FOOTNOTES:
[180] The friar might also be borrowed from 'The Felon Sow and the Friars of Richmond,' but this piece does not appear to have been extensively known.
[19]
KING ORFEO
The Leisure Hour, February 14, 1880, No 1468: Folk-Lore from Unst, Shetland, by Mrs Saxby, p. 109.
Mr Edmondston, from whose memory this ballad was derived, notes that though stanzas are probably lost after the first which would give some account of the king in the east wooing the lady in the west, no such verses were sung to him. He had forgotten some stanzas after the fourth, of which the substance was that the lady was carried off by fairies; that the king went in quest of her, and one day saw a company passing along a hill-side, among whom he recognized his lost wife. The troop went to what seemed a great "ha-house," or castle, on the hillside. Stanzas after the eighth were also forgotten, the purport being that a messenger from behind the grey stane appeared and invited the king in.
We have here in traditional song the story of the justly admired mediæval romance of Orpheus, in which fairy-land supplants Tartarus, faithful love is rewarded, and Eurydice (Heurodis, Erodys, Eroudys) is retrieved. This tale has come down to us in three versions: [A], in the Auchinleck MS., dating from the beginning of the fourteenth century, Advocates Library, Edinburgh, printed in Laing's Select Remains of the Ancient Popular Poetry of Scotland, 'Orfeo and Heurodis,' No 3; B, Ashmole MS., 61, Bodleian Library, of the first half of the fifteenth century, printed in Halliwell's Illustrations of Fairy Mythology, 'Kyng Orfew,' p. 37; C, Harleian MS., 3810, British Museum, printed by Ritson, Metrical Romancëes, II, 248, 'Sir Orpheo.' At the end of the Auchinleck copy we are told that harpers in Britain heard this marvel, and made a lay thereof, which they called, after the king, 'Lay Orfeo.' The other two copies also, but in verses which are a repetition of the introduction to 'Lay le Freine,' call this a Breton lay.
The story is this ([A]). Orfeo was a king [and so good a harper never none was, B]. One day in May his queen went out to a garden with two maidens, and fell asleep under an "ympe" tree. When she waked she shrieked, tore her clothes, and acted very wildly. Her maidens ran to the palace and called for help, for the queen would go mad. Knights and ladies went to the queen, took her away, and put her to bed; but still the excitement continued. The king, in great affliction, besought her to tell him what was the matter, and what he could do. Alas! she said, I have loved thee as my life, and thou me, but now we must part. As she slept knights had come to her and had bidden her come speak with their king. Upon her refusal, the king himself came, with a company of knights and damsels, all on snow-white steeds, and made her ride on a palfrey by his side, and, after he had shown her his palace, brought her back and said: Look thou be under this ympe tree tomorrow, to go with us; and if thou makest us any let, we will take thee by force, wherever thou be. The next day Orfeo took the queen to the tree under guard of a thousand knights, all resolved to die before they would give her up: but she was spirited away right from the midst of them, no one knew whither.
The king all but died of grief, but it was no boot. He gave his kingdom in charge to his high steward, told his barons to choose a new king when they should learn that he was dead, put on a sclavin and nothing else, took his harp, and went barefoot out at the gate. Ten years he lived in the woods and on the heath; his body wasted away, his beard grew to his girdle. His only solace was in his harp, and, when the weather was bright, he would play, and all the beasts and birds would flock to him. Often at hot noon-day he would see the king of fairy hunting with his rout, or an armed host would go by him with banners displayed, or knights and ladies would come dancing; but whither they went he could not tell. One day he descried sixty ladies who were hawking. He went towards them and saw that one of them was Heurodis. He looked at her wistfully, and she at him; neither spoke a word, but tears fell from her eyes, and the ladies hurried her away. He followed, and spared neither stub nor stem. They went in at a rock, and he after. They alighted at a superb castle; he knocked at the gate, told the porter he was a minstrel, and was let in. There he saw Heurodis, sleeping under an ympe tree.
