O
‘Moss Groves,’ taken down in 1891 by Mr John Sampson, Liverpool, from Philip Murray, an old tinker, who learned the ballad in his boyhood from an old gypsy named Amos Rice.
1
There was four-and-twenty ladies
Assembled at a ball,
And who being there but the king’s wife,
The fairest of them all.
2
She put her eye on the Moss Groves,
Moss Groves put his eye upon she:
‘How would you like, my little Moss Groves,
One night to tarry with me?’
3
‘To sleep one night with you, fair lady,
It would cause a wonderful sight;
For I know by the ring upon your hand
You are the king’s wife.’
4
‘If I am the king’s wife,
I mean him to beguile;
For he has gone on a long distance,
And won’t be back for a while.’
5
Up spoke his brother,
An angry man was he;
‘Another night I’ll not stop in the castle
Till my brother I’ll go see.’
6
When he come to his brother,
He was in a hell of a fright:
‘Get up, get up, brother dear!
There’s a man in bed with your wife.’
7
‘If it’s true you tell unto me,
A man I’ll make of thee;
If it’s a lie you tell unto me,
It’s slain thou shalt be.’
8
When he came to his hall,
The bells begun to ring,
And all the birds upon the bush
They begun to sing.
9
‘How do you like my covering-cloths?
And how do you like my sheets?
How do you like my lady fair,
All night in her arms to sleep?’
10
‘Your covering-cloths I like right well,
Far better than your sheets;
Far better than all your lady fair,
All night in her arms to sleep.’
11
‘Get up, get up now, little Moss Groves,
Your clothing do put on;
It shall never be said in all England
That I drew on a naked man.
12
‘There is two swords all in the castle
That cost me very dear;
You take the best, and I the worst,
And let’s decide it here.’
13
The very first blow Moss Groves he gave,
He wounded the king most sore;
The very first blow the king gave him,
Moss Groves he struck no more.
14
She lifted up his dying head
And kissed his cheek and chin:
‘I’d sooner have you now, little Moss Groves,
Than all their castles or kings.’
259 a. Insert under C: d. Printed and sold in Aldermary Church-yard, Bow Lane, London.
83. Child Maurice.
P. 266. B. Motherwell sent ‘Child Noryce’ to Sir Walter Scott in a letter dated 28 April, 1825 (Letters, XIV, No 94, Abbotsford). He changed several readings (as, orders to errand, in 64), and in three cases went back to original readings which he has altered in his manuscript. I am now convinced that the alterations made in the manuscript are not in general, if ever, corrections derived from the reciters, but Motherwell’s own improvements, and that the original readings should be adhered to.
86. Young Benjie.
P. 281. “From Jean Scott.” In the handwriting of William Laidlaw. “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 29, Abbotsford.
Excepting the first stanza, the whole of this fragment (with slight changes) is found in the ballad in Scott’s Minstrelsy. That ballad has about twice as many verses, and the other half might easily have been supplied by the editor.
1
Fair Marjorie sat i her bower-door,
Sewin her silken seam,
When by then cam her false true-love,
Gard a’ his bridles ring.
2
‘Open, open, my true-love,
Open an let me in;’
‘I dare na, I dare na, my true-love,
My brethren are within.’
3
‘Ye lee, ye lee, my ain true-love,
Sae loud I hear ye lee!
For or I cam thrae Lothian banks
They took fare-weel o me.’
4
The wind was loud, that maid was proud,
An leath, leath to be dung,
But or she wan the Lothian banks
Her fair coulour was gane.
5
He took her up in his armis,
An threw her in the lynn.
6
Up then spak her eldest brother,
Said, What is yon I see?
Sure, youn is either a drowned ladie
Or my sister Marjorie.
7
Up then spak her second brother,
Said, How will wi her ken?
Up then spak her . . . brother,
There a hinnie-mark on her chin.
8
About the midle o the night
The cock began to craw;
About the middle o the night
The corpse began to thraw.
9
‘O whae has doon ye wrang, sister?
O whae has doon ye wrang?’
10
‘Young Boonjie was the ae first man
I laid my love upon;
He was sae proud an hardie
He threw me oer the lynne.’
11
‘O shall we Boonjie head, sister?
Or shall we Boonjie hang?
Or shall we pyke out his twa grey eyes,
An punish him or he gang?’
12
‘O ye sanna Boonjie head, brother,
Ye sana Boonjie hang;
But ye maun pyke out his twa grey eyes,
An punish him or he gang.’
13
‘The ae best man about your house
Maun wait young Boonjie on.’
33. thare.
4 should probably follow 5.
63. either a substituted for some.
73. her second: second struck out. youngest?
82. The corpse: corpse struck out.
89. Fause Foodrage.
P. 297. Danish. Now printed as No 298 of Danmarks gamle Folkeviser, by Axel Olrik, the continuator of that noble collection, with the title ‘Svend af Vollersløv.’ There are fifteen old versions besides Tragica 18 (which is a compounded and partly ungenuine text) and the one recently printed by Kristensen, the basis of which is the copy in Tragica. ‘Ung Villum’ is Tragica 18 with two stanzas omitted.
298, III, 515 b. ‘Liden Engel’ is No 297 of Danmarks gamle Folkeviser. There are eight old copies, and Kristensen has added five from recent tradition: the two here noted and three in Jyske Folkeminder, No 49, A-C, 201 ff. There is also a Swedish copy of 1693, printed in Dybeck’s Runa, 1844, p. 98, which I had not observed.
90. Jellon Grame.
P. 303 b, 513 b, III, 515 b. Robert le Diable in Luzel’s ballad, II, 24 f, when one year old, was as big as a child of five.
