Chapter XXV: Appendix (2)

4
The bird flew high, the bird flew low,
This bird flew to and fro,
Until that he came to the king of England's dochter,
Who was sitting in her bower-window.

5
'Here is a gift, a very rare gift,
And the king has sent you three;
He says if your father and mother winna let,
You may come privately.

6
'Here is a gift, and a very rare gift,
The king has sent you five;
He says he will not wait any longer on you,
If there be another woman alive.'

7
She's away to her mother dear,
Made a low beck on her knee:
'What is your asking of me, daughter?
Queen of Scotland you never shall be.'

8
'That's not my asking of thee, mother,
That's not my asking of thee;
But that if I die in merry England,
In Scotland you will bury me.'

9
She's awa to her father dear,
Made a low beck on her knee:
'What is your asking of me, daughter?
Queen of Scotland you never shall be.'

10
'That's not my asking of thee, father,
That's not my asking of thee;
But that if I die in merry England,
In Scotland you will bury me.'

11
She walked to and fro,
She walked up and down,
But ye wud na spoken three words to an end
Till she was in a deep swoon.

12
Out then spoke an auld witch-wife,
And she spoke random indeed:
Honoured madam, I would have you to try
Three drops of the burning lead.

13
Her mother went weeping round and round,
She dropped one on her chin;
'Och and alace,' her mother did say,
'There is no breath within!'

14
Her mother went weeping round and round,
She dropt one on her briest;
'Och and alace,' her mother did cry,
'For she's died without a priest!'

15
Her mother went weeping round and round,
She dropped one on her toe;
'Och and alace,' her mother did cry,
'To Scotland she must goe!

16
'Call down, call down her sisters five,
To make to her a smock;
The one side of the bonny beaten gold,
And the other of the needle-work.

17
'Call down, call down her brothers seven,
To make for her a bier;
The one side of the bonny beaten gold,
And the other of the silver clear.'

18
Many a mile by land they went,
And many a league by sea,
Until that they came to the king of Scotland,
Who was walking in his own valley.

19
'Here is a gift, and a very rare gift,
And you to have made her your own;
But now she is dead, and she's new come from her steed,
And she's ready to lay in the ground.'

20
O he has opened the lid of the coffin,
And likewise the winding sheet,
And thrice he has kissed her cherry, cherry cheek,
And she smiled on him full sweet.

21
'One hit of your bread,' she says,
'And one glass of your wine;
It's all for you and your sake
I've fasted long days nine.

22
'One glass of your wine,' she says,
'And one bit of your bread;
For it 's all for you and for your sake
I suffered the burning lead.

23
'Go home, go home, my brothers seven,
You may go blow your horn;
And you may tell it in merry England
That your sister has given you the scorn.

24
'Go home, go home, my brothers seven,
Tell my sisters to sew their seam;
And you may tell it in merry England
That your sister she is queen.'

C

Motherwell's MS., p. 435; communicated by Peter Buchan,
from a MS. which had been sent him.

1
'O well is me, my jolly goshawk,
That ye can speak and flee,
For ye can carry a love-letter
To my true-love from me.'

2
'O how can I carry a letter to her,
When her I do not knaw?
I bear the lips to her never spake,
And the eyes that her never saw.'

3
'The thing of my love's face is white
It's that of dove or maw;
The thing of my love's face that's red
Is like blood shed on snaw.

4
'And when you come to the castle,
Light on the bush of ash,
And sit you there and sing our loves,
As she comes from the mass.

5
'And when she goes into the house,
Sit ye upon the whin;
And sit you there and sing our loves,
As she goes out and in.'

6
And when he flew to that castel,
He lighted on the ash;
And there he sat and sang their loves,
As she came from the mass.

7
And when she went into the house,
He flew unto the whin;
And there he sat and sang their loves,
As she went out and in.

8
'Come hither, come hither, my maidens all,
And sip red wine anon,
Till I go to my west window,
And hear a birdie's moan.'

9
She's gone unto her west window,
And fainly aye it drew,
And soon into her white silk lap
The bird the letter threw.

10
'Ye're bidden send your love a send,
For he has sent you twa;
And tell him where he can see you,
Or he cannot live ava.'

11
'I send him the rings from my white fingers,
The garlands off my hair;
I send him the heart that's in my breast:
What would my love have mair?
And at the fourth kirk in fair Scotland,
Ye'll bid him meet me there.'

12
She hied her to her father dear,
As fast as gang could she:
'An asking, an asking, my father dear,
An asking ye grant me;
That, if I die in fair England,
In Scotland bury me.

13
'At the first kirk of fair Scotland,
You cause the bells be rung;
At the second kirk of fair Scotland,
You cause the mass be sung.

14
'At the third kirk of fair Scotland,
You deal gold for my sake;
And the fourth kirk of fair Scotland,
O there you'll bury me at.

15
'And now, my tender father dear,
This asking grant you me;'
'Your asking is but small,' he said,
'Weel granted it shall be.'

16
She hied her to her mother dear,
As fast as gang could she:
'An asking, an asking, my mother dear,
An asking ye grant me;
That if I die in fair England
In Scotland bury me.

17
'And now, my tender mother dear,
This asking grant you me;'
'Your asking is but small,' she said,
'Weel granted it shall be.'

18
She hied her to her sister dear,
As fast as gang could she:
'An asking, an asking, my sister dear,
An asking ye grant me;
That if I die in fair England,
In Scotland bury me.

19
'And now, my tender sister dear,
This asking grant you me:'
'Your asking is but small,' she said,
'Weel granted it shall be.'

20
She hied her to her seven brothers,
As fast as gang could she:
'An asking, an asking, my brothers seven,
An asking ye grant me;
That if I die in fair England,
In Scotland ye bury me.