Orfeo went into the hall, and saw a king and queen, sitting in a tabernacle. He kneeled down before the king. What man art thou? said the king. I never sent for thee, and never found I man so bold as to come here unbidden. Lord, quoth Orfeo, I am but a poor minstrel, and it is a way of ours to seek many a lord's house, though we be not welcome. Without more words he took his harp and began to play. All the palace came to listen, and lay down at his feet. The king sat still and was glad to hear, and, when the harping was done, said, Minstrel, ask of me whatever it be; I will pay thee largely. "Sir," said Orfeo, "I beseech thee give me the lady that sleepeth under the ympe tree." "Nay," quoth the king, "ye were a sorry couple; for thou art lean and rough and black, and she is lovely and has no lack. A lothly thing were it to see her in thy company." "Gentle king," replied the harper, it were a fouler thing to hear a lie from thy mouth." "Take her, then, and be blithe of her," said the king.
Orfeo now turned homewards, but first presented himself to the steward alone, and in beggar's clothes, as a harper from heathendom, to see if he were a true man. The loyal steward was ready to welcome every good harper for love of his lord. King Orfeo made himself known; the steward threw over the table, and fell down at his feet, and so did all the lords. They brought the queen to the town. Orfeo and Heurodis were crowned anew, and lived long afterward.
The Scandinavian burden was, perhaps, no more intelligible to the singer than "Hey non nonny" is to us. The first line seems to be Unst for Danish
Skoven årle grön (Early green's the wood).
The sense of the other line is not so obvious. Professor Grundtvig has suggested to me,
Hvor hjorten han går årlig (Where the hart goes yearly).
A.
The Leisure Hour, February 14, 1880, No 1468, p. 109. Obtained from the singing of Andrew Coutts, an old man in Unst, Shetland, by Mr Biot Edmondston.
1
Der lived a king inta da aste,
Scowan ürla grün
Der lived a lady in da wast.
Whar giorten han grün oarlac
2
Dis king he has a huntin gaen,
He's left his Lady Isabel alane.
3
'Oh I wis ye'd never gaen away,
For at your hame is döl an wae.
4
'For da king o Ferrie we his daert,
Has pierced your lady to da hert.'
* * * * *
5
And aifter dem da king has gaen,
But whan he cam it was a grey stane.
6
Dan he took oot his pipes ta play,
Bit sair his hert wi döl an wae.
7
And first he played da notes o noy,
An dan he played da notes o joy.
8
An dan he played da göd gabber reel,
Dat meicht ha made a sick hert hale.
* * * * *
9
'Noo come ye in inta wir ha,
An come ye in among wis a'.'
10
Now he's gaen in inta der ha,
An he's gaen in among dem a'.
11
Dan he took out his pipes to play,
Bit sair his hert wi döl an wae.
12
An first he played da notes o noy,
An dan he played da notes o joy.
13
An dan he played da göd gabber reel,
Dat meicht ha made a sick hert hale.
14
'Noo tell to us what ye will hae:
What sall we gie you for your play?
15
'What I will hae I will you tell,
An dat's me Lady Isabel.'
16
'Yees tak your lady, an yees gaeng hame,
An yees be king ower a' your ain.'
17
He's taen his lady, an he's gaen hame,
An noo he's king ower a' his ain.
[20]
THE CRUEL MOTHER.
[A]. Herd's MSS, I, 132, II, 191. Herd's Ancient and Modern Scottish Songs, 1776, II, 237.
[B]. a. 'Fine Flowers in the Valley,' Johnson's Museum, p. 331. b. Scott's Minstrelsy, III, 259 (1803).
C. 'The Cruel Mother,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 161.
[D]. a. Kinloch MSS, V, 103. b. 'The Cruel Mother,' Kinloch, Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 46.
[E]. 'The Cruel Mother.' a. Motherwell's MS., p. 390. b. Motherwell's Note-Book, p. 33.
[F]. 'The Cruel Mother.' a. Buchan's MSS, II, 98. b. Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 222.
[G]. Notes and Queries, 1st S., VIII, 358.
[H]. 'The Cruel Mother,' Motherwell's MS., p. 402.
[I]. 'The Minister's Daughter of New York.' a. Buchan's MSS, II, 111. b. Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 217. c. 'Hey wi the rose and the lindie O,' Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 106.
[J]. a. 'The Rose o Malindie O,' Harris MS., f. 10. b. Fragment communicated by Dr T. Davidson.
[K]. Motherwell's MS., p. 186.
[L]. 'Fine Flowers in the Valley,' Smith's Scottish Minstrel, IV, 33.
[M]. From Miss M. Reburn, as learned in County Meath, Ireland, one stanza.
Two fragments of this ballad, A, B, were printed in the last quarter of the eighteenth century; C-L were committed to writing after 1800; and, of these, E, H, J, K are now printed for the first time.
