8. Lady Nancy she died, as it might be, today, Lord Lovel he died as tomorrow; Lady Nancy she died out of pure, pure grief, Lord Lovel he died out of sorrow. 9. Lady Nancy was laid in St. Pancras’ Church, Lord Lovel was laid in the choir; And out of her bosom there grew a red rose, And out of her lover’s a briar. 10. They grew, and they grew, to the church-steeple too, And then they could grow no higher; So there they entwined in a true-lovers’ knot, For all lovers true to admire. 1.4,5: A similar repetition of the last line of each verse makes the refrain throughout. 10.1: Perhaps a misprint for ‘church-steeple top.’--+Child+. LADY MAISRY +The Text.+--From the Jamieson-Brown MS. All the other variants agree as to the main outline of the ballad. +The Story.+--Lady Maisry, refusing the young lords of the north country, and saying that her love is given to an English lord, is suspected by her father’s kitchy-boy, who goes to tell her brother. He charges her with her fault, reviles her for ‘drawing up with an English lord,’ and commands her to renounce him. She refuses, and is condemned to be burned. A bonny boy bears news of her plight to Lord William, who leaps to boot and saddle; but he arrives too late to save her, though he vows vengeance on all her kin, and promises to burn himself last of all. Burning was the penalty usually allotted in the romances to a girl convicted of unchastity. LADY MAISRY 1. 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. 2. O they hae courted Lady Maisry Wi’ a’ kin kind of things; An’ they hae sought her Lady Maisry Wi’ brotches an’ wi’ rings. 3. An’ they ha’ sought her Lady Maisry Frae father and frae mother; An’ they ha’ sought her Lady Maisry Frae sister an’ frae brother. 4. An’ they ha’ follow’d her Lady Maisry Thro’ chamber an’ thro’ ha’; But a’ that they coud say to her, Her answer still was Na. 5. ‘O ha’d your tongues, young men,’ she says, ‘An’ think nae mair o’ me; For I’ve gi’en my love to an English lord, An’ think nae mair o’ me.’ 6. 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. 7. ‘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.’ 8. ‘Your father an’ your mother is well, But an’ your brothers three; Your sister Lady Maisry’s well, So big wi’ bairn gangs she.’ 9. ‘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.’ 10. He’s done him to his sister’s bow’r, Wi’ meikle doole an’ care; An’ there he saw her Lady Maisry Kembing her yallow hair.