# The English and Scottish Popular Ballads/Part 8/Chapter 243

A
THERE dwelt a fair maid in the West, Of worthy birth and fame, Neer unto Plimouth, stately town, Jane Reynolds was her name. This damsel dearly was belovd By many a proper youth, And what of her is to be said In known for very truth. Among the rest a seaman brave Unto her a wooing came; A comely proper youth he was, James Harris calld by name. The maid and young man was agreed, As time did them allow, And to each other secretly They made a solemn vow, That they would ever faithfull be Whilst Heaven afforded life; He was to be her husband kind, And she his faithfull wife. A day appointed was also When they was to be married; But before these things were brought to pass Matters were strangely carried. All you that faithfull lovers be Give ear and hearken well, And what of them became at last I will directly tell. The young man he was prest to sea, And forc d was to go; His sweet-heart she must stay behind, Whether she would or no. And after he was from her gone She three years for him staid, Expecting of his comeing home, And kept herself a maid. At last news came that he was dead Within a forraign land, And how that he was buried She well did understand, For whose sweet sake the maiden she Lamented many a day, And never was she known at all The wanton for to play. A carpenter that livd hard by, When he heard of the same, Like as the other had done before, To her a wooing came. But when that he had gained her love They married were with speed, And four years space, being man and wife, They loveingly agreed. Three pritty children in this time This loving couple had, Which made their father's heart rejoyce, And mother wondrous glad. But as occasion servd, one time The good man took his way Some three days journey from his home, Intending not to stay. But, whilst that he was gone away, A spirit in the night Came to the window of his wife, And did her sorely fright. Which spirit spake like to a man, And unto her did say, 'My dear and onely love,' quoth he, 'Prepare and come away. 'James Harris is my name,' quoth he, 'Whom thou didst love so dear, And I have traveld for thy sake At least this seven year. 'And now I am returnd again, To take thee to my wife, And thou with me shalt go to sea, To end all further strife.' 'O tempt me not, sweet James,' quoth she, 'With thee away to go; If I should leave my children small, Alas! what would they do? 'My husband is a carpenter, A carpenter of great fame; I would not for five hundred pounds That he should know the same.' 'I might have had a king's daughter, And she would have married me; But I forsook her golden crown, And for the love of thee. 'Therefore, if thou'lt thy husband forsake, And thy children three also, I will forgive the[e] what is past, If thou wilt with me go.' 'If I forsake my husband and My little children three, What means hast thou to bring me to, If I should go with thee?' 'I have seven ships upon the sea; When they are come to land, Both marriners and marchandize Shall be at thy command. 'The ship wherein my love shall sail Is glorious to behold; The sails shall be of finest silk, And the mast of shining gold.' When he had told her these fair tales, To love him she began, Because he was in human shape, Much like unto a man. And so together away they went From off the English shore, And since that time the woman-kind Was never seen no more. But when her husband he come home And found his wife was gone, And left her three sweet pretty babes Within the house alone, He beat his breast, he tore his hair, The tears fell from his eyes, And in the open streets he run With heavy doleful cries. And in this sad distracted case He hangd himself for woe Upon a tree near to the place; The truth of all is so. The children now are fatherless, And left without a guide, But yet no doubt the heavenly powers Will for them well provide.
B
'WELL met, well met, my own true love, Long time I have been seeking thee; I am lately come from the salt sea, And all for the sake, love, of thee. 'I might have had a king's daughter, And fain she would have married me; But I've forsaken all her crowns of gold, And all for the sake, love, of thee.' 'If you might have had a king's daughter, I think you much to blame; I would not for five hundred pounds That my husband should hear the same. 'For my husband is a carpenter, And a young ship-carpenter is he, And by him I have a little son, Or else, love, I'd go along with thee. 'But if I should leave my husband dear, Likewise my little son also, What have you to maintain me withal, If I along with you should go?' 'I have seven ships upon the seas, And one of them brought me to land, And seventeen mariners to wait on thee, For to be, love, at your command. 'A pair of slippers thou shalt have, They shall be mad of beaten gold, Nay and be lin'd with velvet soft, For to keep thy feet from cold. 'A gilded boat thou then shall have, The oars shall gilded be also, And mariners to row the[e] along, For to keep thee from thy overthrow.' They had not been long upon the sea Before that she began to weep: 'What, weep you for my gold?' he said, 'Or do you weep for my fee? 'Or do you weep for some other young man That you love much better than me?' 'No, I do weep for my little son, That should have come along with me.' She had not been upon the seas Passing days three or four But the mariner and she were drowned, And never were heard of more. When tidings to old England came The ship-carpenter's wife was drownd, He wrung his hands and tore his hair, And grievously fell in a swoon. 'Oh cursed be those mariners! For they do lead a wicked life; They ruind me, a ship-carpenter, Be deluding away my wife.'
