# The English and Scottish Popular Ballads/Part 3/Chapter 65

A
THE young lords o the north country Have all a wooing gone, To win the love of Lady Maisry, But o them she woud hae none. O they hae courted Lady Maisry Wi a' kin kind of things; An they hae sought her Lady Maisry Wi brotches an wi' rings. An they ha sought her Lady Maisry Frae father and frae mother; An they ha sought her Lady Maisry Frae sister an frae brother. An they ha followd her Lady Maisry Thro chamber an thro ha; But a' that they coud say to her, Her answer still was Na. 'O had your tongues, young men,' she says, 'An think nae mair o me; For I've gien my love to an English lord, An think nae mair o me.' Her father's kitchy-boy heard that, An ill death may he dee! An he is on to her brother, As fast as gang coud he. 'O is my father an my mother well, But an my brothers three? Gin my sister Lady Maisry be well, There's naething can ail me.' 'Your father and your mother is well, But an your brothers three; Your sister Lady Maisry's well, So big wi bairn gangs she.' 'Gin this be true you tell to me, My mailison light on thee! But gin it be a lie you tell, You sal be hangit hie.' He's done him to his sister's bowr, Wi meikle doole an care; An there he saw her Lady Maisry, Kembing her yallow hair. 'O wha is aught that bairn,' he says, 'That ye sae big are wi' And gin ye winna own the truth, This moment ye sall dee.' She turnd her right an roun about, An the kem fell frae her han; A trembling seizd her fair body, An her rosy cheek grew wan. 'O pardon me, my brother dear, An the truth I'll tell to thee; My bairn it is to Lord William, An he is betrothd to me.' 'O coud na ye gotten dukes, or lords, Intill your ain country, That ye draw up wi an English dog, To bring this shame on me? 'But ye maun gi up the English lord, Whan youre young babe is born; For, gin you keep by him an hour langer, Your life sall be forlorn.' 'I will gi up this English blood, Till my young babe be born; But the never a day nor hour langer, Tho my life should be forlorn.' 'O whare is a' my merry young men, Whom I gi meat and fee, To pu the thistle and the thorn, To burn this wile whore wi?' 'O whare will I get a bonny boy, To help me in my need, To rin wi hast to Lord William, And bid him come wi speed?' O out it spake a bonny boy, Stood by her brother's side: 'O I would rin your errand, lady, Oer a' the world wide. 'Aft have I run your errands, lady, Whan blawn baith win and weet; But now I'll rin your errand, lady, Wi sat tears on my cheek.' O whan he came to broken briggs, He bent his bow and swam, An whan he came to the green grass growin, He slackd his shoone and ran. O whan he came to Lord William's gates, He baed na to chap or ca, But set his bent bow till his breast, An lightly lap the wa; An, or the porter was at the gate, The boy was i the ha. 'O is my biggins broken, boy? Or is my towers won? Or is my lady lighter yet, Of a dear daughter or son?' 'Your biggin is na broken, sir, Nor is your towers won; But the fairest lady in a' the lan For you this day maun burn.' 'O saddle me the black, the black, Or saddle me the brown; O saddle me the swiftest steed That ever rade frae a town.' Or he was near a mile awa, She heard his wild horse sneeze: 'Mend up the fire, my false brother, It's na come to my knees.' han he lighted at the gate, She heard his bridle ring: 'Mend up the fire, my false brother, It's far yet frae my chin. 'Mend up the fire to me, brother, Mend up the fire to me; For I see him comin hard an fast Will soon men't up to thee. 'O gin my hands had been loose, Willy, Sae hard as they are boun, I would have turnd me frae the gleed, And castin out your young son.' 'O I'll gar burn for you, Maisry, Your father an your mother; An I'll gar burn for you, Maisry, Your sister an your brother. 'An I'll gar burn for you, Maisry, The chief of a' your kin; An the last bonfire that I come to, Mysel I will cast in.'
