Ballads, English -- England -- Texts; Ballads, Scots -- Scotland -- Texts
"O wha will shoe my foot, my foot? 65
And wha will glove my hand?
And wha will prin my sma' middle,
Wi' the short prin and the lang?"
Now out it speaks him, sweet Willie,
Who knew her troubles best; 70
"It is my duty for to serve,
As I'm come here as guest.
"Now I will shoe your foot, Maisry,
And I will glove your hand,
And I will prin your sma' middle, 75
Wi' the sma' prin and the lang."
"Wha will saddle my steed," she says,
"And gar my bridle ring?
And wha will ha'e me to gude church-door,
This day I'm ill abound?" 80
"I will saddle your steed, Maisry,
And gar your bridle ring;
And I'll hae you to gude church-door,
And safely set you down."
"O healy, healy take me up, 85
And healy set me down;
And set my back until a wa',
My foot to yird-fast stane."
He healy took her frae her horse,
And healy set her down; 90
And set her back until a wa',
Her foot to yird-fast stane.
When they had eaten and well drunken,
And a' had thorn'd fine;
The bride's father he took the cup, 95
For to serve out the wine.
Out it speaks the bridegroom's brother,
An ill death mat he die!
"I fear our bride she's born a bairn,
Or else has it a dee." 100
She's ta'en out a Bible braid,
And deeply has she sworn;
"If I ha'e born a bairn," she says,
"Sin' yesterday at morn;
"Or if I've born a bairn," she says, 105
"Sin' yesterday at noon;
There's nae a lady amang you a'
That wou'd been here sae soon."
Then out it spake the bridegroom's man,
Mischance come ower his heel! 110
"Win up, win up, now bride," he says,
"And dance a shamefu' reel."[L112]
Then out it speaks the bride hersell,
And a sorry heart had she;
"Is there nae ane amang you a' 115
Will dance this dance for me?"
Then out it speaks him, sweet Willie,
And he spake aye thro' pride;
"O draw my boots for me, bridegroom,
Or I dance for your bride." 120
Then out it spake the bride hersell,
"O na, this maunna be;
For I will dance this dance mysell,
Tho' my back shou'd gang in three."
She hadna well gane thro' the reel, 125
Nor yet well on the green,
Till she fell down at Willie's feet
As cauld as ony stane.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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