# The English and Scottish Popular Ballads/Part 8/Chapter 236

A
O IT fell out upon a day, When Drums was going to ride, O And there he met with a well-far'd may, Keeping her flocks on yon side. O 'O fair may, O rare may, Can not you fancy me? Of a' the lasses here about I like nane so well as thee.' 'Set your love on another, kind sir, Set it not on me, For I'm not fit to be your bride, And your whore I'll never be.' Drums is to her father gane, Keeping his flocks on yon hill, And he has gotten his consent, And the maid was at his will. 'My daughter can neither read nor write, She was neer brought up at school; But well can she milk cow and ewe, And make a kebbuck well. 'She'll winn in your barn at bear-seed time, Cast out your muck at Yule; She'll saddle your steed in time o need, Draw aff your boots hersell.' 'Have not I no clergymen? Pay I no clergy fee? I'll school her as I think fit, And as I think fit to be.' Drums is to the Highlands gane For to be made ready, And a' the gentry thereabout Says, Yonder comes Drums and his lady. 'Peggy Coutts is a very bonnie bride, And Drums is a wealthy laddie; But Drums might hae chosen a higher match Than any shepherd's daughter.' Then up bespake his brother John, Says, Brother you've done us wrong; You've married ane below our degree, A stain to a' our kin. 'Hold your tongue, my brother John, I have done you no wrong; For I've married ane to wirk and win, And ye've married ane to spend. 'The last time that I had a wife, She was above my degree; I durst not come in her presence But with my hat on my knee.' There was four-and-twenty gentlemen Stood at the yetts o Drum; There was na ane amang them a' That welcomd his lady in. He's taen her by the milk-white hand And led her in himsell, And in thro ha's and thro bowers, 'And you're welcome, Lady o Drum.' Thrice he kissd her cherry cheek, And thrice her cherry chin, And twenty times her comely mouth, 'And you're welcome, Lady o Drum.' 'Ye shall be cook in my kitchen, Butler in my ha; Ye shall be lady at my command When I ride far awa.' 'But what will I do when auld Drum dies, When auld Drum dies and leaves me? Then I'll tak back my word again, And the Coutts will come and see me.'
B
THERE was a knight, [an a gallant knight,] An a gallant knight was he, An he's faen in love Wi his shepherd's daghterie. . . . . He could neither gang nor ride, He fell so deep in her fancy, Till his nose began to bleed. 'Bonny may, an bra may, Canna ye on me rue? By a' the maid[s] I ever saw, There is nane I loo by you.' 'Ye'r a shepherd's ae daghter, An I'm a barron's son; An what pleasure I wad hae To see ye gae out an in!' 'I'm a shepherd's ae dochter, An ye'r a barron's son; An there is nae pleasure I could ha To see ye gae out or in. . . . . . . . . 'For I wadna gie the fancy of my bonny love For na love nor favour o you.' 'Bonny may, an bra may, Canna ye on me rue? By a' the maids I ever saw There is nane I loo by you.' 'Lay ne yer fancy, sir, on me,' she says, 'Lay na yer fancy on me; For I'm our low to be your bride, An yer quine I'll never be. 'For I will wear nane o yer silks, Nor nane o yer scarlet claes; For the hue o the whin shall be my gown, An I will gae as I pleas.' . . . . . . . 'Ye'r na our laigh to be my bride, An my quine ye's never be. 'Bonny may, and bra may, Winna ye on me rue? By a' the maids I ever see, There's nane I loo but you.' 'Gin ye ha faen so deep in my fancy Ye can neither gan[g] nor ride, Gae tak me to the middle o the ring, An bring me guid companie.' He has taen her by the milk-white hand And led her thro haas an bowers: 'Ye'r the chioce of my heart, An a' I hae is yours.' He took her by the milk-white hand And led her out and in: 'Ye'r the choice o my heart, My dear, ye'r welcome in.' Out spake his brither John, 'Brither, ye ha done great wrong; Ye hae married a wife this night Disdained by a' yer kin.' 'Hold yer tong, my brither John, For I hae don na wrong; For I ha married a wife to . . . , An ye ha ane to spend.'
