Harris Manuscript, fol. 14 b; from Mrs. Harris.
| 1 |
Roudesdales an Clerk William
Sat birlin at the wine,
An a' the talk was them atween
Was aboot the ladies fine, fine,
Was aboot the ladies fine. |
| 2 |
Says Roudesdales to Clerk William,
I'll wad my lands wi thee,
I'll wad my lands against thy head,
An that is what I'll dee, |
| 3 |
'That there's no a leddy in a' the land,
That's fair, baith ee an bree,
That I winna wed withoot courtin,
Wi ae blink o my ee.' |
| 4 |
Says William, I've an ae sister,
She's fair, baith ee an bree;
An you'll no wed her withoot courtin,
Wi ae blink o your ee.' |
| 5 |
He has wrote a broad letter,
Between the nicht an the day,
An sent it to his ae sister
Wi the white feather an the gray. |
| 6 |
The firsten line she luekit on,
A licht lauchter gae she;
But eer she read it to the end
The tear blindit her ee. |
| 7 |
'Oh wae betide my ae brither,
Wald wad his head for me,
. . .
. . . ' |
| 8 |
Roudesdales to her bour has gane,
An rade it round aboot,
An there he saw that fair ladie,
At a window lookin oot. |
| 9 |
'Come doon, come doon, you fair ladie,
Ae sicht o you to sed;
For the rings are o the goud sae ried
That I will gie to thee.' |
| 10 |
'If yours are o the goud sae ried,
Mine's o the silver clear;
So get you gone, you Roudesdales,
For you sall no be here.' |
| 11 |
'Come doon, come doon, you lady fair,
Ae sicht o you to see;
For the gouns are o the silk sae fine
That I will gie to thee.' |
| 12 |
'If yours are o the silk sae fine,
Mone's o the bonnie broun;
Sa get you gone, you Roudesdales,
For I will no come doon.' |
| 13 |
'Come doon, come doon, you ladie fair,
Ae sicht o you to see;
For the steeds are o the milk sae white
That I will gie to thee.' |
| 14 |
'If yours are o the milk sae white,
Mine's o the bonnie broun;
Sae get you gone, you Roudesdales,
For I will no come doon.' |
| 15 |
'Come doon, come doon, you ladie fair,
Ae sicht o you to see;
Or I will set your bour on fire
Atween your nurse an thee.' |
| 16 |
'You may set my bowr on fire,
As I doubt na you will dee,
But there'll come a sharp shour frae the wast
Will slocken 't speedilie.' |
| 17 |
He has set her bour on fire,
An quickly it did flame;
But there cam a sharp shour frae the wast
That put it oot again. |
| 18 |
Oot amang the fire an smoke
That bonnie lady cam,
Wi as muckle goud aboon her bree
As wald bocht an earldom. |
| 19 |
'Oh wae betide you, ill woman,
An ill, ill died may you dee!
For ye hae won your brither's head,
An I go landless free.' |
