"O staye, O staye, thou goodlye youthe, She standeth by thy side; She is here alive, she is not dead, And readye to be thy bride." "O farewell griefe, and welcome joye, Ten thousand times therefore; For nowe I have founde mine owne true love, Whom I thought I should never see more." Barbara Allen's Cruelty All in the merry month of May, When green buds they were swelling, Young Jemmy Grove on his death-bed lay For love o' Barbara Allen. He sent his man unto her then, To the town where she was dwelling: "O haste and come to my master dear, If your name be Barbara Allen." Slowly, slowly rase she up, And she cam' where he was lying; And when she drew the curtain by, Says, "Young man, I think you're dying." "O it's I am sick, and very, very sick, And it's a' for Barbara Allen." "O the better for me ye'se never be, Tho' your heart's blude were a-spilling! "O dinna ye min', young man," she says, "When the red wine ye were filling, That ye made the healths gae round and round And ye slighted Barbara Allen?" He turn'd his face unto the wa', And death was wi' him dealing: "Adieu, adieu, my dear friends a'; Be kind to Barbara Allen." As she was walking o'er the fields, She heard the dead-bell knelling; And every jow the dead-bell gave, It cried, "Woe to Barbara Allen!" "O mother, mother, mak' my bed, To lay me down in sorrow. My love has died for me to-day, I'll die for him to-morrow." The Douglas Tragedy "Rise up, rise up, now, Lord Douglas," she says, "And put on your armour so bright; Sweet William will hae Lady Margaret awi' Before that it be light. "Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons, And put on your armour so bright, And take better care of your youngest sister, For your eldest's awa' the last night." He's mounted her on a milk-white steed, And himself on a dapple grey, With a buglet horn hung down by his side And lightly they rode away. Lord William lookit o'er his left shoulder, To see what he could see, And there he spied her seven brethren bold Come riding o'er the lea. "Light down, light down, Lady Margaret," he said, "And hold my steed in your hand, Until that against your seven brethren bold, And your father I make a stand." She held his steed in her milk-white hand, And never shed one tear, Until that she saw her seven brethren fa' And her father hard fighting, who loved her so dear. "O hold your hand, Lord William!" she said, "For your strokes they are wondrous sair; True lovers I can get many a ane, But a father I can never get mair."