Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 135; from Mrs. Brown's
recitation, apparently in 1800.
| 1 |
'Gie corn to my horse, mither,
Gie meat unto my man,
For I maun gang to Margaret's bower
Before the nicht comes on.' |
| 2 |
'O stay at hame now, my son Willie,
The wind blaws cald and sour;
The nicht will be baith mirk and late
Before ye reach her bower.' |
| 3 |
'O the nicht were ever sae dark,
Or the wind blew never sae cald,
I will be In my Margaret's bower
Before twa hours be tald.' |
| 4 |
'O gin ye gang to May Margaret,
Without the leave of me,
Clyde's water's wide and deep enough,
My malison drown thee!' |
| 5 |
He mounted on his coal-black steed,
And fast he rade awa,
But ere he came to Clyde's water
Fu loud the wind did blaw. |
| 6 |
As he rode oer yon hich, hich hill,
And down yon dowie den,
There was a roar in Clyde's water
Wad feard a hunder men. |
| 7 |
His heart was warm, his pride was up;
Sweet Willie kentna fear;
But yet his mither's malison
Ay sounded in his ear. |
| 8 |
O he has swam through Clyde's water,
Tho it was wide and deep,
And he came to May Margaret's door,
When a' were fast asleep. |
| 9 |
O he's gane round and round about,
And tirled at the pin;
But doors were steekd, and windows barrd,
And nane wad let him in. |
| 10 |
'O open the door to me, Margaret!
O open amd lat me in!
For my boots are full o Clyde's water
And frozen to the brim.' |
| 11 |
'I darena open the door to you,
Nor darena lat you in,
For my mither she is fast asleep,
And I darena mak nae din.' |
| 12 |
'O gin ye winna open the door,
Nor yet be kind to me,
Now tell me o some out-chamber
Where I this nicht may be.' |
| 13 |
'Ye canna win in this nicht, Willie,
Nor here ye canna be;
For I've nae chambers out nor in,
Nae ane but barely three. |
| 14 |
'The tane o them is fu o corn,
The tither is fu o hay;
The tither is fu o merry young men;
They winna remove till day.' |
| 15 |
'O fare ye weel, then, May Margaret,
Sin better manna be;
I've win my mither's malison,
Coming this nicht to thee.' |
| 16 |
He's mounted on his coal-black steed,
O but his heart was wae!
But, ere he came to Clyde's water,
'Twas half up oer the brae.
* * * * * |
| 17 |
. . . .
. . .
. . he plunged in,
But never raise again. |