21
'And now, my tender brothers dear,
This asking grant you me:'
'Your asking is but small,' they said,
'Weel granted it shall be.'

22
Then down as dead that lady drapd,
Beside her mother's knee;
Then out it spoke an auld witch-wife,
By the fire-side sat she.

23
Says, Drap the hot lead on her cheek,
And drop it on her chin,
And drop it on her rose-red lips,
And she will speak again:
For much a lady young will do,
To her true-love to win.

24
They drapd the het lead on her cheek,
So did they on her chin;
They drapt it on her red-rose lips,
But they breathed none again.

25
Her brothers they went to a room,
To make to her a bier;
The boards of it was cedar wood,
And the plates ow it gold so clear.

26
Her sisters they went to a room,
To make to her a sark;
The cloth of it was satin fine,
And the steeking silken wark.

27
'But well is me, my jolly goshawk,
That ye can speak and flee;
Come shew to me any love-tokens
That you have brought to me.'

28
'She sends you the rings from her fingers,
The garlands from her hair;
She sends you the heart within her breast;
And what would you have mair?
And at the fourth kirk of fair Scotland,
She bids you meet her there.'

29
'Come hither, all my merry young men,
And drink the good red wine;
For we must on to fair Scotland,
To free my love frae pine.'

30
At the first kirk of fair Scotland,
They gart the bells be rung;
At the second kirk of fair Scotland,
They gart the mass be sung.

31
At the third kirk of fair Scotland,
They dealt gold for her sake;
And the fourth kirk of fair Scotland
Her true-love met them at.

32
'Set down, set down the corpse,' he said,
'Till I look on the dead;
The last time that I saw her face,
She ruddy was and red;
But now, alas, and woe is me!
She's wallowit like a weed.'

33
He rent the sheet upon her face,
A little above her chin;
With lily-white cheeks, and lemin een,
She lookt and laughd to him.

34
'Give me a chive of your bread, my love,
A bottle of your wine;
For I have fasted for your love
These long days nine;
There's not a steed in your stable
But would have been dead ere syne.

35
'Go home, go home, my seven brothers,
Go home and blow the horn;
For you can say in the south of England
Your sister gave you a scorn.

36
'I came not here to fair Scotland
To lye amang the meal;
But I came here to fair Scotland
To wear the silks so weel.

37
'I came not here to fair Scotland
To ly amang the dead;
But I came here to fair Scotland
To wear the gold so red.'

D

Motherwell's Note-Book, pp 27-30, Motherwell's MS., pp
415-17; from Agnes Laird, Kilbarchan, August 24, 1825.

1
'O where'll I get a pretty little bird
That'll go my errand soon,
That will fly to the Queen of England's dochter,
And bid my trew-luve come?'

2
'Here am I, a pretty little bird,
That'll go your errands soon,
That will fly to the Queen of England's daughter,
And bid your trew-luve come.'

3
This wee birdie's taken its flight,
And it's flown owre the sea,
Until it cam to the Queen of England's daughter;
She's sitting in her bower-windie.

4
Then out bespoke these nine ladies,
As they sat in a ring:
'O we'll awa to the west window,
To hear this birdie sing.'

5
This wee birdie's taken its flight,
And it's flown owre them a',
And at the lady's left shoulder
It loot a letter fa.

6
She has taken the letter up,
And read it speedilie:
'O mother, the queen, O mother, the queen,
Grant this request to me;
Whenever I do chance for to die,
In Scotland gar bury me.'

* * * * * * *

7
'Bring to me the red, red lead,
And rub it on her chin;
It's Oh and alace for my dochter Janet!
But there is not a breath within.

8
'Bring to me the red, red lead,
And rub it on her toe;
It's Oh and alace for my daughter Janet!
To Scotland she must go.'

9
'Rise up, rise up, ye seven sisters,
And make her winding sheet,
With the one side of the beaten gold,
And the other o the needle-wark.

10
'Rise up, rise up, ye seven brethren,
And make her carriage-bier,
With the one side of the beaten gold,
And the other o the silver clear.'

11
They've carried east, they 've carried west,
They've carried her high and low,
Until that they came to the king of Scotland,
Was sitting in his bower-window.

12
'Here is a token of your trew-love,
And here is a token come down,
For she is dead, and she's ready to be buried,
And she wants to be laid in your ground.'

13
He's taen out his mickle knife,
And tore her winding sheet,
And there she lay like the crimson red,
And she smiled in his face so sweet.

14
'Go home, go home, you seven brethren,
Go home and saw your corn,
For she is fit for the queen of Scotland now,
And she's gien you the scorn.

15
'Go home, go home, you seven sisters,
Go home and sew your seam,
For she is fit for the queen of Scotland now,
And she's ready to be my queen.'

E

Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, II, 7, 1802; III, 151,
1833.

1
'O waly, waly, my gay goss-hawk,
Gin your feathering be sheen!'
'And waly, waly, my master dear,
Gin ye look pale and lean!

2
'O have ye tint at tournament
Your sword, or yet your spear?
Or mourn ye for the southern lass,
Whom you may not win near?'

3
'I have not tint at tournament
My sword, nor yet my spear,
But sair I mourn for my true-love,
Wi mony a bitter tear.

4
'But weel's me on ye, my gay goss-hawk,
Ye can baith speak and flee;
Ye sall carry a letter to my love,
Bring an answer back to me.'

5
'But how sall I your true-love find,
Or how suld I her know?
I bear a tongue neer wi her spake,
An eye that neer her saw.'

6
'O weel sall ye my true-love ken,
Sae sune as ye her see,
For of a' the flowers of fair England,
The fairest flower is she.

7
'The red that's on my true-love's cheik
Is like blood-drops on the snaw;
The white that is on her breast bare
Like the down o the white sea-maw.

