Kinloch Manuscripts, V, 207, 1, 103; from John Rae, Lesmahago.
| 1 |
O Wally, wally up yon bank!
And wally down yon brae!
And wally, wally up yon burn-side,
Where me and my lord wont to gae! |
| 2 |
I leand me on yon saugh sae sweet,
I leand me on yon saugh sae sour,
And my gude lord has forsaken me,
And he swears he'll never loe me more. |
| 3 |
There came a young man to this town,
And Jamie Lockhart was his name;
Fause Blackwood lilted in my lord's ear
That I was in the bed wi him. |
| 4 |
'Come up, come up, Jamie Douglas,
Come up, come up and dine wi me,
And I'll set thee in a chair of gold,
And use you kindly on my knee.' |
| 5 |
'When cockle-shells turn silver bells,
And mussels hing on every tree,
When frost and snow turn fire-brands,
Then I'll come up and dine wi thee.' |
| 6 |
When my father and mother they got word
That my good lord had forsaken me,
They sent fourscore of soldiers brave
To bring me hame to my ain countrie. |
| 7 |
That day that I was forc'd to go,
My pretty palace for to leave,
I went to the chamber were my lord lay,
But alas! he wad na speak to me. |
| 8 |
'O fare ye weel, Jamie Douglas!
And fare ye weel, my children three!
I hope your father will prove mair kind
To you than he has been to me. |
| 9 |
'You take every one to be like yoursel,
You take every one that comes unto thee;
But I could swear by the heavens high
That I never knew anither man but thee. |
| 10 |
'O foul fa ye, fause Blackwood,
And an ill death now may ye die!
For ye was the first occasioner
Of parting my gude lord and me.' |
| 11 |
Whan we gaed in by Edinburgh town,
My father and mither they met me,
Wi trumpets sounding on every side;
But alas! they could ne cherish me. |
| 12 |
'Hold your tongue, daughter,' my father said,
'And with your weeping let me be;
And we'll get out a bill of divorce,
And I'll get a far better lord to thee.' |
| 13 |
'O hold your tongue, father,' she says,
'And with your talking let me be;
I wad na gie a kiss a my ain lord's lips
For a' the men in the west country.' |
| 14 |
Oh an I had my baby born,
And set upon the nurse's knee,
And I myself were dead and gone!
For a maid again I will never be. |
