A Collection of Ballads Part 18

Sae out at the gates they a' are gane, The prisner's set on horseback hie; And now wi speed they've tane the gate; While ilk ane jokes fu wantonlie.

"O Jock, sae winsomely's ye ride, Wi baith your feet upo ae side!

Sae weel's ye're harnessd, and sae trig!

In troth ye sit like ony bride."

The night, tho wat, they didna mind, But hied them on fu mirrilie, Until they cam to Cholerford brae, Where the water ran like mountains hie.

But when they came to Cholerford, There they met with an auld man; Says, "Honest man, will the water ride?

Tell us in haste, if that ye can."

"I wat weel no," quo the good auld man; "Here I hae livd this threty yeirs and three, And I neer yet saw the Tyne sae big, Nor rinning ance sae like a sea."

Then up and spake the Laird's saft Wat, The greatest coward in the company; "Now halt, now halt, we needna try't; The day is comd we a' maun die!"

"Poor faint-hearted thief!" quo the Laird's Jock, "There'll nae man die but he that's fie; I'll lead ye a' right safely through; Lift ye the prisner on ahint me.

Sae now the water they a' hae tane, By anes and 'twas they a' swam through "Here are we a' safe," says the Laird's Jock, "And, poor faint Wat, what think ye now?"

They scarce the ither side had won, When twenty men they saw pursue; Frae Newcastle town they had been sent, A' English lads right good and true.

But when the land-sergeant the water saw, "It winna ride, my lads," quo he; Then out he cries, "Ye the prisner may take, But leave the irons, I pray, to me."

"I wat weel no," cryd the Laird's Jock, "I'll keep them a'; shoon to my mare they'll be; My good grey mare; for I am sure, She's bought them a' fu dear frae thee."

Sae now they're away for Liddisdale, Een as fast as they coud them hie; The prisner's brought to his ain fireside, And there o's airns they make him free.

"Now, Jock, my billie," quo a' the three, "The day was comd thou was to die; But thou's as weel at thy ain fireside, Now sitting, I think, 'tween thee and me."

They hae gard fill up ae punch-bowl, And after it they maun hae anither, And thus the night they a' hae spent, Just as they had been brither and brither.

Ballad: Lord Thomas And Fair Annet

(Child, Part III., p. 182.)

Lord Thomas and Fair Annet Sate a' day on a hill; Whan night was c.u.m, and sun was sett, They had not talkt their fill.

Lord Thomas said a word in jest, Fair Annet took it ill: "A, I will nevir wed a wife Against my ain friend's will."

"Gif ye wull nevir wed a wife, A wife wull neir wed yee;"

Sae he is hame to tell his mither, And knelt upon his knee.

"O rede, O rede, mither," he says, "A gude rede gie to mee; O sall I tak the nut-browne bride, And let Faire Annet bee?"

"The nut-browne bride haes gowd and gear, Fair Annet she has gat nane; And the little beauty Fair Annet haes O it wull soon be gane."

And he has till his brother gane: "Now, brother, rede ye mee; A, sall I marrie the nut-browne bride, And let Fair Annet bee?"

"The nut-browne bride has oxen, brother, The nut-browne bride has kye; I wad hae ye marrie the nut-browne bride, And cast Fair Annet bye."

"Her oxen may dye i' the house, billie, And her kye into the byre; And I sall hae nothing to mysell Bot a fat fadge by the fyre."

And he has till his sister gane: "Now, sister, rede ye mee; O sall I marrie the nut-browne bride, And set Fair Annet free?"

"I'se rede ye tak Fair Annet, Thomas, And let the browne bride alane; Lest ye sould sigh, and say, Alace, What is this we brought hame!"

"No, I will tak my mither's counsel, And marrie me owt o hand; And I will tak the nut-browne bride, Fair Annet may leive the land."

Up then rose Fair Annet's father, Twa hours or it wer day, And he is gane unto the bower Wherein Fair Annet lay.

"Rise up, rise up, Fair Annet," he says "Put on your silken sheene; Let us gae to St. Marie's Kirke, And see that rich weddeen."

"My maides, gae to my dressing-roome, And dress to me my hair; Whaireir yee laid a plait before, See yee lay ten times mair.

"My maids, gae to my dressing-room, And dress to me my smock; The one half is o the holland fine, The other o needle-work."

The horse Fair Annet rade upon, He amblit like the wind; Wi siller he was shod before, Wi burning gowd behind.

Four and twanty siller bells Wer a' tyed till his mane, And yae tift o the norland wind, They tinkled ane by ane.

Four and twanty gay gude knichts Rade by Fair Annet's side, And four and twanty fair ladies, As gin she had bin a bride.

And whan she cam to Marie's Kirk, She sat on Marie's stean: The cleading that Fair Annet had on It skinkled in their een.

And whan she cam into the kirk, She shimmerd like the sun; The belt that was about her waist Was a' wi pearles bedone.

She sat her by the nut-browne bride, And her een they wer sae clear, Lord Thomas he clean forgat the bride, When Fair Annet drew near.

He had a rose into his hand, He gae it kisses three, And reaching by the nut-browne bride, Laid it on Fair Annet's knee.

Up then spak the nut-browne bride, She spak wi meikle spite: "And whair gat ye that rose-water, That does mak yee sae white?"

"O I did get the rose-water Whair ye wull neir get nane, For I did get that very rose-water Into my mither's wame."

The bride she drew a long bodkin Frae out her gay head-gear, And strake Fair Annet unto the heart, That word spak nevir mair.

Lord Thomas he saw Fair Annet wex pale, And marvelit what mote bee; But when he saw her dear heart's blude, A' wood-wroth wexed bee.

He drew his dagger that was sae sharp, That was sae sharp and meet, And drave it into the nut-browne bride, That fell deid at his feit.

"Now stay for me, dear Annet," he sed, "Now stay, my dear," he cry'd; Then strake the dagger untill his heart, And fell deid by her side.

Lord Thomas was buried without kirk-wa, Fair Annet within the quiere, And o the ane thair grew a birk, The other a bonny briere.

And ay they grew, and ay they threw, As they wad faine be neare; And by this ye may ken right weil They were twa luvers deare.