8
'And even at my love's bouer-door
There grows a flowering birk,
And ye maun sit and sing thereon,
As she gangs to the kirk.

9
'And four-and-twenty fair ladyes
Will to the mass repair,
But weel may ye my ladye ken,
The fairest ladye there.'

10
Lord William has written a love-letter,
Put it under his pinion gray,
And he is awa to southern land,
As fast as wings can gae.

11
And even at that ladye's bour
There grew a flowering birk,
And he sat down and sang thereon,
As she gaed to the kirk.

12
And weel he kent that ladye feir
Amang her maidens free,
For the flower that springs in May morning
Was not sae sweet as she.

13
[He lighted at the ladye's yate,
And sat him on a pin,
And sang fu sweet the notes o love,
Till a' was cosh within.]

14
And first he sang a low, low note,
And syne he sang a clear,
And aye the oerword of the sang
Was, Your love can no win here.

15
'Feast on, feast on, my maidens a',
The wine flows you amang,
While I gang to my shot-window,
And hear yon bonny bird's sang.

16
'Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird,
The sang ye sung yestreen;
For weel I ken by your sweet singing
Ye are frae my true-love sen.'

17
O first he sang a merry sang,
And syne he sang a grave,
And syne he peckd his feathers gray,
To her the letter gave.

18
'Have there a letter from Lord William;
He says he's sent ye three;
He canna wait your love langer,
But for your sake he 'll die.'

19
'Gae bid him bake his bridal bread,
And brew his bridal ale,
And I sall meet him at Mary's kirk,
Lang, lang-ere it be stale.'

20
The lady's gane to her chamber,
And a moanfu woman was she,
As gin she had taen a sudden brash,
And were about to die.

21
'A boon, a boon, my father deir,
A boon I beg of thee!'
'Ask not that paughty Scotish lord,
For him you neer shall see.

22
'But, for your honest asking else,
Weel granted it shall be:'
'Then, gin I die in southern land,
In Scotland gar bury me.

23
'And the first kirk that ye come to,
Ye's gar the mass be sung,
And the next kirk that ye come to,
Ye's gar the bells be rung.

24
'And when ye come to St Mary's kirk,
Ye's tarry there till night:'
And so her father pledged his word,
And so his promise plight.

25
She has taen her to her bigly bour,
As fast as she could fare,
And she has drank a sleepy draught,
That she had mixed wi care.

26
And pale, pale grew her rosy cheek,
That was sae bright of blee,
And she seemed to be as surely dead
As any one could be.

27
They drapt a drap o the burning red gowd,
They drapt it on her chin;
'And ever alas,' her mother cried,
'There is nae life within!'

28
They drapt a drap o the burning red gowd,
They drapt it on her breast-bane;
'Alas,' her seven bauld brothers said,
'Our sister's dead and gane!'

29
Then up arose her seven brethren,
And hewd to her a bier;
They hewd it frae the solid aik,
Laid it oer wi silver clear.

30
Then up and gat her seven sisters,
And sewed to her a kell,
And every steek that they pat in
Sewd to a siller bell.

31
The first Scots kirk that they cam to,
They gard the bells be rung;
The next Scots kirk that they cam to,
They gard the mass be sung.

32
But when they cam to St Mary's kirk,
There stude spearmen all on raw,
And up and started Lord William,
The chieftane amang them a'.

33
'Set down, set down the bier,' he said,
'Let me looke her upon:'
But as soon as Lord William touched her hand,
Her colour began to come.

34
She brightened like the lily-flower,
Till her pale colour was gone;
With rosy cheek, and ruby lip,
She smiled her love upon.

35
'A morsel of your bread, my lord,
And one glass of your wine,
For I hae fasted these three lang days,
All for your sake and mine.

36
'Gae hame, gae hame, my seven bauld brothers,
Gae hame and blaw your horn;
I trow you wad hae gien me the skaith,
But I've gien you the scorn.

37
'Ah woe to you, you light woman,
An ill death may you die!
For we left father and mother at hame
Breaking their hearts for thee.'

F

From Miss Margaret Reburn, as sung in County Meath,
Ireland, about 1860.

* * * * * * *

1
She got three drops of boiling lead,
And dropped them on her hand:
'Oh and alas, my daughter dear,
I'd rather all my land!'

2
She got three drops of boiling lead,
And dropped them on her chin:
'Oh and alas, my daughter dear,
There is no life within!'

3
She got three drops of boiling lead,
And dropped them on her toe:
'Oh and alas, my daughter dear,
To fair Scotland you must go!'

* * * * * * *

4
'Give me a cake of the new made bread,
And a cup of the new made wine,
For for your sake, Lord Thomas,' she said,
'I fasted those days nine.'

G

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 245, "from
recitation."

1
When grass grew green on Lanark plains,
And fruit and flowers did spring,
A Scottish squire in cheerfu strains,
Sae merrily thus did sing:

2
'O well fails me o my parrot
That he can speak and flee;
For he will carry love-letters
Between my love and me.

3
'And well fails me o my parrot
He can baith speak and gang;
And he will carry love-letters
To the maid in South England.'

4
'O how shall I your love find out?
Or how shall I her know?
When my tongue with her never spake,
Nor my eyes her ever saw.'

5
'O what is red of her is red
As blude drappd on the snaw;
And what is white o her is white
As milk, or the sea-maw.

6
'Even before that lady's yetts
You'll find a bowing birk;
And there ye'll sit, and sing thereon,
Till she gaes to the kirk.

7
'Then even before that lady's yetts
You'll find a bowing ash;
And ye may sit and sing thereon,
Till she comes frae the mass.

8
'And even before that lady's window
You'll find a bed o tyme;
And ye may sit and sing thereon,
Till she sits down to dine.

9
'Even abeen that lady's window
There's fixd a siller pin;
And a' these words that I tell you,
Ye'll sit and sing therein.

