15 ‘Now lay ye still, my ae dochter, An keep my back fra the call, For it’s na the space of hafe an hour Sen he gad fra yer hall.’ 16 ‘An hey, Willie, an hoa, Willie, Winne ye turn agen?’ But ay the louder that she crayed He rod agenst the wind. 17 He rod up yon high hill, An doun yon douey den; The roring that was in Clid[e]‘s water Wad ha flayed ten thousand men. 18 He road in, an farder in, Till he came to the chine; An he road in, an farder in, Bat neuer mare was seen. * * * * * * 19 Ther was na mare seen of that guid lord Bat his hat frae his head; Ther was na mare seen of that lady Bat her comb an her sneed. 20 Ther waders went up an doun Eadying Claid’s water Hav don us wrang * * * * * B Jamieson’s Popular Ballads, I, 135; from Mrs Brown’s recitation, apparently in 1800. 1 ‘Gie corn to my horse, mither, Gie meat unto my man, For I maun gang to Margaret’s bower Before the nicht comes on.’ 2 ‘O stay at hame now, my son Willie, The wind blaws cald and sour; The nicht will be baith mirk and late Before ye reach her bower.’ 3 ‘O tho the nicht were ever sae dark, Or the wind blew never sae cald, I will be in my Margaret’s bower Before twa hours be tald.’ 4 ‘O gin ye gang to May Margaret, Without the leave of me, Clyde’s water’s wide and deep enough, My malison drown thee!’ 5 He mounted on his coal-black steed, And fast he rade awa, But ere he came to Clyde’s water Fu loud the wind did blaw. 6 As he rode oer yon hich, hich hill, And down yon dowie den, There was a roar in Clyde’s water Wad feard a hunder men. 7 His heart was warm, his pride was up; Sweet Willie kentna fear; But yet his mither’s malison Ay sounded in his ear. 8 O he has swam through Clyde’s water, Tho it was wide and deep, And he came to May Margaret’s door, When a’ were fast asleep. 9 O he’s gane round and round about, And tirled at the pin; But doors were steekd, and windows barrd, And nane wad let him in. 10 ‘O open the door to me, Margaret! O open and lat me in! For my boots are full o Clyde’s water And frozen to the brim.’ 11 ‘I darena open the door to you, Nor darena lat you in, For my mither she is fast asleep, And I darena mak nae din.’ 12 ‘O gin ye winna open the door, Nor yet be kind to me, Now tell me o some out-chamber Where I this nicht may be.’ 13 ‘Ye canna win in this nicht, Willie, Nor here ye canna be; For I’ve nae chambers out nor in, Nae ane but barely three. 14 ‘The tane o them is fu o corn, The tither is fu o hay; The tither is fu o merry young men; They winna remove till day.’