English and Scottish Ballads Volume IV Part 7

He's ta'en his true love by the hand, 175 He led her up the plain: "Have you any more of your English dogs You want for to have slain?"

He put a little horn to his mouth, He blew 't baith loud and shill; 180 And honour is into Scotland gone, In spite of England's skill.

He put his little horn to his mouth, He blew it owre again; And aye the sound the horn cryed 185 Was "Johnie and his men!"

137, 140, 143, Taillant.

161, 166 Taillant.

BROWN ADAM.

_Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, iii. 159.

"There is a copy of this ballad in Mrs. Brown's collection. The editor has seen one, printed on a single sheet. The epithet, "Smith," implies, probably, the sirname, not the profession, of the hero, who seems to have been an outlaw. There is, however, in Mrs. Brown's copy, a verse of little merit, here omitted, alluding to the implements of that occupation."

SCOTT.

O wha wad wish the wind to blaw, Or the green leaves fa' therewith?

Or wha wad wish a lealer love Than Brown Adam the Smith?

But they hae banished him, Brown Adam, 5 Frae father and frae mother; And they hae banish'd him, Brown Adam, Frae sister and frae brother.

And they hae banish'd him, Brown Adam, The flower o' a' his kin; 10 And he's bigged a bour in gude green-wood Atween his ladye and him.

It fell upon a summer's day, Brown Adam he thought lang; And, for to hunt some venison, 15 To green-wood he wald gang.

He has ta'en his bow his arm o'er, His bolts and arrows lang; And he is to the gude green-wood As fast as he could gang. 20

O he's shot up, and he's shot down, The bird upon the brier; And he sent it hame to his ladye, Bade her be of gude cheir.

O he's shot up, and he's shot down, 25 The bird upon the thorn; And sent it hame to his ladye, Said he'd be hame the morn.

When he cam to his lady's bour door He stude a little forbye, 30 And there he heard a fou fause knight Tempting his gay ladye.

For he's ta'en out a gay goud ring, Had cost him many a poun', "O grant me love for love, ladye, 35 And this sall be thy own."--

"I lo'e Brown Adam weel," she said; "I trew sae does he me; I wadna gie Brown Adam's love For nae fause knight I see."-- 40

Out has he ta'en a purse o' gowd, Was a' fou to the string, "O grant me love for love, ladye, And a' this sall be thine."--

"I lo'e Brown Adam weel," she says; 45 "I wot sae does he me: I wadna be your light leman, For mair than ye could gie."--

Then out he drew his lang bright brand, And flash'd it in her een; 50 "Now grant me love for love, ladye, Or thro' ye this sall gang!"-- Then, sighing, says that ladye fair, "Brown Adam tarries lang!"--

Then in and starts him Brown Adam, 55 Says--"I'm just at your hand."-- He's gar'd him leave his bonny bow, He's gar'd him leave his brand, He's gar'd him leave a dearer pledge-- Four fingers o' his right hand. 60

LIZIE LINDSAY.

Complete copies of this pretty ballad are given in Buchan's _Ballads of the North of Scotland_, ii. 102, and in Whitelaw's _Book of Scottish Ballads_, p. 51. The latter we have printed with the present version, which, though lacking a stanza or two, is better in some respects than either of the others.--Robert Allan has made a song out of this ballad, Smith's _Scottish Minstrel_, ii. 100.

"Transmitted to the Editor by Professor SCOTT of Aberdeen, as it was taken down from the recitation of an old woman. It is very popular in the north-east of Scotland, and was familiar to the editor in his early youth; and from the imperfect recollection which he still retains of it, he has corrected the text in two or three unimportant pa.s.sages." JAMIESON'S _Popular Ballads_, ii. 149.

"Will ye go to the Highlands, Lizie Lindsay, Will ye go to the Highlands wi' me?

Will ye go to the Highlands, Lizie Lindsay, And dine on fresh cruds and green whey?"

Then out spak Lizie's mother, 5 A good old lady was she, "Gin ye say sic a word to my daughter, I'll gar ye be hanged high."

"Keep weel your daughter frae me, madam; Keep weel your daughter frae me; 10 I care as little for your daughter, As ye can care for me."

Then out spak Lizie's ain maiden, A bonny young la.s.sie was she; Says,--"were I the heir to a kingdom, 15 Awa' wi' young Donald I'd be."

"O say you sae to me, Nelly?

And does my Nelly say sae?

Maun I leave my father and mother, Awa' wi' young Donald to gae?" 20

And Lizie's ta'en till her her stockings, And Lizie's ta'en till her her shoen; And kilted up her green claithing, And awa' wi' young Donald she's gane.

The road it was lang and weary; 25 The braes they were ill to climb; Bonny Lizie was weary wi' travelling, And a fit furder coudna win.

And sair, O sair did she sigh, And the saut tear blin'd her e'e; 30 "Gin this be the pleasures o' looing, They never will do wi' me!"

"Now, haud your tongue, bonny Lizie; Ye never shall rue for me; Gi'e me but your love for my love, 35 It is a' that your tocher will be.

"And haud your tongue, bonny Lizie; Altho' that the gait seem lang, And you's ha'e the wale o' good living Whan to Kincawsen we gang. 40

"There my father he is an auld cobler, My mother she is an auld dey; And we'll sleep on a bed o' green rashes, And dine on fresh cruds and green whey."

"You're welcome hame, Sir Donald, 45 You're welcome hame to me."

"O ca' me nae mair Sir Donald; There's a bonny young lady to come; Sae ca' me nae mair Sir Donald, But ae spring Donald your son." 50

"Ye're welcome hame, young Donald; Ye're welcome hame to me; Ye're welcome hame, young Donald, And your bonny young lady wi' ye."

She's made them a bed of green rashes, 55 Weel cover'd wi' hooding o' grey; Bonny Lizie was weary wi' travelling, And lay till 'twas lang o' the day.

"The sun looks in o'er the hill-head, And the laverock is liltin' gay; 60 Get up, get up, bonny Lizie, You've lain till its lang o' the day.

"You might ha'e been out at the shealin, Instead o' sae lang to lye, And up and helping my mother 65 To milk baith her gaits and kye."