10
'Ye'll bid her send her love a letter,
For he has sent her five;
And he'll never send anither ane,
To nae woman alive.

11
'Ye'll bid her send her love a letter,
For he has sent her seven;
And he'll never send anither send,
To nae maid under heaven.'

12
This little bird then took his flight,
Beyond the raging sea,
And lighted at that lady's yetts,
On tower o gowd sae hie.

13
Even before that lady's yetts
He found a bowing birk;
And there he sat, and sang thereon,
Till she went to the kirk.

14
Even before that lady's yetts
He found a bowing ash;
And then he sat and sang thereon,
Till she came frae the mass.

15
Even before that lady's window
He found a bed o tyme;
And then he sat and sang thereon,
Till she sat down to dine.

16
Even abeen that lady's window
Was fixd a siller pin;
And a' the words that were tauld him,
He sat and sang them in.

17
'You're bidden send your love a letter,
For he has sent you five;
Or he'll never send anither send,
To nae woman alive.

18
'You're bidden send your love a letter,
For he has sent you seven;
And he'll never send anither send,
To nae maid under heaven.'

19
'Sit in the hall, good ladies all,
And drink the wine sae red,
And I will to yon small window,
And hear yon birdie's leed.

20
'Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird,
The sang ye sung just now;'
'I'll sing nae mair, ye lady fair,
My errand is to you.'

21
'If ye be my true-lovie's bird,
Sae well's I will you ken;
You will gae in at my gown-sleeve,
Come out at my gown-hem.'

22
'That I am come frae your true-love,
You soon shall see right plain;
And read these lines below my wing,
That I hae brought frae him.'

23
When she looked these lines upon,
She read them, and she leuch:
'O well fails me, my true-love, now,
O this I hae eneuch.

24
'Here is the broach on my breast-bane,
The garlings frae my hair,
Likewise the heart that is within;
What woud my love hae mair?

25
'The nearest kirk in fair Scotland,
Ye'll bid him meet me there:'
She has gane to her dear father,
Wi heart perplexd and sair.

26
When she came to her auld father,
Fell low down on her knee:
'An asking, asking, father dear,
I pray you grant it me.'

27
'Ask what you will, my dear daughter,
And I will grant it thee;
Unless to marry yon Scottish squire;
That's what shall never be.'

28
'O that's the asking, father,' she said,
'That I'll neer ask of thee;
But if I die in South England,
In Scotland ye'll bury me.'

29
'The asking's nae sae great, daughter,
But granted it shall be;
And tho ye die in South England,
In Scotland we'll bury thee.'

30
She has gane to her step-mother,
Fell low down on her knee:
'An asking, asking, mother dear,
I pray you grant it me.'

31
'Ask what ye please, my lily-white dove,
And granted it shall be:'
'If I do die in South England,
In Scotland bury me.'

32
'Had these words spoke been in again,
I woud not granted thee;
You hae a love in fair Scotland,
Sae fain's you woud be tee.'

33
She scarce was to her chamber gane
Nor yet was well set down,
Till on the sofa where she sat
Fell in a deadly swoon.

34
Her father and her seven brithers,
They made for her a bier;
The one half o't was gude red gowd,
The other siller clear.

35
Her seven sisters were employed
In making her a sark;
The one half o't was cambric fine,
The other needle-wark.

36
Then out it speaks her auld step-dame,
Sat on the sofa's end:
Ye'll drap the het lead on her cheek,
Sae do you on her chin;
For women will use mony a wile
Their true-loves for to win.

37
Then up it raise her eldest brither,
Into her bower he's gane;
Then in it came her youngest brither,
The het leed to drap on.

38
He drapt it by her cheek, her cheek,
Sae did he by her chin;
Sae did he by her comely hause;
He knew life was therein.

39
The bier was made wi red gowd laid,
Sae curious round about;
A private entrance there contriv'd,
That her breath might win out.

40
The first an kirk in fair Scotland,
They gard the bells be rung;
The niest an kirk in fair Scotland,
They causd the mass be sung.

41
The third an kirk in fair Scotland,
They passd it quietly by;
The fourth an kirk in fair Scotland,
Clerk Sandy did them spy.

42
'O down ye'll set this corpse o clay,
Lat me look on the dead;
For I may sigh, and say, alas!
For death has nae remeid.'

43
Then he has cut her winding sheet
A little below her chin,
And wi her sweet and ruby lips
She sweetly smil'd on him.

44
'Gie me a sheave o your white bread,
A bottle o your wine;
For I hae fasted for your sake
Fully these lang days nine.

45
'Gae hame, gae hame, my seven brithers,
Gae hame and blaw your trumpet;
And ye may tell to your step-dame
This day she is affronted.

46
'I camna here to fair Scotland
To lye amo the dead;
But came to be Clerk Sandy's wife,
And lay gowd on my head.

47
'Gae hame, gae hame, my seven brithers,
Gae hame and blaw your horn;
And ye may tell in fair England
In Scotland ye got the scorn.

48
'I came not here to fair Scotland
To mix amang the clay;
But came to be Clerk Sandy's wife,
And wear gowd to my tae.'

49
'Sin ye hae gien us this ae scorn,
We shall gie you anither;
Ye shall hae naething to live upon
But the bier that brought you hither.'

* * * * *

#A.#

_Written in stanzas of two long lines._

1. _In the Tytler-Brown MS._

O well's me o my gay goss hawke
That he can speake and flee,
Will carry a letter to my love,
Bring another back to me.

#B.#

20^1. Oh.

24^1. by brothers.

#C.#

2^1. Oh.

12^2. shee.

_After 16_: etc., repeated as above.

_After 18^2_: etc., as above.

