Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 76.
| 1 |
Take warning, a' ye young women,
Of low station or hie,
Lay never your love upon a man
Above your ain degree. |
| 2 |
Thus I speak by Burd Isbel;
She was a maid sae fair,
She laid her love on Sir Patrick,
She'll rue it for evermair. |
| 3 |
And likewise, a' ye sprightly youths,
Of low station or hie,
Lay never your love upon a maid
Below your ain degree. |
| 4 |
And thus I speak by Sir Patrick,
Who was a knight sae rare;
He's laid his love on Burd Isbel,
He'll rue it for evermair. |
| 5 |
Burd Isbel was but ten years auld,
To service she has gane;
And Burd Isbel was but fifeteen
Whan her young son came hame. |
| 6 |
It fell ance upon a day
Strong travelling took she;
None there was her bower within
But Sir Patrick and she. |
| 7 |
'This is a wark now, Sir Patrick,
That we twa neer will end;
Ye'll do you to the outer court
And call some women in.' |
| 8 |
He's done him to the outer court,
And stately there did stand;
Eleven ladies he's calld in,
Wi ae shake o his hand. |
| 9 |
'Be favourable to Burd Isbel,
Deal favourable if ye may;
Her kirking and her fair wedding
Shall baith stand on ae day. |
| 10 |
'Deal favourable to Burd Isbel,
Whom I love as my life;
Ere this day month be come and gane,
She's be my wedded wife.' |
| 11 |
Then he is on to his father,
Fell low down on his knee;
Says, Will I marry Burd Isbel?
She's born a son to me. |
| 12 |
'O marry, marry Burd Isbel,
Or use her as you like;
Ye'll gar her wear the silks sae red
And sae may ye the white.
O woud ye marry Burd Isbel,
Make her your heart's delight? |
| 13 |
'You want not lands nor rents, Patrick,
You know your fortune's free;
But ere you'd marry Burd Isbel
I'd rather bury thee. |
| 14 |
'Ye'll build a bower for Burd Isbel,
And set it round wi sand;
Make as much mirth in Isbel's bower
As ony in a' the land.' |
| 15 |
Then he is to his mother gane,
Fell low down on his knee:
'O shall I marry Burd Isbel?
She's born a son to me.' |
| 16 |
'O marry, marry Burd Isbel,
Or use her as you like;
Ye'll gar her wear the silks sae red,
And sae may ye the white.
O would ye marry Burd Isbel,
Make her wi me alike? |
| 17 |
'You want not lands nor rents, Patrick,
You know your fortune's free;
But ere you marry Burd Isbel
I'd rather bury thee. |
| 18 |
'Ye'll build a bower to Burd Isbel,
And set it round wi glass;
Make as much mirth in Isbel's bower
An ony in a' the place.' |
| 19 |
He's done him down thro ha, thro ha,
Sae has he in thro bower;
The tears ran frae his twa grey eyes,
And loot them fast down pour. |
| 20 |
'My father and my mother baith
To age are coming on;
When they are dead and buried baith,
Burd Isbel I'll bring home.' |
| 21 |
The words that passd atween these twa
Ought never to be spoken;
The vows that passd atween these twa
Ought never to be broken. |
| 22 |
Says he, If I another court,
Or wed another wife,
May eleven devils me attend
At the end-day o my life. |
| 23 |
But his father he soon did die,
His mother nae lang behind;
Sir Patrick of Burd Isbel
He now had little mind. |
| 24 |
It fell ance upon a day,
As she went out to walk,
And there she saw him Sir Patrick,
Going wi his hound and hawk. |
| 25 |
'Stay stikl, stay still, now Sir Patrick,
O stay a little wee,
And think upon the fair promise
Last year ye made to me. |
| 26 |
'Now your father's dead, kind sir,
And your mother the same;
Yet nevertheless now, Sir Patrick,
Ye're nae bringing me hame.' |
| 27 |
'If the morn be a pleasant day,
I mean to sail the sea,
To spend my time in fair England,
All for a month or three.' |
| 28 |
He hadna been in fair England
A month but barely ane
Till he forgot her Burd Isbel,
The mother of his son. |
| 29 |
Some time he spent in fair England,
And when returnd again
He laid his love on a duke's daughter,
And he has brought her hame. |
| 30 |
Now he's forgot his first true love
He ance lovd ower them a';
But now the devil did begin
To work between them twa. |
| 31 |
When Sir Patrick he was wed,
And all set down to dine,
Upon his first love, Burd Isbel,
A thought ran in his mind. |
| 32 |
He calld upon his gude grand-aunt
To come right speedilie;
Says, Ye'll gae on to Burd Isbel,
Bring my young son to me. |
| 33 |
She's taen her mantle her about,
Wi gowd gloves on her hand,
And she is on to Burd Isbel,
As fast as she coud gang. |
| 34 |
She haild her high, she haild her low,
With stile in great degree:
'O busk, O busk your little young son,
For he maun gang wi me.' |
| 35 |
'I woud fain see the one,' she said,
'O low station or hie,
Woud take the bairn frae my foot,
For him I bowed my knee. |
| 36 |
'I woud fain see the one,' she said,
'O low station or mean,
Woud take the bairn frae my foot
Whom I own to be mine.' |
| 37 |
Then she has done her hame again,
As fast as gang coud she;
'Present,' said he, 'My little young son,
For him I wish to see.' |
| 38 |
'Burd Isbel's a bauld woman,' she said,
'As eer I yet spake wi;'
But sighing said him Sir Patrick,
She ne'er was bauld to me. |
| 39 |
But he's dressd in his best array,
His gowd rod in his hand,
And he is to Burd Isbel's bower,
As fast as he coud gang. |
| 40 |
'O how is this, Burd Isbel,' he said,
'So ill ye've used me?
What gart you anger my gude grand-aunt,
That I did send to thee?' |
| 41 |
'If I hae angerd your gude grand-aunt,
O then sae lat it be;
I said naething to your gude grand-aunt
But what I'll say to thee. |
| 42 |
'I woud fain see the one, I said,
O low station or hie,
Wha woud take this bairn frae my foot,
For him I bowed the knee. |
| 43 |
'I woud fain see the one, I said,
O low station or mean,
Woud take this bairn frae my foot
Whom I own to be mine.' |
| 44 |
'O if I had some counsellers here,
And clerks to seal the band,
I woud infeft your son this day
In third part o my land.' |
| 45 |
'I hae two couzins, Scottish clerks,
Wi bills into their hand,
An ye'll infeft my son this day
In third part o your land.' |
| 46 |
Then he calld in her Scottish clerks,
Wi bills into their hand,
And he's infeft his son that day
The third part o his land. |
| 47 |
To ane o these young clerks she spoke,
Clerk John it was his name;
Says, Of my son I gie you charge
Till I return again. |
| 48 |
'Ye'll take here my son, clerk John,
Learn him to dance and sing,
And I will to some unco land,
Drive love out of my mind. |
| 49 |
'And ye'll take here my son, clerk John,
Learn him to hunt the roe,
And I will to some unco land;
Now lat Sir Patrick go. |
| 50 |
'But I'll cause this knight at church-door stand,
For a' his noble train;
For selling o his precious soul
Dare never come farther ben.' |