A-H differ only slightly, but several of these versions are very imperfect. A young woman, who passes for a leal maiden, gives birth to two babes [A, B, one, H, three], puts them to death with a penknife, B-F, and buries them, or, H, ties them hand and feet and buries them alive. She afterwards sees two pretty boys, and exclaims that if they were hers she would treat them most tenderly. They make answer that when they were hers they were very differently treated, rehearse what she had done, and inform or threaten her that hell shall be her portion, C, D, E, F, H. In I the children are buried alive, as in H, in J a strangled, in J b and L killed with the penknife, but the story is the same down to the termination, where, instead of simple hell-fire, there are various seven-year penances, properly belonging to the ballad of '[The Maid and the Palmer],' which follows this.
All the English ballads are in two-line stanzas.[181]
Until 1870 no corresponding ballad had been found in Denmark, though none was more likely to occur in Danish. That year Kristensen, in the course of his very remarkable ballad-quest in Jutland, recovered two versions which approach surprisingly near to Scottish tradition, and especially to E: Jydske Folkeviser, I, 329, No 121 A, B, 'Barnemordersken.' Two other Danish versions have been obtained since then, but have not been published. A and B are much the same, and a close translation of A will not take much more space than would be required for a sufficient abstract.
Little Kirsten took with her the bower-women five,
And with them she went to the wood belive.
She spread her cloak down on the earth,
And on it to two little twins gave birth.
She laid them under a turf so green,
Nor suffered for them a sorrow unseen.
She laid them under so broad a stone,
Suffered sorrow nor harm for what she had done.
Eight years it was, and the children twain
Would fain go home to their mother again.
They went and before Our Lord they stood:
'Might we go home to our mother, we would.'
'Ye may go to your mother, if ye will,
But ye may not contrive any ill.'
They knocked at the door, they made no din:
'Rise up, our mother, and let us in.'
By life and by death hath she cursed and sworn,
That never a child in the world had she borne.
'Stop, stop, dear mother, and swear not so fast,
We shall recount to you what has passed.
'You took with you the bower-women five,
And with them went to the wood belive.
'You spread your cloak down on the earth,
And on it to two little twins gave birth.
'You laid us under a turf so green,
Nor suffered for us a sorrow unseen.
'You laid us under so broad a stone,
Suffered sorrow nor harm for what you had done.'
'Nay my dear bairns, but stay with me;
And four barrels of gold shall be your fee.'
'You may give us four, or five, if you choose,
But not for all that, heaven will we lose.
'You may give us eight, you may give us nine,
But not for all these, heaven will we tine.
'Our seat is made ready in heavenly light,
But for you a seat in hell is dight.'
A ballad is spread all over Germany which is probably a variation of 'The Cruel Mother,' though the resemblance is rather in the general character than in the details. A, 'Höllisches Recht,' Wunderhorn, II, 202, ed. of 1808, II, 205, ed. 1857. Mittler, No 489, p. 383, seems to be this regulated and filled out. B, Erlach, 'Die Rabenmutter,' IV, 148; repeated, with the addition of one stanza, by Zuccalmaglio, p. 203, No 97. C, 'Die Kindsmörderinn,' Meinert, p. 164, from the Kuhländchen; turned into current German, Erk's Liederhort, p. 144, No 41c. D, Simrock, p. 87, No 37a, from the Aargau. E, 'Das falsche Mutterherz,' Erk u. Irmer, Heft 5, No 7, and 'Die Kindesmörderin,' Erk's Liederhort, p. 140, No 41, Brandenburg. F, Liederhort, p. 142, No 41a, Silesia. G, Liederhort, p. 143, 41b, from the Rhein, very near to B. H, Hoffmann u. Richter, No 31, p. 54, and I, No 32, p. 57, Silesia. J, Ditfurth, Fränkische V. 1., II, 12, No 13. K, 'Die Rabenmutter,' Peter, Volksthümliches aus Österreichisch-Schlesien, I, 210, No 21. L, 'Der Teufel u. die Müllerstochter,' Pröhle, Weltliche u. geistliche V. 1., p. 15, No 9, Hanoverian Harz. Repetitions and compounded copies are not noticed.
