'The White Fisher,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 200.
| 1 |
'It is a month, and isna mair,
Love, sin I was at thee,
But find a stirring in your side;
Who may the father be? |
| 2 |
'Is it to a lord of might,
Or baron of high degree?
Or is it to the little wee page
That rode along wi me?' |
| 3 |
'It is not to a man of might,
Nor baron of high degree,
But it is to a popish priest;
My lord, I winna lie. |
| 4 |
'He got me in my bower alone,
As I sat pensively;
He vowed he would forgive my sins,
If I would him obey.' |
| 5 |
Now it fell ance upon a day
This young lord went from home,
And great and heavy were the pains
That came this lady on. |
| 6 |
Then word has gane to her gude lord,
As he sat at the wine,
And when the tidings he did hear
Then he came singing hame. |
| 7 |
When he came to his own bower-door,
He tirled at the pin:
'Sleep ye, wake ye, my gay lady,
Ye'll let your gude lord in.' |
| 8 |
Huly, huly raise she up,
And slowly put she on,
And slowly came she to the door;
She was a weary woman. |
| 9 |
'Ye'll take up my son, Willie,
That ye see here wi me,
And hae him down to yon shore-side,
And throw him in the sea. |
| 10 |
'Gin he sink, ye'll let him sink,
Gin he swim, ye'll let him swim;
And never let him return again
Till white fish he bring hame.' |
| 11 |
Then he's taen up his little young son,
And rowd him in a band,
And he is on to his mother,
As fast as he could gang. |
| 12 |
'Ye'll open the door, my mother dear,
Ye'll open, let me come in;
My young son is in my arms twa,
And shivering at the chin.' |
| 13 |
'I tauld you true, my son Willie,
When ye was gaun to ride,
That lady was an ill woman
That ye chose for your bride.' |
| 14 |
'O hold your tongue, my mother dear,
Let a' your folly be;
I wat she is a king's daughter
That's sent this son to thee. |
| 15 |
'I wat she was a king's daughter
I loved beyond the sea,
And if my lady hear of this
Right angry will she be.' |
| 16 |
'If that be true, my son Willie —
Your ain tongue winna lie —
Nae waur to your son will be done
Than what was done to thee.' |
| 17 |
He's gane hame to his lady,
And sair mourning was she:
'What ails you now, my lady gay,
Ye weep sa bitterlie?' |
| 18 |
'O bonny was the white fisher
That I sent to the sea;
But lang, lang will I look for fish
Ere white fish he bring me! |
| 19 |
'O bonny was the white fisher
That ye kiest in the faem;
But lang, lang will I look for fish
Ere white fish he fetch hame! |
| 20 |
'I fell a slumbering on my bed
That time ye went frae me,
And dreamd my young son filld my arms,
But when waked, he's in the sea.' |
| 21 |
'O hold your tongue, my gay lady,
Let a' your mourning be,
And I'll gie you some fine cordial,
My love, to comfort thee.' |
| 22 |
'I value not your fine cordial,
Nor aught that ye can gie;
Who could hae drownd my bonny young son
Could as well poisin me.' |
| 23 |
'Cheer up your heart, my lily flower,
Think nae sic ill o me;
Your young son's in my mother's bower,
Set on the nourice knee. |
| 24 |
'Now, if ye'll be a gude woman,
I'll neer mind this to thee;
Nae waur is done to your young son
Than what was done to me.' |
| 25 |
'Well fell's me now, my ain gude lord;
These words do cherish me;
If it hadna come o yoursell, my lord,
'Twould neer hae come o me.' |
