langd his ain true-love to see;
Her father saw him come to land,
And took him some great lord to be.

28
Says, Will ye leave your bonny ship
And come wi me this day to dine?
And you shall eat the baken meat,
And you shall drink the claret wine.

29
‘O I will leave my bonny ship,
And gladly go wi you to dine,
And I woud gie thrice three thousand pounds
That your fair daughter were but mine.’

30
‘O gin ye will part wi your bonny ship
And wed a ladie of this countrie,
I will gie you my ae daughter,
Gin she’ll consent your bride to be.’

31
O he has blaket his bonny face
And closs tuckd up his yellow hair;
His true-love met them at the yate,
But she little thought her love was there.

32
‘O will you marrie this lord, daughter,
That I’ve brought hame to dine wi me?
You shall be heir of a’ my lands,
Gin you’ll consent his bride to be.’

33
She looked oer her left shoulder,
I wot the tears stood in her eye;
Says, The man is on the sea sailling
That fair wedding shall get of me.

34
Then Willie has washd his bonny face,
And he’s kaimd down his yellow hair;
He took his true-love in his arms,
And kindly has he kissd her there.

35
She’s looked in his bonny face,
And thro her tears did sweetly smile,
Then sayd, Awa, awa, Willie!
How could you thus your love beguile?

36
She kept the secret in her breast,
Full seven years she’s kept the same,
Till it fell out at a christning-feast,
And then of it she made good game.

37
And her father laughd aboon the rest,
And said, My daughter, you’r nae to blame;
For you’ve married for love, and no for land,
So a’ my gowd is yours to claim.

* * * * *

D

Harris MS., fol. 21; from the recitation of Mrs Harris and others.

1
There lived a lady in the north
O muckle birth an fame;
She’s faun in love wi her kitchie-boy,
The greater was her shame.

* * * * * *

2
‘Maister cook, he will cry oot,
An answered he maun be;’
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .

3
‘I hae a coffer o ried gowd
My mither left to me,
An I will build a bonnie ship,
And send her ower the sea,
An you’ll come hame like lord or squire,
An answered you maun be.’

4
She has biggit a bonnie ship,
Sent her across the main,
An in less than sax months an a day
That ship cam back again.

5
‘Go dress, go dress, my dochter Janet,
Go dress, an mak you fine,
An we’ll go doun to yon shore-side
An bid yon lords to dine.’

6
He’s pued the black mask ower his face,
Kaimed doun his yellow hair,
A’ no to lat her father ken
That ere he had been there.

* * * * * *

7
‘Oh, got you that by sea sailin?
Or got you that by land?
Or got you that on Spanish coast,
Upon a died man’s hand?’

8
‘I got na that by sea sailin,
I got na that by land;
But I got that on Spanish coast,
Upon a died man’s hand.’

9
He’s pued the black mask aff his face,
Threw back his yellow hair,
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .

10
‘A priest, a priest,’ the lady she cried,
‘To marry my love an me;’
‘A clerk, a clerk,’ her father cried,
‘To sign her tocher free.’

* * * * *

E

Joseph Robertson’s Note-Book “Adversaria,” p. 88; from tradition.

* * * * * *

1
And she has built a lofty ship,
And set her to the main;
The masts o her were o gude reed gowd,
And the sails o silver clear.

2
‘Ye winna bide three months awa
When ye’ll return again,
In case your lady lichter be,
And your baby want the name.’

3
But the wind blew high,
The mariners they did land at Lundin soon.

4
A lady sat on the castell-wa,
Beheld baith dale and down,
And there she saw this lofty ship,
Comin sailin in the Downs.

5
‘Look out, look out, my maidens a’,
Ye seena what I see;
For I do see as bonny a ship
As ever sailed the sea,
And the master o her’s the bonniest boy
That ever my eyes did see.’

6
She’s taen her mantell her about,
Her cane intill her han,
And she’s away to the shore-side,
Till invite the square to dine.

7
‘O will ye come to our castell?
Or will ye sup or dine?’
‘O excuse me, madam,’ he said,
‘For I hae but little time.’

