Pitcairn's Manuscripts, III, 159, 1817-25.
From the recitation of Widow Stephenson, aged seventy-three:
"East Country."
| 1 |
In the lands whre Lord Beichan was born,
Amang the stately steps of stane,
He wore the goud at his left shoulder,
But to the Holy Land he's gane. |
| 2 |
He was na lang in the Holy Land,
Amang the Prudents that was black,
He was na lang in the Holy Land,
Till the Prudent did Lord Beichan tak. |
| 3 |
The gard him draw baith pleugh and harrow,
And horse and oxen twa or three;
They cast him in a dark dungeon,
Whare he coud neither hear nor see. |
| 4 |
The Prudent had a fair daughter,
I wot they ca'd her Susy Pye,
And all the keys in that city
Hang at that lady by and bye. |
| 5 |
It once fell out upon a day
That into the prison she did gae,
And whan she cam to the prison door,
She kneeled low down on her knee. |
| 6 |
'O hae ye ony lands, Beichan,
Or hae ye ony castles hie,
Whar ye wad tak a young thing to,
If out of prison I wad let thee?' |
| 7 |
'Fair London's mine, dear lady,' he said,
'And other places twa or three,
Whar I wad tak a young thing to,
If out of prison ye wad let me.' |
| 8 |
O she has opened the prison door,
And other places twa or three,
And gien him bread, and wine to drink,
In her own chamber privately. |
| 9 |
O then she built a bonny ship,
And she has set it on the main,
And she has built a bonny ship,
It's for to tak Lord Beichan hame. |
| 10 |
O she's gaen murning up and down,
And she's gaen murnin to the sea,
Then to her father she has gane in,
Wha spak to her right angrily. |
| 11 |
'O do ye mourn for the goud, daughter,
Or do ye mourn for the whyte monie?
Or do ye mourn for the English squire?
I wat I will gar hang him hie.' |
| 12 |
'I neither mourn for the goud, father,
Nor do I for the whyte monie,
Nor do I for the English squire;
And I care na tho ye hang him hie. |
| 13 |
'But I hae promised an errand to go,
Seven lang miles ayont the sea,
And blythe and merry I never will be
Untill that errand you let me.' |
| 14 |
'That errand, daughter, you may gang,
Seven long miles beyond the sea,
Since blythe and merry you'll neer be
Untill that errand I'll let thee.' |
| 15 |
O she has built a bonny ship,
And she has set it in the sea,
And she has built a bonny ship,
It's all for to tak her a long journie. |
| 16 |
And she's sailed a' the summer day,
I wat the wind blew wondrous fair;
In sight of fair London she has come,
And till Lord Beichan's yett she walked. |
| 17 |
Whan she cam till Lord Beichan's yett,
She rappit loudly at the pin:
'Is Beichan lord of this bonny place?
I pray ye open and let me in. |
| 18 |
'And O is this Lord Beichan's yett,
And is the noble lord within?'
'O yes, it is Lord Beichan's yett,
He's wi his bride and mony a ane.' |
| 19 |
'If you'll gang up to Lord Beichan,
Tell him the words that I tell thee;
It will put him in mind of Susy Pye,
And the Holy Land, whareer he be. |
| 20 |
'Tell him to send one bite of bread,
It's and a glass of his gude red wine,
Nor to forget the lady's love
That loosed him out of prison strong.'
* * * * * |
| 21 |
'I hae been porter at your yett,
I'm sure this therty lang years and three,
But the fairest lady stands thereat
That evir my twa eyes did see. |
| 22 |
'On ilka finger she has a ring,
And on the foremost she has three;
As muckle goud is on her head
As wad buy an earldom of land to thee. |
| 23 |
'She bids you send a bite of bread,
It's and a glass of your gude red wine,
Nor to forget the lady's love
That let you out of prison strong.' |
| 24 |
It's up and spak the bride's mother,
A weight of goud hung at her chin:
'There is no one so fair without
But there are, I wat, as fair within.' |
| 25 |
It's up and spak the bride hersel,
As she sat by the gude lord's knee:
'Awa, awa, ye proud porter,
This day ye might hae excepted me.'
* * * * * |
| 26 |
'Tak hence, tak hence your fair daughter,
Tak hame your daughter fair frae me;
For saving one kiss of her bonny lips,
I'm sure of her body I am free. |
| 27 |
'Awa, awa, ye proud mither,
It's tak your daughter fair frae me;
For I brought her home with chariots six,
And I'll send her back wi coaches three.' |
| 28 |
It's he's taen the table wi his fit,
And syne he took it wi his knee;
He gard the glasses and wine so red,
He gard them all in flinders flee. |
| 29 |
O he's gane down the steps of stairs,
And a' the stately steps of stane,
Until he cam to Susy Pye;
I wat the tears blinded baith their eyne. |
| 30 |
He led her up the steps of stairs,
And a' the stately steps of stane,
And changed her name from Susy Pye,
And ca'd her lusty Lady Jane. |
| 31 |
'O fye, gar cooks mak ready meat,
O fye, gar cooks the pots supply,
That it may be talked of in fair London,
I've been twice married in ae day.' |