The story is nearly this in all. A herdsman, passing through a wood, hears the cry of a child, but cannot make out whence the sound comes. The child announces that it is hidden in a hollow tree, and asks to be taken to the house where its mother is to be married that day. There arrived, the child proclaims before all the company that the bride is its mother. The bride, or some one of the party, calls attention to the fact that she is still wearing her maiden-wreath. Nevertheless, says the child, she has had three children: one she drowned, one she buried in a dung-heap [the sand], and one she hid in a hollow tree. The bride wishes that the devil may come for her if this is true, and, upon the word, Satan appears and takes her off; in B, G, J, with words like these:
'Komm her, komm her, meine schönste Braut,
Dein Sessel ist dir in der Hölle gebaut.' J 9.
A Wendish version, 'Der Höllentanz,' in Haupt and Schmaler, I, 290, No 292, differs from the German ballads only in this, that the bride has already borne nine children, and is going with the tenth.
A combination of B, C, D, F is translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, No 43, p. 279, and I, from the eighth stanza on, p. 282. C is translated by Wolff, Halle der Völker, I, 11, and Hauschatz, p. 223; Allingham's version (nearly B a) by Knortz, L. u. R. Alt-Englands, p. 178, No 48.
A.
Herd's MSS, I, 132, II, 191: Ancient and Modern Scottish Songs, 1776, II, 237.
* * * * *
1
And there she's leand her back to a thorn,
Oh and alelladay, oh and alelladay
And there she has her baby born.
Ten thousand times good night and be wi thee
2
She has houked a grave ayont the sun,
And there she has buried the sweet babe in.
3
And she's gane back to her father's ha,
She's counted the leelest maid o them a'.
* * * * *
4
'O look not sae sweet, my bonie babe,
Gin ye smyle sae, ye'll smyle me dead.'
* * * * *
B.
a. Johnson's Museum, p. 331. b. Scott's Minstrelsy, 1803, III, 259, preface.
1
She sat down below a thorn,
Fine flowers in the valley
And there she has her sweet babe born.
And the green leaves they grow rarely
2
'Smile na sae sweet, my bonie babe,
And ye smile sae sweet, ye'll smile me dead.'
3
She's taen out her little pen-knife,
And twinnd the sweet babe o its life.
4
She's howket a grave by the light o the moon,
And there she's buried her sweet babe in.
5
As she was going to the church,
She saw a sweet babe in the porch.
6
'O sweet babe, and thou were mine,
I wad cleed thee in the silk so fine.'
7
'O mother dear, when I was thine,
You did na prove to me sae kind.'
* * * * *
C.
Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 161.
1
She leaned her back unto a thorn,
Three, three, and three by three
And there she has her two babes born.
Three, three, and thirty-three
2
She took frae 'bout her ribbon-belt,
And there she bound them hand and foot.
3
She has taen out her wee pen-knife,
And there she ended baith their life.
4
She has howked a hole baith deep and wide,
She has put them in baith side by side.
5
She has covered them oer wi a marble stane,
Thinking she would gang maiden hame.
6
As she was walking by her father's castle wa,
She saw twa pretty babes playing at the ba.
7
'O bonnie babes, gin ye were mine,
I would dress you up in satin fine.
8
'O I would dress you in the silk,
And wash you ay in morning milk.'
9
'O cruel mother, we were thine,
And thou made us to wear the twine.
10
'O cursed mother, heaven's high,
And that's where thou will neer win nigh.
11
'O cursed mother, hell is deep,
And there thou'll enter step by step.'
D.
a. Kinloch's MSS, V, 103, in the handwriting of James Beattie. b. Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 46: from the recitation of Miss C. Beattie.
1
There lives a lady in London,
All alone and alone ee
She's gane wi bairn to the clerk's son.
Down by the green wood sae bonnie
2
She's taen her mantle her about,
She's gane aff to the gude green wood.
3
She's set her back untill an oak,
First it bowed and then it broke.
4
She's set her back untill a tree,
Bonny were the twa boys she did bear.
5
But she took out a little pen-knife,
And she parted them and their sweet life.
6
She's aff untill her father's ha;
She was the lealest maiden that was amang them a'.
7
As she lookit oure the castle wa,
She spied twa bonnie boys playing at the ba.
8
'O if these two babes were mine,
They should wear the silk and the sabelline!'
9
'O mother dear, when we were thine,
We neither wore the silks nor the sabelline.
10
'But out ye took a little pen-knife,
And ye parted us and our sweet life.
11
'But now we're in the heavens hie,
And ye've the pains o hell to drie.'