C
'O ARE ye my father? Or are ye my mother? Or are ye my brother John? Or are ye James Herries, my first true-love, Come back to Scotland again?' 'I am not your father, I am not your mother, Nor am I your brother John; But I'm James Herries, your first true-love, Come back to Scotland again.' 'Awa, awa, ye former lovers, Had far awa frae me! For now I am another man's wife Ye'll neer see joy o me.' 'Had I kent that ere I came here, I neer had come to thee; For I might hae married the king's daughter, Sae fain she woud had me. 'I despised the crown o gold, The yellow silk also, And I am come to my true-love, But with me she'll not go.' 'My husband he is a carpenter, Makes his bread on dry land, And I hae born him a young son; Wi you I will not gang.' 'You must forsake your dear husband, Your little young son also, Wi me to sail the raging seas, Where the stormy winds do blow.' 'O what hae you to keep me wi, If I should with you go, If I'd forsake my dear husband, My little young son also?' 'See ye not yon seven pretty ships? The eighth brought me to land, With merchandize and mariners, And wealth in every hand.' She turnd her round upon the shore Her love's ships to behold; Their topmasts and their mainyards Were coverd oer wi gold. Then she's gane to her little young son, And kissd him cheek and chin; Sae has she to her sleeping husband, And dune the same to him. 'O sleep ye, wake ye, my husband? I wish ye wake in time! I woudna for ten thousand pounds This night ye knew my mind.' She's drawn the slippers on her feet, Were coverd oer wi gold, Well lined within wi velvet fine, To had her frae the cold. She hadna sailed upon the sea A league but barely three Till she minded on her dear husband, Her little young son tee. 'O gin I were at land again, At land where I woud be, The woman neer shoud bear the son Shoud gar me sail the sea.' 'O hold your tongue, my sprightly flower, Let a' your mourning be; I'll show you how the liles grow On the banks o Italy.' She hadna sailed on the sea A day but barely ane Till the thoughts o grief came in her mind, And she langd for to be hame. 'O gentle death, come cut my breath, I may be dead ere morn! I may be buried in Scottish ground, Where I was bred and born!' 'O hold your tongue, my lily leesome thing, Let a' your mourning be; But for a while we'll stay at Rose Isle, Then see a far countrie. Ye'se neer be buried in Scottish ground, Nor land ye's nae mair see; I brought you away to punish you For the breaking your vows to me. 'I said ye shoud see the lilies grow On the banks o Italy; But I'll let you see the fishes swim, In the bottom o the sea.' He reached his hand to the topmast, Made a' the sails gae down, And in the twinkling o an ee Baith ship and crew did drown. The fatal flight o this wretched maid Did reach her ain countrie; Her husband then distracted ran, And this lament made he: 'O wae be to the ship, the ship, And wae be to the sea, And wae be to the mariners Took Jeanie Douglas frae me! 'O bonny, bonny was my love, A pleasure to behold; The very hair o my love's head Was like the threads o gold. 'O bonny was her cheek, her cheek, And bonny was her chin, And bonny was the bride she was, The day she was made mine!'
D
'O WHARE hae ye been, my dearest dear, These seven lang years and more?' 'O I am come to seek my former vows, That ye promisd me before.' 'Awa wi your former vows,' she says, 'Or else ye will breed strife; Awa wi your former vows,' she says, 'For I'm become a wife. 'I am married to a ship-carpenter, A ship-carpenter he's bound; I wadna he kend my mind this nicht For twice five hundred pound.'
She has put her foot on gude ship-board, And on ship-board she's gane, And the veil that hung oure her face Was a' wi gowd begane. She had na sailed a league, a league, A league, but barely twa, Till she did mind on the husband she left, And her wee young son alsua. 'O haud your tongue, my dearest dear, Let all your follies abee; I'll show whare the white lillies grow, On the banks of Italie.' She has na sailed a league, a league, A league but barely three, Till grim, grim grew his countenance, And gurly grew the sea. 'O haud your tongue, my dearest dear, Let all your follies abee; I'll show whare the white lillies grow, In the bottom of the sea.' He's tane her by the milk-white hand, And he's thrown her in the main; And full five-and-twenty hundred ships Perishd all on the coast of Spain.
