1
I lookëd ower the castle-wa,
Hey rose, ma lindie, O
Saw twa bonnie babies playin at the ba.
Doon in the green wood-sidie, O
2
‘O bonnie babies, an ye were mine,
I wad feid ye wi flour-breid an wine.’
3
‘O cruel mother, when we were thine,
You did not prove to us sae kin.’
4
‘O bonnie babies, an ye were mine,
I wad cleid ye wi scarlet sae fine.’
5
‘O cruel mother, when we were thine,
You did not prove to us sae fine.
6
‘For wi a penknife ye took our life
And threw us ower the castle-wa.’
7
‘O bonnie babies, what wad ye hae dune to me
For my bein sae cruel to thee?’
8
‘Seven yeare a fish in the flood,
Seven yeare a bird in the wood.
9
‘Seven yeare a tinglin bell,
Seventeen yeare in the deepest hell.’
Under the green wood-sidie, O
219 b, 504 a, II, 500 a, III, 502 b, IV, 451 a. Add
S, Deutsche Volksballaden aus Südungarn, Grünn und
Baróti, in Ethnologische Mitteilungen aus Ungarn, II,
201, No 4, 1892.
21. The Maid and the Palmer.
P. 228. M. G. Doncieux has attempted to arrange
“Le cycle de Sainte Marie-Madelaine,” in Revue des
Traditions Populaires, VI, 257.
22. St Stephen and Herod.
P. 233 ff. ‘Stjærnevisen,’ Kristensen, XI, 207, No
76 A, B, has nothing about Stephen, but is confined to
the scripture-history, piety, and New Year’s wishes.
P. 236 a, IV, 451 b. French. An imperfect French
ballad in Mélusine, VI, 24, from a wood-cut “at least
three centuries old.”
Add a Piedmontese popular tale communicated by
Count Nigra to the editor of Mélusine, VI, 25 f.
M. Gaidoz, at the same place, 26 f., cites two versions
of the resuscitation of the cock, from example-books.
The first, from Erythræus (i.e. Rossi), ch. CLV,
p. 187, is essentially the same as the legend of St Gunther
given from Acta Sanctorum (p. 239 a). The other, from
the Giardino d’ Essempi of Razzi, is the story told by
Vincentius (p. 237, note †).
25. Willie’s Lyke-Wake.
P. 250, II, 502 a, III, 503 a. Italian. Add: Canti
pop. Emiliani, Maria Carmi, Archivio, XII, 187, No 9.
A fragment in Dalmedico, Canti del popolo veneziano,
p. 109, seems, as Maria Carmi suggests, to belong to this
ballad.
26. The Three Ravens.
P. 253. It has already been noted that traditional
copies of ‘The Three Ravens’ have been far from infrequent.
When a ballad has been nearly three hundred
years in print, and in a very impressive form, the
chance that traditional copies, differing principally by
what they lack, should be coeval and independent
amounts at most to a bare possibility. Traditional
copies have, however, sometimes been given in this collection
on the ground of a very slight chance; and not
unreasonably, I think, considering the scope of the
undertaking.
The copy which follows was communicated by E. L.
K. to Notes and Queries, Eighth Series, II, 437, 1892,
and has been sent me lately in MS. by Mr R. Brimley
Johnson, of Cambridge, England, with this note:
“From E. Peacock, Esq., F. S. A., of Dunstan
House, Kirton-in-Lindsay, Lincolnshire, whose father,
born in 1793, heard it as a boy at harvest-suppers and
sheep-shearings, and took down a copy from the recitation
of Harry Richard, a laborer, who could not read,
and had learnt it ‘from his fore-elders.’ He lived at
Northorpe, where a grass-field joining a little stream,
called Ea, Ee, and Hay, is pointed out as the scene of
the tragedy.”
1
There was three ravens in a tree,
As black as any jet could be.
A down a derry down
2
Says the middlemost raven to his mate,
Where shall we go to get ought to eat?
3
‘It’s down in yonder grass-green field
There lies a squire dead and killd.
4
‘His horse all standing by his side,
Thinking he’ll get up and ride.
5
‘His hounds all standing at his feet,
Licking his wounds that run so deep.’
6
Then comes a lady, full of woe,
As big wi bairn as she can go.
7
She lifted up his bloody head,
And kissd his lips that were so red.