B
IN came her sister, Stepping on the floor; Says, It's telling me, my sister Janet, That you're become a whore. 'A whore, sister, a whore, sister? That's what I'll never be; I'm no so great a whore, sister, As liars does on me lee. In came her brother, Stepping on the floor; Says, It's telling me, my sister Janet, That you're become a whore.' 'A whore, brother, a whore, brother? A whore I'll never be; I'm no so bad a woman, brother, As liears does on me lee.' In came her mother, Stepping on the floor: 'They are telling me, my daughter, That you're so soon become a whore.' 'A whore, mother, a whore, mother? A whore I'll never be; I'm only with child to an English lord, Who promised to marry me.' In came her father, Stepping on the floor; Says, They tell me, my daughter Janet, That you are become a whore.' 'A whore, father, a whore, father? A whore I'll never be; I'm but with child to an English lord, Who promisd to marry me.' Then in it came an old woman, The lady's nurse was she, And ere she could get out a word The tear blinded her ee. 'Your father's to the fire, Janet, Your brother's to the whin; All for to kindle a bold bonfire, To burn your body in.' 'Where will I get a boy,' she said, 'Will gain gold for his fee, That would run unto fair England For thy good lord to thee.' 'O I have here a boy,' she said, 'Will gain gold to his fee, For he will run to fair England For thy good lord to thee.' Now when he found a bridge broken, He bent his bow and swam, And when he got where grass did grow, He slacked it and ran. And when he came to that lord's gate, Stopt not to knock or call, But set his bent bow to his breast And lightly leapt the wall; And ere the porter could open the gate, The boy was in the hall, In presence of that noble lord, And fell down on his knee: 'What is it, my boy,' he cried, 'Have you brought unto me? 'Is my building broke into? Or is my towers won? Or is my true-love delivered Of daughter or of son?' 'Your building is not broke,' he cried, 'Nor is your towers won, Nor is your true-love delivered Of daughter nor of son; But if you do not come in haste, Be sure she will be gone. 'Her father is gone to the fire, Her brother to the whin, To kindle up a bold bonfire, To burn her body in.' 'Go saddle to me the black,' he cried, 'And do it very soon; Get unto me the swiftest horse That ever rade from the town.' The first horse that he rade upon, For he was raven black, He bore him far, and very far, But failed in a slack. The next horse that he rode upon, He was a bonny brown; He bore him far, and very far, But did at last fall down. The next horse that he rode upon, He as the milk was white; Fair fall the mare that foaled that foal. Took him to Janet's sight! And boots and spurs, all as he was, Into the fire he lap, Got one kiss of her comely mouth, While her body gave a crack. 'O who has been so bold,' he says, 'This bonfire to set on? Or who has been so bold,' he says, 'Her body for to burn?' 'O here are we,' her brother said, 'This bonfire who set on; And we have been so bold,' he said, 'Her body for to burn.' 'O I'll cause burn for you, Janet, Your father and your mother; And I'll cause die for you, Janet, Your sister and your brother. 'And I'll cause mony back be bare, And mony shed be thin, And mony wife be made a widow, And mony ane want their son.'
C
BEN came to her father dear, Stepping upon the floor; Says, It's told me, my daughter Janet, That you're now become a whore. 'A whore, father, a whore, father? That's what I'll never be, Tho I am with bairn to an English lord, That first did marry me.' Soon after spoke her bower-woman, And sorely did she cry: 'Oh woe is me, my lady fair, That ever I saw this day! 'For your father's to the fire, Janet, Your brother's to the whin, Even to kindle a bold bonefire, 'Where will I get a bonnie boy, Will win gold to his fee, That will run on to fair England For my good lord to me?' 'Oh here am I, your waiting-boy, Would win gold to my fee, And will carry any message for you, By land or yet by sea.' And when he fand the bridges broke, He bent his bow and swam, But when he fand the grass growing, He slacked it and ran. And when he came to that lord's gate, Stopt not to knock nor call, But set his bent bow to his breast, And lightly lap the wall. And ere the porter was at the gate The boy was in the hall, And in that noble lord's presence He on his knee did fall. 'O is my biggins broken?' he said, 'Or is my towers won? Or is my lady lighter yet, Of daughter of or son?' 'Your biggins are not broken,' he said, 'Nor is your towers won, Nor is your lady lighter yet, Of daughter or of son; But if you stay a little time Her life it will be gone. 'For her father's gone to the fire, Her brother to the whin, Even to kindle a bold bonfire, To burn her body in.' 'Go saddle for me in haste,' he cried, 'A brace of horses soon; Go saddle for me the swiftest steeds That ever rode to a town.' The first steed that he rade on, For he was as jet black, He rode him far, and very far, But he fell down in a slack. The next steed that he rode on, For he was a berry brown; He bore him far, and very far, But at the last fell down. The next steed that he rode on, He was as milk so white; Fair fall the mare that foaled the foal Took him to Janet's lyke! But boots and spurs, all as he was, Into the fire he lap, Took ae kiss of her comely mouth, While her body gave a crack. 'O who has been so bold,' he said, 'This bonfire to set on? Or who has been so bold,' he cried, 'My true-love for to burn?' Her father cried, I've been so bold This bonefire to put on; Her brother cried, We've been so bold Her body for to burn. 'Oh I shall hang for you, Janet, Your father and your brother; And I shall burn for you, Janet, Your sister and your mother. 'Oh I shall make many bed empty, And many shed be thin, And many a wife to be a widow, And many one want their son. 'Then I shall take a cloak of cloth, A staff made of the wand, And the boy who did your errand run Shall be heir of my land.'
