Ballad Book Part 26

"O still my bairn, nourice, O still him wi' the pap!"

"He winna still, lady, For this nor for that."

"O still my bairn, nourice, O still him wi' the wand!"

"He winna still, lady, For a' his father's land."

"O still my bairn, nourice, O still him wi' the bell!"

"He winna still, lady, Till you come down yoursel."

O the firsten step she steppit, She steppit on a stane; But the neisten step she steppit, She met him Lamkin.

"O mercy, mercy, Lamkin, Hae mercy upon me!

Though you've ta'en my young son's life, Ye may let mysel be."

"O sall I kill her, nourice, Or sall I lat her be?"

"O kill her, kill her, Lamkin, For she ne'er was good to me."

"O scour the bason, nourice, And mak' it fair and clean, For to keep this lady's heart's blood, For she's come o' n.o.ble kin."

"There need nae bason, Lamkin, Lat it run through the floor; What better is the heart's blood O' the rich than o' the poor?"

But ere three months were at an end, Lord Wearie cam' again; But dowie, dowie was his heart When first he cam' hame.

"O wha's blood is this," he says, "That lies in the chamer?"

"It is your lady's heart's blood; 'Tis as clear as the lamer."

"And wha's blood is this," he says, "That lies in my ha'?"

"It is your young son's heart's blood; 'Tis the clearest ava."

O sweetly sang the black-bird That sat upon the tree; But sairer grat Lamkin, When he was condemnd to die.

And bonny sang the mavis, Out o' the th.o.r.n.y brake; But sairer grat the nourice, When she was tied to the stake.

HUGH OF LINCOLN.

Four and twenty bonny boys Were playing at the ba', And up it stands him sweet Sir Hugh, The flower amang them a'.

He kicked the ba' there wi' his foot, And keppit it wi' his knee, Till even in at the Jew's window He gart the bonny ba' flee.

"Cast out the ba' to me, fair maid, Cast out that ba' o' mine."

"Never a bit," says the Jew's daughter, "Till ye come up an' dine.

"Come up, sweet Hugh, come up, dear Hugh, Come up and get the ba'."

"I winna come, I mayna come, Without my bonny boys a'."

She's ta'en her to the Jew's garden, Where the gra.s.s grew lang and green, She's pu'd an apple red and white, To wyle the bonny boy in.

She's wyled him in through ae chamber, She's wyled him in through twa, She's wyled him into the third chamber, And that was the warst o' a'.

She's tied the little boy, hands and feet, She's pierced him wi' a knife, She's caught his heart's blood in a golden cup, And twinn'd him o' his life.

She row'd him in a cake o' lead, Bade him lie still and sleep, She cast him into a deep draw-well, Was fifty fathom deep.

When bells were rung, and ma.s.s was sung, And every bairn went hame, Then ilka lady had her young son, But Lady Helen had nane.

She's row'd her mantle her about, And sair, sair 'gan she weep; And she ran unto the Jew's house, When they were all asleep.

"My bonny Sir Hugh, my pretty Sir Hugh, I pray thee to me speak!"

"Lady Helen, come to the deep draw-well Gin ye your son wad seek."

Lady Helen ran to the deep draw-well, And knelt upon her knee: "My bonny Sir Hugh, an ye be here, I pray thee speak to me!"

"The lead is wondrous heavy, mither, The well is wondrous deep; A keen penknife sticks in my heart, It is hard for me to speak.

"Gae hame, gae hame, my mither dear, Fetch me my winding-sheet; And at the back o' merry Lincoln, It's there we twa sall meet."

Now Lady Helen she's gane hame, Made him a winding-sheet; And at the back o' merry Lincoln, The dead corpse did her meet.

And a' the bells o' merry Lincoln Without men's hands were rung; And a' the books o' merry Lincoln Were read without men's tongue: Never was such a burial Sin' Adam's days begun.

FAIR ANNIE.

Learn to mak' your bed, Annie, And learn to lie your lane; For I am going ayont the sea, A braw bride to bring hame.

"Wi' her I'll get baith gowd and gear, Wi' thee I ne'er gat nane; I got thee as a waif woman, I'll leave thee as the same.

"But wha will bake my bridal bread, And brew my bridal ale, And wha will welcome my bright bride, That I bring owre the dale?"

"It's I will bake your bridal bread, And brew your bridal ale; And I will welcome your bright bride, When she comes owre the dale."

He set his foot into the stirrup, His hand upon the mane; Says, "It will be a year and a day, Ere ye see me again."

Fair Annie stood in her bower door, And looked out o'er the lan', And there she saw her ain gude lord Leading his bride by the han'.

She's drest her sons i' the scarlet red, Hersel i' the dainty green; And tho' her cheek look'd pale and wan, She weel might hae been a queen.

She called upon her eldest son; "Look yonder what ye see, For yonder comes your father dear, Your stepmither him wi'.

"Ye're welcome hame, my ain gude lord, To your halls but and your bowers; Ye're welcome hame, my ain gude lord, To your castles and your towers; Sae is your bright bride you beside, She's fairer than the flowers!"

"I thank ye, I thank ye, fair maiden, That speaks sae courteouslie; If I be lang about this house, Rewarded ye sall be.

"O what'n a maiden's that," she says, "That welcomes you and me?

She is sae like my sister Annie, Was stown i' the bower frae me."