II, 213. There is a version of this ballad in the Roxburghe
collection, III, 488, a folio slip without imprint, dated in the
Museum Catalogue 1740. I was not aware of the existence of this
copy till it was printed by Mr. Ebsworth in the Roxburghe
Ballads, VI, 609. He puts the date of issue circa 1765. It is
here given from the original. Compare H.
| 1 |
I built my love a gallant ship,
And a ship of Northern fame,
And such a ship as I did build,
Sure there never was seen. |
| 2 |
For her sides were of the beaten gold,
And the doors were of block-tin,
And sure such a ship as I built
There sure never was seen. |
| 3 |
And as she was a sailing,
By herself all alone,
She spied a proud merchant-man,
Come plowing oer the main. |
| 4 |
'Thou fairest of all creatures
Under the heavens,' said she,
'I am the Lass of Ocram,
Seeking for Lord Gregory.' |
| 5 |
'If you are the Lass of Ocram,
As I take you for to he,
You must go to yonder island,
There Lord Gregory you'll see.' |
| 6 |
'It rains upon my yellow locks,
And the dew falls on my skin;
Open the gates, Lord Gregory,
And let your true-love in!' |
| 7 |
'If you 're the Lass of Ocram,
As I take you not to he,
You must mention the three tokens
Which passd between you and me.' |
| 8 |
'Don't you remember, Lord Gregory,
One night on my father's hill,
With you I swaf t my linen fine?
It was sore against my will. |
| 9 |
'For mine was of the Holland fine,
And yours but Scotch cloth;
For mine cost a guinea a yard,
And yours but five groats.' |
| 10 |
'If you are the Lass of Ocram,
As I think you not to be,
You must mention the second token
That passd between you and me.' |
| 11 |
'Don't you remember, Lord Gregory,
One night in my father's park,
We swaffed our two rings?
It was all in the dark. |
| 12 |
'For mine was of the beaten gold,
And yours was of block-tin;
And mine was true love without,
And yours all false within.' |
| 13 |
'If you are the Lass of Ocram,
As I take you not to be,
You must mention the third token
Which past between you and me.' |
| 14 |
'Don't you remember, Lord Gregory,
One night in my father's hall,
Where you stole my maidenhead?
Which was the worst of all.' |
| 15 |
'Begone, you base creature!
Begone from out of the hall!
Or else in the deep seas
You and your babe shall fall.' |
| 16 |
'Then who will shoe my bonny feet?
And who will close my hands?
And who will lace my waste so small,
Into a landen span? |
| 17 |
'And who will comb my yellow locks,
With a brown berry comb?
And who's to be father of my child
If Lord Gregory is none?' |
| 18 |
'Let your brother shoe your bonny feet,
Let your sister close your hands,
Let your mother lace your waist so small,
Into a landen span. |
| 19 |
'Let your father comb your yellow locks,
With a brown berry comb,
And let God be father of your child,
For Lord Gregory is none.' |
| 20 |
'I dreamt a dream, dear mother,
I could wish to have it read;
I saw the Lass of Ocram
A floating on the flood.' |
| 21 |
'
Lie still, my dearest son,
And take thy sweet rest;
It is not half an hour ago,
The maid passd this place.' |
| 22 |
'Ah! cursed be you, mother!
And cursed may you be,
That you did not awake me,
When the maid passd this way! |
| 23 |
'I will go down into some silent grove,
My sad moan for to make;
It is for the Lass of Ocram
My poor heart now will break.' |
Mr. W.H. Babcock has printed a little ballad as sung in
Virginia, in which are two stanzas that belong to "The Lass of
Roch Royal:' The Folk-Lore Journal, VII, 31.
| |
'Come along, come along, my pretty little miss,
Come along, come along,' said he,
'And seat yourself by me.' |
| |
'Neither will I come, and neither sit down,
For I have not a moment's time;
For I heard that you had a new sweetheart,
And your heart is no more mine.' |
| |
It never was, and it never shall be,
And it never was any such a thing;
For yonder she stands, in her own father's garden,
The garden of the vine,
Mourning for her own true love
Just like I 've mourned for mine.' |
| |
I laid my head in a little closet-door,
To hear what my true love had to say,
So that I might know a little of his mind
Before he went away. |
| |
I laid my head on the side of his bed,
My arms across his breast;
I made him believe, for the fall of the year,
The sun rose in the west. |
| |
'I'm going away, I 'm coming back again,
If it is ten thousand miles;
It's who will shoe your pretty little feet?
And who will glove your hand?
And who will kiss your red, rosy lips,
While I'm in a foreign land?' |
| |
'My father will shoe my pretty little feet,
My mother glove my hand,
My babe will kiss my red, rosy lips,
While you 're in a foreign land.' |
Mr. James Mooney, of the Bureau of Ethnology,
obtained two very similar stanzas in the 'Carolina
Mountains.'
