Motherwell's Manuscript, p. 299; from the recitation of Rebecca
Dunse, a native of Galloway, 4 May, 1825. "A song of her
mother's, an old woman,"
| 1 |
O waly, waly up yon bank!
And waly, waly doun yon brae!
And waly, waly by yon burn-side,
Where me and my luve used to gae! |
| 2 |
Oh Johnie, Johnie, but love is bonnie
A little while, when it is new;
But when love grows aulder, it grows mair caulder,
And it fades awa like the mornin dew. |
| 3 |
I leaned my back against an aik,
I thocht it was a trusty tree;
But first [it] bowed, and syne it brak,
And sae did my fause luve to me. |
| 4 |
Once I lay sick, and very sick,
And a friend of mine cam to visit me,
But the small bird whispered in my love's ears
That he was ower lang in the room wi me. |
| 5 |
'It's come down stairs, my Jamie Douglas,
Come down stairs, luve, and dine wi me;
I'll set you on a chair of gold,
And court ye kindly on my knee.' |
| 6 |
'When cockle-shells grow silver bells,
And gold it grows on every tree,
When frost and snaw turns fiery balls,
Then, love, I'll come down and dine wi thee.' |
| 7 |
If I had known what I know now,
That love it was sae ill to win,
I should neer hae wet my chefry cheek
For onie man or woman's son. |
| 8 |
When my father he cam to know
That my first luve had sae slighted me,
He sent four score of his soldiers bright
To guard me home to my own countrie. |
| 9 |
Slowly, slowly rose I up,
And slowly, slowly I came down,
And when he saw me sit in my coach,
He made his drums and trumpets sound. |
| 10 |
It's fare ye weel, my pretty palace!
And fare ye weel, my children three!
And I hope your father will get mair grace,
And love you better that he's done to me. |
| 11 |
When we came near to bonnie Edinburgh toun,
My father cam for to meet me;
He made his drums and trumpets sound,
But they were no comfort at all to me. |
| 12 |
'It's hold your tongue, my daughter dear,
And of your weeping pray let be;
For a bill of divorcement I'll send to him,
And a better husband I'll you supply.' |
| 13 |
'O hold your tongue, my father dear,
And of your folly pray now let be;
For there's neer a lord shall enter my bower,
Since my first love has so slighted me.' |
