Chapter XIV: Appendix (9)

15
When she came to Lord Thomas' yett,
She shined amang them a',
And the buttons on Lord Thomas' coat
Brusted and brak in twa.

16
'Brown, brown is your steed,' she says,
'But browner is your bride;
But gallant is that handkerchy
That hideth her din hide.'

17
'O hold thy peace, Fair Annie,' he says,
'Speak not of that to me,
For happy is that bonny, bonny lad
That leads his life with thee.'

18
Then out bespoke the brown, brown bride,
And she spoke out with spite:
'O whare gets thou that water-cherry,
That washes thee so white?'

19
'I got in my father's garden,
Below an olive tree,
And although thou war to seek long seven years
That water thou'll never see.

20
'Tho thou hast got Lord Thomas' hand
That water thou'll neer see;
For thou's sunbrunt from thy mother's womb,
And thou'll never be like me.'

* * * * * * *

D

#a.# Pepys Ballads, III, 316, No 312. #b.# A Collection
of Old Ballads, I, 249, 1723. #c.# Ritson, Select
Collection of English Songs, II, 187, 1783. #d.# Buchan's
Gleanings, p. 86. #e, f, g, h, i#, recited copies.

1
Lord Thomas he was a bold forrester,
And a chaser of the king's deer;
Faire Ellinor was a fair woman,
And Lord Thomas he loved her dear.

2
'Come riddle my riddle, dear mother,' he said,
'And riddle us both as one,
Whether I shall marry Fair Ellinor,
And let the brown girl alone.'

3
'The brown girl she has got houses and lands,
And Fair Ellinor she has got none;
Therefore I charge you on my blessing
To bring me the brown girl home.'

4
And as it befell on a high holidaye,
As many did more beside,
Lord Thomas he went to Fair Ellinor,
That should have been his bride.

5
But when he came to Fair Ellinor's bower,
He knocked there at the ring;
But who was so ready as Fair Ellinor
For to let Lord Thomas in.

6
'What news, what news, Lord Thomas,' she said,
'What news hast thou brought unto me?'
'I am come to bid thee to my wedding,
And that is bad news to thee.'

7
'Oh God forbid, Lord Thomas,' she said,
'That such a thing should be done;
I thought to have been thy bride my own self,
And you to have been the brid's-groom.

8
'Come riddle my riddle, dear mother,' she sayd,
'And riddle it all in one;
Whether I shall go to Lord Thomas's wedding,
Or whether I shall tarry at home.'

9
'There's many that are your friends, daughter,
And many that are your fo;
Therefore I charge you on my blessing,
To Lord Thomas's wedding don't go.'

10
'There's many that are my friends, mother,
If a thousand more were my foe,
Betide my life, betide my death,
To Lord Thomas's wedding I'le go.'

11
She cloathed herself in gallant attyre,
And her merry men all in green,
And as they rid thorough everye towne,
They took her to have been a queene.

12
But when she came to Lord Thomas's gate,
She knocked there at the ring;
But who was so ready as Lord Thomas
To lett Fair Ellinor in.

13
'Is this your bride?' Fair Ellin she sayd,
'Methinks she looks wondrous browne;
Thou mightest have had as fair a woman
As ever trod on the ground.'

14
'Despise her not, Fair Ellin,' he sayd,
'Despise her not now unto mee;
For better I love thy little finger
Than all her whole body.'

15
This browne bride had a little penknife,
That was both long and sharp,
And betwixt the short ribs and the long
Prickd Fair Ellinor to the heart.

16
'Oh Christ now save thee,' Lord Thomas he said,
'Methinks thou lookst wondrous wan;
Thou wast usd for to look with as fresh a colour
As ever the sun shin'd on.'

17
'Oh art thou blind, Lord Thomas?' she sayd,
'Or canst thou not very well see?
Oh dost thou not see my own heart's blood
Runs trickling down my knee?'

18
Lord Thomas he had a sword by his side,
As he walked about the hall;
He cut off his bride's head from her shoulders,
And he threw it against the wall.

19
He set the hilte against the ground,
And the point against his heart;
There was never three lovers that ever met
More sooner they did depart.

E

Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 22, from the recitation of
Mrs W. Arrot, of Aberbrothick, as learned by her when a
child from an elderly maid-servant.

1
Sweet Willie and Fair Annie
Sat a' day on a hill,
And though they had sitten seven year,
They neer wad had their fill.

2
Sweet Willie said a word in haste,
And Annie took it ill:
'I winna wed a tocherless maid,
Against my parents' will.'

3
'Ye're come o the rich, Willie,
And I'm come o the poor;
I'm oer laigh to be your bride,
And I winna be your whore.'

4
O Annie she's gane till her bower,
And Willie down the den,
And he's come till his mither's bower,
By the lei light o the moon.

5
'O sleep ye, wake ye, mither?' he says,
'Or are ye the bower within?'
'I sleep richt aft, I wake richt aft;
What want ye wi me, son?

6
'Whare hae ye been a' night, Willie?
O wow, ye've tarried lang!'
'I have been courtin Fair Annie,
And she is frae me gane.

7
'There is twa maidens in a bower;
Which o them sall I bring hame?
The nut-brown maid has sheep and cows,
And Fair Annie has nane.'

8
'It's an ye wed the nut-brown maid,
I'll heap gold wi my hand;
But an ye wed her Fair Annie,
I'll straik it wi a wand.

9
'The nut-brown maid has sheep and cows,
And Fair Annie has nane;
And Willie, for my benison,
The nut-brown maid bring hame.'

10
'O I sall wed the nut-brown maid,
And I sall bring her hame;
But peace nor rest between us twa,
Till death sinder's again.

11
'But, alas, alas!' says Sweet Willie,
'O fair is Annie's face!'
'But what's the matter, my son Willie?
She has nae ither grace.'

12
'Alas, alas!' says Sweet Willie,
'But white is Annie's hand!'
'But what's the matter, my son Willie?
She hasna a fur o land.'

