Ballad Book Part 19

"O stay at hame, my ain gude lord!

O stay, my ain dear marrow!

My cruel brither will you betray On the dowie banks o' Yarrow."

"O fare ye weel, my lady dear!

And put aside your sorrow; For if I gae, I'll sune return Frae the bonny banks o' Yarrow."

She kiss'd his cheek, she kaim'd his hair, As oft she'd dune before, O; She belted him wi' his gude brand, And he's awa' to Yarrow.

When he gaed up the Tennies bank, As he gaed mony a morrow, Nine armed men lay in a den, On the dowie braes o' Yarrow.

"O come ye here to hunt or hawk The bonny Forest thorough?

Or come ye here to wield your brand Upon the banks o' Yarrow?"

"I come not here to hunt or hawk, As oft I've dune before, O, But I come here to wield my brand Upon the banks o' Yarrow.

"If ye attack me nine to ane, Then may G.o.d send ye sorrow!-- Yet will I fight while stand I may, On the bonny banks o' Yarrow."

Two has he hurt, and three has slain, On the b.l.o.o.d.y braes o' Yarrow; But the stubborn knight crept in behind, And pierced his body thorough.

"Gae hame, gae hame, you brither John, And tell your sister sorrow,-- To come and lift her leafu' lord On the dowie banks o' Yarrow."

Her brither John gaed ower yon hill, As oft he'd dune before, O; There he met his sister dear, Cam' rinnin' fast to Yarrow.

"I dreamt a dream last night," she says, "I wish it binna sorrow; I dreamt I pu'd the heather green Wi' my true love on Yarrow."

"I'll read your dream, sister," he says, "I'll read it into sorrow; Ye're bidden go take up your love, He's sleeping sound on Yarrow."

She's torn the ribbons frae her head That were baith braid and narrow; She's kilted up her lang claithing, And she's awa' to Yarrow.

She's ta'en him in her arms twa, And gien him kisses thorough; She sought to bind his mony wounds, But he lay dead on Yarrow.

"O haud your tongue," her father says "And let be a' your sorrow; I'll wed you to a better lord Than him ye lost on Yarrow."

"O haud your tongue, father," she says, "Far wa.r.s.e ye mak' my sorrow; A better lord could never be Than him that lies on Yarrow."

She kissed his lips, she kaim'd his hair.

As oft she'd dune before, O; And there wi' grief her heart did break Upon the banks o' Yarrow.

THE DOUGLAS TRAGEDY

"Rise up, rise up, now, Lord Douglas," she says, "And put on your armour so bright; Lord William will hae Lady Margret awa Before that it be light."

"Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons, And put on your armour so bright, And take better care of your youngest sister, For your eldest's awa the last night."

He's mounted her on a milk-white steed, And himself on a dapple gray, With a bugelet horn hung down by his side, And lightly they rode away.

Lord William lookit o'er his left shoulder, To see what he could see, And there he spy'd her seven brethren bold, Come riding over the lee.

"Light down, light down, Lady Margret," he said, "And hold my steed in your hand, Until that against your seven brethren bold, And your father, I mak' a stand."

She held his steed in her milk-white hand, And never shed one tear, Until that she saw her seven brethren fa', And her father hard fighting, who lov'd her so dear.

"O hold your hand, Lord William!" she said, "For your strokes they are wondrous sair; True lovers I can get many a ane, But a father I can never get mair."

O she's ta'en out her handkerchief, It was o' the holland sae fine, And aye she dighted her father's b.l.o.o.d.y wounds, That were redder than the wine.

"O chuse, O chuse, Lady Margret," he said, "O whether will ye gang or bide?"

"I'll gang, I'll gang, Lord William," she said, "For ye have left me nae other guide."

He's lifted her on a milk-white steed, And himself on a dapple gray, With a bugelet horn hung down by his side, And slowly they baith rade away.

O they rade on, and on they rade, And a' by the light of the moon, Until they came to yon wan water, And there they lighted down.

They lighted down to tak' a drink Of the spring that ran sae clear, And down the stream ran his gude heart's blood, And sair she gan to fear.

"Hold up, hold up, Lord William," she says, "For I fear that you are slain;"

"'Tis naething but the shadow of my scarlet cloak, That shines in the water sae plain."

O they rade on, and on they rade, And a' by the light of the moon, Until they cam' to his mother's ha' door, And there they lighted down.

"Get up, get up, lady mother," he says, "Get up, and let me in!

Get up, get up, lady mother," he says, "For this night my fair lady I've win.

"O mak' my bed, lady mother," he says, "O mak' it braid and deep, And lay Lady Margret close at my back, And the sounder I will sleep."

Lord William was dead lang ere midnight, Lady Margret lang ere day, And all true lovers that go thegither, May they have mair luck than they!

Lord William was buried in St. Mary's kirk, Lady Margret in Mary's quire; Out o' the lady's grave grew a bonny red rose, And out o' the knight's a briar.

And they twa met, and they twa plat, And fain they wad be near; And a' the warld might ken right weel They were twa lovers dear.

But by and rade the Black Douglas, And wow but he was rough!

For he pull'd up the bonny briar, And flang't in St. Mary's Loch.

FINE FLOWERS I' THE VALLEY.

There were three sisters in a ha', (Fine flowers i' the valley;) There came three lords amang them a', (The red, green, and the yellow.)

The first o' them was clad in red, (Fine flowers i' the valley;) "O lady, will ye be my bride?"

(Wi' the red, green, and the yellow.)

The second o' them was clad in green, (Fine flowers i' the valley;) "O lady, will ye be my queen?"