D
LADY MARGERY was her mother's ain daughter, And her father's only heir, And she's away to Strawberry Castle, To learn some unco lair. She hadna been in Strawberry Castle A year but only three, Till she has proved as big with child, As big as woman could be. Word has to her father gone, As he pat on his shoon, That Lady Margery goes wi child, Unto some English loon. Word has to her mother gane, As she pat on her gown, That Lady Margery goes wi child, Unto some English loon. The father he likes her ill, The mother she likes her waur, But her father he wished her in a fire strang, To burn for ever mair.
'Will ye hae this auld man, Lady Margery, To be yeer warldly make? Or will ye burn in fire strang, For your true lover's sake?' 'I wunna hae that old, old man To be my worldly make, But I will burn in fire strang, For my true lover's sake.' 'O who will put of the pot? O who will put of the pan? And who will build a bale-fire, To burn her body in.' The brother took of the pot, The sister took of the pan, And her mother builded a bold bale-fire, To burn her body in. 'O where will I get a bony boy That will run my errand soon? That will run to Strawberry Castle, And tell my love to come soon?' But then started up a little boy, Near to that lady's kin: 'Often have I gane your errands, madam, But now it is time to rin.' O when he came to Strawberry Castle, He tirled at the pin; There was nane sae ready as that lord himsell To let the young body in. 'O is my towers broken? Or is my castle wone? Or is my lady Margery lighter Of a daughter or a son?' 'Your towers are not broken, Nor is your castle wone; But the fairest lady of a' the land For thee this day does burn.' 'Go saddle for me the black, black horse, Go saddle to me the brown; Go saddle to me as swift a steed As ever man rade on.' They saddled to him the black horse, They saddled to him the brown; They've saddled to him as swift a steed As ever man rade on. He put his foot into the stirrup, He bounded for to ride; The silver buttons lap of his breast, And his nose began to bleed. He bursted fifteen gude stout steeds, And four o them were dappled gray, And the little foot-page ran aye before, Crying, Mend it, an ye may! When he came to the bale-fire, He lighted wi a glent, Wi black boots and clean spurs, And through the fire he went. He laid ae arm about her neck, And the other beneath her chin; He thought to get a kiss o her, But her middle it gade in twain. 'But who has been so false,' he said, 'And who has been sae cruel, To carry the timber from my ain wood To burn my dearest jewel? 'But I'll burn for ye, Lady Margery, Yeer father and yeer mother; And I'll burn for ye, Lady Margery, Yeer sister and yeer brother. 'I'll do for ye, Lady Margery, What never was done for nane; I'll make many lady lemanless, And many a clothing thin. 'And I'll burn for yeer sake, Lady Margery, The town that yeer burnt in, And [make] many a baby fatherless, That's naething o the blame.'