8
She laid her down all by his side,
And for the love of him she died.
27. The Whummil Bore.
P. 255. Serving the king long without sight of his
daughter. Prof. Wollner notes that this trait is rather
frequently found in Slavic. For example, in Karadžič,
II, 617, No 96, Yakšič Mitar serves the vojvode Yanko
nine years and never sees his sister.
29. The Boy and the Mantle.
P. 268 ff., II, 502 a, III, 503, IV, 454 a. Tests of
chastity. On the Herodotean story, I, 271, see E.
Lefébure, Mélusine, IV, 37-39.—St Wilfred’s Needle,
in Ripon Minster. ‘In ipso templo, avorum memoria
Wilfridi acus celeberrima fuit. Id erat augustum in
cryptoporticu foramen quo mulierum pudicitia explorabatur;
quæ enim castæ erant facile transibant, quæ
dubia fama nescio quo miraculo constrictæ detinebantur.’
Camden, Britannia, ed. 1607, p. 570; see Folk-Lore
Journal, II, 286. (G. L. K.)
31. The Marriage of Sir Gawain.
P. 293. Mr Clouston, Originals and Analogues of
some of Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, p. 520 cites a pretty
story from a modern Turkish author, in which, as so
often happens, parts are reversed. A young king of
the fairies of a certain realm is cursed by his mother
to appear old and ugly until a fair mortal girl shall love
him enough to miss his company. This comes to pass
after forty years, and the ugly old man becomes a
beautiful youth of seventeen. (Phantasms from the
Presence of God, written in 1796-97 by ‘Ali ‘Aziz
Efendi, the Cretan.)
33. Kempy Kay.
P. 301. A was communicated to C. K. Sharpe by
Robert Pitcairn with the stanzas in the order printed
by Sharpe. The arrangement in A would seem, therefore,
to have been an afterthought of Pitcairn’s. There
is some slight difference of reading, also, in Pitcairn’s
MS., and one defect is supplied. The variations in the
copy sent Sharpe are (besides the order, as aforesaid)
as follows:
21. I’m coming.
24. o weir.
34. three heire wanting.
44. Shone.
52. bruchty.
53. the night.
63. And in.
74. Between.
94. a lintseed bow (with the variant a bruchtit ewe).
101. lauchty.
104. A’ wanting.
123. teeth into.
132. sheets (no doubt erroneously). A stanza between
8 and 9 is noted as deficient, and something
after 13.
303. C. In a copy of C sent Sharpe by Motherwell
in a letter of December 6, 1824, the fourth stanza is
lacking, the fifth is third.
32. span: years.
52. stool.
‘Knip Knap,’ taken down in the summer of 1893 by
Mr Walker, of Aberdeen, at Portlethen, from the singing
of an old man, as learned more than fifty years
before from an old blacksmith at Dyce, near Aberdeen.
1
Knip Knap a hunting went,
Out-ower the head o yon hill, aye, aye
Wi a lust o pig-staves out-oer his shouther,
An mony a dulchach forby, aye, aye.
2
There he met an old woman,
Was herdin at her kye;
‘I’m come yer ae dochter to woo,’
She’s a very good servant,’ said I.
3
The wife gaed hame to her ain hole-house,
Lookit in at her ain spunk-hole,
An there she saw her ain foul flag,
Loupin across the coal.
4
‘Win up, win up, my ae foul flag,
An mak yer foul face clean,
For yer wooer is comin here the nicht,
But yer foul face canna be seen. na, na’
5
She’s taen the sheave-wisps out o her sheen,
An in behint the door,
An she has faen to the stale strang,
Seven year auld an more.
6
An aye she scrubbit, an aye she weesh,
Out-ower the pint o her chin,
Till a knip-knap cam to the door,
She kent it was her wooer.
7
He’s taen her in his airms twa,
Kissd her cheek an chin:
‘An I hae gotten kisses twa,
Whaur I never thocht to get ane.’
8
The verra hair was in her head
Was like the heather-cowe,
An ilka louse at the reet o that
Was like a brockit ewe.
9
The verra ee was in her head
Was like a muckle pan,
The hunkers and clunkers that hang frae her sheen
Wad hae covered an acre o lan.
10
The verra teeth was in her head
Was like a tether’s check,
An the sneeters and snotters that hang frae her nose
Wad a gart a frozen mill gang.