* * * * * *

8
The wind blew high,
The mariners they did land at home again.

9
The old man sat in the castell-wa,
Beholding dale and down,
And there he spied this goodly ship
Come sailin to the town.

10
‘Look out, look out, my dauchter dear,
Ye see not what I see;
For I do see as bonny a ship
As ever sailed the sea.

11
‘And the master o her’s the bonniest boy
That my eyes did ever see,
And if I were a woman as I’m a man
My husband he should be.’

12
‘Haud far awa frae me, fader,
Haud far awa frae me,
For I never had a lad but ane,
And he’s far awa at sea.

13
‘There is a love-token atween us twa,
It’ll be mair ere it be less,
An aye the langer he bides awa
It will the mair encreass.’

14
He’s taen his mantell him about,
His cane intil his hand,
And he’s awa to the shore-side,
To invite the square to dine.

15
‘O will ye come to our castle?
Or will ye sup or dine?’
‘Indeed I will, kind sir,’ he said,
‘Tho I’ve but little time.’

16
The lady sat on castle-wa,
Beholding dale and down,
But he’s put his veil upon his face,
That she might not him ken.

* * * * * *

* * * * *

#A.#

_Written in long couplets._

8^1. hadne.

22^4, 32^4. ance hane? _Cf._ 3^4.

23^2. I lee. 35^2. got no.

#B.#

11^2. yellow in.

#C.#

14^2. glaned. Glant, glent _is probably intended_. Glancd _is less
likely_.

20^4. could. _MS. possibly_ would.

#E.#

_Before_ 1: “A lady falls in love with her father’s kitchie-boy
when her father is absent, and to conceal him from him procures
a ship and puts him to sea. Her father thinks he has run away.”

_After 7_: She kills herself.

_After 16_: Continued on page [ ]: _but not continued_.

253

THOMAS O YONDERDALE

#a.# Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 221.

#b.# Christie’s Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 96.

#b# is epitomized from #a#, with a few variations, mostly very trifling, as Christie had heard the ballad sung.

Thomas of Yonderdale gains Lady Maisry’s love and has a son by her. Overhearing some reproachful words one day as he passes her bower, he is touched, and promises to marry her after returning from a voyage, but while he is in a strange country wooes another woman. He dreams that Maisry stands by his bed upbraiding him for his inconstancy, and sends a boy to her to bring her to his wedding. Maisry comes, arrayed, as she had been directed, in noble style. The bride asks the boy who she may be, and is told that she is Thomas’s first love. Maisry asks Thomas why she was sent for: she is to be his wife. The nominal bride asks his will: she is to go home, with the comfort of being sent back in a coach, whereas she came on a hired horse! This ill-used, but not diffident, young woman proposes that Thomas shall give two thirds of his lands to his brother and make him marry her. Thomas refuses to divide his lands for any woman, and has no power over his brother. According to #b#, the discarded bride asks only a modest third of Thomas’s lands for the brother; Thomas promises to give a third to _her_, but disclaims, as in #a#, his competency to arrange a marriage for his brother.

This looks like a recent piece, fabricated, with a certain amount of cheap mortar, from recollections of ‘Fair Annie,’ No 62, ‘Lord Thomas and Fair Annet,’ No 73, and ‘Young Beichan,’ No 53.

* * * * *

1
Lady Maisry lives intill a bower,
She never wore but what she would;
Her gowns were o the silks sae fine,
Her coats stood up wi bolts o gold.

2
Mony a knight there courted her,
And gentlemen o high degree,
But it was Thomas o Yonderdale
That gaind the love o this ladie.

3
Now he has hunted her till her bower,
Baith late at night and the mid day,
But when he stole her virgin rose
Nae mair this maid he would come nigh.

4
But it fell ance upon a time
Thomas her bower he walkëd by;
There he saw her Lady Maisry,
Nursing her young son on her knee.

5
‘O seal on you, my bonny babe,
And lang may ye my comfort be!
Your father passes by our bower,
And now minds neither you nor me.’