13
'Sheep will die in cots, mither,
And owsen die in byre;
And what's this warld's wealth to me,
An I get na my heart's desire?

14
'Whare will I get a bonny boy,
That wad fain win hose and shoon,
That will rin to Fair Annie's bower,
Wi the lei light o the moon?

15
'Ye'll tell her to come to Willie's weddin,
The morn at twal at noon;
Ye'll tell her to come to Willie's weddin,
The heir o Duplin town.

16
'She manna put on the black, the black,
Nor yet the dowie brown,
But the scarlet sae red, and the kerches sae white,
And her bonny locks hangin down.'

17
He is on to Annie's bower,
And tirled at the pin,
And wha was sae ready as Annie hersel
To open and let him in.

18
'Ye are bidden come to Willie's weddin,
The morn at twal at noon;
Ye are bidden come to Willie's weddin,
The heir of Duplin town.

19
'Ye manna put on the black, the black,
Nor yet the dowie brown,
But the scarlet sae red, and the kerches sae white,
And your bonny locks hangin down.'

20
'It's I will come to Willie's weddin,
The morn at twal at noon;
It's I will come to Willie's weddin,
But I rather the mass had been mine.

21
'Maidens, to my bower come,
And lay gold on my hair;
And whare ye laid ae plait before,
Ye'll now lay ten times mair.

22
'Taylors, to my bower come,
And mak to me a weed;
And smiths, unto my stable come,
And shoe to me a steed.'

23
At every tate o Annie's horse mane
There hang a silver bell,
And there came a wind out frae the south,
Which made them a' to knell.

24
And whan she came to Mary-kirk,
And sat down in the deas,
The light that came frae Fair Annie
Enlightend a' the place.

25
But up and stands the nut-brown bride,
Just at her father's knee:
'O wha is this, my father dear,
That blinks in Willie's ee?'
'O this is Willie's first true-love,
Before he loved thee.'

26
'If that be Willie's first true-love,
He might hae latten me be;
She has as much gold on ae finger
As I'll wear till I die.

27
'O whare got ye that water, Annie,
That washes you sae white?'
'I got it in my mither's wambe,
Whare ye'll neer get the like.

28
'For ye've been washd in Dunny's well,
And dried on Dunny's dyke,
And a' the water in the sea
Will never wash ye white.'

29
Willie's taen a rose out o his hat,
Laid it in Annie's lap:
. . . . . . .
'Hae, wear it for my sake.'

30
'Tak up and wear your rose, Willie,
And wear't wi mickle care;
For the woman sall never bear a son
That will make my heart sae sair.'

31
Whan night was come, and day was gane,
And a' man boun to bed,
Sweet Willie and the nut-brown bride
In their chamber were laid.

32
They werena weel lyen down,
And scarcely fa'n asleep,
Whan up and stands she Fair Annie,
Just up at Willie's feet.

33
'Weel brook ye o your brown, brown bride,
Between ye and the wa;
And sae will I o my winding sheet,
That suits me best ava.

34
'Weel brook ye o your brown, brown bride,
Between ye and the stock;
And sae will I o my black, black kist,
That has neither key nor lock.'

35
Sad Willie raise, put on his claise,
Drew till him his hose and shoon,
And he is on to Annie's bower,
By the lei light o the moon.

36
The firsten bower that he came till,
There was right dowie wark;
Her mither and her three sisters
Were makin to Annie a sark.

37
The nexten bower that he came till,
There was right dowie cheir;
Her father and her seven brethren
Were makin to Annie a bier.

38
The lasten bower that he came till,
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
And Fair Annie streekit there.

39
He's lifted up the coverlet,
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .

40
'It's I will kiss your bonny cheek,
And I will kiss your chin,
And I will kiss your clay-cald lip,
But I'll never kiss woman again.

41
'The day ye deal at Annie's burial
The bread but and the wine;
Before the morn at twall o'clock,
They'll deal the same at mine.'

42
The tane was buried in Mary's kirk,
The tither in Mary's quire,
And out o the tane there grew a birk,
And out o the tither a brier.

43
And ay they grew, and ay they drew,
Untill they twa did meet,
And every ane that past them by
Said, Thae's been lovers sweet!

F

Kinloch MSS, III, 127, stanzas 1-17; the remainder in Dr
John Hill Burton's papers. Another copy in Kinloch MSS,
V, 339. Both in Dr Burton's handwriting.

1
Sweet Willie and Fair Annie,
As they sat on yon hill,
If they hed sat frae morn till even,
They hed no talked their fill.

* * * * * * *

2
Willie's dune him hame again,
As fast as gang could he:
'An askin, an askin, my mother,
And I pray ye'll grant it me.

3
'Oh will I merry the nut-brown maid,
Wi her oxen and her kye?
Or will I merry my Fair Annie,
That hes my heart for aye?'

4
'Oh if ye merry your Fair Annie,
Your mither's malison you'll wun;
But if ye merry the nut-brown may,
Ye will get her blessin.'

5
'Oh voe's me, mother,' Willie said,
'For Annie's bonny face!'
'Little metter o that, my son Willie,
When Annie hesna grace.'

6
'Oh voe's me, mither,' Willie said,
'For Annie's bonny han!'
'And what's the metter, son Willie,
When Annie hesna lan?

7
'But ye will merry the nut-brown may,
Wi her oxen and her kye;
But ye will merry the nut-brown may,
For she hes my hert for aye.'

8
Out and spak his sister Jane,
Where she sat be the fire:
'What's the metter, brother Willie?
Tack ye your heart's desire.

9
'The oxen may die into the pleuch,
The cow drown i the myre;
And what's the metter, brother Willie?
Tak ye your heart's desire.'

10
'Whare will I get a bonny boy,
That will wun hose and shune,
That will run on to Anny's bower,
And come right sune again?'

11
'Ye'll bid her come to Willie's weddin,
The morn is the day;
Ye'll bid her come to Willie's weddin,
And no make no delay.