E
LADY MARJORY was her mother's only daughter, Her father's only heir, O And she is awa to Strawberry Castle, To get some unco lair. O She had na been in Strawberry Castle A twelve month and a day, Till Lady Marjory she gaes wi child, As big as she can gae. Word is to her father gone, Before he got on his shoon, That Lady Marjory she gaes wi child, And it is to an Irish groom. But word is to her mother gane, Before that she gat on her gown, That Lady Marjorie she goes wi child, To a lord of high renown. 'O wha will put on the pot?' they said, 'Or wha will put on the pan? Or wha will put on a bauld, bauld fire, To burn Lady Marjorie in?' Her father he put on the pot, Her sister put on the pan, And her brother he put on a bauld, bauld fire, To burn Lady Marjorie in; And her mother she sat in a golden chair, To see her daughter burn. 'But where will I get a pretty little boy, That will win hose and shoon, That will go quickly to Strawberry Castle And bid my lord come doun?' 'O here am I a pretty boy, That'll win hose and shoon, That will rin quickly to Strawberry Castle, And bid thy lord come doun.' O when he came to broken brigs, He bent his bow and swam, And when he came to good dry land, He let down his foot and ran. When he came to Strawberry Castle, He tirled at the pin; None was so ready as the gay lord himsell To open and let him in. 'O is there any of my towers burnt? Or any of my castles broken? Or is Lady Marjorie brought to bed, Of a daughter or a son?' 'O there is nane of thy towers burnt, Nor nane of thy castles broken, But Lady Marjorie is condemned to die, To be burnt in a fire of oaken.' 'O gar saddle to me the black,' he said, 'Gar saddle to me the brown; Gar saddle to me the swiftest steed That eer carried a man from town.' He left the black into the slap, The brown into the brae, But fair fa that bonny apple-gray That carried this gay lord away! He took a little horn out of his pocket, And he blew 't both loud and shrill, And the little life that was in her, She hearkend to it full weel. 'Beet on, beet on, my brother dear, I value you not one straw, For yonder comes my own true-love, I hear his horn blaw. 'Beet on, beet on, my father dear, I value you not a pin, For yonder comes my own true-love, I hear his bridle ring.' But when he came into the place, He lap unto the wa; He thought to get a kiss o her bonny lips, But her body fell in twa. 'Oh vow, oh vow, oh vow,' he said, 'Oh vow but ye've been cruel! Ye've taken the timber out of my own wood And burnt my ain dear jewel. 'Now for thy sake, Lady Marjorie, I'll burn both father and mother; And for thy sake, Lady Marjorie, I'll burn both sister and brother. 'And for thy sake, Lady Marjorie, I'll burn both kith and kin; But I will remember the pretty little boy That did thy errand rin.'
F
FAIR MARJORYRR'rrS gaen into the school, Between six and seven, An she's come back richt big wi bairn, Between twalve and eleven. It's out then sprung her mither dear, Stood stately on the flure: 'Ye're welcum back, young Marjory, But ye're sune becum a hure.' 'I'm not a hure, mither,' she said, 'Nor ever intend to be; But I'm wi child to a gentleman, An he swears he'll marry me.' [It's out then sprung her father dear, Stood stately on the flure: 'Ye're welcum back, young Marjory, But ye're sune becum a hure.' 'I'm not a hure, father,' she said, 'Nor ever intend to be; But I'm wi child to a gentleman, An he swears he will marry me.' It's out then sprung her brother dear, Stood stately on the flure: 'Ye're welcum back, young Marjory, But ye're sune becum a hure.' 'I'm not a hure, brother,' she said, 'Nor ever intend to be; But I'm wi child to a gentleman, An he swears he will marry me.' It's out then sprung her sister dear, Stood stately on the flure: 'Ye're welcum back, young Marjory, But ye're sune becum a hure.' 'I'm not a hure, sister,' she said, 'Nor ever intend to be;] Ye're but a young woman, sister, An ye shuld speak sparinlie.' Her father's to the grene-wude gaen, Her brither's to the brume; An her mither sits in her gowden chair, To see her dochter burn.
. . . . . . . . . . . The sister she culd do naething, And she sat down to greet. 'Oh whare will I get a bonny boy, That will win hose an shoon, That wull rin to Strawberry Castle for me, And bid my true-love come?' It's out than spak a bonny boy, That stude richt at her knee: 'It's I wull rin your errand, ladie, Wi the saut tear i my ee.' It's whan he cam to broken brigg, He bent his bow an swam, An whan he cam whare green grass grew, Set doon his feet an ran. An whan he cam to Strawberry Castle, He thirled at the pin, An aye sae ready as the porter was To rise and let him in.