C
THERE was a shepherd's daughter Sheering at the bear, And by cam the Laird o Drum, On an evening clear. 'O will ye fancy me, fair maid? O will ye fancy me? O will ye fancy me, fair maid, An lat the sheering be?' 'O say na sae again, kind sir, O say na sae again; I'm owr low to be your bride, Ye'r born owr high a man.' Said, Fair maid, O rare maid, Will ye on me rue? Amang a' the lasses o the land I fancy nane but you. 'Lay your love on another,' she said, 'And lay it not on me, For I'm owr low to be your bride, Your miss I'll never be. 'Yonder is my father dear, Wi hogs upon yon hill; Gif ye get but his consent, I shall be at your will.' He's taen him to her father dear, Keeps hogs upon yon hill, An he has gotten his consent, The may was at his will. 'My daughter canna read or write, She never was at school; Weel can she milk cow and ewe, An serve your house fu weel. 'Weel can she shack you barns And gae to mill an kill, Saddle your steed in time o need, And draw your boots hirsel. 'She canna wear your silk sae fine, Nor yet your silver clear; The hue o the ewe man be her weed, Altho she was your dear.' He's wedded the shepherd's daughter, An he has taen her hame; He's wedded the shepherd's daughter, And led her on to Drum. There were four an twenty bold barons Stood at the yet o Drum; There was na ane amang them a' That welcomd his lady hame. Out then spak his brother dear, Says, Ye'v done mickel wrong; Ye'v wedded a mean woman, The lack o a' her kin. 'I never did thee wrong, brother, I never did thee wrong; I've wedded a woman to work and win, An ye hae ane to spen. 'The last woman I wedded Was aboon my degree; I could na sit in her presence But wi hat upon my knee.' He's taen her by the milk-white hand An led her but an ben, An in the ha, amang them a', He's hailed her Lady Drum. 'Now I've wedded the Shepherd's daughter, An I hae brought her hame, In the ha, amang ye a', She is welcome hame to Drum.'
D
THE laird o Drum is a hunting gane, All in a morning early, And he did spy a well-far'd may, Was shearing at her barley. 'O will ye fancy me, fair may, And let your shearing be, O And gang and be the lady o Drum? O will ye fancy me?' O 'I winna fancy you,' she says, 'Nor let my shearing be; For I'm ower low to be Lady Drum, And your miss I'd scorn to be.' 'But ye'll cast aff that gown o grey, Put on the silk and scarlet; I'll make a vow, and keep it true, You'll neither be miss nor harlot.' 'Then dee you to my father dear, Keeps sheep on yonder hill; To ony thing he bids me do I'm always at his will.' He has gane to her father dear, Keeps sheep on yonder hill: 'I'm come to marry your ae daughter, If ye'll gie me your gude will.' 'She'll shake your barn, and winna your corn, And gang to mill and kill; In time of need she'll saddle your steed; And I'll draw your boots mysell.' 'O wha will bake my bridal bread, And wha will brew my ale, And wha will welcome my lady hame, It's mair than I can tell.' Four and twenty gentle knights Gied in at the yetts o Drum; But nae a man lifted his hat Whan the lady o Drum came in. But he has taen her by the hand, And led her but and ben; Says, You'r welcome hame, my lady Drum, For this is your ain land. For he has taen her by the hand, And led her thro the ha; Says, You'r welcome hame, my lady Drum, To your bowers ane and a'. Then he['s] stript her o the robes o grey, Drest her in the robes o gold, And taen her father the sheep-keeping, Made him a bailie bold. She wasna forty weeks his wife Till she brought hame a son; She was as well a loved lady As ever was in Drum. Out it speaks his brother dear, Says, You've dune us great wrang; You've married a wife below your degree, She's a mock to all our kin. Out then spake the Laird of Drum, Says, I've dune you nae wrang; I've married a wife to win my bread, You've married ane to spend. 'For the last time that I was married, She was far abeen my degree; She wadna gang to the bonny yetts o Drum But the pearlin abeen her ee, And I durstna gang in the room where she was But my hat below my knee.' When they had eaten and well drunken, And all men bound for bed, The Laird o Drum and his lady gay In ae bed they were laid. 'Gin ye had been o high renown, As ye are o low degree, We might hae baith gane down the streets Amang gude companie.' 'I tauld you ere we were wed You were far abeen my degree; But now I'm married, in your bed laid, And just as gude as ye. 'Gin ye were dead, and I were dead, And baith in grave had lain, Ere seven years were at an end, They'd not ken your dust frae mine.'