6
Now when Thomas heard her speak,
The saut tear trinkled frae his ee;
To Lady Maisry’s bower he went,
Says, Now I’m come to comfort thee.

7
‘Is this the promise ye did make
Last when I was in your companie?
You said before nine months were gane
Your wedded wife that I should be.’

8
‘If Saturday be a bonny day,
Then, my love, I maun sail the sea;
But if I live for to return,
O then, my love, I’ll marry thee.’

9
‘I wish Saturday a stormy day,
High and stormy be the sea,
Ships may not sail, nor boats row,
But gar true Thomas stay wi me.’

10
Saturday was a bonny day,
Fair and leesome blew the wind;
Ships did sail, and boats did row,
Which had true Thomas to unco ground.

11
He hadna been on unco ground
A month, a month but barely three,
Till he has courted anither maid,
And quite forgotten Lady Maisry.

12
Ae night as he lay on his bed,
In a dreary dream dreamed he
That Maisry stood by his bedside,
Upbraiding him for’s inconstancie.

13
He’s calld upon his little boy,
Says, Bring me candle, that I see;
And ye maun gang this night, [my] boy,
Wi a letter to a gay ladie.

14
‘It is my duty you to serve,
And bring you coal and candle-light,
And I would rin your errand, master,
If’t were to Lady Maisry bright.

15
‘Tho my legs were sair I coudna gang,
Tho the night were dark I coudna see,
Tho I should creep on hands and feet,
I woud gae to Lady Maisry.’

16
‘Win up, win up, my bonny boy,
And at my bidding for to be;
For ye maun quickly my errand rin,
For it is to Lady Maisry.

17
‘Ye’ll bid her dress in the gowns o silk,
Likewise in the coats o cramasie;
Ye’ll bid her come alang wi you,
True Thomas’s wedding for to see.

18
‘Ye’ll bid her shoe her steed before,
And a’ gowd graithing him behind;
On ilka tip o her horse mane,
Twa bonny bells to loudly ring.

19
‘And on the tor o her saddle
A courtly bird to sweetly sing;
Her bridle-reins o silver fine,
And stirrups by her side to hing.’

20
She dressd her in the finest silk,
Her coats were o the cramasie,
And she’s awa to unco land,
True Thomas’s wedding for to see.

21
At ilka tippet o her horse mane,
Twa bonny bells did loudly ring,
And on the tor o her saddle
A courtly bird did sweetly sing.

22
The bells they rang, the bird he sang,
As they rode in yon pleasant plain;
Then soon she met true Thomas’s bride,
Wi a’ her maidens and young men.

23
The bride she garned round about,
‘I wonder,’ said she, ‘who this may be?
It surely is our Scottish queen,
Come here our wedding for to see.’

24
Out it speaks true Thomas’s boy,
‘She maunna lift her head sae hie;
But it’s true Thomas’s first love,
Come here your wedding for to see.’

25
Then out bespake true Thomas’s bride,
I wyte the tear did blind her ee;
If this be Thomas’s first true-love,
I’m sair afraid he’ll neer hae me.

26
Then in it came her Lady Maisry,
And aye as she trips in the fleer,
‘What is your will, Thomas?’ she said,
‘This day, ye know, ye calld me here.’

27
‘Come hither by me, ye lily flower,
Come hither and set ye down by me,
For ye’re the ane I’ve call’d upon,
And ye my wedded wife maun be.’

28
Then in it came true Thomas’s bride,
And aye as she trippd on the stane,
‘What is your will, Thomas?’ she said,
‘This day, ye know, ye calld me hame.’

29
‘Ye hae come on hired horseback,
But ye’se gae hame in coach sae free;
For here’s the flower into my bower
I mean my wedded wife shall be.’

30
‘O ye will break your lands, Thomas,
And part them in divisions three;
Gie twa o them to your ae brother,
And cause your brother marry me.’

31
‘I winna break my lands,’ he said,
‘For ony woman that I see;
My brother’s a knight o wealth and might,
He’ll wed nane but he will for me.’