E.
a. Motherwell's MS., p. 390. b. Motherwell's Note-Book, p. 33. From the recitation of Agnes Lyle, Kilbarchan, August 24, 1825.
1
There was a lady, she lived in Lurk,
Sing hey alone and alonie O
She fell in love with her father's clerk.
Down by yon greenwood sidie O
2
She loved him seven years and a day,
Till her big belly did her betray.
3
She leaned her back unto a tree,
And there began her sad misery.
4
She set her foot unto a thorn,
And there she got her two babes born.
5
She took out her wee pen-knife,
She twind them both of their sweet life.
6
She took the sattins was on her head,
She rolled them in both when they were dead.
7
She howkit a grave forenent the sun,
And there she buried her twa babes in.
8
As she was walking thro her father's ha,
She spied twa boys playing at the ba.
9
'O pretty boys, if ye were mine,
I would dress ye both in the silks so fine.'
10
'O mother dear, when we were thine,
Thou neer dressed us in silks so fine.
11
'For thou was a lady, thou livd in Lurk,
And thou fell in love with thy father's clerk.
12
'Thou loved him seven years and a day,
Till thy big belly did thee betray.
13
'Thou leaned thy back unto a tree,
And there began thy sad misery.
14
'Thou set thy foot unto a thorn,
And there thou got thy two babes born.
15
'Thou took out thy wee pen-knife,
And twind us both of our sweet life.
16
'Thou took the sattins was on thy head,
Thou rolled us both in when we were dead.
17
'Thou howkit a grave forenent the sun,
And there thou buried thy twa babes in.
18
'But now we're both in [the] heavens hie,
There is pardon for us, but none for thee.'
19
'My pretty boys, beg pardon for me!'
'There is pardon for us, but none for thee.'
F.
a. Buchan's MSS, II, 98. b. Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 222.
1
It fell ance upon a day,
Edinburgh, Edinburgh
It fell ance upon a day,
Stirling for aye
It fell ance upon a day
The clerk and lady went to play.
So proper Saint Johnston stands fair upon Tay
2
'If my baby be a son,
I'll make him a lord of high renown.'
3
She's leand her back to the wa,
Prayd that her pains might fa.
4
She's leand her back to the thorn,
There was her baby born.
5
'O bonny baby, if ye suck sair,
You'll never suck by my side mair.'
6
She's riven the muslin frae her head,
Tied the baby hand and feet.
7
Out she took her little pen-knife,
Twind the young thing o its sweet life.
8
She's howked a hole anent the meen,
There laid her sweet baby in.
9
She had her to her father's ha,
She was the meekest maid amang them a'.
10
It fell ance upon a day,
She saw twa babies at their play.
11
'O bonny babies, gin ye were mine,
I'd cleathe you in the silks sae fine.'
12
'O wild mother, when we were thine,
You cleathd us not in silks so fine.
13
'But now we're in the heavens high,
And you've the pains o hell to try.'
14
She threw hersell oer the castle-wa,
There I wat she got a fa.
G.
Notes and Queries, 1st S., VIII, 358. From Warwickshire, communicated by C. Clifton Barry.
1
There was a lady lived on [a] lea,
All alone, alone O
Down by the greenwood side went she.
Down the greenwood side O
2
She set her foot all on a thorn,
There she had two babies born.
3
O she had nothing to lap them in,
But a white appurn, and that was thin.
H.
Motherwell's MS., p. 402. From Agnes Laird, Kilbarchan, August 24, 1825.
1
There was a lady brisk and smart,
All in a lone and a lonie O
And she goes with child to her father's clark.
Down by the greenwood sidie O
2
Big, big oh she went away,
And then she set her foot to a tree.
3
Big she set her foot to a stone,
Till her three bonnie babes were borne.
4
She took the ribbons off her head,
She tied the little babes hand and feet.
5
She howkit a hole before the sun,
She's laid these three bonnie babes in.
6
She covered them over with marble stone,
For dukes and lords to walk upon.
7
She lookit over her father's castle wa,
She saw three bonnie boys playing at the ba.
8
The first o them was clad in red,
To shew the innocence of their blood.
9
The neist o them was clad in green,
To shew that death they had been in.
10
The next was naked to the skin,
To shew they were murderd when they were born.
11
'O bonnie babes, an ye were mine,
I wad dress you in the satins so fine.'
12
'O mother dear, when we were thine,
Thou did not use us half so kind.'
13
'O bonnie babes, an ye be mine,
Whare hae ye been a' this time?'