'Gae saddle to me the black,' he says, 'Gae saddle to me the broun; Gae saddle to me the swiftest steed That eer set fute on grun.' It's first he burst the bonny black, An syne the bonny broun, But the dapple-gray rade still away, Till he cam to the toun. An aye he rade, an aye he rade, An aye away he flew, Till the siller buttons flew off his coat; He took out his horn an blew. An aye he blew, an aye he blew, He blew baith loud an shrill, An the little life that Marjory had, She heard his horn blaw weel. 'Beik on, beik on, cruel mither,' she said, 'For I value you not a straw; For if ever I heard my love in my life, He's comin here awa.'
When he cam unto the flames He jamp in, butes and a'; He thocht to hae kissd her red rosy lips, But her body broke in twa.
I'll burn for thy sake, Marjory, The toun that thou lies in; An I'll mak the baby fatherless, For I'll throw mysel therein.
G
'MY father was the first good man Who tied me to a stake; My mother was the first good woman Who did the fire make. 'My brother was the next good man Who did the fire fetch; My sister was the next good woman Who lighted it with a match. 'They blew the fire, they kindled the fire, Till it did reach my knee: "[O mother, mother, quench the fire! The smoke will smother me."] 'O had I but my little foot-page, My errand he would run; He would run unto gay London, And bid my lord come home.' Then there stood by her sister's child, Her own dear sister's son: 'O many an errand I've run for thee, And but this one I'll run.' He ran, where the bridge was broken down He bent his bow and swam; He swam till he came to the good green turf, He up on his feet and ran. He ran till he came at his uncle's hall; His uncle sat at his meat: 'Good mete, good mete, good uncle, I pray, O if you knew what I'd got to say, How little would you eat!' 'O is my castle broken down, Or is my tower won? Or is my gay lady brought o bed, Of a daughter or a son?' 'Your castle is not broken down, Your tower it is not won; Your gay lady is not brought to bed, Of a daughter or a son. 'But she has sent you a gay gold ring, With a posy round the rim, To know, if you have any love for her, You'll come to her burning.' He called down his merry men all, By one, by two, by three; He mounted on his milk-white steed, To go to Margery. They blew the fire, they kindled the fire, Till it did reach her head: 'O mother, mother, quench the fire! For I am nearly dead.' She turned her head on her left shoulder, Saw her girdle hang on the tree: 'O God bless them that gave me that! They'll never give more to me.' She turned her head on her right shoulder, Saw her lord come riding home: 'O quench the fire, my dear mother! For I am nearly gone.' He mounted off his milk-white steed, And into the fire he ran, Thinking to save his gay ladye, But he had staid too long.
H
THERE stands a stane in wan water, It's lang ere it grew green; Lady Maisry sits in her bower door, Sewing at her silken seam. Word's gane to her mother's kitchen, And to her father's ha, That Lady Maisry is big wi bairn-+- And her true-love's far awa. When her brother got word of this, Then fiercely looked he: 'Betide me life, betide me death, At Maisry's bower I'se be. 'Gae saddle to me the black, the black, Gae saddle to me the brown; Gae saddle to me the swiftest steed, To hae me to the town.' When he came to Maisry's bower, He turnd him round about, And at a little shott-window, He saw her peeping out. 'Gude morrow, gude morrow, Lady Maisry, God make you safe and free!' 'Gude morrow, gude morrow, my brother dear, What are your wills wi me?' 'What's come o a' your green claithing, Was ance for you too side? And what's become o your lang stays, Was ance for you too wide?' 'O he that made my claithing short, I hope he'll make them side; And he that made my stays narrow, I hope he'll make them wide.' 'O is it to a lord o might, Or baron o high degree? Or is it to any o your father's boys, Rides in the chase him wi?' 'It's no to any Scottish lord, Nor baron o high degree; But English James, that little prince, That has beguiled me.' 'O was there not a Scots baron That could hae fitted thee, That thus you've lovd an Englishman, And has affronted me?' She turnd her right and round about, The tear blinded her ee: 'What is the wrang I've done, brother, Ye look sae fierce at me?' 'Will ye forsake that English blude, When your young babe is born?' 'I'll nae do that, my brother dear, Tho I shoud be forlorn.' 