Ballad Book Part 18

He saw his young son in her arms, Baith toss'd abune the tide; He wrang his hands, and fast he ran, And plunged in the sea sae wide.

He catch'd her by the yellow hair, And drew her to the strand; But cauld and stiff was every limb, Afore he reach'd the land.

O first he kiss'd her cherry cheek, And syne he kiss'd her chin, And sair he kiss'd her bonny lips, But there was nae breath within.

And he has mourn'd o'er fair Annie, Till the sun was ganging down, Syne wi' a sigh his heart it brast, And his soul to heaven has flown.

LORD THOMAS AND FAIR ANNET.

Lord Thomas and fair Annet Sat a' day on a hill, When night was come, and the sun was set, They had na talk'd their fill.

Lord Thomas said a word in jest, Fair Annet took it ill; "O I will never wed a wife, Against my ain friends' will"

"Gif ye will never wed a wife, A wife will ne'er wed ye."

Sae he is hame to tell his mither, And kneel'd upon his knee.

"O rede, O rede, mither," he says, "A gude rede gie to me; O sall I tak' the nut-brown bride, And let fair Annet be?"

"The nut-brown bride has gowd and gear, Fair Annet she's gat nane, And the little beauty fair Annet has, O it will soon be gane."

And he has to his brither gane; "Now, brither, rede ye me, O sall I marry the nut-brown bride, And let fair Annet be?"

"The nut-brown bride has owsen, brither, The nut-brown bride has kye; I wad hae you marry the nut-brown bride, And cast fair Annet by."

"Her owsen may dee in the house, billie, And her kye into the byre, And I sall hae naething to mysel, But a fat fadge by the fire."

And he has to his sister gane; "Now, sister, rede to me; O sall I marry the nut-brown bride, And set fair Annet free?"

"I'se rede ye tak' fair Annet, Thomas, And let the brown bride alane, Lest ye sould sigh, and say, Alace, What is this we brought hame?"

"No! I will tak' my mither's counsel, And marry me out o' hand; And I will tak' the nut-brown bride, Fair Annet may leave the land."

Up then rose fair Annet's father, Twa hours or it were day, And he has gane into the bower, Wherein fair Annet lay.

"Rise up, rise up, fair Annet," he says, "Put on your silken sheen, Let us gae to Saint Marie's kirk, And see that rich weddin'."

"My maids, gae to my dressing-room And dress to me my hair, Where'er ye laid a plait before, See ye lay ten times mair.

"My maids, gae to my dressing-room And dress to me my smock, The ae half is o' the holland fine, The ither 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-twenty siller bells, Were a' tied to his mane, Wi' ae tift o' the norlan' wind, They tinkled ane by ane.

Four-and-twenty gay gude knights, Rade by fair Annet's side, And four-and-twenty fair ladies, As gin she had been a bride.

And when she cam' to Marie's kirk, She sat on Marie's stane; The cleiding that fair Annet had on, It skinkled in their e'en.

And when she cam' into the kirk, She skimmer'd like the sun; The belt that was about her waist, Was a' wi' pearls bedone.

She sat her by the nut-brown bride, And her e'en they were sae clear, Lord Thomas he clean forgot the bride, When fair Annet drew near.

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

Up then spak' the nut-brown bride, She spak' wi' meikle spite; "Where gat ye that rose-water, Annet, That does mak' ye sae white?"

"O I did get the rose-water, Where ye'll get never nane, For I did get that rose-water, Before that I was born.

"Where I did get that rose-water, Ye'll never get the like; For ye've been washed in Dunnie's well, And dried on Dunnie's d.y.k.e.

"Tak' up and wear your rose, Thomas, And wear't wi' meikle care; For the woman sall never bear a son That will mak' my heart sae sair."

When night was come, and day was gane, And a' men boune to bed, Lord Thomas and the nut-brown bride In their chamber were laid.

They were na weel lyen down, And scarcely fa'en asleep, When up and stands she, fair Annet, Just at Lord Thomas' feet.

"Weel bruik ye o' your nut-brown bride, Between ye and the wa'; And sae will I o' my winding-sheet, That suits me best of a'.

"Weel bruik ye o' your nut-brown bride, Between ye and the stock; And sae will I o' my black, black kist, That has neither key nor lock!"

Lord Thomas rase, put on his claes, Drew till him hose and shoon; And he is to fair Annet's bower, By the lee light o' the moon.

The firsten bower that he cam' till, There was right dowie wark; Her mither and her three sisters, Were making fair Annet a sark.

The nexten bower that he cam' till There was right dowie cheer; Her father and her seven brethren, Were making fair Annet a bier.

The lasten bower that he cam' till, O heavy was his care, The deid candles were burning bright, Fair Annet was streekit there.

"O I will kiss your cheek, Annet, And I will kiss your chin; And I will kiss your clay-cauld lip, But I'll ne'er kiss woman again.

"This day ye deal at Annet's wake, The bread but and the wine; Before the morn at twal' o'clock, They'll deal the same at mine."

The tane was buried in Marie's kirk, The t.i.ther in Marie's quire, And out o' the tane there grew a birk, And out o' the t.i.ther a brier.

And ay they grew, and ay they drew, Until they twa did meet, And every ane that pa.s.s'd them by, Said, "Thae's been lovers sweet!"

THE BANKS O' YARROW.

Late at e'en, drinking the wine, And ere they paid the lawing, They set a combat them between, To fight it in the dawing.

"What though ye be my sister's lord, We'll cross our swords to-morrow."

"What though my wife your sister be, I'll meet ye then on Yarrow."