_After 20_: etc., as to father, mother, etc. _The verses
not written out (and not printed in the Minstrelsy) have
been supplied accordingly._

30^2. bells _altered in the MS. from_ mass.

26^3. clothe.

29^3. _In the Minstrelsy Motherwell has substituted
~England~ for ~Scotland~._

34^6. _Motherwell prints_ dead ere syne.

#D.#

_In his Note-Book, p. 27, Motherwell says that he got
this copy of the ballad from ~Agnes Laird~; in the MS.,
p. 415, from ~Agnes Lyle~. Page 26 of the Note-Book shows
that ~Laird~ is right._

#E.#

_The edition of 1833 inserts stanza 13, and substitutes
for 27, 28 the following:_

Then spake her cruel step-minnie:
'Tak ye the burning lead,
And drap a drap on her bosome,
To try if she be dead.'

They took a drap o boiling lead,
They drappd it on her breast;
'Alas, alas,' her father cried,
'She's dead without the priest!'

She neither chatterd with her teeth,
Nor shiverd with her chin;
'Alas, alas,' her father cried,
'There is nae breath within!'

_After 36 is inserted:_

'Commend me to my grey father,
That wished my saul gude rest,
But wae be to my cruel step-dame,
Garrd burn me on the breast.'

_And ~mother~, 37^3, is changed to ~sisters~. The
step-mother clearly does not belong to this ballad._

[160] Or her soul, in a copy which terminates with a miracle, Victor Smith, Chansons du Velay, etc., Romania, IV, 114: where see note 2.

[161] See Uhland, III, 109 f, 171.

[162] The contrast presented by darker ages, when cheap literature was unknown, may be seen from these verses:

Ma mie reçoit de mes lettres
Par l'alouette des champs;
Elle m'envoie les siennes
Par le rossignol chantant.

Sans savoir lire ni écrire
Nous lisons ce qui est dedans;
Il y a dedans ces lettres,
'Aime moi, je t'aime tant.'

(Le Moniteur, May 27, 1853.)

[163] The "red, red lead" of #D# 7, 8 I had at first supposed to show a carelessness about epithets, like the "roses blue" of a Danish ballad. But considering that the red lead is to be _rubbed on_, one may ask whether some occult property of minium may have been known to the mother.

97

BROWN ROBIN

#A.# 'Brown Robin.' #a.# Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 37.
#b.# Abbotsford MS., "Scottish Songs."

#B.# 'Love Robbie,' Christie's Traditional Ballad Airs,
I, 136.

#C.# 'Brown Robyn and Mally,' Buchan's Ballads of the
North of Scotland, II, 299.

'Brown Robin' was No 7 in William Tytler's Brown MS. The first stanza is cited by Anderson, Nichols's Literary Illustrations, VII, 177, and there were twenty-one stanzas, as in #A a#. #A b# may have been a copy of the Tytler-Brown version. It does not seem to have been tampered with so much as other ballads in the same manuscript. The story undoubtedly stops at the right point in #A#, with the escape of the two lovers to the wood. The sequel in #C# is not at all beyond the inventive ability of Buchan's blind beggar, and some other blind beggar may have contrived the cane and the whale, the shooting and the hanging, in #B#.

Brown Robin is lover or husband of May Margerie, or May a Roe==Lillie Flower, in 'Jellon Grame,' No 90, #B# 14, #C# 7, and again of White Lilly in 'Rose the Red and White Lilly,' No 103, #A# 7 ff.

We have money given over the wall by an eloping lady, as in #B# 4, 5, #C# 5, also in 'Willie o Douglas Dale,' No 101, #C# 4, 5.

#A# 1, nearly, is stanza 5 in Jamieson's 'Glenkindie;' see p. 141 of this volume, note to #B#.

#C# is translated by Gerhard, p. 175.

A

#a.# Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 37. #b.# Abbotsford MS.,
"Scottish Songs."

1
The king but an his nobles a'} _bis_
Sat birling at the wine;}
He would ha nane but his ae daughter
To wait on them at dine.

2
She's servd them butt, she's servd them ben,
Intill a gown of green,
But her ee was ay on Brown Robin,
That stood low under the rain.

3
She's doen her to her bigly bowr,
As fast as she coud gang,
An there she's drawn her shot-window,
An she's harped an she sang.

4
'There sits a bird i my father's garden,
An O but she sings sweet!
I hope to live an see the day
Whan wi my love I'll meet.'

5
'O gin that ye like me as well
As your tongue tells to me,
What hour o the night, my lady bright,
At your bowr sal I be?'

6
'Whan my father an gay Gilbert
Are baith set at the wine,
O ready, ready I will be
To lat my true-love in.'

7
O she has birld her father's porter
Wi strong beer an wi wine,
Untill he was as beastly drunk
As ony wild-wood swine:
She's stown the keys o her father's yates
An latten her true-love in.

8
Whan night was gane, an day was come,
An the sun shone on their feet,
Then out it spake him Brown Robin,
I'll be discoverd yet.

9
Then out it spake that gay lady:
My love, ye need na doubt;
For wi ae wile I've got you in,
Wi anither I'll bring you out.

10
She's taen her to her father's cellar,
As fast as she can fare;
She's drawn a cup o the gude red wine,
Hung't low down by her gare;
An she met wi her father dear
Just coming down the stair.

11
'I woud na gi that cup, daughter,
That ye hold i your han
For a' the wines in my cellar,
An gantrees whare the stan.'

12
'O wae be to your wine, father,
That ever't came oer the sea;
'T'is pitten my head in sick a steer
I my bowr I canna be.'

13
'Gang out, gang out, my daughter dear,
Gang out an tack the air;
Gang out an walk i the good green wood,
An a' your marys fair.'

14
Then out it spake the proud porter--
Our lady wishd him shame--
We'll send the marys to the wood,
But we'll keep our lady at hame.'