12
'Ye'll forbid her to put on the black, the black,
Or yet the dowie brown;
But the white silk and the reed skarlet,
That will shine frae town to town.'

13
He is on to Anie's bower,
And tirled at the pin,
And wha was sae ready as Annie hersel
To let the ladie in.

14
'Ye'r bidden to come to Willie's weddin,
The morn is the day;
Ye'r bidden come to Willie's weddin,
And no mack no delay.

15
'Ye'r forbidden to put on the black, the black,
Or yet the dowie brown;
But the white silk and the red scarlet,
That will shine frae town to town.

16
'Ye'r forbidden to put on the black, the black,
Or yet the dowie gray;
But the white silk and the red scarlet,
That will shine frae brae to brae.'

17
'It's I will come to Willie's weddin,
Gif the morn be the day;
It's I will come to Willie's weddin,
And no mack no delay.'

18
Annie's steed was silver shod,
And golden graithed behin;
At every teet o her horse mane
A silver bell did ring.

19
When Annie was in her sadle set,
She glanced like the moon;
There was as much gould abov her brow
Would buy an earldom.

20
When Annie was on her sadel set,
She glanced like the fire;
There was as much gould above her brow
Was worth a yearl's hire.

21
Annie gaed in the heigh, heigh hill,
And Willie the dowie glen;
Annie alane shone brighter
Than Willie and a' his men.

22
'Oh wha is that, my ane Willie,
That glances in your ee?'
'Oh it is Annie, my first fore love,
Come till see you and me.'

23
'Oh far got ye that water, Annie,
That washes ye so wan?'
'Oh I got it aneth yon marble stane,
Where ye will nere get nane.

24
'Ye've been brunt sare anent the sun,
And rocket i the reek;
And tho ye wad wash till doom's day,
Ye wad never be so white.'

25
'If this be Annie, your first fore love,
Come our weddin to see,
She has by far owr brent a brow
To lat ye bide by me.'

26
When bells were rung, and mass was sung,
And a' men bun to bed,
Sweet Willie and his nut-brown bride
In ae chamber were laid.

27
The hedna weel layn down, layn down,
But nor hed fallen asleep,
When up and started Fair Annie,
And stud at Willie's feet.

28
'Vo be to you, nut-brown bride,
Wi yer oxen and your sheep!
It is Annie, my first fore love,
And I fear sair she is dead.

29
'Vo be te you, nut-brown bride,
An ill death you betide!
For you've parted me and my first fore love,
And I fear death is her guide.

30
'You'll seddle to me the black, the black,
You'll seddle to me the brown,
Till I ride on to Annie's bower
And see how she is bune.'

31
When he came to Fair Annie's bower,
And lighted and gaed in,
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .

32
Her father was at her heed, her heed,
Her mother at her feet,
Her sister she was at her side,
Puttin on her winding sheet.

33
'It's kiss will I yer cheek, Annie,
And kiss will I your chin,
And I will kiss your wan, wan lips,
Tho there be no breath within.

34
'Ye birl, ye birle at my luve's wake
The white bread and the wine,
And or the morn at this same time
Ye'll birle the same at mine.'

35
They birled, they birled at Annies wake
The white bread and the wine,
And ere the morn at that same time
At his they birled the same.

36
The one was buried at Mary's kirk,
The other at Mary's quire,
And throw the one there sprang a birk,
And throw the other a brier.

37
And ay at every year's ane
They grew them near and near
And every one that passed them by
Said, They be lovers dear.

G

Skene MS., p. 104; northeast of Scotland, 1802-03.

1
Sweet Willie and Fair Annë,
They sat on yon hill,
And frae the morning till night
This twa neer talked their fill.

2
Willie spak a word in jest,
And Annë took it ill:
'We's court na mare maidens,
Against our parents' will.'

3
'It's na against our parents' will,'
Fair Annie she did say,
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .

4
Willie is hame to his bower,
To his book all alane,
And Fair Annie is to her bower,
To her book and her seam.

5
Sweet Willie is to his mother dear,
Fell low down on his knee:
'An asking, my mother dear,
And ye grant it to me;
O will I marry the nut-brown may,
An lat Fair Annie gae?'

6
'The nut-brown may has ousen, Willie,
The nut-brown may has key;
An ye will winn my blessing, Willie,
And latt Fair Annie be.'

7
He did him to his father dear,
Fell low down on his knee:
'An asking, my father,
An ye man grant it me.'

8
'Ask on, my ae son Willie,
Ye'r sur yer askin's free;
Except it is to marry her Fair Annie,
And that manna be.'

9
Out spak his little sister,
As she [sat] by the fire:
'The ox-leg will brack in the plough,
And the cow will drown in the mire.

10
'An Willie will ha nathing
But the dam to sitt by the fire;
Fair Annie will sit in her beagly bower,
An winn a earl's hire.'

11
'Fair faa ye, my little sister,
A guid dead mat ye die!
An ever I hae goud,
Well tochered sall ye be.'

12
He's awa to Fair Annie,
As fast as gan could he:
'O will ye come to my marriage?
The morn it is to be.'

13
'O I will come to yer marriage,
The morn, gin I can win.'
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .

14
Annie did her to her father dear,
Fell low down on her knee:
'An askin, my father,
And ye man grant it me;
Lat me to Sweet Willie's marriage,
The morn it is to be.'

15
'Yer horse sall be siller shod afore,
An guid red goud ahin,
An bells in his mane,
To ring against the win.'

16
She did her to her mother dear,
Fell low down on her knee:
'Will ye lat me to Willie's marriage?
The morn it is to be;'
'I'll lat ye to Willie's marriage,
An we the morn see.'

17
Whan Annie was in her saddle set
She flam'd against the fire;
The girdle about her sma middle
Wad a won an earl's hire.

18
Whan they came to Mary kirk,
And on to Mary quire,
'O far gat ye that watter, Ann,
That washes ye sae clear?'

19
'I got it in my father's garden,
Aneth a marbell stane;
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .

20
'O whar gat ye that water, Annie,
That washes ye sae fite?'
'I gat it in my mother's womb,
Whar ye['s] never get the like.

21
'For ye ha been christned wi moss-water,
An roked in the reak,
An ser brunt in yer mither's womb,
For I think ye'll neer be fite.'

22
The nut-brown bride pat her hand in
... at Annie['s] left ear,
And gin her ...
A deep wound and a sare.

23
Than. . Annie ged on her horse back,
An fast away did ride,
But lang or cock's crowing,
Fair Annie was dead.

24
Whan bells were rung, and mess was sung,
An a' man boun to bed,
Sweet Willie and the nut-brown bride
In a chamber were laid.

25
But up und wakend him Sweet Willie
Out of his dreary dream:
'I dreamed a dream this night,
God read a' dream to guid!

26
'That Fair Annies bowr was full of gentlemen,
An herself was dead;
But I will on to Fair Annie,
An si't if it be guid.'

27
Seven lang mile or he came near,
He heard a dolefull chear,
Her father and her seven brithern,
Walking at her bier;
The half of it guid red goud,
The other silver clear.

28
'Ye deal at my love's leak
The white bread an the wine;
But on the morn at this time
Ye's dee the like at mine.'

29
The ane was buried at Mary kirk,
The ither at Mary quire;
Out of the ane grew a birk,
Out of the ither a briar.

30
An aye the langer that they grew,
They came the ither near,
An by that ye might a well kent
They were twa lovers dear.

H

Gibb MS., p. 64.

1
Fair Annie and Sweet Willie,
As they talked on yon hill,
Though they had talked a lang summer day,
They wad na hae talked their fill.

2
'If you would be a good woman, Annie,
An low leave a' your pride,
In spite of a' my friends, Annie,
I wad mak you my bride.'

3
'Thick, thick lie your lands, Willie,
An thin, thin lie mine;
An little wad a' your friends think
O sic a kin as mine.

4
'Thick, thick lie your lands, Willie,
Down by the coving-tree;
An little wad a' your friends think
O sic a bride as me.

5
'O Fair Annie, O Fair Annie,
This nicht ye've said me no;
But lang or ever this day month
I'll make your heart as sore.'

6
It's Willie he went home that night,
An a sick man lay he down;
An ben came Willie's auld mither,
An for nae gude she came.

* * * * * * *

7
'It's if ye marry Fair Annie,
My malison ye's hae;
But if ye marry the nut-brown may,
My blessin an ye's hae.'

8
'Mother, for your malison,
An mother, for your wis,
It's I will marry the nut-brown may,
. . . . . . .

9
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
It's up an spak his sister,
. . . . . . .

10
'The owsen may hang in the pleugh,
The kye drown in the myre,
An he'll hae naething but a dirty drab
To sit doun by the fire.'

* * * * * * *

11
'Where will I get a bonny boy,
That will win hose and shoon,
That will rin on to Annie's bower,
An haste him back again?'

12
'It's I have run your errands, Willie,
An happy hae I been;
It's I will rin your errands, Willie,
Wi the saut tears in my een.'

13
'When ye come to Annie's bower,
She will be at her dine;
And bid her come to Willie's weddin,
On Monday in good time.

14
'Tell her neither to put on the dowie black,
Nor yet the mournfu brown,
But the gowd sae reed, and the silver white,
An her hair weel combed down.

15
'Tell her to get a tailor to her bower,
To shape for her a weed,
And a smith to her smithy,
To shoe for her a steed.

16
'To be shod wi silver clear afore,
An gold graithed behind,
An every foot the foal sets down,
The gold lie on the ground.'

17
It's when he came to Annie's bower,
It's she was at her dine:
'Ye're bidden come to Willie's weddin,
On Monday in good time.

18
'You're neither to put on the dowie black,
Nor get the mournfu brown,
But the gowd sae reid, an the silver white,
An yere hair well combed doun.

19
'You're to get a tailor to your bower,
To shape for you a weed,
And likewise a smith to your smithy,
To shoe for you a steed.

20
'To be shod with silver clear afore,
An gold graithed behind,
An every foot the foal sets down,
The gold lie on the ground.'

21
'It's I will come to Willie's weddin,
I rather it had been mine;
It's I will come to Willie's weddin,
On Monday in good time.

22
'It's I'll send to Willie a toweld silk,
To hing below his knee.
An ilka time he looks on it,
He'll hae gude mind o me.

* * * * * * *

23
'An askin, father, an askin,
An I hope you will grant me;
For it is the last askin
That ever I'll ask of thee.'

24
'Ask me, Annie, gold,' he said,
'An ask me, Annie, fee,
But dinna ask me Sweet Willie,
Your bedfellow to be.'

25
'It's I will ask you gold, father,
Sae will I ask you fee,
But I needna ask you Sweet Willie,
My bedfellow to be.

26
'For I am bidden to Willie's weddin,
On Monday in good time,
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .

* * * * * * *

27
On every tait o her horse's mane
A siller bell did hing,
An on every tait o her horse's tail
A golden bell did ring.

28
Twal and twal rade her afore,
An twal an twal ahind,
An twal an twal on every side,
To hold her frae the wind.

29
Fair Annie shined mair on the top o the hill
Than Willie did in the glen;
Fair Annie shined mair on the heid o the hill
Than Willie wi a' his men.

30
Whan she came to Mary's kirk,
She lighted on the stane;
An when she came to the kirk-door,
She bade the bride gae in.

31
'Clear, clear is your day, Willie,
But brown, brown is your bride;
Clear, clear is her lawn curches,
But weel dunned is her hide.'

32
'Where got ye yon water, Annie,
That has made you so white?'
'I got it in my father's garden,
Below yon hollan dyke.

33
'But ye hae been washed i the moss water,
An rocked in the reek;
Ye hae been brunt in your mither's wame,
An ye will neer be white.'

