English and Scottish Ballads, Volume III

Ballads, English -- England -- Texts; Ballads, Scots -- Scotland -- Texts

43. _Tores._ The projections or knobs at the corners of
old-fashioned cradles, and the ornamented balls commonly found
surmounting the backs of old chairs. MOTHERWELL.




THE LAIRD OF WARISTOUN.


Jamieson and Kinloch have each published a highly dramatic fragment of
this terrible story. Both of these are here given, and in the Appendix
may be seen Buchan's more extensive, but far less poetical version. With
this last, we have printed Mr. Chambers's account of the events on which
these ballads are founded.

Jamieson's copy was taken down by Sir Walter Scott, from the recitation
of his mother. _Popular Ballads_, i. 109.

  Down by yon garden green
    Sae merrily as she gaes;
  She has twa weel-made feet,
    And she trips upon her taes.

  She has twa weel-made feet;                                          5
    Far better is her hand;
  She's as jimp in the middle
    As ony willow-wand.

  "Gif ye will do my bidding,
    At my bidding for to be,                                          10
  It's I will make you lady
    Of a' the lands you see."

         *       *       *       *       *

  He spak a word in jest;
    Her answer wasna good;
  He threw a plate at her face,                                       15
    Made it a' gush out o' blood.

  She wasna frae her chamber
    A step but barely three,
  When up and at her richt hand
    There stood Man's Enemy.                                          20

  "Gif ye will do my bidding,
    At my bidding for to be;
  I'll learn you a wile
    Avenged for to be."

  The Foul Thief knotted the tether;                                  25
    She lifted his head on hie;
  The nourice drew the knot
    That gar'd lord Waristoun die.

  Then word is gane to Leith,
    Also to Edinburgh town,                                           30
  That the lady had kill'd the laird,
    The laird o' Waristoun.

         *       *       *       *       *

  "Tak aff, tak aff my hood,
    But lat my petticoat be;
  Put my mantle o'er my head;                                         35
    For the fire I downa see.

  "Now, a' ye gentle maids,
    Tak warning now by me,
  And never marry ane
    But wha pleases your e'e.                                         40

  "For he married me for love,
    But I married him for fee;
  And sae brak out the feud
    That gar'd my dearie die."




LAIRD OF WARIESTOUN.

Kinloch's _Ancient Scottish Ballads_, p. 53.


  It was at dinner as they sat,
    And when they drank the wine,
  How happy were the laird and lady
    Of bonnie Wariestoun.

  The lady spak but ae word,                                           5
    The matter to conclude;
  The laird strak her on the mouth,
    Till she spat out o' blude.

  She did not know the way
    Her mind to satisfy,                                              10
  Till evil cam into her head
    All by the Enemy.

    * * * * * * *

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

English and Scottish Ballads, Volume III

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