Bulchevy's Book of English Verse Part 67

Argyll has raised an hunder men, An hunder harness'd rarely, And he 's awa' by the back of Dunkell, To plunder the castle of Airlie.

Lady Ogilvie looks o'er her bower-window, And O but she looks warely!

And there she spied the great Argyll, Come to plunder the bonnie house of Airlie.

'Come down, come down, my Lady Ogilvie, Come down and kiss me fairly:'

'O I winna kiss the fause Argyll, If he shouldna leave a standing stane in Airlie.'

He hath taken her by the left shoulder, Says, 'Dame, where lies thy dowry?'

'O it 's east and west yon wan water side, And it 's down by the banks of the Airlie.'

They hae sought it up, they hae sought it down, They hae sought it maist severely, Till they fand it in the fair plum-tree That shines on the bowling-green of Airlie.

He hath taken her by the middle sae small, And O but she grat sairly!

And laid her down by the bonnie burn-side, Til they plunder'd the castle of Airlie.

'Gif my gude lord war here this night, As he is with King Charlie, Neither you, nor ony ither Scottish lord, Durst avow to the plundering of Airlie.

'Gif my gude lord war now at hame, As he is with his king, There durst nae a Campbell in a' Argyll Set fit on Airlie green.

'Then bonnie sons I have borne unto him, The eleventh ne'er saw his daddy; But though I had an hunder mair, I'd gie them a' to King Charlie!'

Ballads and Songs By Unknown Authors. 17th Cent.

378. 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 came to the carline wife That her three sons were gane.

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

'I wish the wind may never cease.

Nor fashes in the flood, Till my three sons come hame to me, In earthly flesh and blood!'

It fell about the Martinmas, When nights are lang and mirk, The carline wife's three sons came hame, And their hats were o' the birk.

It neither grew in syke nor ditch, Nor yet in ony sheugh; But at the gates o' Paradise That birk grew fair eneugh.

'Blow up the fire, my maidens!

Bring water from the well!

For a' my house shall feast this night, Since my three sons are well.'

And she has made to them a bed, She 's made it large and wide; And she 's ta'en her mantle her about, Sat down at the bedside.

Up then crew the red, red c.o.c.k, And up and crew the gray; The eldest to the youngest said.

''Tis time we were away.'

The c.o.c.k he hadna craw'd but once, And clapp'd his wings at a', When the youngest to the eldest said, 'Brother, we must awa'.

'The c.o.c.k doth craw, the day doth daw, The channerin' worm doth chide; Gin we be miss'd out o' our place, A sair pain we maun bide.'

'Lie still, lie still but a little wee while, Lie still but if we may; Gin my mother should miss us when she wakes, She'll go mad ere it be day.'

'Fare ye weel, my mother dear!

Fareweel to barn and byre!

And fare ye weel, the bonny la.s.s That kindles my mother's fire!'

fashes] troubles. syke] marsh. sheugh] trench. channerin']

fretting.

Ballads and Songs By Unknown Authors. 17th Cent.

379. The Three Ravens

THERE were three ravens sat on a tree, They were as black as they might be.

The one of them said to his make, 'Where shall we our breakfast take?'

'Down in yonder greene field There lies a knight slain under his shield;

'His hounds they lie down at his feet, So well they can their master keep;

'His hawks they flie so eagerly, There 's no fowl dare come him nigh.'

Down there comes a fallow doe As great with young as she might goe.

She lift up his bloudy head And kist his wounds that were so red.

She gat him up upon her back And carried him to earthen lake.

She buried him before the prime, She was dead herself ere evensong time.

G.o.d send every gentleman Such hounds, such hawks, and such a leman.

make] mate.

Ballads and Songs By Unknown Authors. 17th Cent.

380. The Twa Corbies (SCOTTISH VERSION)

AS I was walking all alane I heard twa corbies making a mane: The tane unto the t.i.ther did say, 'Whar sall we gang and dine the day?'

'--In behint yon auld fail d.y.k.e I wot there lies a new-slain knight; And naebody kens that he lies there But his hawk, his hound, and his lady fair.

'His hound is to the hunting gane, His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame, His lady 's ta'en anither mate, So we may mak our dinner sweet.