11
The verra tongue was in her head
Wad been a guid mill-clap,
. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .
12
. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .
An ye may know very weel by that
She was a comely woman.
34. Kemp Owyne.
P. 309. From a manuscript collection of Charles
Kirkpatrick Sharpe’s, p. 2; “Second Collection,” see
Sharpe’s Ballad Book, ed. 1880, p. 144. This copy
closely resembles A.
1
Her mother died when she was young,
And was laid in the silent tomb;
The father weded the weel worst woman
This day that lives in Christiendom.
2
She served her with hands and feet,
In every way that well could be,
Yet she did once upon a day
Throw her in over a craig of sea.
3
Says, Ly you there, you dove Isabeal,
And let you never borrowed be
Till Kempenwine come ower the sea
And borrow you with kisses three;
Whatever any may do or say,
O borrowed may you never be!
4
Her breath grew strong, and her hair grew long,
And twisted thrice about a tree,
And so hideous-like she did apear
That all who saw her from her did flee.
5
Now Kempenwine gat word of this
Where he was living beyond the sea;
He hied him straight unto that shoar,
The monstrous creature for to se.
6
Her breath was strong, and her hair was long,
And twisted was around the tree,
And with a swing she cried aloud,
Come to craig of sea and kiss with me.
7
‘Here is a royal ring,’ she cried,
‘That I have found in the green sea,
And while your finger it is on
Drawn shall your blood never be;
But if you touch me, tail or fin,
I vow this brand your death shall be.’
8
He steppëd in, gave her a kiss,
The royal ring he brought him wi;
Her breath was strong, and [her] hair was long,
Yet twisted twice about the tree,
And with a swing she came about,
‘Come to craig of sea and kiss with me.
9
‘Here is a royal belt,’ she cried,
‘That I have found in the green sea,
And while your body it is on
Drawn shall your blood never be;
But if you touch me, tail or fin,
I vow this brand your death shall be.’
10
He steppëd in, gave her a kiss,
The royal belt he brought him wee;
Her breath yet strong, her hair yet long,
Yet twisted once about the tree,
And with a swing she came about,
‘Come to craig of sea and kiss with me.
11
‘Here is a royal brand,’ she cried,
‘That I have found in the green sea,
And while your body it is on
Drawn shall your blood never be;
But if you touch me, tail or fin,
I vow my brand your death shall be.’
12
He steppëd in, gave her a kiss,
The royal brand he brought him wee;
Her breath now soft, her hair now short,
And disengagëd from the tree,
She fell into his arms two,
As fair a woman as ever could be.
Written in long lines, and not divided into stanzas.
82. him with.
64, 86, 106. Craig of sea.
35. Allison Gross.
P. 314. Gifts offered by a hill-maid. ‘Bjærgjomfruens
Frieri,’ Kristensen, Skattegraveren, II, 100, No
460; XII, 22 ff., Nos 16, 17; Folkeminder, XI, 20 ff.,
No 18, A-E.
36. The Laily Worm and the Mackrel of
the Sea.
P. 315. Though Skene has rendered this ballad
with reasonable fidelity, for an editor, it shall, on account
of its interest, be given as it stands in the old
lady’s MS., where it is No 2. It proves not absolutely
true, as I have said, that the Skene ballad has “never
been retouched by a pen.”
1
‘I was bat seven year alld
Fan my mider she did dee,
My father marrëd the ae warst woman
The wardle did ever see.
2
‘For she has made me the lailly worm
That lays att the fitt of the tree,
An o my sister Meassry
The machrel of the sea.
3
‘An every Saterday att noon
The machrl comes ea to me,
An she takes my laylë head,
An lays it on her knee,
An keames it we a silver kemm,
An washes it in the sea.
4
‘Seven knights ha I slain
Sane I lay att the fitt of the tree;
An ye war na my ain father,
The eight an ye sud be.’
5
‘Sing on your song, ye l[a]ily worm,
That ye sung to me;’
‘I never sung that song
But fatt I wad sing to ye.
6
‘I was but seven year aull
Fan my mider she [did] dee,
My father marrëd the a warst woman
The wardle did ever see.
7
‘She changed me to the layel[y] worm
That layes att the fitt of the tree,
An my sister Messry
[To] the makrell of the sea.