At the age of five, Cuchulinn sets out for his uncle’s court, where he performs prodigies of strength. In his seventh year he is received among the heroes, etc.: Zimmer, Göttingische Gelehrte Anzeigen, 1890, pp. 519–20. Merlin, when two years old, “speaks and goes,” and defends his mother before the justice: Arthour and Merlin, vv. 1069–70, ed. Turnbull for the Abbotsford Club, p. 41. Ögmundr when seven years old was as strong as a full-grown man: Örvar-Odds Saga, c. 19, Rafn, Fornaldar Sögur, II, 241. The three-nights-old son of Thórr and Járnsaxa removes the foot of Hrungnir from the neck of his father when all the gods have tried in vain. He also speaks. Skáldskaparmál, c. 17. “The Shee an Gannon was born in the morning, named at noon, and went in the evening to ask his daughter of the king of Erin:” Curtin, Myths and Folk-Lore of Ireland, p. 114. Cf. p. 223, where a champion jumps out of the cradle. (G. L. K.)
91. Fair Mary of Wallington.
P. 309. B. “The ballad about Lady Livingston appears to be founded on a truth; her fate is mentioned by Sir R. Gordon. Only her mother, Lady Huntley, is made a queen; which it was natural enough in a Highland poet to do.” Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe to Sir Walter Scott, Letters, XV, No 231, Abbotsford, 1825 or 26.
What Sir Robert Gordon says is: “In July 1616 yeirs, Elizabeth Gordoun, Ladie of Livingstoun (wyff to the Lord Livingstoun, now Earle of Lithgow), daughter to the Marquis of Huntly, died in chyld-bed, at Edinburgh, of a son called George, who is now Lord Livingstoun.” (Genealogy of the Earls of Sutherland, p. 335.) The characteristic particulars are wanting.
D is also in Kinloch MSS, V, 363, in the youthful handwriting of J. H. Burton, and is probably the original copy. The differences from the text of D, p. 314, except spellings, are these:
11, it was. 13, and me.
93. Lamkin.
P. 321, note *. See further in Notes and Queries, First Series, II, 519; V, 32, 112, 184, 355.
321 ff., 513.
X
‘Lamkin,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 133, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of James Hogg.
1
Lamkin was as good a mason
As ever liftit stane;
He built to the laird o Lariston,
But payment gat he nane.
2
Oft he came, an ay he came,
To that good lord’s yett,
But neither at dor nor window
Ony entrance could get.
3
Till ae wae an weary day
Early he came,
An it fell out on that day
That good lord was frae hame.
4
He bade steek dor an window,
An prick them to the gin,
Nor leave a little wee hole,
Else Lamkin wad be in.
5
Noorice steekit dor an window,
She steekit them to the gin;
But she left a little wee hole
That Lamkin might win in.
6
‘O where’s the lady o this house?’
Said cruel Lamkin;
‘She’s up the stair sleepin,’
Said fause noorice then.
7
‘How will we get her down the stair?’
Said cruel Lamkin;
‘We’l stogg the baby i the cradle,’
Said fause noorice then.
8
He stoggit, and she rockit,
Till a’ the floor swam,
An a’ the tors o the cradle
Red wi blude ran.
9
‘O still my son, noorise,
O still him wi the kane;’
‘He winna still, madam,
Till Lariston come hame.’
10
‘O still my son, noorice,
O still him wi the knife;’
‘I canna still him, madam,
If ye sude tak my life.’
11
‘O still my soon, noorice,
O still him wi the bell;’
‘He winna still, madam,
Come see him yoursel.’
12
Wae an weary rase she up,
Slowly pat her on
Her green claethin o the silk,
An slowly came she down.
13
The first step she steppit,
It was on a stone;
The first body she saw
Was cruel Lamkin.
14
‘O pity, pity, Lamkin,
Hae pity on me!’
‘Just as meikle pity, madam,
As ye paid me o my fee.’
15
‘I’ll g’ye a peck o good red goud,
Streekit wi the wand;
An if that winna please ye,
I’ll heap it wi my hand.
16
‘An if that winna please ye,
O goud an o fee,
I’ll g’ye my eldest daughter,
Your wedded wife to be.’
17
‘Gae wash the bason, lady,
Gae wash’t an mak it clean,
To kep your mother’s heart’s-blude,
For she’s of noble kin.’
18
‘To kep my mother’s heart’s-blude
I wad be right wae;
O tak mysel, Lamkin,
An let my mother gae.’
19
‘Gae wash the bason, noorice,
Gae wash’t an mak it clean,
To kep your lady’s heart’s-blude,
For she’s o noble kin.’
20
‘To wash the bason, Lamkin,
I will be right glad,
For mony, mony bursen day
About her house I’ve had.’
21
But oh, what dule an sorrow
Was about that lord’s ha,
When he fand his lady lyin
As white as driven snaw!
22
O what dule an sorrow
Whan that good lord cam in,
An fand his young son murderd,
I the chimley lyin!
92. kane. kame, B 132. But cf. wand, A 162 J 102, M 32.
95. The Maid freed from the Gallows.
P. 346, III, 516 a. Add ‘Leggenda Napitina’ (still sung by the sailors of Pizzo); communicated to La Calabria, June 15, 1889, p. 74, by Salvatore Mele; Canto Marinaresco di Nicotera, the same, September 15, 1890. A wife is rescued by her husband.
347 b. Swedish. ‘Den bortsålda,’ Lagus, Nyländska Folkvisor, I, 22, No 6, a, b, c.
349 b, 514 a, III, 516 b, and especially 517 a. A wounded soldier calls to mother, sister, father, brother for a drink of water, and gets none; calls to his love, and she brings it: Waldau, Böhmische Granaten, II, 57, No 81.