Ballad Book Part 6

Whose fame still lives in England here, Amongst the countrey sort; Of whom our wives and children small Tell tales of pleasant sport.

KEMPION.

Her mither died when she was young, Which gave her cause to make great moan; Her father married the wa.r.s.e woman That ever lived in Christendom.

She served her well wi' foot and hand, In everything that, she could dee; But her stepmither hated her wa.r.s.e and wa.r.s.e, And a powerful wicked witch was she.

"Come hither, come hither, ye cannot choose; And lay your head low on my knee; The heaviest weird I will you read That ever was read to gay ladye.

"Mickle dolour sail ye dree When o'er the saut seas maun ye swim; And far mair dolour sail ye dree When up to Estmere Crags ye climb.

"I weird ye be a fiery snake; And borrowed sall ye never be, Till Kempion, the kingis son, Come to the crag and thrice kiss thee.

Until the warld comes to an end, Borrowed sall ye never be!"

O mickle dolour did she dree, And aye the saut seas o'er she swam; And far mair dolour did she dree On Estmere Crags, when up she clamb.

And aye she cried on Kempion, Gin he would but come to her han':-- Now word has gane to Kempion, That siccan a beast was in the lan'.

"Now by my sooth," said Kempion, "This fiery beast I'll gang and see."

"An' by my sooth," said Segramour, "My ae brither, I'll gang wi' thee."

They twa hae biggit a bonny boat, And they hae set her to the sea; But a mile afore they reach'd the sh.o.r.e, Around them 'gan the red fire flee.

The worm leapt out, the worm leapt down, She plaited nine times round stock and stane; And aye as the boat cam' to the beach, O she hae strickit it aff again.

"Min' how you steer, my brither dear: Keep further aff!" said Segramour; "She'll drown us deep in the saut, saut sea, Or burn us sair, if we come on sh.o.r.e."

Syne Kempion has bent an arblast bow, And aimed an arrow at her head; And swore, if she didna quit the sh.o.r.e, Wi' that same shaft to shoot her dead.

"Out o' my stythe I winna rise, Nor quit my den for the fear o' thee, Till Kempion, the kingis son, Come to the crag an' thrice kiss me."

He's louted him o'er the Estmere Crag, And he has gi'en that beast a kiss: In she sw.a.n.g, and again she cam', And aye her speech was a wicked hiss.

"Out o' my stythe I winna rise, An' not for a' thy bow nor thee, Till Kempion, the kingis son, Come to the crag an' thrice kiss me."

He's louted him o'er the Estmere Crag, And he has gi'en her kisses twa; In she sw.a.n.g, and again she cam', The fieriest beast that ever you saw.

"Out o' my stythe I winna rise, Nor quit my den for the fear o' thee, Till Kempion, the kingis son, Come to the crag an' thrice kiss me."

He's louted him o'er the lofty crag, And he has gi'en her kisses three; In she sw.a.n.g, a loathly worm; An' out she stepped, a fair ladye.

Nae cleeding had this lady fair, To keep her body frae the cold; But Kempion took his mantle aff, And around his ain true love did fold.

"An' by my sooth," says Kempion, "My ain true love!--for this is she,-- They surely had a heart o' stane, Could put thee to this misery.

"O was it wer-wolf in the wood, Or was it mermaid in the sea, Or wicked man, or wile woman, My ain true love, that mis-shaped thee?"

"It was na wer-wolf in the wood, Nor was it mermaid in the sea; But it was my wicked stepmither, And wae and weary may she be!"

"O a heavier weird light her upon Than ever fell on wile woman!

Her hair sall grow rough, an' her teeth grow lang, An' aye upon four feet maun she gang."

ALISON GROSS.

O Alison Gross, that lives in yon tower, The ugliest witch in the north countrie, Has trysted me ae day up till her bower, And mony fair speech she made to me.

She straiked my head, and she kaim'd my hair, And she set me down saftly on her knee; Says, "Gin ye will be my lemman sae true, Sae mony braw things as I wad you gie."

She shaw'd me a mantle o' red scarlet, Wi' gowden flowers and fringes fine; Says, "Gin ye will be my lemman sae true, This gudely gift it sall be thine."

"Awa', awa', ye ugly witch!

Haud far awa', and lat me be; I never will be your lemman sae true, And I wish I were out o' your companie."

She neist brocht a sark o' the saftest silk, Weel wrought wi' pearls about the band; Says, "Gin ye will be my ain true-love, This gudely gift ye sall command."

She shaw'd me a cup o' the gude red gowd, Weel set wi' jewels sae fair to see; Says, "Gin ye will be my lemman sae true, This gudely gift I will you gie."

"Awa', awa', ye ugly witch!

Haud far awa', and lat me be; For I wadna ance kiss your ugly mouth For a' the gifts that you could gie."

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 That she'd gar me rue the day I was born.

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

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

Wi' silver basin, and silver kaim, To kaim my headie upon her knee; But or I had kiss'd her ugly mouth, I'd rather hae toddled about the tree.

But as it fell out on last Hallowe'en, When the Seely Court was ridin' by, The Queen lighted down on a gowan bank, Nae far frae the tree where I wont to lye.

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

THE WIFE OF USHER'S WELL.

There lived a wife at Usher's Well, And a wealthy wife was she; She had three stout and stalwart sons, And sent them o'er the sea.

They hadna been a week from her, A week but barely ane, When word cam' to the carline wife, That her three sons were gane.

They hadna been a week from her, A week but barely three, When word cam' to the carline wife, That her sons she'd never see.