| 1 |
When grass grew green on Lanark plains,
And fruit and flowers did spring,
A Scottish squire in cheerfu strains,
Sae merrily thus did sing: |
| 2 |
'O well fails me o my parrot
That he can speak and flee;
For he will carry love-letters
Between my love and me. |
| 3 |
'And well fails me o my parrot
He can baith speak and gang;
And he will carry love-letters
To the maid in South England.' |
| 4 |
'O how shall I your love find out?
Or how shall I her know?
When my tongue with her never spake,
Nor my eyes her ever saw.' |
| 5 |
'O what is red of her is red
As blude drappd on the snaw;
And what is white o her is white
As milk, or the sea-maw. |
| 6 |
'Even before that lady's yetts
You'll find a bowing birk;
And there ye'll sit, and sing thereon,
Till she gaes to the kirk. |
| 7 |
'Then even before that lady's yetts
You'll find a bowing ash;
And ye may sit and sing thereon,
Till she comes frae the mass. |
| 8 |
'And even before that lady's window
You'll find a bed o tyme;
And ye may sit and sing thereon,
Till she sits down to dine. |
| 9 |
'Even abeen that lady's window
There's fixd a siller pin;
And a' these words that I tell you,
Ye'll sit and sing therein. |
| 10 |
'Ye'll bid her send her love a letter,
For he has sent her five;
And he'll never send anither ane,
To nae woman alive. |
| 11 |
'Ye'll bid her send her love a letter,
For he has sent her seven;
And he'll never send anither send,
To nae maid under heaven.' |
| 12 |
This little bird then took his flight,
Beyond the raging sea,
And lighted at that lady's yetts,
On tower o gowd sae hie. |
| 13 |
Even before that lady's yetts
He found a bowing birk;
And there he sat, and sang thereon,
Till she went to the kirk. |
| 14 |
Even before that lady's yetts
He found a bowing ash;
And then he sat and sang thereon,
Till she came frae the mass. |
| 15 |
Even before that lady's window
He found a bed o tyme;
And then he sat and sang thereon,
Till she sat down to dine. |
| 16 |
Even abeen that lady's window
Was fixd a siller pin;
And a' the word that were tauld him,
He sat and sang them in. |
| 17 |
'You're bidden send your love a letter,
For he has sent you five;
Or he'll never send anither send,
To nae woman alive. |
| 18 |
'You're bidden send your love a letter,
For he has sent you seven;
And he'll never send anither send,
To nae maid under heaven.' |
| 19 |
'Sit in the hall, good ladies all,
And drink the wine sae red,
And I will to yon small window,
And hear you bridie's leed. |
| 20 |
'Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird,
The sang ye sung just now;'
'I'll sing nae mair, ye lady fair,
My errand is to you.' |
| 21 |
'If ye be my true-lovie's bird,
Sae well's I will you ken;
You will gae in at my gown-sleeve,
Come out at my gown-hem.' |
| 22 |
'That I am come frae your true-love,
You soon shall see right plain;
And read these lines below my wing,
That I hae brought frae him.' |
| 23 |
When she looked these lines upon,
She read them, and she leuch:
'O well fails me, my true-love, now,
O this I hae eneuch. |
| 24 |
'Here is the broach on my breast-bane,
The garlings frae my hair,
Likewise the heart that is within;
What woud my love hae mair? |
| 25 |
'The nearest kirk in fair Scotland,
Ye'll bid him meet me there:'
She has gane to her dear father,
Wi heart perplexd and sair. |
| 26 |
When she came to her auld father,
Fell low down on her knee:
'An asking, asking, father dear,
I pray you grant it me.' |
| 27 |
'Ask what you will, my dear daughter,
And I will grant it thee;
Unless to marry yon Scottish squire;
That's what shall never be.' |
| 28 |
'O that's the asking, father,' she said,
'That I'll neer ask of thee;
But if I die in South England,
In Scotland ye'll bury me.' |
| 29 |
h5The asking's nae sae great, daughter,
But granted it shall be;
And tho ye die in South England,
In Scotland we'll bury thee.' |
| 30 |
She has gane to her step-mother,
Fell low down on her knee:
'An asking, asking, mother dear,
I pray you grant it me.' |
| 31 |
'Ask what ye please, my lily-white dove,
And granted it shall be:'
'If I die in South England,
In Scotland bury me.' |
| 32 |
'Had these words spoke been in again,
I woud not granted thee;
You hae a love in fair Scotland,
Sae fain's you woud be tee.' |
| 33 |
She scarce was to her chamber gane
Nor yet was well set down,
Till on the sofa where she sat
Fell a deadly swoon. |
| 34 |
Her father and her seven brithers,
They made for her a bier;
The one half o 't was gude red gowd,
The other siller clear. |
| 35 |
Her seven sisters were employed
In making her a sark;
The one half o 't was cambric fine,
The other needle-wark. |
| 36 |
Then out it speaks her auld step-dame,
Sat on the sofa's end:
Ye'll drap the het lead on her cheek,
Sae do you on her chin;
For women will use mony a wile
Their true-loves for to win. |
| 37 |
Then up it raise her eldest brither,
Into her bower he's gane;
Then in it came her youngest brither,
The het leed to drap on. |
| 38 |
He drapt it by her cheek, her cheek,
Sae did he by her chin;
Sae did he by her comely hause;
He knew life was therein. |
| 39 |
The bier was made wi red gowd laid,
Sae curious round about;
A private entrance there contriv'd,
That her breath might win out. |
| 40 |
The first an kirk in fair Scotland,
They gard the bells be rung;
The niest an kirk in fair Scotland,
They causd the mass be sung. |
| 41 |
The third an kirk in fair Scotland,
They passd it quietly by;
The fourth an kirk in fair Scotland,
Clerk Sandy did them spy. |
| 42 |
'O down ye'll set this corpse o clay,
Lat me look on the dead;
For I may sigh, and say, alas!
For death has nae remeid.' |
| 43 |
Then he has cut her winding sheet
A little below her chin,
And wi her sweet ruby lips
She sweetly smil'd on him. |
| 44 |
'Gie me a sheave o your white bread,
A bottle o your wine;
For I hae fasted for your sake
Fully these lang days nine. |
| 45 |
'Gae hame, gae hame, my seven brithers,
Gae hame and blaw your trumpet;
And ye mat tell to your step-dame
This day she is affronted. |
| 46 |
'I camna here to fair Scotland
To lye amo the dead;
But came to be Clerk Sandy's wife,
And lay gowd on my head. |
| 47 |
'Gae hame, gae hame, my seven brithers,
Gae hame and blaw your horn;
And ye may tell in fair England
In Scotland ye got the scorn. |
| 48 |
'I came not here to fair Scotland
To mix amang the clay;
But came to be Clerk Sandy's wife,
And wear gowd to my tae.' |
| 49 |
'Sin ye hae gien us this ae scorn,
We shall gie you anither;
Ye sall hae naething to live upon
But the bier that brought you hither.' |
