There was a knight and a lady bright,
Had a true tryste at the broom;
The ane ga’ed early in the morning,
The other in the afternoon.
And ay she sat in her mother’s bower
door,
And ay she made her mane,
“Oh whether should I gang to the
Broomfield hill,
“Or should I stay at hame?
“For if I gang to the Broomfield
hill,
“My maidenhead is gone;
“And if I chance to stay at hame,
“My love will ca’ me
mansworn.”
Up then spake a witch woman,
Ay from the room aboon;
“O, ye may gang to the Broomfield
hill,
“And yet come maiden hame.
“For, when ye gang to the Broomfield
hill,
“Ye’ll find your love
asleep,
“With a silver-belt about his head,
“And a broom-cow at his feet.
“Take ye the blossom of the broom,
“The blossom it smells sweet,
“And strew it at your true love’s
head,
“And likewise at his feet.
“Take ye the rings off your fingers,
“Put them on his right hand,
“To let him know, when he doth awake,
“His love was at his command.”
She pu’d the broom flower on Hive-hill,
And strew’d on’s white
hals bane,
And that was to be wittering true,
That maiden she had gane.
“O where were ye, my milk-white
steed,
“That I hae coft sae dear,
“That wadna watch and waken me,
“When there was maiden here?”
“I stamped wi’ my foot, master,
“And gar’d my bridle
ring;
“But na kin’ thing wald waken
ye,
“Till she was past and gane.”
“And wae betide ye, my gay goss
hawk,
“That I did love sae dear,
“That wadna watch and waken me,
“When there was maiden here.”
“I clapped wi’ my wings, master,
“And aye my bells I rang,
“And aye cry’d, waken, waken,
master,
“Before the ladye gang.”
“But haste and haste, my good white
steed,
“To come the maiden till,
“Or a’ the birds, of gude
green wood,
“Of your flesh shall have
their fill.”
“Ye need na burst your good white
steed,
“Wi’ racing o’er
the howm;
“Nae bird flies faster through the
wood,
“Than she fled through the
broom.”
PROUD LADY MARGARET.
This Ballad was communicated to
the Editor by Mr HAMILTON, Music-seller, Edinburgh,
with whose Mother it had been a, favourite. Two
verses and one line were wanting, which are here supplied
from a different Ballad, having a plot somewhat similar.
These verses are the 6th and 9th.
’Twas on a night, an evening bright,
When the dew began to fa’,
Lady Margaret was walking up and down,
Looking o’er her castle
wa’.
She looked east, and she looked west,
To see what she could spy,
When a gallant knight came in her sight,
And to the gate drew nigh.
“You seem to be no gentleman,
“You wear your boots
so wide;
“But you seem to be some cunning
hunter,
“You wear the horn so
syde.”[A]
“I am no cunning hunter,”
he said,
“Nor ne’er intend
to be;
“But I am come to this castle
“To seek the love of
thee;
“And if you do not grant me love,
“This night for thee
I’ll die.”
“If you should die for me, sir knight,
“There’s few for
you will mane,
“For mony a better has died for
me,
“Whose graves are growing
green.
“But ye maun read my riddle,”
she said,
“And answer my questions
three;
“And but ye read them right,”
she said,
“Gae stretch ye out
and die.—
“Now, what is the flower, the ae
first flower,
“Springs either on moor or
dale?
“And what is the bird, the bonnie
bonnie bird,
“Sings on the evening gale?”
“The primrose is the ae first flower,
“Springs either on moor or
dale;
“And the thistlecock is the bonniest
bird;
“Sings on the evening gale.”
“But what’s the little coin,”
she said,
“Wald buy my castle bound?
“And what’s the little boat,”
she said,
“Can sail the world all round?”
“O hey, how mony small pennies
“Make thrice three thousand
pound?
“Or hey, how mony small fishes
“Swim a’ the salt sea
round.”
“I think you maun be my match,”
she said,
“My match, and something mair;
“You are the first e’er got
the grant
Of love frae my father’s heir.
“My father was lord of nine castles,
“My mother lady of three;
“My father was lord of nine castles,
“And there’s nane to
heir but me.
“And round about a’ thae castles,
“You may baith plow and saw,
“And on the fifteenth day of May,
“The meadows they will maw.”
“O hald your tongue, lady Margaret,”
he said,
“For loud I hear you lie!
“Your father was lord of nine castles,
“Your mother was lady of three;
“Your father was lord of nine castles,
“But ye fa’ heir to
but three.
“And round about a’ thae castles,
“You may baith plow and saw,
“But on the fifteenth day of May
“The meadows will not maw.
“I am your brother Willie,”
he said,
“I trow ye ken na me;
“I came to humble your haughty heart,
“Has gar’d sae mony
die.”
“If ye be my brother Willie,”
she said,
“As I trow weel ye be,
“This night I’ll neither eat
nor drink,
“But gae alang wi’ thee.”
“O hold your tongue, lady Margaret,”
he said.
“Again I hear you lie;
“For ye’ve unwashen hands,
and ye’ve unwashen feet,[B]
“To gae to clay wi’
me.
“For the wee worms are my bedfellows,
“And cauld clay is my sheets;
“And when the stormy winds do blow,
“My body lies and sleeps.”
[Footnote A: Syde—Long or low.]
[Footnote B: Unwashen hands
and unwashen feet—Alluding to the custom
of washing and dressing dead bodies.]