34
'Whatna fool were ye, Willie,
To lay your love on me;
She's mair gowd on her heid this day
Than I'll wear till I die!'

35
'I've laid nae love on you, brown may,
I've laid nae love on you;
I've mair love for Fair Annie this day
Than I'll hae for you till I dee.'

* * * * * * *

36
'If you will neither eat nor drink,
You'll see good game an play;'
But she turned her horse head to the hill,
An swift she rode away.

* * * * * * *

37
When they were all at supper set,
. . . . . . .
Till he went to Fair Annie's bower,
By the ley licht o the mune.

38
An when he came to Annie's bower,
Annie was lying deid,
An seven o Annie's sisters an sisters' bairns
Were sewing at Annie's weed.

39
'It's I will take your hand, Annie,
Since ye wald neer take mine;
The woman shall never have the hand
That I'll touch after thine.

40
'An I will kiss your mouth, Annie,
Since ye will never kiss mine;
The woman shall never have the lips
That I'll kiss after thine.

* * * * * * *

41
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
'As much breid ye deal at Annie's dairgie
Tomorrow ye's deal at mine.'

* * * * *

#A.#

"Some traditionary copies of the ballad have this stanza,
which is the 19th in order:

And four and twenty milk-white swans,
Wi their wings stretchd out wide,
To blaw the stour aff the highway,
To let Fair Annie ride."

(Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. lxviii, 19.)

_Compare_ 'Lord Ingram and Chiel Wyet,' #C# 22.

#C.#

6^3, 10^3. silk.

13^1. The maidens.

#D. a.#

A Tragical Story of Lord Thomas and Fair Ellinor.
Together with the downfall of the Brown Girl.

3^4. And bring.

9^1. many of your.

9^4, 12^1. Thomas his.

10^4. Thomas's his.

15^3. But betwixt.

#b.#

A Tragical Ballad on the unfortunate Love of Lord Thomas
and fair Ellinor, together with the Downfal of the Brown
Girl.

1^3. a fine.

2^3. marry with.

3^1. land.

3^4. Bring me.

4^1. As it.

4^2. many more did.

6^4. for thee.

7^4. bridegroom.

9^1. many that are.

9^4, 10^4, 12^1. Thomas's.

10^2. And if.

11^3. through.

11^4. to be some.

13^1. Ellinor said.

13^2. wonderful.

13^3. mightst.

14^2. now _wanting_.

15^3. And.

16^3. Thou us'd to look.

18^4. he _wanting_.

19^3. There never were three lovers met.

19^4. That sooner did.

#c.#

1^3. a fine.

2^3. marry with.

3^2. And _wanting_.

3^3. thee on.

3^4. To bring.

5^4. For _wanting_.

6^4. for thee.

7^4. bridegroom.

9^1. many that are.

8^3, 9^4, 10^4, 12^1. Thomases.

10^3. or betide.

11^3. through.

13^3. You might.

14^2. now _wanting_.

15^3. And.

15^4. She prickd.

16^2. wain.

#d.#

3^2. she's got land, she says.

4^2. many more do.

5^2. at the pin.

8^4. I shall let it alone.

9^2. foes.

10^2. If a thousand were our foes.

10^3. me life, me death.

10^4. To Lord Thomas's I'll go.

12^2. at the pin.

_After 12_:

He took her by the lily-white hand,
And led her through the hall;
He set her in the noblest chair,
Among the ladies all.

15^2. both keen.

16^1. now save me.

16^3. usest to look as good a colour.

_After 17_:

'O dig my grave,' Lord Thomas replied,
'Dig it both wide and deep,
And lay Fair Eleanor by my side
And the brown girl at my feet.'

18^4. And flung.

19^{3, 4.}.
There never were three lovers sure
That sooner did depart.

#e.#

_Motherwell's MS., p. 293, from the recitation of Widow
McCormick, February 23, 1825; learned of an old woman in
Dumbarton, thirty years before._

1
'Come riddle me, riddle me, mother,' he says,
'Come riddle me all in one,
Whether I'll goe to court Fair Helen
Or fetch you the brown girl home.'

2
'It's many's the ones your friends,' she says,
'And many's the ones your fone;
My blessing be on you, dear son,' she says,
'Go fetch me the brown girl home.'

3
He dressed himself all in green,
Thorough the road he went,
And every village that he came to,
They took him to be a king.

4
Till that he came to Fair Helen's gate;
He tinkled low at the ring;
Who was so ready as Fair Helen herself
To let Lord Thomas in.

5
'You're welcome, you're welcome, Lord Thomas,' she says,
'What news have you brought to me?'
'I've come to bid you to my wedding,
And that is bad news to thee.'

6
'It's God forbid, Lord Thomas,' she said,
'That sic an a thing should be,
But I for to be the body of the bride,
And you to be the bridegroom.

7
'Come riddle me, riddle me, mother,' she says,
'Come riddle me all in one,
Whether I'll go to Lord Thomas' wedding,
Or mourn all day at home.'

8
'Many's the ones your friend,' she says,
'And many's the ones your fone;
'My blessing be on you, dear daughter,' she says,
'And mourn all day at home.'

9
'Many's the ones my friends, mother,' she says,
'And many's the ones my fae,
But I will go to Lord Thomas' wedding
Should I lose my life by the way.'

10
She dressed herself all in green,
Thorow the road she went,
And every village that she came to,
They took her for to be a queen.

11
Till that she came to Lord Thomas' gates;
She tinkled low at the ring;
Who was so ready as Lord Thomas himself
To let Fair Helen in.

12
'Where have you got this brown girl?' she says,
'I think she looks wonderful brown;
You might have had as pretty a bride
As ever the sun shined on.'

13
It's up and starts the brown girl's mother,
And an angry woman was she:
'Where have you got the roseberry-water
That washes your face so clear?'

14
'It's I have gotten that roseberry-water
Where that she could get none;
For I have got it in my mother's womb,
Where in her mother's womb there was none.'

15
She took up a little pen-knife,
That was baith sharp and small,
She stuck Fair Helen fornents the heart,
And down the blood did fall.