'I'se cause a man put up the fire, Anither ca in the stake, And on the head o yon high hill I'll burn you for his sake. 'O where are all my wall-wight men, That I pay meat and fee, For to hew down baith thistle and thorn, To burn that lady wi?' Then he has taen her, Lady Maisry, And fast he has her bound; And he causd the fiercest o his men Drag her frae town to town. Then he has causd ane of his men Hew down baith thistle and thorn; She carried the peats in her petticoat-lap, Her ainsell for to burn. Then ane pat up this big bauld fire, Anither ca'd in the stake; It was to burn her Lady Maisry, All for her true-love's sake. But it fell ance upon a day, Prince James he thought full lang; He minded on the lady gay He left in fair Scotland. 'O where will I get a little wee boy, Will win gowd to his fee, That will rin on to Adam's high tower, Bring tidings back to me?' 'O here am I, a little wee boy, Will win gowd to my fee, That will rin on to Adam's high tower, Bring tidings back to thee.' Then he is on to Adam's high tower, As fast as gang coud he, And he but only wan in time The fatal sight to see. He sat his bent bow to his breast, And ran right speedilie, And he is back to his master, As fast as gang coud he. 'What news, what news, my little wee boy? What news hae ye to me?' 'Bad news, bad news, my master dear, Bad news, as ye will see.' 'Are ony o my biggins brunt, my boy? Or ony o my towers won? Or is my lady lighter yet, O dear daughter or son?' 'There's nane o your biggins brunt, master, Nor nane o your towers won, Nor is your lady lighter yet, O dear daughter nor son. 'There's an has been [put up] a big bauld fire, Anither ca'd in the stake, And on the head o yon high hill, They're to burn her for your sake.' 'Gae saddle to me the black, the black, Gae saddle to me the brown; Gae saddle to me the swiftest steed, To hae me to the town.' Ere he was three miles near the town, She heard his horse-foot patt: 'Mend up the fire, my fause brother, It scarce comes to my pap.' Ere he was twa miles near the town, She heard his bridle ring: 'Mend up the fire, my fause brother, It scarce comes to my chin. 'But look about, my fause brother, Ye see not what I see; I see them coming here, or lang Will mend the fire for thee.' Then up it comes him little Prince James, And fiercely looked he: 'I'se make my love's words very true She said concerning me. 'O wha has been sae bauld,' he said, 'As put this bonfire on? And wha has been sae bauld,' he said, 'As put that lady in?' Then out it spake her brother then, He spoke right furiouslie; Says, I'm the man that put her in: Wha dare hinder me? 'If my hands had been loose,' she said, 'As they are fastly bound, I woud hae looted me to the ground, Gien you up your bonny young son.' 'I will burn, for my love's sake, Her father and her mother; And I will burn, for my love's sake, Her sister and her brother. 'And I will burn, for my love's sake, The whole o a' her kin; And I will burn, for my love's sake, Thro Linkum and thro Lin. 'And mony a bed will I make toom, And bower will I make thin; And mony a babe shall thole the fire, For I may enter in.' Great meen was made for Lady Maisry, On that hill whare she was slain; But mair was for her ain true-love, On the fields for he ran brain.
I
THERE lived a lady in Scotland,  Refrain:Hey my love and ho my joy There lived a lady in Scotland,  Refrain:Who dearly loved me There lived a lady in Scotland, An she's fa'n in love wi an Englishman,  Refrain:And bonnie Susie Cleland is to be burnt in Dundee The father unto the daughter came,  Refrain:Who dearly loved me Saying, Will you forsake that Englishman? 'If you will not that Englishman forsake,  Refrain:Who dearly loved me O I will burn you at a stake.' 'I will not that Englishman forsake,  Refrain:Who dearly loved me Tho you should burn me at a stake. 'O where will I get a pretty little boy,  Refrain:Who dearly loves me Who will carry tidings to my joy?' 'Here am I, a pretty little boy,  Refrain:Who dearly loves thee Who will carry tidings to thy joy.' 'Give to him this right-hand glove,  Refrain:Who dearly loves me Tell him to get another love.  Refrain:For, etc. 'Give to him this little penknife,  Refrain:Who dearly loves me Tell him to get another wife.  Refrain:For, etc. 'Give to him this gay gold ring;  Refrain:Who dearly loves me Tell him I'm going to my burning.'  Refrain:An, etc. The brother did the stake make, rWho dearly loved me The father did the fire set. rAn bonnie Susie Cleland was burnt in Dundee.