8
‘And every Saterday att noon
The machrell comes to me,
An she takes my layly head,
An layes it on her knee,
An kames it weth a siller kame,
An washes it in the sea.
9
‘Seven knights ha I slain
San I lay att the fitt of the tree;
An ye war na my ain father,
The eight ye sud be.’
10
He sent for his lady
As fast as sen cod he:
‘Far is my son,
That ye sent fra me,
And my daughter,
Lady Messry?’
11
‘Yer son is att our king’s court,
Sarving for meatt an fee,
And yer doughter is att our quin’s court,
A mary suit an free.’
12
‘Ye lee, ye ill woman,
Sa loud as I hear ye lea,
For my son is the layelly worm
That lays at the fitt of the tree,
An my daughter Messry
The machrell of the sea.’
13
She has tain a silver wan
An gine him stroks three,
An he started up the bravest knight
Your eyes did ever see.
14
She has tane a small horn
An loud an shill blue she,
An a’ the came her tell but the proud machrell,
An she stood by the sea:
‘Ye shaped me ance an unshemly shape,
An ye’s never mare shape me.’
15
He has sent to the wood
For hathorn an fun,
An he has tane that gay lady,
An ther he did her burne.
Written without division into stanzas or verses.
32. comes ea (aye); but, on repetition in 82, comes
simply, with better metre.
151. hes has.
153. that that.
316. ‘Nattergalen,’ in Kristensen, Folkeminder,
XI, 25, No 20, A-C.
In a Kaffir tale a girl marries a crocodile. The crocodile
bids her lick his face. Upon her doing so, the
crocodile casts his skin and turns into a strong and
handsome man. He had been transformed by the enemies
of his father’s house. (Theal, Kaffir Folk-Lore,
1882, p. 37, cited by Mr Clouston.)
39. Tam Lin.
P. 339. Teind to hell. See Isabel Gowdie’s case,
in the Scottish Journal, I, 256, and compare Pitcairn’s
Criminal Trials.
345. D a. This copy occurs in “the second collection”
of Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, p. 3, with a few
variations, as follows. (See Sharpe’s Ballad Book, ed.
1880, p. 145.)
13. Charters wood, and always.
31. the seam.
33. is gone.
52. ye.
64. ask no.
104. we have.
111. to me.
122. aft.
123. the Lord of Forbes.
124. all his.
15 occurs after 24.
151. Tho Elfin.
154. the tenth one goes.
155. I am an, or, I a man.
165. if that.
166. miles Cross.
171. go unto the Miles cross.
204. next the.
231, 241. int.
251. She did her down.
272. so green.
273. Where.
274. ride next.
284. he is.
294. He.
322. and cry.
341. I thought.
40. The Queen of Elfan’s Nourice.
P. 358, II, 505 b, III, 505 b, IV, 459 a. Mortal midwife
for fairies. ‘La Sage-femme et la Fée,’ R. Basset,
Contes pop. berbères, 1887, No 26, p. 55 (and see notes,
pp. 162, 163). (G. L. K.)
41. Hind Etin.
P. 361 b, III, 506 a, IV, 459 a. Danish. ‘Jomfruen
i Bjærget,’ fragment, in Kristensen, Folkeminder,
XI, 6, No 12.
364 a, III, 506 a, IV, 459 a. Danish. ‘Agnete og
Havmanden,’ Kristensen, Skattegraveren, III, p. 17,
No 34, XII, 65 ff., Nos 136, 137; Efterslæt, p. 2, No 2,
p. 174, No 126; Folkeminder, XI, 7, No 13, A-D.
42. Clerk Colvill.
P. 371, No 42, p. 389. C in Findlay MSS, I, 141:
‘Clerk Colin,’ from Miss Butchart, Arbroath, 1868.
Miss Butchart, who died about 1890, aged above ninety
years, was the daughter of the Mrs Butchart from
whom Kinloch got certain ballads, and niece to the
Mrs Arrot who was one of Jamieson’s contributors. In
the MS. there are these readings:
23. To gang.
43. maun gae.
52. could gang.
61. To Clyde’s.
374 b, IV, 459 a. Danish. ‘Elveskud,’ Kristensen,
Skattegraveren, XII, 54, No 125; ‘Elvedansen,’ Folkeminder,
XI, 15, No 17, A-C.
