A Bundle of Ballads Part 23

With that the fair bride they all did embrace, Saying, "Sure thou art come of an honourable race, Thy father likewise is of n.o.ble degree, And thou art well worthy a lady to be."

Thus was the feast ended with joy and delight, A bridegroom most happy then was the young knight, In joy and felicity long liv-ed he, All with his fair lady, the pretty Bessee.

THE BAILIFF'S DAUGHTER OF ISLINGTON.

There was a youth, and a well-beloved youth, And he was a squire's son: He loved the bailiffs daughter dear, That lived in Islington.

Yet she was coy, and would not believe That he did love her so; No, nor at any time would she Any countenance to him show.

But when his friends did understand His fond and foolish mind, They sent him up to fair Lond-on An apprentice for to bind.

And when he had been seven long years, And never his love could see: "Many a tear have I shed for her sake, When she little thought of me."

Then all the maids of Islington Went forth to sport and play, All but the bailiff's daughter dear; She secretly stole away.

She pull-ed off her gown of green, And put on ragged attire, And to fair London she would go Her true love to inquire.

And as she went along the high road, The weather being hot and dry, She sat her down upon a green bank, And her true love came riding by.

She started up, with a colour so red, Catching hold of his bridle-rein; "One penny, one penny, kind sir," she said, "Will ease me of much pain."--

"Before I give you one penny, sweetheart, Pray tell me where you were born."-- "At Islington, kind sir," said she, "Where I have had many a scorn."--

"I pr'ythee, sweetheart, then tell to me, O tell me, whether you know The bailiffs daughter of Islington."-- "She is dead, sir, long ago."--

"If she be dead, then take my horse, My saddle and bridle also; For I will into some far countrie, Where no man shall me know."--

"O stay, O stay, thou goodly youth, She standeth by thy side: She is here alive, she is not dead,-- And ready to be thy bride."--

"O farewell grief, and welcome joy, Ten thousand times therefore!

For now I have found mine own true love, Whom I thought I should never see more."

BARBARA ALLEN'S CRUELTY.

In Scarlet town, where I was born, There was a fair maid dwellin', Made every youth cry, Well away!

Her name was Barbara Allen.

All in the merry month of May, When green buds they were swellin', Young Jemmy Grove on his death-bed lay For love of Barbara Allen.

He sent his man unto her then, To the town where she was dwellin'; "You must come to my master dear, Gif your name be Barbara Allen.

"For death is printed on his face, And o'er his heart is stealin': Then haste away to comfort him, O lovely Barbara Allen."

Though death be printed on his face And o'er his heart is stealin', Yet little better shall he be For bonny Barbara Allen.

So slowly, slowly, she came up, And slowly she came nigh him; And all she said, when there she came, "Young man, I think y'are dying."

He turned his face unto her straight, With deadly sorrow sighing; "O lovely maid, come pity me, I'm on my deathbed lying."--

"If on your deathbed you do lie, What needs the tale you are tellin'; I cannot keep you from your death: Farewell," said Barbara Allen.

He turned his face unto the wall, As deadly pangs he fell in: "Adieu! adieu! adieu to you all!

Adieu to Barbara Allen!"

As she was walking o'er the fields, She heard the bell a knellin'; And every stroke did seem to say,-- UNWORTHY BARBARA ALLEN.

She turned her body round about, And spied the corpse a coming: "Lay down, lay down the corpse," she said, "That I may look upon him."

With scornful eye she look-ed down, Her cheek with laughter swellin'; Whilst all her friends cried out amain, UNWORTHY BARBARA ALLEN.

When he was dead, and laid in grave, Her heart was struck with sorrow, "O mother, mother, make my bed, For I shall die to-morrow!

"Hard-hearted creature him to slight, Who lov-ed me so dearly: O that I had been more kind to him, When he was alive and near me!"

She, on her deathbed as she lay, Begged to be buried by him; And sore repented of the day, That she did e'er deny him.

"Farewell," she said, "ye maidens all, And shun the fault I fell in: Henceforth take warning by the fall Of cruel Barbara Allen."

SWEET WILLIAM'S GHOST.

There came a ghost to Margaret's door, With many a grievous groan, And aye he tirl-ed at the pin; But answer made she none.

"Is this my father Philip?

Or is't my brother John?

Or is't my true love Willie, From Scotland new come home?"

"'Tis not thy father Philip; Nor yet thy brother John: But 'tis thy true love Willie From Scotland new come home.

"O sweet Margret! O dear Margret!

I pray thee speak to me: Give me my faith and troth, Margret, As I gave it to thee."

"Thy faith and troth thou'se never get, Of me shalt never win, Till that thou come within my bower, And kiss my cheek and chin."

"If I should come within thy bower, I am no earthly man: And should I kiss thy rosy lip, Thy days will not be lang.

"O sweet Margret, O dear Margret, I pray thee speak to me: Give me my faith and troth, Margret, As I gave it to thee."--

"Thy faith and troth thou'se never get, Of me shalt never win, Till thou take me to yon kirkyard, And wed me with a ring."--