15
'There's thirty marys i my bowr,
There's thirty o them an three;
But there's nae ane amo them a'
Kens what flowr gains for me.'

16
She's doen her to her bigly bowr,
As fast as she could gang,
An she has dresst him Brown Robin
Like ony bowr-woman.

17
The gown she pat upon her love
Was o the dainty green,
His hose was o the saft, saft silk,
His shoon o the cordwain fine.

18
She's pitten his bow in her bosom,
His arrow in her sleeve,
His sturdy bran her body next,
Because he was her love.

19
Then she is unto her bowr-door,
As fast as she coud gang;
But out it spake the proud porter--
Our lady wishd him shame--
We'll count our marys to the wood,
An we'll count them back again.'

20
The firsten mary she sent out
Was Brown Robin by name;
Then out it spake the king himsel,
'This is a sturdy dame.'

21
O she went out in a May morning,
In a May morning so gay,
But she came never back again,
Her auld father to see.

B

Christie's Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 136, from the
recitation of an old woman in Buckie, Enzie, Banffshire.

1
'A feathered fowl's in your orchard, father,
O dear, but it sings sweet!
What would I give, my father dear,
That bonnie bird to meet!'
What would I give, etc.

2
'O hold your tongue, my daughter Mary,
Let a' your folly be;
There's six Scots lords tomorrow, child,
That will a' dine wi me,
And ye maun serve them a', Mary,
As't were for meat and fee.'

3
She served them up, sae has she down,
The footmen a' the same,
But her mind was aye on Love Robbie,
Stood out below the rain.

4
A hundred pun o pennies roun,
Tied in a towel so sma,
She has gien to him Love Robbie,
Out oer the castle-wa;
Says, Tak ye that, my love Robbie.
And mysel ye may hae.

5
A hundred pun o pennies roun,
Tied in a napkin white,
She has gien to him Love Robbie,
Out oer the garden-dyke;
Says, Tak ye that, my Love Robbie,
And mysel gin ye like.

6
'If this be true ye tell to me,
As your tongue woudna lee,
I shall be in your bigly bower
Before the clock strike three;
I shall be in your bigly bower,
Dressd like a gay ladye.'

7
When bells were rung, and mass was sung,
And all men bound for bed,
Love Robbie came to Mary's bower,
Dressd like a comely maid.

8
They had not kissd nor love clappëd,
As lovers when they meet,
Till sighing said he Love Robbie,
My life, my life I doubt.

9
'Your life, your life, you Love Robbie,
Your life you needna doubt;
For it was wiles brought in Robbie,
And wiles will lat him out.'

10
Then in it came her father dear,
And stood upon the floor,
And she filld the cup of good red wine,
Said, Father, will ye drink more?

11
'O better I love the cup, Mary,
The cup that's in your hand,
Than all my barrels full of wine,
On the gantrees where they stand.'

12
'O woe be to your wine, father,
It eer came oer the sea!
If I getna the air o good greenwood
O I will surely dee.'

13
'There's seven maries in your bower,
There's seven o them and three,
And I'll send them to good greenwood,
For flowers to shortsome thee.'

14
'There's seven maries in my bower,
There's seven o them and three,
But there's nae a mary mang them a'
Can pu flowers to shortsome me:'
'Then by my sooth,' said her father dear,
'Let yoursel gang them wi.'

15
She dressd hersel in the royal red,
Love Robbie was in dainty green;
Love Robbie's brand was about his middle,
And he shone like ony queen.

16
The firsten ane that took the floor,
Love Robbie was that ane:
'Now by my sooth,' said the proud porter,
'She is a sonsie dame;
I would not care now very much
To turn her in again.'

17
'I'd fain see any woman or man,
Of high or low degree,
Would turn a mary in again
That once came out with me.'

18
They had not been in good greenwood,
Pu'd a flower but only three,
Till the porter stood behind a bush,
And shot him Love Robbie.

19
Now word has come to her father dear,
In the chamber where he lay,
Lady Mary's sick in good greenwood,
And cannot come away.

20
He's taen his mantle him about,
His cane into his han,
And he is on to good greenwood,
As fast as he could gang.

21
'O want you fish out o the fleed,
Or whale out o the sea?
Or is there any one alive
This day has angerd thee?'

22
'I want not fish out o the fleed,
Nor whale out o the sea;
But woe be to your proud porter,
Sae sair's he's angerd me!
He's shot the fairest flower this day,
That would hae comfort me.'

23
'O hold your tongue, my daughter Mary,
Let a' your folly be;
Tomorrow ere I eat or drink
High hangëd shall he be.'

C

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 299.

1
'There is a bird in my father's orchard,
And dear, but it sings sweet!
I hope to live to see the day
This bird and I will meet.'

2
'O hold your tongue, my daughter Mally,
Let a' your folly be;
What bird is that in my orchard
Sae shortsome is to thee?

3
'There are four-an-twenty noble lords
The morn shoud dine wi me;
And ye maun serve them a', Mally,
Like one for meat and fee.'

4
She servd the nobles all as one,
The horsemen much the same;
But her mind was aye to Brown Robyn,
Beneath the heavy rain.

5
Then she's rowd up a thousand pounds
Intil a servit white,
And she gae that to Brown Robyn,
Out ower the garden-dyke:
Says, Take ye that, my love Robyn,
And mysell gin ye like.

6
'If this be true, my dame,' he said,
'That ye hae tauld to me,
About the hour o twall at night,
At your bower-door I'll be.'

7
But ere the hour o twall did chap,
And lang ere it was ten,
She had hersell there right and ready
To lat Brown Robyn in.

8
They hadna kissd nor love clapped
Till the birds sang on the ha;
'O,' sighing says him Brown Robyn,
'I wish I were awa!'

