Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 59.
From the recitation of mrs. W. Arrott, of Aberbrothick.
| 1 |
'O will ye gae to the school, brother?
Or will ye gae to the ba?
Or will ye gae to the wood a-warslin,
To see whilk o's maun fa?' |
| 2 |
'It's I winna gae to the school, brother,
Nor will I gae to the ba;
But I will gae to the wood a-warslin,
And it is you maun fa.' |
| 3 |
They warstled up, they warstled down,
The lee-lang simmer's day;
. . . . .
. . . . |
| 4 |
'O lift me up upon your back,
Tak me to yon wall fair;
You'll wash my bluidy wounds oer and oer,
And syne they'll bleed nae mair. |
| 5 |
'And ye'll tak aff my hollin sark,
And riv't frae gair to gair;
Ye'll stap it in my bluidy wounds,
And syne they'll bleed nae mair.' |
| 6 |
He's liftit his brother upon his back,
Taen him to yon wall fair;
He's washed his bluidy wounds oer and oer,
But ay they bled mair and mair. |
| 7 |
And he's taen aff his hollin sark,
And riven't frae gair to gair;
He's stappit it in his bluidy wounds,
But ay they bled mair and mair. |
| 8 |
'Ye'll lift me up upon your back,
Tak me to Kirkland fair;
Ye'll mak my greaf baith braid and lang,
And lay my body there. |
| 9 |
Ye'll lay my arrows at my head,
My bent bow at my feet,
My sword and buckler at my side,
As I was wont to sleep. |
| 10 |
'Whan ye gae hame to your father,
He'll speer for his son John:
Say, ye left him into Kirkland fair,
Learning the school alone. |
| 11 |
'When ye gae hame to my sister,
She'll speer for her brother John:
Ye'll say, ye left him in Kirkland fair,
The green grass growin aboon. |
| 12 |
'Whan ye gae hame to my true-love,
She'll speer for her lord John:
Ye'll say, ye left him in Kirkland fair,
But hame ye fear he'll never come.' |
| 13 |
He's gane hame to his father;
He speered for his son John:
'It's I left him into Kirkland fair,
Learning the school alone.' |
| 14 |
And whan he gaed hame to his sister,
She speered for her brother John:
'It's I left him into Kirkland fair,
The green grass growin aboon.' |
| 15 |
And whan he gaed home to his true-love,
She speerd for her lord John:
'It's I left him into Kirkland fair,
And hame I fear he'll never come.' |
| 16 |
'But whaten bluid's that on your sword, Willie?
Sweet Willie, tell to me;'
'O it is the bluid o my grey hounds,
They wadna rin for me.' |
| 17 |
'It's nae the bluid o your hounds, Willie,
Their bluid was never so red;
But it is the bluid o my true-love,
That ye hae slain indeed.' |
| 18 |
That fair may wept, that fair may mournd,
That fair may mournd and pin'd:
'When every lady looks for her love,
I neer need look for mine.' |
| 19 |
'O whaten a death will ye die, Willie?
Now, Willie, tell to me;'
'Ye'll put me in a bottomless boat,
And I'll gae sail the sea.' |
| 20 |
'Whan will ye come hame again, Willie?
Now, Willie, tell to me;'
'Whan the sun and moon dances on the green,
And that will never be.' |
