Ballads of Mystery and Miracle and Fyttes of Mirth Part 15

+The Story+ is concerned with the Finn-myth. The Finns live in the depths of the sea. 'Their transfiguration into seals seems to be more a kind of deception they practise. For the males are described as most daring boatmen, with powerful sweep of the oar, who chase foreign vessels on the sea.... By means of a "skin" which they possess, the men and the women among them are able to change themselves into seals. But on sh.o.r.e, after having taken off the wrappage, they are, and behave like, real human beings.... Many a Finn woman has got into the power of a Shetlander, and borne children to him; but if the Finn woman succeeded in re-obtaining her sea-skin, or seal-skin, she escaped across the water' (Karl Blind in the _Contemporary Review_, September 1881, pp.

399-400). The same writer, in quoting a verse of this ballad, says, 'Shool Skerry means Seal's Isle.' The whole article is of great interest.

'G. S. L.,' the author of _Shetland Fireside Tales, or the Hermit of Trosswickness_ (1877), remarks: 'The belief that witches and wizards came from the coast of Norway disguised as seals was entertained by many of the Shetland peasantry even so late as the beginning of the present century.' He goes on to prove the supernatural character of seals by relating an exploit of his own, in which a gun pointed at a seal refused to go off.

Sule Skerrie is a lonely islet to the north-east of Cape Wrath, about as far therefrom as from the Shetland Isles.

Another version of this ballad, unknown to Child, is given in the Appendix.

THE GREAT SILKIE OF SULE SKERRIE

1.

An eartly nourris sits and sings, And aye she sings, 'Ba, lily wean!

Little ken I my bairnis father, Far less the land that he staps in.'

2.

Then ane arose at her bed-fit.

An' a grumly guest I'm sure was he: 'Here am I, thy bairnis father, Although that I be not comelie.

3.

'I am a man, upo' the lan', An' I am a silkie in the sea; And when I'm far and far frae lan', My dwelling is in Sule Skerrie.'

4.

'It was na weel,' quo' the maiden fair, 'It was na weel, indeed,' quo' she, 'That the Great Silkie of Sule Skerrie Suld hae come and aught a bairn to me.'

5.

Now he has ta'en a purse of goud, And he has pat it upo' her knee, Sayin', 'Gie to me my little young son, An' tak thee up thy nourris-fee.

6.

'An' it sall come to pa.s.s on a simmer's day, When the sin shines het on evera stane, That I will tak my little young son, An' teach him for to swim the faem.

7.

'An' thu sall marry a proud gunner, An' a proud gunner I'm sure he'll be, An' the very first schot that ere he schoots, He'll schoot baith my young son and me.'

[Annotations: 1.1: 'nourris,' nurse, nursing-mother.

2.2: 'grumly,' muddy, dreggy. --Jamieson.

3.2: 'silkie,' seal.

4.4: 'aught,' have.]

CLERK SANDERS

+The Text+ is given in full from Herd's MSS., where it concludes with a version of _Sweet William's Ghost_; and the last three stanzas, 42-44, are from Scott's later version of the ballad (1833) from recitation.

Child divides the ballad as follows:-- _Clerk Sanders_, 1-26 of the present version; _Sweet William's Ghost_, 27-41. Scott made 'one or two conjectural emendations in the arrangement of the stanzas.'

+The Story+ of this admirable ballad in its various forms is paralleled in one or two of its incidents by a similar collection of Scandinavian ballads. Jamieson introduced into his version certain questions and answers (of the prevaricating type found in a baser form in _Our Goodman_) which are professedly of Scandinavian origin.

CLERK SANDERS

1.

Clark Sanders and May Margret Walkt ower yon gravel'd green; And sad and heavy was the love, I wat, it fell this twa between.

2.

'A bed, a bed,' Clark Sanders said, 'A bed, a bed, for you and I:'

'Fye no, fye no,' the lady said, 'Until the day we married be.

3.

'For in it will come my seven brothers, And a' their torches burning bright; They'll say, We hae but ae sister, And here her lying wi' a knight.'

4.

'Ye'l take the sourde fray my scabbord, And lowly, lowly lift the gin, And you may say, your oth to save, You never let Clerk Sanders in.

5.

'Yele take a napken in your hand, And ye'l ty up baith your een, An' ye may say, your oth to save, That ye saw na Sandy sen late yestreen.

6.

'Yele take me in your armes twa, Yele carrey me ben into your bed, And ye may say, your oth to save, In your bower-floor I never tread.'

7.

She has ta'en the sourde fray his scabbord.

And lowly, lowly lifted the gin; She was to swear, her oth to save, She never let Clerk Sanders in.

8.

She has tain a napkin in her hand, And she ty'd up baith her een; She was to swear, her oth to save, She saw na him sene late yestreen.

9.

She has ta'en him in her armes twa, And carried him ben into her bed; She was to swear, her oth to save, He never in her bower-floor tread.

10.

In and came her seven brothers, And all their torches burning bright; Says thay, We hae but ae sister, And see there her lying wi' a knight.

11.

Out and speaks the first of them, 'A wat they hay been lovers dear;'

Out and speaks the next of them, 'They hay been in love this many a year.'

12.

Out an' speaks the third of them, 'It wear great sin this twa to twain;'

Out an' speaks the fourth of them, 'It wear a sin to kill a sleeping man.'

13.

Out an' speaks the fifth of them, 'A wat they'll near be twain'd by me;'

Out an' speaks the sixt of them, 'We'l tak our leave an' gae our way.'