16
'What ailes you, Fair Helen?' he says,
'I think you look wonderful pale:
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .

17
'What ailes you, Lord Thomas?' she says,
'Or don't you very well see?
O don't you see my very heart's blood
Coming trinkling down by my knee?'

18
He took up a little small sword,
That hung low by his knee,
And he cut off the brown girl's head,
And dashed it against the wall.

19
He set the sword all in the ground,
And on it he did fall;
So there was an end of these three lovers,
Thro spite and malice all.

8^2. foe _in the margin_.

19^4. All thro spite and malice _is noted as if it were
what was recited_.

#f.#

_From Miss Clara Mackay, Woodstock, New Brunswick, 1881,
derived from her great grandmother. The title is '~Lord
Thomas~.'_

1^2. The keeper of our king's gear.

4, 7 _are wanting._

11^2. Her merry maids all in green.

_After 12_:

He took her by the lily-white hand,
And led her through the hall,
And sat her in a chair of gold,
Amidst her merry maids all.

15^2. both clean and sharp.

_After 17_:

'No, I am not blind,' Lord Thomas he said,
'But I can plainly see,
And I can see your dear heart's blood
Runs trickling down your knee.'

18^2. It was both keen and small.

18^4. And flung.

_After 19, as in_ #d#:

'Oh dig me a grave,' Lord Thomas he said,
'And dig it both wide and deep,
And lay Fair Ellinor at my side,
The brown girl at my feet.'

#g.# _Recited to me by Ellen Healy, 1881, as learned by
her of a young girl living near Killarney, Ireland, about
1867._

2^2. come riddle me oer and oer: _so_ 8^2.

2^4, 3^4. the pretty brown girl bring home.

_After 3_:

He dressed himself up in a suit of green,
And his merrymen all in white;
There was not a town that he rode through
But they took him to be a knight.

9
'Lord Thomas has got company enough,
Fair Ellinor, you have none;
Therefore I charge you with my blessing,
Fair Ellinor, stay at home.'

11
She dressed herself up in a suit of white,
And her merrymen all in green;
There was not a town that she rode through
But they took her to be a queen.

_After 12_:

He took her by the lily-white hand,
And by the waist so small,
And set her at the head of the table,
. . . . . . .

_After 13_:

Up spoke the pretty brown girl,
She said ...
'Where did you get the water
That washed your skin so white?'

'There is a well in my father's land,
A place you'll never see,
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .

14 _wanting._

19. _Imperfectly remembered._

Lord Thomas he stabbed the pretty brown girl, and then he
stabbed himself; and he said, Bury the pretty brown girl
at my feet, and Fair Ellinor in my arms.

A red rose grew out of Fair Ellinor, and a sweet briar
out of Lord Thomas's grave, and they grew until they met.

#h.# _An Irish version, recited by Ellen Daily, Taunton,
Massachusetts._

2^2. Come riddle me all at once.

2^4. Or the bonny brown girl.

4.
He dressed himself up in a suit of fine clothes,
With merry men all in white;
And there was not a town that he rode through
But they took him to be a knight.

5^2. very low at her ring.

10^{3, 4}.
'Let the wind blow high or low,
To Lord Thomas's wedding I'll go.'

11.
She dressed herself up in a suit of fine clothes,
With merry maids all in green;
And there was not a town that she rode through
But they took her to be a queen.

12^2. very low at his ring.

_After_ 12_:

He took her by the lily-white hand,
And led her along the hall;
He handed her to the head of the table,
Among the ladies all.

_After_ 13:

Then out spoke the bonny brown girl some words with
spirit, saying:

'Where did you get the water so clear,
That washed your face so white?'

'There is a well in my father's yard
That is both clear and spring,
And if you were to live till the day you die
That doon you never shall see.'

14 _is wanting._

_After 19_:

'Bury my mother at my head,
Fair Ellenor by my side,
And bury the bonny brown girl at the end of the church,
Where she will be far from me.'

. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
Out of Fair Ellen there grew a red rose,
And out of Lord Thomas there grew a sweet-briar.

They grew so tall, they sprung so broad,
They grew to a steeple top;
Twelve o'clock every night
They grew to a true lover's knot.

#i.# _Communicated by Mr W. W. Newell, as recited by an
Irish maid-servant in Cambridge, Massachusetts._

1, 4-7, 10 _are wanting_.

_After 12_:

He took her by the lily-white hand,
And led her through the hall,
Until he put her sitting at the head of the table,
Amongst the gentleman all.

13, 14.
'Is this your bride, Lord Thomas?' they said,
Or is _this_ your bride?' said they
'O 't is better I love her little finger
Than all _her_ whole boday.'

_The stanza which describes Lord Thomas's dress and the
effect he produced occurs in #e#, #g#, #h#; that in which
Lord Thomas leads Ellinor through the hall and conducts
her to her place is found in #d#, #f#, #g#, #h#, #i#; the
colloquy about the water which washes Ellinor so white in
#e#, #g#, #h#; Lord Thomas's directions about the burial
in #d#, #f#, #h#; the plants growing from the grave in
#g#, #h#. None of these are in the English broadside._

_A fragment in Pitcairn's MSS, III, 35, is derived from
the English broadside._

#F.#

_The copy in Kinloch MSS, V, 339, #b#, seems to be a
revision of the other. The two portions of that which is
apparently the earlier, #a#, became separated by some
accident or oversight. For stanzas 18-37 I have not
the original, but a transcript. After 1, #b# inserts
Jamieson's second stanza, #E# 2._

4. _~ye merry~ twice._

5^3. _altered to ~What's metter, son Willie~, to conform
to 6^3: #b#, ~And what's the matter~._

12^1. Ye'll tell her to come.

12^3. Yer bidden come.

