4 She socht him up, she socht him doun, In mickle dule an sorrow; She found him neath a buss o brume, In the dowie dens o Yarrow. 5 Her hair it was three quarters lang, Its colour it was yallow; She tied it to his middle sma, An pu’ed him oot o Yarrow. 6 ‘My bed it was made wide yestreen, The nicht it sall be narrow; There’s neer a man lie by my side Since Willie’s drowned in Yarrow.’ * * * * * D Skene MS., p. 47; taken down from recitation in the north of Scotland, 1802–3. 1 ‘Willie’s fair, and Willie’s rare, An he is wondrous bonnie, An Willie has promist to marry me, Gin ever he marry ony.’ 2 ‘Ye’s get Jammie, or ye’s [get] Johnnie, Or ye’s get bonny Peter; Ye’s get the wale o a’ my sons, But leave me Willie the writer.’ 3 ‘I winna hae Jamie, I winna hae Johnie, I winna hae bonny Peter; I winna hae ony o a’ your sons, An I get na Willie the writer.’ 4 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . There was threescore and ten brisk young men Was boun to briddal-stool wi him: 5 ‘Ride on, ride on, my merry men a’, I forgot something behind me; I forgat my mither’s blessing, To hae to bride-stool wi me.’ 6 ‘God’s blessin an mine gae wi ye, Willie, God’s blessing an mine gae wi ye; For ye’re nae ane hour but bare nineteen, Fan ye’re gauin to meet your Meggie.’ 7 They rode on, and farther on, Till they came to the water of Gamrie, An they a’ wan safe through, Unless it was sweet Willie. 8 The first ae step that Willie’s horse steppit, He steppit to the bridle; The next ae step that Willie’s horse steppit, Toom grew Willie’s saddle. 9 They rod on, an farther on, Till they came to the kirk of Gamrie. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10 Out spak the bonny bride, . . . . . . . ‘Whar is the man that’s to gie me his han This day at the kirk of Gamrie?’ 11 Out spak his brother John, An O bat he was sorrie! ‘It fears me much, my bonny bride, He sleeps oure soun in Gamerie.’ 12 The ribbons that were on her haír— An they were thick and monny— She rive them a’, let them down fa, An is on[to] the water o Gamerie. 13 She sought it up, she sought it down, She sought it braid and narrow; An in the deepest pot o Gamerie, There she got sweet Willie. 14 She has kissd his comely mouth, As she had done before [O]: ‘Baith our mithers sall be alike sorry, For we’s baith sleep in Gamery.’ * * * * * E Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, #I#, 245.