* * * * *

#b.#

1^4. And a’ stood.

2^1. And mony knight.

2^4. this gay.

8^3. return again.

10^1. And Saturday.

10^4. took true.

13^2. I may see.

13^3. my boy.

16^2. ye maun be.

24^3. ain first.

30^3. Gie ane.

31
‘O I will break my lands,’ he said,
‘And ae third will I gie to thee;
But my brother’s ane o wealth and might,
And he’ll wed nane but he will for me.’

254

LORD WILLIAM, OR, LORD LUNDY

#A.# Motherwell’s MS., p. 361. ‘Sweet William,’ Motherwell’s
Minstrelsy, p. 307.

#B.# ‘Lord Lundy,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 57.

#C.# ‘Lord William,’ Buchan’s MSS, II, 126; Dixon, Scottish
Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads, p. 57, Percy Society, vol.
xvii.

Sweet William (Lord William’s son, or Lord William) and the Baillie’s daughter (Lord Lundy’s daughter) have been lovers: they have in fact been over-sea together, learning “some unco lair.” The young woman’s father recalls her from her studies abroad, and requires her to marry a Southland lord (the young prince of England). She will submit to her father’s will, though she had rather die. In #A# she sends a letter to William by a bird. The minister has begun the marriage-service, when the lover enters the church with a party of armed men and bids the bridegroom stand back; the bride shall join with him. The father fumes; would shoot William if he had a pistol, #A#; will give his daughter no dowry, #B#. William of course cares not the least for dowry; he has what he wants. He tells his ‘foremost man’ to lift his bride on her horse, and sends commendations to her mother.

#A# 4, #B# 10, 11, #C# 6, 7, may be borrowed from ‘Fair Janet,’ No 64, #G# 1, 2, II, 110.

* * * * *

A

Motherwell’s MS., p. 361; from the recitation of Agnes Lyle, an old
woman of Kilbarchan.

1
Sweet William’s gone over seas,
Some unco lair to learn,
And our gude Bailie’s ae dochter
Is awa to learn the same.

2
In one broad buke they learned baith,
In one broad bed they lay;
But when her father came to know
He gart her come away.

3
‘It’s you must marry that Southland lord,
His lady for to be;
It’s ye maun marry that Southland lord,
Or nocht ye’ll get frae me.’

4
‘I must marry that Southland lord,
Father, an it be your will;
But I rather it were my burial-day,
My grave for to fill.’

5
She walked up, she walked down,
Had none to make her moan,
Nothing but the pretty bird
Sat on the causey-stone.

6
‘If thou could speak, wee bird,’ she says,
‘As weell as thou can flee,
I would write a long letter
To Will ayont the sea.’

7
‘What thou wants wi Will,’ it says,
‘Thou’ll seal it with thy ring,
Tak a thread o silk and anither o twine,
About my neck will hing.’

8
What she wanted wi Willie
She sealed it wi a ring,
Took a thread of silk, another o twine,
About its neck did hing.

9
This bird flew high, this bird flew low,
This bird flew owre the sea,
Until it entered the same room
Wherein was Sweet Willie.

10
This bird flew high, this bird flew low,
Poor bird, it was mistaen!
It let the letter fa on Baldie’s breist,
Instead of Sweet William.

11
‘Here’s a letter, William,’ he says,
‘I’m sure it’s not to me;
And gin the morn gin twelve o’clock
Your love shall married be.’

12
‘Come saddle to me my horse,’ he said,
‘The brown and a’ that’s speedie,
And I’ll awa to Old England,
To bring home my ladie.’

13
Awa he gaed, awa he rade,
Awa wi mickle speed;
He lichtit at every twa miles’ end,
Lichtit and changed his steed.

14
When she entered the church-style,
The tear was in her ee;
But when she entered the church-door
A blythe sicht did she see.

15
‘O hold your hand, you minister,
Hold it a little wee,
Till I speak wi the bonnie bride,
For she’s a friend to me.

16
‘Stand off, stand off, you braw bridegroom,
Stand off a little wee;
Stand off, stand off, you braw bridegroom,
For the bride shall join wi me.’