13^1. Yer forbidden. _Anticipating 14, 15. Corrected in
#b# as here, and partly in #a#._

18^2. #a#, gold engraved, #b#, golden graved: _cf. #H#,
16, 20._

22^3. Oh is it: _corrected in #b#._

25^3. _~She has by far~ struck out and ~Fair Annie~
written above: #b#, ~Fair Annie hes oer~._

#G.#

_The division of stanzas and of verses has in some
cases required regulation. The handwriting is in places
difficult, and I cannot be sure that the spelling in
every case is what the writer intended._

7^4. mann?

16^5. Willie.

20^2. fett?

21^3. ser brunt (?)

21^4. faett?

23^1. Whan.

25^3. _perhaps ~dreams~._

28^1. _~deal~ illegible, a conjecture._

29^3. grave?

[113] I have been enabled to restore the original readings by the ever ready kindness of Professor Skeat.

[114] London, printed for W. T[hackeray], T. P[assenger], and W. W. [Whitwood?]. This impression is therefore contemporary with the other.

[115] In #D#, #E# she borrows the fine things of her sister. Minute particulars are given in #D#. We all wonder how Fair Annet, whose face should be her fortune, comes by so much. Her horse's shoes and bells would have made her a nice little dowry; and then she has, #F# 20, as much gold above her brow as would buy an earldom, like the oriental Susie Py. This comes of a reckless use of commonplaces, without regard to keeping.

[116] Some of the versions have traits of 'Fair Annie.' In #F# the woman is a king's sister, and is not living with Sir Peter.

[117]

Herre Per vaknað inki för dá
at login leikað i Áselitis hár.

Herre Per springe han up af si seng,
dá ság han liti Kersti pá gata geng.

'Aa kære liti Kersti, no hjölper du meg!
en annen sinn skal eg hjölpe deg.'

Og deð var liti Kersti, sá högt hon lóg:
'eg veit du helde sá vel dit órð!'

Landstad, 33-36.

Upon which the good pastor, who loved the things nevertheless, remarks, What a culpable style of life, what moral depravation, many of these ballads depict!

74

FAIR MARGARET AND SWEET WILLIAM

#A. a.# 'Fair Margaret's Misfortune,' etc., Douce
Ballads, I, fol. 72. #b.# 'Fair Margaret and Sweet
William,' Ritson, A Select Collection of English Songs,
1783, II, 190. #c.# 'Fair Margaret and Sweet William,'
Percy's Reliques, 1765, III, 121. #d.# Percy's Reliques,
1767, III, 119.

#B.# Percy Papers; communicated by the Dean of Derry,
February, 1776.

#C.# Percy Papers; communicated by Rev. P. Parsons, April
7, 1770.

#A#, #a#, #b#, #c# are broadside or stall copies, #a# of the end of the seventeenth century, #b# "modern" in Percy's time, and they differ inconsiderably, except that #a# has corrupted an important line.[118] Of #d#, Percy says, Since the first edition some improvements have been inserted, which were communicated by a lady of the first distinction, as she had heard this song repeated in her infancy. Herd, in The Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 295, follows Percy. As Percy has remarked, the ballad is twice quoted in Beaumont and Fletcher's 'Knight of the Burning Pestle,' 1611. Stanza 5 runs thus in Act 2, Scene 8, Dyce, II, 170:

When it was grown to dark midnight,
And all were fast asleep,
In came Margaret's grimly ghost,
And stood at William's feet.

The first half of stanza 2 is given, in Act 3, Scene 5, Dyce, p. 196, with more propriety than in the broadsides, thus:

You are no love for me, Margaret,
I am no love for you.

The fifth stanza of the ballad, as cited in 'The Knight of the Burning Pestle,' says the editor of the Reliques, has "acquired an importance by giving birth to one of the most beautiful ballads in our own or any language" [that is, 'Margaret's Ghost'], "the elegant production of David Mallet, Esq., who, in the last edition of his poems, 3 vols, 1759, informs us that the plan was suggested by the four verses quoted above, which he supposed to be the beginning of some ballad now lost."[119] The ballad supposed to be lost has been lately recovered, in a copy of the date 1711, with the title 'William and Margaret, an Old Ballad,' and turns out to be substantially the piece which Mallet published as his own in 1724, Mallet's changes being comparatively slight. 'William and Margaret' is simply 'Fair Margaret and Sweet William' rewritten in what used to be called an elegant style. Nine of the seventeen stanzas are taken up with a rhetorical address of Margaret to false William, who then leaves his bed, raving, stretches himself on Margaret's grave, thrice calls her name, thrice weeps full sore, and dies. See The Roxburghe Ballads, in the Ballad Society's reprint, III, 671, with Mr Chappell's remarks there, and in the Antiquary, January, 1880. The ballad of 1711 seems to have been founded upon some copy of the popular form earlier than any we now possess, or than any known to me, for the last half of stanza 5 runs nearly as it occurs in Beaumont and Fletcher (see also #B# 7), thus:

In glided Margaret's grimly ghost,
And stood at William's feet.

'Fair Margaret and Sweet William' begins like 'Lord Thomas and Fair Annet,' and from the fifth stanza on is blended with a form of that ballad represented by versions #E-H#. The _brown_ girl, characteristic of 'Lord Thomas and Fair Annet,' has slipped into #A# 14, 15, #B# 8, of 'Fair Margaret and Sweet William.' The catastrophe of 'Fair Margaret and Sweet William' is repeated in 'Lord Lovel,' and it will be convenient to notice under the head of the latter, which immediately follows, some ballads out of English which resemble both, especially in the conclusion.

* * * * *

#A c# is translated by Bodmer, II, 31, Döring, p. 199; #A d# by Herder, 1778, I, 124, von Marées, p. 40, Knortz, Lieder u. Romanzen Alt-Englands, No 61.

A

#a.# Douce Ballads, I, fol. 72. #b.# Ritson, A Select
Collection of English Songs, 1783, II, 190. #c.# Percy's
Reliques, 1765, III, 121. #d.# Percy's Reliques, 1767,
III, 119.