380, II, 506 a, III, 506 a, IV, 459 a. TT, ‘La chanson
de Renaud,’ Pineau, Le Folk-Lore du Poitou,
p. 399; UU, ‘La Mort de Jean Raynaud, Wallonia,
I, 22.
VV, WW. Versions de la Bresse, one, and a fragment,
J. Tiersot, Revue des Traditions Populaires,
VII, 654 ff.
382, II, 506 a, III, 506 a. Italian. N. ‘El conte
Anzolin,’ Villanis, Canzoni pop. Zaratine, Archivio, XI,
32. A burlesque form in Canti pop. Emiliani, Maria
Carmi, Archivio, XII, 186, and a Venetian rispetto of
the same character (noted by Maria Carmi) in Bernoni,
Canti pop. Veneziani, 1873, Puntata 7, p. 12, No 62.
44. The Twa Magicians.
P. 400 a, III, 506 b, IV, 459 b. French. Y. ‘Les
Transformations,’ Wallonia, I, 50.
401 b, 3d paragraph. Say: Cosquin, Contes lorrains,
I, 103, No 9, and notes.
402 a, last paragraph, Gwion. See the mabinogi of
Taliesin in Lady Charlotte Guest’s Mabinogion, Part
VII, p. 358 f.
45. King John and the Bishop.
P. 405 b, II, 506, IV, 459 b. Another Magyar version
in Zs. f. vergleichende Literaturgeschichte, N. F.
V, 467.
46. Captain Wedderburn’s Courtship.
P. 414. Rev. J. Baring-Gould informs me that there is
an Irish version of this piece in Ulster Ballads, British
Museum, 1162. k. 6, entitled ‘The Lover’s Riddle.’ The
lady, who in B, C is walking through the wood ‘her lane,’
is in the Ulster copy walking ‘down a narrow lane,’
and she meets ‘with William Dicken, a keeper of the
game.’ The only important difference as to the riddles
and the answers is that the young lady remembers her
Bible to good purpose, and gives Melchisedec as an example
of a priest unborn (Hebrews vii, 3).
415, note †. Miss M. H. Mason gives two copies in
her Nursery Rhymes and Country Songs, pp. 23, 24,
‘A Paradox.’
417, note †, II, 507 b, III, 507 a, IV, 459 b. “They
were told that in front of the king’s house there
were twenty-score poles, with a head on each pole with
the exception of three.” ‘The Lad with the Skin Coverings,’
J. G. Campbell, The Fians, p. 261. (There
are three adventurers in this case.) (G. L. K.)
421. B. h. ‘Captian Wederburn,’ “The Old Lady’s
Collection,” No 38.
B.
a.
1
The lard of Roslie’s doughter was walking on the green,
An by came Captain Wederburn, a servant to our king,
An he said to his livery-man, Wer it no agenst our laa,
I wad take her to my ain bed an lay her neast the waa.
a.
2
‘I am in my father’s garden, walken among my father’s trees,
An ye dou latt me walk a whill nou, kind sir, if ye pleas;
For the supper-beals they will be rung an I will be mised awa,
a.
43.
An my father will ate nae supper gine I be mised awa.’
a.
6.
He lighted off his hors an sett the lady one,
. . . . . . . . .
A.
a.
61,3.
He sett her ahind his livery-man, was leath to latt her faa:
A.
a.
54.
‘We’s baith lay in ae bed, an ye’s lay neast the wa.’
B.
a.
7
Fan they came to his quarter-house, his landl[ad]y came ben:
‘Ther is mony bonny lady in Edenbrugh toun,
Bat sick a bonny lady is no in it aa;’
Says, ‘Lass, mak up a doun-bed, we will lay her nist the waa.’
a.
8
‘Hold yer toung, young man,’ she says, ‘an latt yer folly be;
I winnë come to my bed till ye gett to me things three.
. . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . .
a.
9
‘Ye gett to my supper a cherrey without a ston,
An ye gett to my suppeer a chiken without a bone,
An ye gett to my super a burd that flayes without a gaa,
Or I winnë lay in your bed, nether att stok nor waa.’
a.
10
‘The cherry when it is in the bloum, it is without a ston;
The chiken when it is in the egg is without a bon;
The dove she is a harmless burd, she flays without a gaa;
An we’s baith lay in ae bed, an ye’s lay nist the waa.’
a.
15
‘Hold off yer hands, young man,’ she says, ‘an dou not me perplex;
I winnë gae to my bed till ye tell me qustens six;
. . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . .
a.
