H
Motherwell’s MS, p. 297; from the recitation of Mrs Traill of Paisley.
1
O waly, waly up the bank!
And waly, waly doun the brae!
And waly, waly by yon burn-side,
Whare me and my luve was wont to gae!
2
If I had kent what I ken now,
I wud neer hae crossed the waters o Tay;
For an I had staid at Argyle’s yetts,
I might hae been his lady gay.
3
When I lay sick, and very sick,
And very sick, just like to die,
A gentleman, a friend of mine own,
A gentleman came me to see;
But Blackliewoods sounded in my luve’s ears
He was too long in chamer with me.
4
O woe be to thee, Blackliewoods.
But an an ill death may you die!
Thou’s been the first and occasion last
That eer put ill twixt my luve and me.
5
‘Come down the stairs now, Jamie Douglas,
Come down the stairs and drink wine wi me;
I’ll set thee in a chair of gold,
And it’s not one penny it will cost thee.’
6
‘When cockle-shells grow silver bells,
And gowd grows oer yon lily lea,
When frost and snaw grows fiery bombs,
I will come down and drink wine wi thee.’
7
‘What ails you at our youngest son,
That sits upon the nurse’s knee?
I’m sure he’s never done any harm
And it’s not to his ain nurse and me.’
8
My loving father got word of this,
But and an angry man was he;
He sent three score of his soldiers brave
To take me to my own countrie.
* * * * * *
9
‘O fare ye weel now, Jamie Douglas!
And fare ye weel, my children three!
God grant your father may prove kind
Till I see you in my own countrie.’
10
When she was set into her coach
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
11
‘Cheer up your heart, my loving daughter,
Cheer up your heart, let your weeping bee!
A bill of divorce I will write to him,
And a far better lord I’ll provide for thee.’
12
It’s very true, and it’s often said,
The hawk she’s flown and she’s left her nest;
But a’ the warld may plainly see
They’re far awa that I luve best.