Ballads, English -- England -- Texts; Ballads, Scots -- Scotland -- Texts
"Its I forbid ye, auld Ingram, 5
For to seek me to spouse;
For Lord Wa'yates, your sister's son,
Has been into my bowers.
"Its I forbid ye, auld Ingram,
For to seek me to wed; 10
For Lord Wa'yates, your sister's son,
Has been into my bed."
He has brocht to this ladie
The robis of the brown;
And ever, "Alas!" says this ladie, 15
"Thae robes will put me down."
And he has brocht to that ladie
The robis of the red;
And ever, "Alas!" says that ladie,
"Thae robes will be my dead." 20
And he has brocht to that ladie
The chrystal and the laumer;
Sae has he brocht to her mither
The curches o' the cannel.
Every ane o' her seven brethren 25
They had a hawk in hand,
And every lady in the place
They got a goud garland.
Every cuik in that kitchen
They got a noble claith; 30
A' was blyth at auld Ingram's coming,
But Lady Maisery was wraith.
"Whare will I get a bonny boy,
Wad fain win hose and shoon,
That wad rin on to my Wa'yates, 35
And quickly come again?"
"Here am I, a bonny boy,
Wad fain win hose and shoon;
Wha will rin on to your Wa'yates,
And quickly come again." 40
"Ye'll bid him, and ye'll pray him baith,
Gin ony prayer may dee,
To Marykirk to come the morn,
My weary wadding to see."
Lord Wa'yates lay o'er his castle wa', 45
Beheld baith dale and down;
And he beheld a bonny boy
Come running to the town.
"What news, what news, ye bonny boy?
What news hae ye to me? 50
* * * * * * *
* * * * * * *
"O are my ladie's fauldis brunt,
Or are her towers won?
Or is my Maisery lichter yet
O' a dear dochter or son?"
"Your ladie's faulds are neither brunt, 55
Nor are her towers won;
Nor is your Maisery lichter yet
O' a dear dochter or son:
"But she bids you, and she prays you baith,
Gin ony prayer can dee, 60
To Mary Kirk to come the morn,
Her weary wadding to see."
He dang the buird up wi' his fit,
Sae did he wi' his knee;
The silver cup, that was upon't, 65
I' the fire he gar'd it flee:
"O whatten a lord in a' Scotland
Dare marry my Maisery?
"O it is but a feeble thocht,
To tell the tane and nae the tither; 70
O it is but a feeble thocht
To tell it's your ain mither's brither."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account