English and Scottish Ballads Volume III Part 23

"You're welcome to your house, Lord Thomas; You're welcome to your land; You're welcome, with your fair ladye, That you lead by the hand. 50

"You're welcome to your ha's, ladye, Your welcome to your bowers; You're welcome to your hame, ladye, For a' that's here is yours."--

"I thank thee, Annie; I thank thee, Annie; 55 Sae dearly as I thank thee; You're the likest to my sister Annie, That ever I did see.

"There came a knight out o'er the sea, And steal'd my sister away; 60 The shame scoup in his company, And land where'er he gae!"--

She hang ae napkin at the door, Another in the ha'; And a' to wipe the trickling tears, 65 Sae fast as they did fa'.

And aye she served the lang tables With white bread and with wine; And aye she drank the wan water, To had her colour fine. 70

And aye she served the lang tables, With white bread and with brown; And ay she turn'd her round about, Sae fast the tears fell down.

And he's ta'en down the silk napkin, 75 Hung on a silver pin; And aye he wipes the tear trickling Adown her cheek and chin.

And aye he turn'd him round about, And smiled amang his men, 80 Says--"Like ye best the old ladye, Or her that's new come hame?"--

When bells were rung, and ma.s.s was sung, And a' men bound to bed, Lord Thomas and his new-come bride, 85 To their chamber they were gaed.

Annie made her bed a little forbye, To hear what they might say; "And ever alas!" fair Annie cried, "That I should see this day! 90

"Gin my seven sons were seven young rats, Running on the castle wa', And I were a grey cat mysell, I soon would worry them a'.

"Gin my seven sons were seven young hares, 95 Running o'er yon lilly lee, And I were a grew hound mysell, Soon worried they a' should be."--

And wae and sad fair Annie sat, And drearie was her sang; 100 And ever, as she sobb'd and grat, "Wae to the man that did the wrang!"--

"My gown is on," said the new-come bride, "My shoes are on my feet, And I will to fair Annie's chamber, 105 And see what gars her greet.--

"What ails ye, what ails ye, Fair Annie, That ye make sic a moan?

Has your wine barrels cast the girds, Or is your white bread gone? 110

"O wha was't was your father, Annie, Or wha was't was your mother?

And had you ony sister, Annie, Or had you ony brother?"--

"The Earl of Wemyss was my father, 115 The Countess of Wemyss my mother; And a' the folk about the house, To me were sister and brother."--

"If the Earl of Wemyss was your father, I wot sae was he mine; 120 And it shall not be for lack o' gowd, That ye your love sall tyne.

"For I have seven ships o' mine ain, A' loaded to the brim; And I will gie them a' to thee, 125 Wi' four to thine eldest son.

But thanks to a' the powers in heaven That I gae maiden hame!"

FAIR ANNIE.

Motherwell's _Minstrelsy_, p. 327. Obtained from recitation.

"Learn to mak your bed, Annie, And learn to lie your lane; For I maun owre the salt seas gang, A brisk bride to bring hame.

"Bind up, bind up your yellow hair, 5 And tye it in your neck; And see you look as maiden-like As the day that we first met."

"O how can I look maiden-like, When maiden I'll ne'er be; 10 When seven brave sons I've born to thee, And the eighth is in my bodie?

"The eldest of your sons, my lord, Wi' red gold shines his weed; The second of your sons, my lord, 15 Rides on a milk-white steed.

"And the third of your sons, my lord, He draws your beer and wine; And the fourth of your sons, my lord, Can serve you when you dine. 20

"And the fift of your sons, my lord, He can both read and write; And the sixth of your sons, my lord, Can do it most perfyte.

"And the sevent of your sons, my lord, 25 Sits on the nurse's knee: And how can I look maiden-like, When a maid I'll never be?

"But wha will bake your wedding bread, And brew your bridal ale? 30 Or wha will welcome your brisk bride That you bring owre the dale?"

"I'll put cooks in my kitchen, And stewards in my hall, And I'll have bakers for my bread, 35 And brewers for my ale; But you're to welcome my brisk bride That I bring owre the dale."

He set his feet into his ship, And his c.o.c.k-boat on the main; 40 He swore it would be year and day Or he returned again.

When year and day was past and gane, Fair Annie she thocht lang; And she is up to her bower head, 45 To behold both sea and land.

"Come up, come up, my eldest son, And see now what you see; O yonder comes your father dear, And your stepmother to be." 50

"Cast off your gown of black, mother, Put on your gown of brown, And I'll put off my mourning weeds, And we'll welcome him home."

She's taken wine into her hand, 55 And she has taken bread, And she is down to the water side To welcome them indeed.

"You're welcome, my lord, you're welcome, my lord, You're welcome home to me; 60 So is every lord and gentleman That is in your companie.

"You're welcome, my lady, you're welcome, my lady, You're welcome home to me; So is every lady and gentleman 65 That's in your companie."

"I thank you, my girl, I thank you, my girl, I thank you heartily; If I live seven years about this house, Rewarded you shall be." 70

She serv'd them up, she serv'd them down, With the wheat bread and the wine; But aye she drank the cauld water, To keep her colour fine.

She serv'd them up, she serv'd them down, With the wheat bread and the beer; 75 But aye she drank the cauld water, To keep her colour clear.

When bells were rung and ma.s.s was sung, And all were boune for rest, 80 Fair Annie laid her sons in bed, And a sorrowfu' woman she was.

"Will I go to the salt, salt seas, And see the fishes swim?

Or will I go to the gay green wood, 85 And hear the small birds sing?"

Out and spoke an aged man, That stood behind the door,-- "Ye will not go to the salt, salt seas, To see the fishes swim; 90 Nor will ye go to the gay green wood, To hear the small birds sing:

"But ye'll take a harp into your hand, Go to their chamber door, And aye ye'll harp and aye ye'll murn, 95 With the salt tears falling o'er."

She's ta'en a harp into her hand, Went to their chamber door, And aye she harped and aye she murn'd, With the salt tears falling o'er. 100