16
‘What is greaner nor the grass? what is hig[h]er the[n] the tree?
What is war nor woman’s wish? what is deaper nor the sea?
What burd sings first? what life buds first, an what dos on it faa?
I winnë lay in your bed, nether att stok nor waa.’
a.
17
‘Death is greaner nor the grass; heaven is higher nor the tree;
The devill is war nor woman’s wish; hell is deaper nor the sea;
The coke crous first; the suderen wood springs first, the due dos on it faa;
An we’s baith lay in ae bed, an ye’s lay neast the waa.’
a.
11
‘Hold off yer hands, young man,’ she says, ‘an yer folly gie our,
I winne come to your bed till ye gett to me things four;
. . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . .
a.
12
‘Ye gett to me a cherry that in December grou;
Leguays a fine silk mantell that waft gad never throu;
A sparrou’s horn, a prist unborn, this night to join us tua;
Or I winnë lay in your bed, nether att stok nor waa.’
a.
13
‘Ther is a hote-bed in my father’s garden wher winter chirrys grou,
Lequays a fine silk mantell in his closet which waft never gaid throu;
. . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . .
a.
14
‘Ther is a prist nou att the dore, just ready to come in,
An never one could say he was born,
For ther was a holl cut out of his mother’s side, an out of it he did faa;
An we’s baith lay in ae bed, an ye’s lay nist the waa.’
a.
18
Littel kent the lassie in the morning fan she raise
That wad be the last of a’ her maiden days;
For nou she is marrëd to Captian Wederburn, that afore she never saa,
An they baith lay in ae bed, an she lays nest the waa.
74. Lays, Lass.
101. bloun.
121. grous.
49. The Twa Brothers.
P. 436 a, 3d paragraph. It ought to have been remarked
that it was a William Somerville that killed
John. The names being the same as in the ballad,
“unusually gratuitous” is not warranted.
438. A was derived by Sharpe from Elizabeth
Kerry. The original copy was not all written at one
time, but may have been written by one person. The
first and the last stanza, and some corrections, are in
the same hand as a letter which accompanied the
ballad. The paper has a watermark of 1817. A few
trifling differences in the MS. may be noted:
11. twa.
12. school (Note. “I have heard it called the
Chase”): the githar.
14. a far.
21. wrestled.
44. And.
51. brother.
63. both.
72, 82, 92. Should for Gin.
81. what shall.
101. But wanting.
103. in fair Kirkland. (Letter. “I remembered a
fair Kirk something, and Kirkland it must have
been.”)
104. again wanting.
H
‘Perthshire Tredgey.’ From a copy formerly in the possession
of Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe. This fragment has
some resemblances to F. “Copied 1823” is endorsed on
the sheet (in the hand which made an insertion in st. 11)
and crossed out.
1
Two pretty boys lived in the North,
The went to the school so rare;
The one unto the other said,
We’ll try some battle of war.
2
The worselaid up, the worselaid down,
Till John lay on the ground;
A pen-knife out of William’s pocket
Gave John a deadly wound.
3
‘O is it for my gold?’ he said,
‘Or for my rich monie?
Or is it for my land sa broad,
That you have killed me?’
4
‘It’s neither for your gold,’ he said,
‘Or for your rich monie,
But it is for your land sa broad
That I have killed thee.’
5
‘You’ll take [me] up upon your back,
Carry me to Wastlen kirk-yard;
You’ill houk a hole large and deep,
And lay my body there.
6
‘You’ll put a good stone ou my head,
Another at my feet,
A good green turf upon my breast,
That the sounder I m[a]y sleep.
7
‘And if my father chance to ask
What’s come of your brother John,
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
8
‘What blood is this upon your coat?
I pray come tell to me;’
‘It is the blood of my grey hound,
It would not run for me.’
9
‘The blood of your greyhound was near so red,
I pray come tell to me;’
‘It is the blood of my black horse,
It would not hunt for me.’
10
‘The blood of your black horse was near so red,
I pray come tell to me;’
‘It is the blood of my brother John,
Since better canna be.’
11
He put his foot upon a ship,
Saying, I am gane our the sea;
‘O when will you come back again,
I pray come tell to me.’
12
‘When the sun and the moon passes over the broom,
That[’s] the day you’ll never see.’