9
They hadna sitten muckle langer
Till the guards shot ower the way;
Then sighing says him Brown Robyn,
'I fear my life this day.'

10
'O had your tongue, my love Robyn,
Of this take ye nae doubt;
It was by wiles I brought you in,
By wiles I'll bring you out.'

11
Then she's taen up a cup o wine,
To her father went she;
'O drink the wine, father,' she said,
'O drink the wine wi me.'

12
'O well love I the cup, daughter,
But better love I the wine;
And better love I your fair body
Than a' the gowd in Spain.'

13
'Wae be to the wine, father,
That last came ower the sea;
Without the air o gude greenwood,
There's nae remeid for me.'

14
'Ye've thirty maries in your bower,
Ye've thirty and hae three;
Send ane o them to pu a flower,
Stay ye at hame wi me.'

15
'I've thirty maries in my bower,
I've thirty o them and nine;
But there's nae a marie amo them a'
That kens my grief and mind.

16
'For they may pu the nut, the nut,
And sae may they the slae,
But there's nane amo them a' that kens
The herb that I woud hae.'

17
'Well, gin ye gang to gude greenwood,
Come shortly back again;
Ye are sae fair and are sae rare,
Your body may get harm.'

18
She dressd hersell into the red,
Brown Robyn all in green,
And put his brand across his middle,
He was a stately dame.

19
The first ane stepped ower the yett,
It was him Brown Robyn;
'By my sooth,' said the proud porter,
'This is a stately dame.

20
'O wi your leave, lady,' he said,
'And leave o a' your kin,
I woudna think it a great sin
To turn that marie in.'

21
'O had your tongue, ye proud porter,
Let a' your folly be;
Ye darena turn a marie in
That ance came forth wi me.'

22
'Well shall I call your maries out,
And as well shall I in;
For I am safe to gie my oath
That marie is a man.'

23
Soon she went to gude greenwood,
And soon came back again;
'Gude sooth,' replied the proud porter,
'We've lost our stately dame.'

24
'My maid's faen sick in gude greenwood,
And sick and liken to die;
The morn before the cocks do craw,
That marie I maun see.'

25
Out it spake her father then,
Says, Porter, let me know
If I will cause her stay at hame,
Or shall I let her go?

26
'She says her maid's sick in the wood,
And sick and like to die;
I really think she is too gude
Nor ever woud make a lie.'

27
Then he whispered in her ear,
As she was passing by,
'What will ye say if I reveal
What I saw wi my eye?'

28
'If ought ye ken about the same,
O heal that well on me,
And if I live or brook my life,
Rewarded ye shall be.'

29
Then she got leave o her father
To gude greenwood again,
And she is gane wi Brown Robyn,
But't was lang ere she came hame.

30
O then her father began to mourn,
And thus lamented he:
'O I woud gie ten thousand pounds
My daughter for to see.'

31
'If ye will promise,' the porter said,
'To do nae injury,
I will find out your daughter dear,
And them that's gane her wi.'

32
Then he did swear a solemn oath,
By a' his gowd and land,
Nae injury to them's be dune,
Whether it be maid or man.

33
The porter then a letter wrote,
And seald it wi his hand,
And sent it to that lady fair,
For to return hame.

34
When she came to her father's ha,
He received her joyfullie,
And married her to Brown Robyn;
Now a happy man was he.

35
She hadna been in her father's ha
A day but barely three,
Till she settled the porter well for life,
Wi gowd and white monie.

* * * * *

#A. a.#

_Written in stanzas of two long lines. The first stanza,
as given by Anderson, is:_

The king Val(?) and his nobles a'
Sat drinking at the wine;
He woud ha nane but his ae daughter
To wait on them at dine.

18^1. boson: _the king's daughter must have been_ "a
sturdy dame" too.

21^2. so gray. _The sun was up_: _see stanza 8_.

#b.#

1^2. Were drinking.

2^1. She served them butt.

2^2. Baith knights and gallants sheen.

2^3. was still.

3^2. might gang.

3^3. And she has.

4^1. in yonder tree.

4^2. vow but he.

4^4. my love and I shall.

5^1. Gin ye luve me as weel, fair maid.

6^1. my auld father.

6^2. Sit drinking.

6^3. will I.

7^1. has hired the proud porter.

7^2. Wi the ale but and the.

7^{5, 6}.
She's slipped aff hir silken sheen,
And saftly trippd she down;
She's stown the key o hir father's yate,
And let hir true love in.

8^2. shined.

8^3. out and spake.

9^1. O out and spake.

9^3. As wi ae wile I hae brought.

10^{1, 2}. _wanting._

10^5. she has met her auld.

10^6. Came creeping up.

11. _wanting._

12^2. ever it crossd.

12^3. It has put.

12^4. canna stay.

13^4. Wi a'

14^1. and spake.

14^2. send him.

14^4. But keep the princess.

15^4. flowr's gude.

16^1. hied her.

16^2. Sae fast as she might.

16^{3, 4}.
She's putten a goun upon hir love
Was of the dainty green.

17^{1, 2}.
The girdle round his stately waist
Wi gowd and silver shone.

17^3. His stockings o.

17^4. And his shune o the cordovan.

18^1. She put.

18^2. up her.

18^3. her fair side next.

19. _wanting._

20^3. By the faith o my body, then said the king.

20^4. a lusty.

21^1. gaed out.

21^2. sae gay.

98

BROWN ADAM

#A.# 'Brown Adam,' Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 17.

#B.# 'Broun Edom,' Harris MS., fol. 27 b, No 26.

#C.# 'Brown Adam the Smith,' Buchan MSS, I, 46.

'Brown Adam' was No 14 of the fifteen ballads furnished William Tytler by Mrs Brown in 1783: Anderson, in Nichols's Illustrations, VII, 178. The ballad was first printed in the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, II, 16, 1802, with the omission of Mrs Brown's second stanza, and some changes. Scott remarks that he had seen a copy printed on a single sheet.