E
THE Laird of Drum is a wooing gane, All in a morning early, And there he spied a weel-far'd may, She was shearing at her barley. 'Will you fancy me, my bonny may, And will you fancy me? O And will you come and be Lady Drum, And let your shearing a be?' O 'It's I winna fancy you, kind sir, I winna fancy thee; For I'm too low to be lady o Drum, And your whore I would scorn to be.' Ye'll cast aff the robes of gray, And put on the silk and the scarlet, And here to you I'll make a vow Ye'se neither be whore nor harlot.' 'I winna cast aff the robes o gray, To put on the silk and the scarlet, But I'll wear the colour of the ewe, For they set me better that a' that. 'But ye'll do you doun to my father dear, Keeping sheep on yonder hill, And the first ae thing that he bids me I'll do, For I wirk aye at his will.' He's done him doun to her father dear, Keeping sheep on yonder hill: 'Ye hae a pretty creature for your daughter; Dear me! but I like her well.' 'It's she can neither read nor write, She was never brought up at the squeel; She canna wash your china cups, Nor yet mak a dish o tea. 'But well can she do a' ither thing, For I learnt the girly mysell; She'll fill in your barn, and winnow your corn, She'll gang to your kill and your mill, And, time o need, she'll saddle your steed, And draw your boots hersell.' 'Wha will bake my bridal bread, And wah will brew my ale? Wha will welcome my lady in? For it's more than I can tell.' There was four-and-twenty gentlemen Stood a' in the yetts o Drum, But there was nane o them lifted their hats To welcome the young lady in. But up spake his ae brither, Says, Brither, ye hae done wrang; Ye have married a wife this day A lauch to a' our kin. 'I've married ane to win my bread, But ye married ane to spend; But as lang's I'm able to walk to the yetts o Drum On me she may depend. 'The last lady that I did wed Was far above my command; I durst not enter the bower where she was But my hat low in my hand.' When bells were rung, and mass was sung, And a' man bound for bed, The Laird o Drum and the Shepherd's dother In one bed they were laid. 'If ye were come o noble bleed An were as high as me, We could gang to the yetts o Drum Amangst gueed companie.' 'I tald you ere we was wed I was oer low for thee, But now we are wedd and in ae bed laid, And you must be content wi me. 'For an ye were dead, an I were dead, And laid in the dust low down, When we were baith turnd up again Wha could ken your mould frae mine?'
F
'OH, will ye fancy me, fair maid? Oh, will ye fancy me? O Or will ye go to be ladye o the Drum, An let a' your shearin abe? O An let a' your shearin abe? O An let a' your shearin abe?' O 'I can neither read nor write, Nor neer been brocht up at schule; But I can do all other things, An keep a hoose richt weel. 'My faither he's a puir shepherd-man, Herds his hogs on yonder hill; Gin ye will go get his consent, Then I'll be at your call.' He has gane to her father, That herds hogs on yonder hill; He said, 'You've got a pretty daughter, I'd fain tak her to my sel.' 'She can neither read nor write, Was neer brocht up at schule; But she can do all other things, An I learnt aye the lassie my sel. 'She'll milk your cows, she'll carry your corn, She'll gang to the mill or the kiln; She'll saddle your steed at any time of need, And she'll brush up your boots hersel.' 'It's who will bake my bridal bread? Or who will brew my ale? Or who will welcome this bonnie lassie in? For it's more than I can tell.' There's four-and-twenty gentlemen Stand doun at the gate o the Drum; Not one of them all would take off his hat For to welcome the bonnie lassie in. . . . . . . . . 'Oh, brother, you've married a wife this day A disgrace to all our kin.' 'Oh, brother, I've married a wife to win, And ye've got one to spen, And as long as the bonnie lassie walks out and in She shall aye be the ladye o the Drum.' When all was done, and no bells rung, And all men bound for their bed, The laird and the shepherd's bonnie daughter In one bed they were laid. 'Though I'm not of as noble blood, Nor yet of as high degree, Now I lie locked in your arms two, And you must be contented wi me. 'If you were dead, and I were dead, And baith laid in one grave, If we were baith to be raised up again, Wha would ken your dust frae mine?