17
Up and spak the bride’s father,
And an angry man was he;
‘If I had pistol, powther and lead,
And all at my command,
I would shoot thee stiff and dead
In the place where thou dost stand.’

18
Up and spoke then Sweet William,
And a blithe blink from his ee;
‘If ye neer be shot till I shoot you,
Ye’se neer be shot for me.

19
‘Come out, come out, my foremost man,
And lift my lady on;
Commend me all to my good-mother,
At night when ye gang home.’

* * * * *

B

Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 57.

1
Lord William has but ae dear son,
In this world had nae mair;
Lord Lundie had but ae daughter,
And he will hae nane but her.

2
They dressed up in maids’ array,
And passd for sisters fair;
With ae consent gaed ower the sea,
For to seek after lear.

3
They baith did eat at ae braid board,
In ae bed baith did lye;
When Lord Lundie got word o that,
He’s taen her soon away.

4
When Lord Lundie got word of that,
An angry man was he;
He wrote his daughter on great haste
To return right speedilie.

5
When she looked the letter upon,
A light laugh then gae she;
But ere she read it till an end
The tear blinded her ee.

6
‘Bad news, bad news, my love Willie,
Bad news is come to me;
My father’s written a braid letter,
Bids me gae speedilie.

7
‘Set trysts, set trysts, my love Willie,
Set trysts, I pray, wi me;
Set trysts, set trysts, my love Willie,
When will our wedding be.’

8
‘On Wednesday, on Wednesday,
The first that ever ye see;
On Wednesday at twelve o’clock,
My dear, I’ll meet wi thee.’

9
When she came to her father’s ha,
He hailed her courteouslie;
Says, I’ll forgie offences past,
If now ye’ll answer me.

10
‘Will ye marry yon young prince,
Queen of England to be?
Or will you marry Lord William’s son,
Be loved by nane but he?’

11
‘I will marry yon young prince,
Father, if it be your will;
But I woud rather I were dead and gane,
My grave I woud win till.’

12
When she was in her saddle set,
She skyred like the fire,
To go her bridegroom for to meet,
For whom she’d nae desire.

13
On every tippet o her horse mane
There hang a siller bell,
And whether the wind blew east or west
They gae a sundry knell.

14
And when she came to Mary’s kirk
She skyred like the fire;
There her young bridegroom she did meet,
For whom she’d nae desire.

15
She looked ower her left shoulder,
The tear blinded her ee;
But looking ower her right shoulder,
A blythe sight then saw she.

16
There she saw Lord William’s son,
And mony a man him wi,
Wi targes braid and glittering spears
All marching ower the lee.

17
The minister looked on a book
Her marriage to begin:
‘If there is naething to be said,
These two may join in ane.’

18
‘O huly, huly, sir,’ she said,
‘O stay a little wee;
I hae a friend to welcome yet
That’s been a dear friend to me.’

19
O then the parson he spake out,
A wise word then spake he;
‘You might hae had your friends welcomd
Before ye’d come to me.’

20
Then in it came the bride’s first love,
And mony a man him wi:
‘Stand back, stand back, ye jelly bridegroom,
Bride, ye maun join wi me.’

21
Then out it speaks him Lord Lundie,
An angry man was he;
‘Lord William’s son will hae my daughter
Without leave askd of me.

22
‘But since it’s sae that she will gang,
And proved sae fause to thee,
I’ll make a vow, and keep it true,
Nae portion shall I gie.’

23
Then out it speaks the bride’s first love,
And [a] light laugh then gae he;
‘I’ve got the best portion now, my lord,
That ye can gie to me.

24
‘Your gude red gold I value not,
Nor yet your white monie;
I hae her by the hand this day
That’s far dearer to me.

25
‘So gie the prince a coffer o gold
When he gaes to his bed,
And bid him clap his coffer o gold,
And I’ll clap my bonny bride.’

* * * * *

C

Buchan’s MSS, II, 126.