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Lady Margery was the king's ae daughter, But an the prince's heir; O She's away to Strawberry Castle, To learn some English lair. O She had not been in Strawberry Castle A twelvemonth and a day Till she's even as big wi child As ever a lady could gae. Her father's to the cutting o the birks, Her mother to the broom, And a' for to get a bundle o sticks To burn that fair lady in. 'O hold your hand now, father dear, O hold a little while, For if my true-love be yet alive I'll hear his bridle ring. 'Where will I get a bonny boy, That will win hoes and shoon, That will run to Strawberry Castle And tell my love to come?' She's called on her waiting-maid To bring out bread and wine: 'Now eat and drink, my bonny boy, Ye'll neer eat mair o mine.' Away that bonny boy he's gaen, As fast as he could rin; When he cam where grass grew green Set down his feet and ran. And when he cam where brigs were broken He bent his bow and swam; . . . . . . . . . . . . . . When he came to Strawberry Castle, He lighted on the green; Who was so ready as the noble lord To rise and let the boy in! 'What news? what new, my pretty page? What tydings do ye bring? Is my lady lighter yet Of a daughter or a son?' 'Bad news, bad news, my noble lord, Bad tydings have I brung; The fairest lady in a' Scotland This day for you does burn.' He has mounted a stately steed And he was bound to ride; The silver buttons flew off his coat And his nose began to bleed. The second steed that lord mounted Stumbled at a stone; 'Alass! alass!' he cried with grief, 'My lady will be gone.' When he came from Strawberry Castle He lighted boots and a'; He thought to have goten a kiss from her, But her body fell in twa. For the sake o Lady Margery He's cursed her father and mother, For the sake o Lady Margery He's cursed her sister and brother. And for the sake o Lady Margery He's cursed all her kin; He cried, Scotland is the ae warst place That ever my fit was in!
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Marjorie was fer father's dear, Her mother's only heir, An she's away to Strawberry Castle, To learn some unco lear. She had na been i Strawberry Castle A year but barely three Till Marjorie turnd big wi child, As big as big could be.
'Will ye hae that old, old man To be yer daily mate, Or will ye burn in fire strong For your true lover's sake?' 'I winna marry that old, old man To be my daily mate; I'll rather burn i fire strong For my true lover's sake.
'O where will I get a bonnie boy That will win hose an shoon An will gae rin to Strawberry Castle, To gar my good lord come soon?' 'Here am I, a bonnie boy That will win hose an shoon, An I'll gae rin to Strawberry Castle, And gar your lord come soon.' 'Should ye come to a brocken brig, Than bend your bow an swim; An whan ye com to garse growin Set down yer feet an rin.' When eer he came to brigs broken, He bent his bow an swam, And whan he cam to grass growin He set down his feet an ran. When eer he cam to Strawberry Castle He tirlt at the pin; There was nane sae ready as that young lord To open an let him in. 'Is there ony o my brigs broken? Or ony o my castle win? Or is my lady brought to bed Of a daughter or a son?' 'There's nane o a' yer brigs broken, Ther's nane of your castles win; But the fairest lady in a' your land This day for you will burn.' 'Gar saddle me the black, black horse, Gar saddle me the brown, Gar saddle me the swiftest stead That eer carried man to town.' He's burstit the black unto the slack, The grey unto the brae, An ay the page that ran afore Cried, Ride, sir, an ye may. Her father kindlet the bale-fire, Her brother set the stake, Her mother sat an saw her burn, An never cired Alack! 'Beet on, beet [on], my cruel father, For you I cound nae friend; But for fifteen well mete mile I'll hear my love's bridle ring.' When he cam to the bonnie Dundee, He lightit wi a glent; Wi jet-black boots an glittrin spurs Through that bale-fire he went. He thought his love wad hae datit him, But she was dead an gane; He was na sae wae for the lady As he was for her yong son. 'But I'll gar burn for you, Marjorie, Yer father an yer mother, An I'll gar burn for you, Marjorie, Your sister an your brother. 'An I will burn for you, Marjorie, The town that ye'r brunt in, An monie ane's be fatherless That has but little sin.'