Now, a’ ye gentle maids,
Tak warning now by me,
And never marry ane
But wha pleases your e’e.
“For he married me for love,
But I married him for fee;
And sae brak out the feud
That gar’d my dearie die.”
MAY COLVEN
(Child, Part I., p. 56.)
False Sir John a wooing came
To a maid of beauty fair;
May Colven was this lady’s name,
Her father’s only heir.
He wood her butt, he wood her ben,
He wood her in the ha,
Until he got this lady’s consent
To mount and ride awa.
He went down to her father’s bower,
Where all the steeds did stand,
And he’s taken one of the best steeds
That was in her father’s land.
He’s got on and she’s got on,
As fast as they could flee,
Until they came to a lonesome part,
A rock by the side of the sea.
“Loup off the steed,” says false Sir John,
“Your bridal bed you see;
For I have drowned seven young ladies,
The eighth one you shall be.
“Cast off, cast off, my May Colven,
All and your silken gown,
For it’s oer good and oer costly
To rot in the salt sea foam.