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A Collection of Ballads Part 27

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She filled the skyes with the smoke of her shott, And her enemyes bodyes with bulletts so hott; For one of her own men a score killed shee: Was not this a brave bonny la.s.se, Mary Ambree?

And when her false gunner, to spoyle her intent, Away all her pellets and powder had sent, Straight with her keen weapon she slasht him in three: Was not this a brave bonny la.s.se, Mary Ambree?

Being falselye betrayed for lucre of hyre, At length she was forced to make a retyre; Then her souldiers into a strong castle drew shee: Was not this a brave bonny la.s.se, Mary Ambree?

Her foes they besett her on everye side, As thinking close siege shee cold never abide; To beate down the walles they all did decree: But stoutlye deffyd them brave Mary Ambree.

Then tooke shee her sword and her targett in hand, And mounting the walls all undaunted did stand, There daring their captaines to match any three: O what a brave captaine was Mary Ambree!

"Now saye, English captaine, what woldest thou give To ransome thy selfe, which else must not live?

Come yield thy selfe quicklye, or slaine thou must bee:"

Then smiled sweetlye brave Mary Ambree.

"Ye captaines couragious, of valour so bold, Whom thinke you before you now you doe behold?

"A knight, sir, of England, and captaine soe free, Who shortlye with us a prisoner must bee."

"No captaine of England; behold in your sight Two brests in my bosome, and therefore no knight: Noe knight, sirs, of England, nor captaine you see, But a poor simple mayden called Mary Ambree."

"But art thou a woman, as thou dost declare, Whose valor hath proved so undaunted in warre?

If England doth yield such brave maydens as thee, Full well mey they conquer, faire Mary Ambree."

The Prince of Great Parma heard of her renowne, Who long had advanced for England's fair crowne; Hee wooed her and sued her his mistress to bee, And offered rich presents to Mary Ambree.

But this virtuous mayden despised them all: "'Ile nere sell my honour for purple nor pall; A maiden of England, sir, never will bee The wench of a monarcke," quoth Mary Ambree.

Then to her owne country shee back did returne, Still holding the foes of rare England in scorne!

Therfore English captaines of every degree Sing forth the brave valours of Mary Ambree.

Ballad: Alison Gross

O Alison Gross, that lives in yon tow'r, The ugliest witch in the north countrie, She trysted me ae day up till her bow'r, And mony fair speeches she made to me.

She straik'd my head, and she kaim'd my hair, And she set me down saftly on her knee; Says--"If ye will be my leman sae true, Sae mony braw things as I will you gi'e."

She shaw'd me a mantle of red scarlet, With gowden flowers and fringes fine; Says--"If ye will be my leman sae true, This goodly gift it shall be thine."

"Awa, awa, ye ugly witch, Hand far awa, and let me be; I never will be your leman sae true, And I wish I were out of your company."

She neist brocht a sark of the saftest silk, Weel wrought with pearls about the band; Says--"If ye will be my ain true love, This goodly gift ye shall command."

She show'd me a cup of the good red gowd, Weel set with jewels sae fair to see; Says--"If ye will be my leman sae true, This goodly gift I will you gi'e."

"Awa, awa, ye ugly witch, Haud far awa, and let me be; For I wadna ance kiss your ugly mouth, For all the gifts that ye cou'd gi'e."

She's turn'd her richt and round about, And thrice she blew on a gra.s.s-green horn; And she sware by the moon and the stars aboon, That she'd gar me rue the day I was born.

Then out has she ta'en a silver wand, And she turn'd her three times round and round; She mutter'd sic words, that my strength it fail'd, And I fell down senseless on the ground.

She turn'd me into an ugly worm, And gar'd me toddle about the tree; And aye on ilka Sat.u.r.day night, Auld Alison Gross she came to me,

With silver basin, and silver kame, To kame my headie upon her knee; But rather than kiss her ugly mouth, I'd ha'e toddled for ever about the tree.

But as it fell out on last Hallow-e'en, When the seely court was ridin' by, The queen lighted down on a gowan bank, Near by the tree where I wont to lye.

She took me up in her milk-white hand, And she straik'd me three times o'er her knee; She chang'd me again to my ain proper shape, And nae mair do I toddle about the tree.

Ballad: The Heir Of Lynne

Of all the lords in faire Scotland A song I will begin: Amongst them all dwelled a lord Which was the unthrifty Lord of Lynne.

His father and mother were dead him froe, And so was the head of all his kinne; He did neither cease nor blinne To the cards and dice that he did run.

To drinke the wine that was so cleere!

With every man he would make merry.

And then bespake him John of the Scales, Unto the heire of Lynne say'd hee,

Sayes "how dost thou, Lord of Lynne, Doest either want gold or fee?

Wilt thou not sell thy land so brode To such a good fellow as me?

"For . . I . . " he said, "My land, take it unto thee; I draw you to record, my lords all;"

With that he cast him a G.o.ds pennie.

He told him the gold upon the bord, It wanted never a bare penny.

"That gold is thine, the land is mine, The heire of Lynne I will bee."

"Heeres gold enough," saithe the heire of Lynne, "Both for me and my company."

He drunke the wine that was so cleere, And with every man he made merry.

Within three quarters of a yeare His gold and fee it waxed thinne, His merry men were from him gone, And left himselfe all alone.

He had never a penny left in his purse, Never a penny but three, And one was bra.s.se and another was lead And another was white mony.

"Now well-a-day!" said the heire of Lynne, "Now well-a-day, and woe is mee!

For when I was the Lord of Lynne, I neither wanted gold nor fee;

"For I have sold my lands so broad, And have not left me one penny!

I must go now and take some read Unto Edenborrow and beg my bread."

He had not beene in Edenborrow Nor three quarters of a yeare, But some did give him and some said nay, And some bid "to the deele gang yee!

"For if we should hang some land selfeer, The first we would begin with thee."

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A Collection of Ballads Part 27 summary

You're reading A Collection of Ballads. This manga has been translated by Updating. Author(s): Andrew Lang. Already has 578 views.

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