#C# 1, 3, 6, 7 are very close to #A# 1, 2, 3, 4. #A# 2 was not printed by Scott, and if these stanzas were borrowed, #A# 2 must have been taken from the Jamieson MS., to which other cases of correspondence warrant a suspicion that one of Buchan's contributors had access. #C# has the usual marks of Buchan's copies, great length, vulgarity, and such extravagance and absurdity as are found in stanzas 23, 26, 29.

A Danish ballad, from manuscripts of the sixteenth century and later, has a remote likeness to 'Brown Adam:' 'Den afhugne Haand,' Grundtvig, No 199, IV, 153. Lawi Pedersøn, who has shown bad faith to women, makes love to Lutzelil, who knows his ways, and rejects him summarily. Lawi rides off in wrath, saying that she shall be sorry for it. The maid is afraid to go to church for nine months, but ventures at Easter. Lawi stops her in a wood. She begs him to do her no harm, feigns to be amenable, and gives him an assignation at an off-lying apartment in which she sleeps with her maids; then rides away, laughing over her successful evasion. She tells her father how she has met Lawi, and begs him to be on the watch. Lawi comes at night, knocks, and is answered, according to the formula of Danish ballads, that she has made no appointment and he cannot come in. Lawi threatens to take off the door, and does so. Lutzelil's father is standing ready with his sword, and cuts off Lawi's hand.

* * * * *

The copy in Scott's Minstrelsy is translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, No 45, p. 291; by Schubart, p. 65; Arndt, Blütenlese, p. 231; Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder, No 29, p. 130; Knortz, Schottische Balladen, No 2, p. 5.

A

Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 17.

1
O wha woud wish the win to blaw,
Or the green leaves fa therewith?
Or wha wad wish a leeler love
Than Brown Adam the Smith?

2
His hammer's o the beaten gold,
His study's o the steel,
His fingers white are my delite,
He blows his bellows well.

3
But they ha banishd him Brown Adam
Frae father and frae mither,
An they ha banishd him Brown Adam
Frae sister and frae brither.

4
And they ha banishd Brown Adam
Frae the flowr o a' his kin;
An he's biggit a bowr i the good green wood
Betwen his lady an him.

5
O it fell once upon a day
Brown Adam he thought lang,
An he woud to the green wood gang,
To hunt some venison.

6
He's ta'en his bow his arm oer,
His bran intill his han,
And he is to the good green wood,
As fast as he coud gang.

7
O he's shot up, an he's shot down,
The bird upo the briar,
An he's sent it hame to his lady,
Bade her be of good cheer.

8
O he's shot up, an he's shot down,
The bird upo the thorn,
And sent it hame to his lady,
And hee'd be hame the morn.

9
Whan he came till his lady's bowr-door
He stood a little foreby,
And there he heard a fu fa'se knight
Temptin his gay lady.

10
O he's taen out a gay gold ring,
Had cost him mony a poun:
'O grant me love for love, lady,
An this sal be your own.'

11
'I loo Brown Adam well,' she says,
'I wot sae does he me;
An I woud na gi Brown Adam's love
For nae fa'se knight I see.'

12
Out has he ta'en a purse of gold,
Was a' fu to the string:
'Grant me but love for love, lady,
An a' this sal be thine.'

13
'I loo Brown Adam well,' she says,
'An I ken sae does he me;
An I woudna be your light leman
For mair nor ye coud gie.'

14
Then out has he drawn his lang, lang bran,
And he's flashd it in her een:
'Now grant me love for love, lady,
Or thro you this sal gang!'

15
'O,' sighing said that gay lady,
'Brown Adam tarrys lang!'
Then up it starts Brown Adam,
Says, I'm just at your han.

16
He's gard him leave his bow, his bow,
He's gard him leave his bran;
He's gard him leave a better pledge,
Four fingers o his right han.

B

Harris MS., fol. 27 b, No 26.

1
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
For wha ere had a lealer luve
Than Broun Edom the smith?

2
His studie was o the beaten gowd,
His hammer o the pith;
His cords waur o the gude green silk,
That blew his bellows with.

3
It fell out ance upon a time
Broun Edom he thoucht lang,
That he wald gae to see his luve,
By the le licht o the mune.

C

Buchan MSS, I, 46.

1
O wha woud wish the win to blaw,
The green leaves fa therewith?
O wha would wish a leeler luve
Than Brown Adam the Smith?

2
O he forsook the royal court,
And knights and lords sae gude,
And he is to the black smithy,
To learn to shoe a steed.

3
His hammer-shaft o gude red gowd,
His studdy o the steel,
His fingers whyte, and maids' delight,
And blaws his bellows weel.

4
He being a favourite with the king
Caused him get mony a fae,
And sae their plots they did contrive
To work him grief and wae.

5
Of treason then he was accused
By his fause enemie,
Which caused the king to make a vow
That banishd he shoud be.

6
Then banishd hae they Brown Adam
Frae father and frae mither,
And banishd hae they him Brown Adam
Frae sister and frae brither.

7
And they hae banishd him Brown Adam,
The flower o a' his kin;
He built a bower in gude green wood,
For his true love and him.

8
But it fell ance upon a day
The king's young son thought lang,
And minded him on Brown Adam,
Oft rade on his right han.

9
Then he sent for him Brown Adam,
To shoe his milk-white steed,
That he might see him ance in court,
Mang knights o noble bleed.

10
When Brown Adam he read these lines,
A light laugh then gae hee:
'What's this that's made their hearts to fa,
They lang sae sair for mee?'

11
Then out it speaks his gay ladye:
Brown Adam, bide wi mee;
For if ye gang to court, I fear
Your face I'll never see.