14
'We were at our father's house,
Preparing a place for thee and us.'
15
'Whaten a place hae ye prepar'd for me?'
'Heaven's for us, but hell's for thee.
16
'O mother dear, but heaven's high;
That is the place thou'll ne'er come nigh.
17
'O mother dear, but hell is deep;
'T will cause thee bitterlie to weep.'
I.
a. Buchan's MS., II, 111. b. Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 217. c. Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 106.
1
The minister's daughter of New York,
Hey wi the rose and the lindie, O
Has faen in love wi her father's clerk.
Alone by the green burn sidie, O
2
She courted him six years and a day,
At length her belly did her betray.
3
She did her down to the greenwood gang,
To spend awa a while o her time.
4
She lent her back unto a thorn,
And she's got her twa bonny boys born.
5
She 's taen the ribbons frae her hair,
Bound their bodyes fast and sair.
6
She 's put them aneath a marble stane,
Thinking a maiden to gae hame.
7
Looking oer her castle wa,
She spied her bonny boys at the ba.
8
'O bonny babies, if ye were mine,
I woud feed you with the white bread and wine.
9
'I woud feed you wi the ferra cow's milk,
And dress you in the finest silk.'
10
'O cruel mother, when we were thine,
We saw none of your bread and wine.
11
'We saw none of your ferra cow's milk,
Nor wore we of your finest silk.'
12
'O bonny babies, can ye tell me,
What sort of death for you I must die?'
13
'Yes, cruel mother, we'll tell to thee,
What sort of death for us you must die.
14
'Seven years a fowl in the woods,
Seven years a fish in the floods.
15
'Seven years to be a church bell,
Seven years a porter in hell.'
16
'Welcome, welcome, fowl in the wood,
Welcome, welcome, fish in the flood.
17
'Welcome, welcome, to be a church bell,
But heavens keep me out of hell.'
J.
a. Harris MS., fol. 10, "Mrs Harris and others." b. Fragment communicated by Dr T. Davidson.
1
She leant her back against a thorn,
Hey for the Rose o' Malindie O
And there she has twa bonnie babes born.
Adoon by the green wood sidie O
2
She's taen the ribbon frae her head,
An hankit their necks till they waur dead.
3
She luikit outowre her castle wa,
An saw twa nakit boys, playin at the ba.
4
'O bonnie boys, waur ye but mine,
I wald feed ye wi flour-bread an wine.'
5
'O fause mother, whan we waur thine,
Ye didna feed us wi flour-bread an wine.'
6
'O bonnie boys, gif ye waur mine,
I wald clied ye wi silk sae fine.'
7
'O fause mother, whan we waur thine,
You didna clied us in silk sae fine.
8
'Ye tuik the ribbon aff your head,
An' hankit our necks till we waur dead.
* * * * *
9
'Ye sall be seven years bird on the tree,
Ye sall be seven years fish i the sea.
10
'Ye sall be seven years eel i the pule,
An ye sail be seven years doon into hell.'
11
'Welcome, welcome, bird on the tree,
Welcome, welcome, fish i the sea.
12
'Welcome, welcome, eel i the pule,
But oh for gudesake, keep me frae hell!'
K.
Motherwell's MS., p. 186.
1
Lady Margaret looked oer the castle wa,
Hey and a lo and a lilly O
And she saw twa bonnie babes playing at the ba.
Down by the green wood sidy O
2
'O pretty babes, an ye were mine,
I would dress you in the silks so fine.'
3
'O false mother, when we were thine,
Ye did not dress us in silks so fine.'
4
'O bonnie babes, an ye were mine,
I would feed you on the bread and wine.'
5
'O false mother, when we were thine,
Ye did not feed us on the bread and the wine.'
* * * * *
6
'Seven years a fish in the sea,
And seven years a bird in the tree.
7
'Seven years to ring a bell,
And seven years porter in hell.'
L.
Smith's Scottish Minstrel, IV, 33, 2d ed.
1
A lady lookd out at a castle wa,
Fine flowers in the valley
She saw twa bonnie babes playing at the ba.
And the green leaves they grow rarely
2
'O my bonnie babes, an ye were mine,
I would cleed ye i the scarlet sae fine.
3
'I 'd lay ye saft in beds o down,
And watch ye morning, night and noon.'
4
'O mither dear, when we were thine,
Ye didna cleed us i the scarlet sae fine.
