Percy Papers, communicated by Principal Robertson, the historian.
| 1 |
There came a ghost to Helen's bower,
Wi monny a sigh and groan:
'O make yourself ready, at Wednesday at een,
Fair Helen, you must be gone.' |
| 2 |
'O gay Death, O gallant Death,
Will you spare my life sae lang
Untill I send to merry Primrose,
Bid my dear lord come hame?' |
| 3 |
'O gay Helen, O galant Helen,
I winna spare you sae lang;
But make yoursell ready, again Wednesday at een,
Fair Helen, you must be gane.' |
| 4 |
'O where will I get a bonny boy,
That would win hose and shoon,
That will rin fast to merry Primrose,
Bid my dear lord come soon?' |
| 5 |
O up and speak a little boy,
That would win hose and shoon:
'Aft have I gane your errants, lady,
But by my suth I'll rin.' |
| 6 |
When he came to broken briggs
He bent his bow and swam,
And when he came to grass growing
He cast off his shoon and ran. |
| 7 |
When he came to merry Primrose,
His lord he was at meat:
'O my lord, kend ye what I ken,
Right little wad ye eat.' |
| 8 |
'Is there onny of my castles broken doun,
Or onny of my towers won?
Or is Fair Helen brought to bed
Of a doughter or a son?' |
| 9 |
'There's nane of [your] castles broken doun,
Nor nane of your towers won,
Nor is Fair Helen brought to bed
Of a doghter or a son.' |
| 10 |
'Gar sadle me the black, black steed,
Gar sadle me the brown;
Gar sadle me the swiftest horse
Eer carried man to town.' |
| 11 |
First he bursted the bonny black,
And then he bursted the brown,
And then he bursted the swiftest steed
Eer carried man to town. |
| 12 |
He hadna ridden a mile, a mile,
A mile but barelins ten,
When he met four and twenty gallant knights,
carrying a dead coffin. |
| 13 |
'Set down, set down Fair Helen's corps,
Let me look on the dead;'
And out he took a little pen-knife,
And he screeded the winding-sheet. |
| 14 |
O first he kist her rosy cheek,
And then he kist her chin,
And then he kist her coral lips,
But there's nae life in within. |
| 15 |
'Gar deal, gar deal the bread,' he says,
'The bread bat an the wine,
And at the morn at twelve o'clock
Ye's gain as much at mine.' |
| 16 |
The tane was buried in Mary's kirk,
The tother in Mary's choir,
And out of the tane there sprang a birch,
And out of the tother a briar. |
| 17 |
The tops of them grew far sundry,
But the roots of them grew neer,
And ye may easy ken by that
They were twa lovers dear. |