1
As it fell out on a long summer's day,
Two lovers they sat on a hill;
They sat together that long summer's day,
And could not talk their fill.

2
'I see no harm by you, Margaret,
Nor you see none by me;
Before tomorrow eight a clock
A rich wedding shall you see.'

3
Fair Margaret sat in her bower-window,
A combing of her hair,
And there she spy'd Sweet William and his bride,
As they were riding near.

4
Down she layd her ivory comb,
And up she bound her hair;
She went her way forth of her bower,
But never more did come there.

5
When day was gone, and night was come,
And all men fast asleep,
Then came the spirit of Fair Margaret,
And stood at William's feet.

6
'God give you joy, you two true lovers,
In bride-bed fast asleep;
Loe I am going to my green grass grave,
And am in my winding-sheet.'

7
When day was come, and night was gone,
And all men wak'd from sleep,
Sweet William to his lady said,
My dear, I have cause to weep.

8
'I dreamd a dream, my dear lady;
Such dreams are never good;
I dreamd my bower was full of red swine,
And my bride-bed full of blood.'

9
'Such dreams, such dreams, my honoured lord,
They never do prove good,
To dream thy bower was full of swine,
And [thy] bride-bed full of blood.'

10
He called up his merry men all,
By one, by two, and by three,
Saying, I'll away to Fair Margaret's bower,
By the leave of my lady.

11
And when he came to Fair Margaret's bower,
He knocked at the ring;
So ready was her seven brethren
To let Sweet William in.

12
He turned up the covering-sheet:
'Pray let me see the dead;
Methinks she does look pale and wan,
She has lost her cherry red.

13
'I'll do more for thee, Margaret,
Than any of thy kin;
For I will kiss thy pale wan lips,
Tho a smile I cannot win.'

14
With that bespeak her seven brethren,
Making most pitious moan:
'You may go kiss your jolly brown bride,
And let our sister alone.'

15
'If I do kiss my jolly brown bride,
I do but what is right;
For I made no vow to your sister dear,
By day or yet by night.

16
'Pray tell me then how much you'll deal
Of your white bread and your wine;
So much as is dealt at her funeral today
Tomorrow shall be dealt at mine.'

17
Fair Margaret dy'd today, today,
Sweet William he dy'd the morrow;
Fair Margaret dy'd for pure true love,
Sweet William he dy'd for sorrow.

18
Margaret was buried in the lower chancel,
Sweet William in the higher;
Out of her breast there sprung a rose,
And out of his a brier.

19
They grew as high as the church-top,
Till they could grow no higher,
And then they grew in a true lover's knot,
Which made all people admire.

20
There came the clerk of the parish,
As you this truth shall hear,
And by misfortune cut them down,
Or they had now been there.

B

Communicated to Percy by the Dean of Derry, as written
down from memory by his mother, Mrs Bernard; February,
1776.

1
Sweet William would a wooing ride,
His steed was lovely brown;
A fairer creature than Lady Margaret
Sweet William could find none.

2
Sweet William came to Lady Margaret's bower,
And knocked at the ring,
And who so ready as Lady Margaret
To rise and to let him in.

3
Down then came her father dear,
Clothed all in blue:
'I pray, Sweet William, tell to me
What love's between my daughter and you?'

4
'I know none by her,' he said,
'And she knows none by me;
Before tomorrow at this time
Another bride you shall see.'

5
Lady Margaret at her bower-window,
Combing of her hair,
She saw Sweet William and his brown bride
Unto the church repair.

6
Down she cast her iv'ry comb,
And up she tossd her hair,
She went out from her bowr alive,
But never so more came there.

7
When day was gone, and night was come,
All people were asleep,
In glided Margaret's grimly ghost,
And stood at William's feet.

8
'How d'ye like your bed, Sweet William?
How d'ye like your sheet?
And how d'ye like that brown lady,
That lies in your arms asleep?'

9
'Well I like my bed, Lady Margaret,
And well I like my sheet;
But better I like that fair lady
That stands at my bed's feet.'

10
When night was gone, and day was come,
All people were awake,
The lady waket out of her sleep,
And thus to her lord she spake.

11
'I dreamd a dream, my wedded lord,
That seldom comes to good;
I dreamd that our bowr was lin'd with white swine,
And our brid-chamber full of blood.'

12
He called up his merry men all,
By one, by two, by three,
'We will go to Lady Margaret's bower,
With the leave of my wedded lady.'

13
When he came to Lady Margaret's bower,
He knocked at the ring,
And who were so ready as her brethren
To rise and let him in.

14
'Oh is she in the parlor,' he said,
'Or is she in the hall?
Or is she in the long chamber,
Amongst her merry maids all?'

15
'She's not in the parlor,' they said,
'Nor is she in the hall;
But she is in the long chamber,
Laid out against the wall.'

16
'Open the winding sheet,' he cry'd,
'That I may kiss the dead;
That I may kiss her pale and wan
Whose lips used to look so red.'

17
Lady Margaret [died] on the over night,
Sweet William died on the morrow;
Lady Margaret died for pure, pure love,
Sweet William died for sorrow.

18
On Margaret's grave there grew a rose,
On Sweet William's grew a briar;
They grew till they joind in a true lover's knot,
And then they died both together.

C

Communicated to Percy by Rev. P. Parsons, of Wye, April
7, 1770.

1
As Margaret stood at her window so clear,
A combing back her hair,
She saw Sweet William and his gay bride
Unto the church draw near.

2
Then down she threw her ivory comb,
She turned back her hair;
There was a fair maid at that window,
She's gone, she'll come no more there.

3
In the night, in the middle of the night,
When all men were asleep,
There walkd a ghost, Fair Margaret's ghost,
And stood at his bed's feet.

4
Sweet William he dremed a dream, and he said,
'I wish it prove for good;
My chamber was full of wild men's wine,
And my bride-bed stood in blood.'

5
Then he calld up his stable-groom,
To saddle his nag with speed:
'This night will I ride to Fair Margaret's bowr,
With the leave of my lady.