E
'WHERE have you been, my long lost lover, This seven long years and more?' 'I've been seeking gold for thee, my love, And riches of great store. 'Now I'm come for the vows you promised me, You promised me long ago;' 'My former vows you must forgive, For I'm a wedded wife.' 'I might have been married to a king's daughter, Far, far ayont the sea; But I refused the crown of gold, And it's all for the love of thee.' 'If you might have married a king's daughter, Yourself you have to blame; For I'm married to a ship's-carpenter, And to him I have a son. 'Have you any place to put me in, If I with you should gang?' 'I've seven brave ships upon the sea, All laden to the brim. 'I'll build my love a bridge of steel, All for to help her oer; Likewise webs of silk down by her side, To keep my love from the cold.' She took her eldest son into her arms, And sweetly did him kiss: 'My blessing go with you, and your father too, For little does he know of this.' As they were walking up the street, Most beautiful for to Behold, He cast a glamour oer her face, And it shone like the brightest gold. As they were walking along the sea-side, Where his gallant ship lay in, So ready was the chair of gold To welcome this lady in. They had not sailed a league, a league, A league but scarsely three, Till altered grew his countenance, And raging grew the sea. When they came to yon sea-side, She set her down to rest; It's then she spied his cloven foot, Most bitterly she wept. 'O is it for gold that you do weep? Or is it for fear? Or is it for the man you left behind When that you did come here?' 'It is not for gold that I do weep, O no, nor yet for fear; But it is for the man I left behind When that I did come here. 'O what a bright, bright hill is yon, That shines so clear to see?' 'O it is the hill of heaven,' he said 'Where you shall never be.' 'O what a black, dark hill is yon, That looks so dark to me?' 'O it is the hill of hell,' he said, 'Where you and I shall be. 'Would you wish to see the fishes swim In the bottom of the sea, Or wish to see the leaves grow green On the banks of Italy?' 'I hope I'll never see the fishes swim On the bottom of the sea, But I hope to see the leaves grow green On the banks of Italy.' He took her up to the topmast high, To see what she could see; He sunk the ship in a flash of fire, To the bottom of the sea.
F
'O WHERE have you been, my long, long love, This long seven years and mair?' 'O I'm come to seek my former vows Ye granted me before.' 'O hold your tongue of your former vows, For they will breed sad strife; O hold your tongue of your former vows, For I am become a wife.' He turned him right and round about, And the tear blinded his ee: 'I wad never hae trodden on Irish ground, If it had not been for thee. 'I might hae had a king's daughter, Far, far beyond the sea; I might have had a king's daughter, Had it not been for love o thee.' 'If ye might have had a king's daughter, Yer sel ye had to blame; Ye might have taken the king's daughter, For ye kend that I was nane. 'If I was to leave my husband dear, And my two babes also, O what have you to take me to, If with you I should go?' 'I hae seven ships upon the sea-+--+- The eighth brought me to land-+--+- With four-and-twenty bold mariners, And music on every hand.' She has taken up her two little babes, Kissd them baith cheek and chin: 'O fair ye weel, my ain two babes, For I'll never see you again.' She set her foot upon the ship, No mariners could she behold; But the sails were o the taffetie, And the masts o the beaten gold. She had not sailed a league, a league, A league but barely three, When dismal grew his countenance, And drumlie grew his ee. They had not saild a league, a league, A league but barely three, Until she espied his cloven foot, And she wept right bitterlie. 'O hold your tongue of your weeping,' says he, 'Of your weeping now let me be; I will shew you how the lilies grow On the banks of Italy.' 'O what hills are yon, yon pleasant hills, That the sun shines sweetly on?' 'O you are the hills of heaven,' he said, 'Where you will never win.' 'O whaten a mountain is yon,' she said, 'All so dreary wi frost and snow?' 'O yon is the mountain of hell,' he cried, 'Where you and I will go.' He strack the tap-mast wi his hand, The fore-mast wi his knee, And he brake that gallant ship in twain, And sank her in the sea.
G
'I HAVE seven ships upon the sea, Laden with the finest gold, And mariners to wait us upon; All these you may behold. 'And I have shoes for my love's feet, Beaten of the purest gold, And lin d wi the velvet soft, To keep my love's feet from the cold. 'O how do you love the ship?' he said, 'Or how do you love the sea? And how do you love the bold mariners That wait upon thee and me?' 'O I do love the ship,' she said, 'And I do love the sea; But woe be to the dim mariners, That nowhere I can see!' They had not sailed a mile awa, Never a mile but one, When she bagan to weep and mourn, And to think on her little wee son. 'O hold your tongue, my dear,' he said, 'And let all your weeping abee, For I'll soon show to you how the lilies grow On the banks of Italy.' They had not sailed a mile awa, Never a mile but two, Until she espied his cloven foot, From his gay robes sticking thro. They had not sailed a mile awa, Never a mile but three, When dark, dark, grew his eerie looks, And raging grew the sea. They had not sailed a mile awa, Never a mile but four, When the little wee ship ran round about, And never was seen more.
H
HERR'rrS given her a pair of shoes, To hold her frae the cold; The one side of them was velvaret, And the other beaten gold. Up she has taen her little wee son, And given him kisses three; Says, Fare ye weel, my little wee son, I'm gaun to sail the sea.