Till he came to the chin; And he rade in, and farther in, Till he came to dry land. And when he came to his love's gates, He tirled at the pin. "Open your gates, Meggie, Open your gates to me; For my boots are fu' o' Clyde's water And the rain rains ower my chin." "I hae nae lovers thereout," she says, "I hae nae love within; My true-love is in my arms twa, An' nane will I let in." (_den_, hollow.) "Open your gates, Meggie, this ae night, Open your gates to me; For Clydes water is fu' o' flood, And my mother's malison 'll drown me." "Ane o' my chambers is fu' o' corn, An ane is fu' o' hay; Another is fu' o' gentlemen;-- An' they winna move till day." Out waked her may Meggie, Out of her drowsy dream. "I dreamed a dream sin the yestreen, God read a' dreams to guid, That my true love Willy Was staring at my bed-feet." "Lay still, lay still, my ae dochter, An keep my back frae the call, For it's na the space o' half an hour, Sen he gaed frae your hall.'' An' hey Willy, and hoa, Willy, Winna ye turn agen; But aye the louder that she cried, He rade against the win'. He rade up yon high hill, And doun yon dowie den; The roaring that was in Clyde's water, Wad ha fleyed ten thousand men. (_read_ explain. _call_, cold.) He rade in, an' farther in, Till he came to the chin; An' he rade in, an' further in, But never mair was seen. ***** There was na mair seen o' that guid lord, But his hat frae his head; There was na more seen of that lady, But her comb and her snood. There waders went up and doun, Eddying Clyde's water; Have done us wrang. THE TWA BROTHERS |There were twa brethren in the north, They went to the school together; The one unto the other said Will ye try a warsle afore? They warsled up, they warsled down, Till Sir John fell to the ground; And there was a knife in Sir William's pouch, Gi ed him a deadly wound. (_warsle_, wrestle.) "O brither dear, take me upon your back, Carry me to yon burn clear, And wash the blood from off my wound, And it will bleed nae mair." He's took him up upon his back, Carried him to yon burn clear, And wash'd the blood from off his wound, But aye it bled the mair. "Oh brither dear, take me on your back, Carry me to yon kirk-yard, And dig a grave baith wide and deep, And lay my body there." He's ta'en him up upon his back, Carried him to yon kirkyard, And dug a grave baith deep and wide, And laid his body there. "But what will I say to your father dear, Gin he chance to say, Willy, where's John?" "O say that he's to England gone, To buy him a cask of wine." "And what will I say to my mother dear, Gin she chance to say, Willy, where's John?" "Oh say that he's to England gone,