5
'But ye took out yere little pen-knife,
And parted us frae our sweet life.
6
'Ye howkit a hole aneath the moon,
And there ye laid our bodies down.
7
'Ye happit the hole wi mossy stanes,
And there ye left our wee bit banes.
8
'But ye ken weel, O mither dear,
Ye never cam that gate for fear.'
* * * * *
9
'Seven lang years ye'll ring the bell,
And see sic sights as ye darna tell.'
M.
Communicated by Miss Margaret Reburn, as learned in County Meath, Ireland, about 1860.
'O mother dear, when we were thine,
All a lee and aloney O
You neither dressed us in coarse or fine.'
Down by the greenwood sidy O
[A].
Superscribed, "Fragment to its own tune. Melancholy." Against the first line of the burden is written in the margin, "perhaps alas-a-day," and this change is adopted in Herd's printed copy. Scott suggested well-a-day.
42. MSS and ed. 1776 have ze ... ze'll.
[B]. b.
"A fragment [of 5 stanzas] containing the following verses, which I have often heard sung in my childhood." Scott, III. 259. No burden is given.
11. She set her back against.
12. young son born.
21. O smile nae sae.
3, 4, wanting.
51. An when that lady went.
52. She spied a naked boy.
61. O bonnie boy, an ye.
62. I'd cleed ye in the silks.
72. To me ye were na half.
Cunningham, Songs of Scotland, I, 340, says: "I remember a verse, and but a verse, of an old ballad which records a horrible instance of barbarity," and quotes the first two stanzas of Scott's fragment literally; from which we may infer that it was Scott's fragment that he partly remembered. But he goes on: "At this moment a hunter came—one whose suit the lady had long rejected with scorn—the brother of her lover:
He took the babe on his spear point,
And threw it upon a thorn:
'Let the wind blow east, the wind blow west,
The cradle will rock alone.'"
Cunningham's recollection was evidently much confused. This last stanza, which is not in the metre of the others, is perhaps from some copy of 'Edom o Gordon.'
[D]. a.
62. I was.
b.
Kinloch makes slight changes in his printed copy, as usual.
41. until a brier.
51. out she 's tane.
62. She seemd the lealest maiden amang.
81. O an thae.
[E].
11, 111. Lurk may be a corruption of York, which is written in pencil (by way of suggestion?) in the MSS.
a.
161. on your.
b.
41, 141. upon a thorn.
52. twind wanting.
61. sattins wanting.
13, 14, 15, 16, 17 are not written out in the note-book.
181. the heavens.
192. but there is none.
[F]. a.
9 stands last but one in the MS.
142. Here.
b.
42. has her.
72. sweet is omitted.
Printed as from the MS. in Dixon's Scottish Traditional Versions, etc., p. 46. Dixon has changed baby to babies in 4, 5, 6, 8, and indulges in other variations.
[H].
The ballad had been heard with two different burdens; besides the one given in the text, this:
Three and three, and three by three
Ah me, some forty three
7 'Lady Mary Ann,' Johnson's Museum, No 377, begins:
O Lady Mary Ann looks oer the castle wa,
She saw three bonie boys playing at the ba.
[I]. a, b.
141, 161. fool, i.e. fowl spelt phonetically.
a.
31. greenwoods
b.
22. it did.
82. with white.
112. wear'd.
132. maun die.
c.
"Epitomized" from Buchan, II, 217, "and somewhat changed for this work, some of the changes being made according to the way the Editor has heard it sung." Note by Christie, p. 106.
Burden, It 's hey with the rose, etc.
71. As a lady was looking.
72. She spied twa.
112. Nor wore we a.
122. What sort of pain for you I must drie.
132. What sort of pain for us you must drie.
142. And seven.
Printed as from the MS. in Dixon's Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads, p. 50, 'The Minister's Dochter o Newarke,' with a few arbitrary changes.
[J]. a.
91. You.
b has stanzas corresponding to a 1, 3, 4, 6, and, in place of 2,
She 's taen oot a little pen-knife,
And she 's robbit them o their sweet life.
Burden1. Hey i the rose o Mylindsay O.
11, until a thorn.
12. An syne her twa bonnie boys was born.
31. As she leukit oer her father's.
32. bonnie boys.
41. an ye were mine.
42. bread.
62. claithe ye in.
[L].
8 looks like an interpolation, and very probably the ballad was docked at the beginning in order to suit the parlor better.