Ballads, English -- England -- Texts; Ballads, Scots -- Scotland -- Texts
"Lord Barnaby's wife although I be,
Yet what is that to thee? 10
For we'll beguile him for this ae night--
He's on to fair Dundee.
"Come here, come here, my little foot-page,
This gold I will give thee,
If ye will keep thir secrets close 15
'Tween young Musgrave and me.
"But here I hae a little pen-knife,
Hings low down by my gare;
Gin ye winna keep thir secrets close,
Ye'll find it wonder sair." 20
Then she's ta'en him to her chamber,
And down in her arms lay he:
The boy coost aff his hose and shoon,
And ran to fair Dundee.
When he cam to the wan water, 25
He slack'd[L26] his bow and swam;
And when he cam to growin grass,
Set down his feet and ran.
And when he cam to fair Dundee,
Wad neither chap nor ca'; 30
But set his brent[L31] bow to his breast,
And merrily jump'd the wa'.
"O waken ye, waken ye, my good lord,
Waken, and come away!"--
"What ails, what ails my wee foot-page, 35
He cries sae lang ere day.
"O is my bowers brent, my boy?
Or is my castle won?
Or has the lady that I lo'e best
Brought me a daughter or son?" 40
"Your ha's are safe, your bowers are safe,
And free frae all alarms;
But, oh! the lady that ye lo'e best
Lies sound in Musgrave's arms."
"Gae saddle to me the black," he cried, 45
"Gae saddle to me the gray;
Gae saddle to me the swiftest steed,
To hie me on my way."
"O lady, I heard a wee horn toot,
And it blew wonder clear; 50
And ay the turning o' the note,
Was, 'Barnaby will be here!'
"I thought I heard a wee horn blaw,
And it blew loud and high;
And ay at ilka turn it said, 55
'Away, Musgrave, away!'"
"Lie still, my dear; lie still, my dear;
Ye keep me frae the cold;
For it is but my father's shepherds
Driving their flocks to the fold." 60
Up they lookit, and down they lay,
And they're fa'en sound asleep;
Till up stood good lord Barnaby,
Just close at their bed feet.
"How do you like my bed, Musgrave? 65
And how like ye my sheets?
And how like ye my fair lady,
Lies in your arms and sleeps?
"Weel like I your bed, my lord,
And weel like I your sheets; 70
But ill like I your fair lady,
Lies in my arms and sleeps.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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