1
Lord William has gane oer the sea
For to seek after lear;
Lord Lundie had but ae daughter,
And he’d wed nane but her.

2
Upon a book they both did read,
And in ae bed did ly:
‘But if my father get word of this,
I’ll soon be taen away.’

3
‘Your father’s gotten word of this,
Soon married then ye’ll be;
Set trysts, set trysts wi me, Janet,
Set trysts, set trysts wi me.

4
‘Set trysts, set trysts wi me, Janet,
When your wedding-day’s to be;
‘On Saturday, the first that comes,
Must be my wedding-day.’

5
‘Bad news, bad news is come, Janet,
Bad news is come to me;
Your father’s gotten word of this,
Soon married then ye’ll be.’

6
‘O will ye marry the young prince, daughter,
The queen of England to be?
Or will ye marry Lord William,
And die immediately?’

7
‘O I will marry the young prince, father,
Because it is your will;
But I wish it was my burial-day,
For my grave I could gang till.’

8
When they gaed in into the kirk,
And ae seat they sat in,
The minister took up the book,
The marriage to begin.

9
‘Lay down the book, O dear, kind sir,
And wait a little wee;
I have a lady to welcome yet,
She’s been a good friend to me.’

10
Out then spake the minister,
An angry man was he;
‘You might have had your ladies welcomd
Before ye came to me.’

11
She looked oer her left shoulder,
And tears did blind her ee;
But she looked oer her right shoulder,
And a blythe sight saw she,
For in there came him Lord William,
And his valiant company.

12
And in there came him Lord William,
His armour shining clear,
And in it came him Lord William,
And many glittering spear.

13
‘Stand by, stand by, ye bonny bridegroom,
Stand by, stand by,’ said he;
‘Stand by, stand by, ye bonny bridegroom,
Bride, ye maun join wi me.

14
‘Let the young prince clap his coffer of gold
When he gangs to his bed;
Let the young prince clap his coffer of gold,
But I’ll clap my bonny bride.’

15
Out it spake him Lord Lundie,
And an angry man was he;
‘My daughter will marry him Lord William,
It seems, in spite of me.’

* * * * *

#A, C.#

_Motherwell and Dixon have made a few slight changes._

255

WILLIE’S FATAL VISIT

Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 259.

A maid, Meggie, inquires after her lover, Willie, and is told that he will be with her at night. Willie tirls the pin and is admitted. He is given the option of cards, wine, or bed, and chooses the bed, a too familiar commonplace in Buchan’s ballads. Meggie charges the cock not to crow till day, but the cock crows an hour too soon. Willie dons his clothes, and in a dowie den encounters a grievous ghost, which, wan and weary though it be, smiles upon him; smiles, we may suppose, to have caught him. Willie has travelled this road often, and never uttered a prayer for safety; but he will never travel that road again. The ghost tears him to pieces, and hangs a bit ‘on every seat’ of Mary’s kirk, the head right over Meggie’s pew! Meggie rives her yellow hair.

The first half of this piece is a medley of ‘Sweet William’s Ghost,’ ‘Clerk Saunders,’ and ‘The Grey Cock.’ For 1^{3–6}, 2, compare No 77, #A#, #E#, 2, 3, No 248, 1; for 5–8, No 69, #F# 3–6, No 70, #B# 2, 4; for 9, 10, No 248, 6, 7. 13 is caught, or taken, from ‘Clyde’s Water,’ No 216, #A# 7.

Stanzas 15–17, wherever they came from, are too good for the setting: nothing so spirited, word or deed, could have been looked for from a ghost wan, weary, and smiling.

* * * * *

1
’Twas on an evening fair I went to take the air,
I heard a maid making her moan;
Said, Saw ye my father? Or saw ye my mother?
Or saw ye my brother John?
Or saw ye the lad that I love best,
And his name it is Sweet William?

2
‘I saw not your father, I saw not your mother,
Nor saw I your brother John;
But I saw the lad that ye love best,
And his name it is Sweet William.’

3
‘O was my love riding? or was he running?
Or was he walking alone?
Or says he that he will be here this night?
O dear, but he tarries long!’