At Otterburn begane this spurne uppone a Ther was the doughtë Doglas slean, the Perse never went away. Ther was never a tym on the Marche-partes But yt ys mervele and the rede blude ronne not as the reane doys in the stret. Jhesue Crist our balys bete, and to the blys us brynge! Thus was the hountynge of the Chivyat: SIR PATRICK SPENS (From Percy's Reliques, pub. 1765. Date uncertain, but a popular ballad in 1580) The King sits in Dumferling toune, 'O whar will I get guid sailor, Up and spak an eldern knicht, The king has written a braid letter, And sent it to Sir Patrick Spence, The first line that Sir Patrick red, The next line that Sir Patrick red 'O wha is this has don this deid, To send me out this time o' the yeir, 'Mak hast, mak haste, my mirry men all, Our guid schip sails the morne:' 'O say na sae, my master deir, For I feir a deadlie storme. 'Late late yestreen I saw the new moone, O our Scots nobles wer richt laith O lang, lang may their ladies sit, O lang, lang may the ladies stand, Haf owre, haf owre to Aberdour, It's fiftie fadom deip, And thair lies guid Sir Patrick Spence, Wi the Scots lords at his feit. WALY, WALY, LOVE BE BONNIE (From Allingham's Ballad Book, 1864) O Waly, waly, up the bank, O waly, waly, doun the brae, And waly, waly, yon burn-side, Where I and my love wer wont to gae! I lean'd my back unto an aik, I thocht it was a trustie tree, O waly, waly, but love be bonnie And fadeth awa' like the morning dew. And says he 'll never lo'e me mair. Noo Arthur's Seat sall be my bed, The sheets sall ne'er be press'd by me; Saint Anton's well sall be my drink; Since my true love's forsaken me. Martinmas wind, when wilt thou blaw, And shake the green leaves off the tree? O gentle death, whan wilt thou come? For of my life I am wearie. 'Tis not the frost that freezes fell, Nor blawing snaw's inclemencie, 'Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry; But my love's heart grown cauld to me. When we cam' in by Glasgow toun, We were a comely sicht to see; My love was clad in the black velvet, An' I mysel' in cramasie. But had I wist before I kiss'd e! And the green grass growing over me THE TWA SISTERS O' BINNORIE (From the same) There were twa sisters sat in a bow'r; A knight cam' there, a noble wooer, He courted the eldest wi' glove and ring, (Binnorie, O Binnorie!) But he lo'ed the youngest aboon a' thing, By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie. The eldest she was vexed sair, (Binnorie, O Binnorie!) And sair envied her sister fair, By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie." Upon a morning fair and clear, (Binnorie, O Binnorie!) She cried upon her sister dear, By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie. 'O sister, sister, tak' my hand,' (Binnorie, O Binnorie!) 'And let's go down to the river-strand,' By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie. She's ta'en her by the lily hand, And down they went to the river-strand The youngest stood upon a stane, The eldest cam' and pushed her in, 'O sister, sister, reach your hand!' (Binnorie, O Binnorie!) 'And ye sall be heir o' half my land'— By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie. 'O sister, reach me but your glove!' (Binnorie, O Binnorie!) 'And sweet William sall be your love'— By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie. Sometimes she sank, sometimes she swam, (Binnorie, O Binnorie!) Till she cam' to the mouth o' yon mill-dam, By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie. |