4 ‘Come up, come up, Jamie Douglas, Come up, come up and dine wi me, And I’ll set thee in a chair of gold, And use you kindly on my knee.’ 5 ‘When cockle-shells turn silver bells, And mussels hing on every tree, When frost and snow turn fire-brands, Then I’ll come up and dine wi thee.’ 6 When my father and mother they got word That my good lord had forsaken me, They sent fourscore of soldiers brave To bring me hame to my ain countrie. 7 That day that I was forc’d to go, My pretty palace for to leave, I went to the chamber were my lord lay, But alas! he wad na speak to me. 8 ‘O fare ye weel, Jamie Douglas! And fare ye weel, my children three! I hope your father will prove mair kind To you than he has been to me. 9 ‘You take every one to be like yoursel, You take every one that comes unto thee; But I could swear by the heavens high That I never knew anither man but thee. 10 ‘O foul fa ye, fause Blackwood, And an ill death now may ye die! For ye was the first occasioner Of parting my gude lord and me.’ 11 Whan we gaed in by Edinburgh town, My father and mither they met me, Wi trumpets sounding on every side; But alas! they could na cherish me. 12 ‘Hold your tongue, daughter,’ my father said, ‘And with your weeping let me be; And we’ll get out a bill of divorce, And I’ll get a far better lord to thee.’ 13 ‘O hold your tongue, father,’ she says, ‘And with your talking let me be; I wad na gie a kiss o my ain lord’s lips For a’ the men in the west country.’ 14 Oh an I had my baby born, And set upon the nurse’s knee, And I myself were dead and gone! For a maid again I will never be. * * * * * D Kinloch MSS, I, 107: “West-Country version.” 1 I fell sick, and very, very sick, Sick I was, and like to dee; A friend o mine cam frae the west, A friend o mine came me to see, And the black told it to my gude lord He was oure lang in the chamber wi me. * * * * * * 2 ‘Come doun the stair, Jamie Douglas, Come doun and drink wine wi me; I’ll set ye on a chair of gold, And not ae farthing will it cost thee.’ 3 ‘Whan cockle-shells turn siller bells, And fishes flee frae tree to tree, Whan frost and snaw turn fire-beams, I’ll come doun and drink wine wi thee.’ * * * * * * 4 ‘What ails ye at your young son James, That sits upo the nurse’s knee? I’m sure he never did ye no harm, If it war na for the nurse or me. 5 ‘What care I for you, Jamie Douglas? Not a small pin I value thee; For my father he is the Earl of York, And of that my mither’s the gay ladie; They will send fourscore of his soldiers bold For to tak me hame to my ain countrie.’ * * * * * *