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He strack the tap-mast wi' his hand, The fore-mast wi' his knee; And he brake that gallant ship in twain, 75 And sank her in the sea.


From Buchan's _Ballads of the North of Scotland_, (i. 214.)

(See the preface to the last ballad but one.)

"O are ye my father, or are ye my mother?

Or are ye my brother John?

Or are ye James Herries, my first true love, Come back to Scotland again?"

"I am not your father, I am not your mother, 5 Nor am I your brother John; But I'm James Herries, your first true love, Come back to Scotland again."

"Awa', awa', ye former lovers, Had far awa' frae me; 10 For now I am another man's wife, Ye'll ne'er see joy o' me."

"Had I kent that ere I came here, I ne'er had come to thee; For I might hae married the king's daughter, 15 Sae fain she wou'd had me.

"I despised the crown o' gold, The yellow silk also; And I am come to my true love, But with me she'll not go." 20

"My husband he is a carpenter, Makes his bread on dry land, And I hae born him a young son,-- Wi' you I will not gang."

"You must forsake your dear husband, 25 Your little young son also, Wi' me to sail the raging seas, Where the stormy winds do blow."

"O what hae you to keep me wi', If I should with you go? 30 If I'd forsake my dear husband, My little young son also?"

"See ye not yon seven pretty ships, The eighth brought me to land; With merchandize and mariners, 35 And wealth in every hand?"

She turn'd her round upon the shore, Her love's ships to behold; Their topmasts and their mainyards Were cover'd o'er wi' gold. 40

Then she's gane to her little young son, And kiss'd him cheek and chin; Sae has she to her sleeping husband, And dune the same to him.

"O sleep ye, wake ye, my husband, 45 I wish ye wake in time; I woudna for ten thousand pounds, This night ye knew my mind."

She's drawn the slippers on her feet, Were cover'd o'er wi' gold; 50 Well lined within wi' velvet fine, To had her frae the cold.

She hadna sailed upon the sea A league but barely three, Till she minded on her dear husband, 55 Her little young son tee.

"O gin I were at land again, At land where I wou'd be, The woman ne'er shou'd bear the son, Shou'd gar me sail the sea." 60

"O hold your tongue, my sprightly flower, Let a' your mourning be; I'll show you how the lilies grow On the banks o' Italy."

She hadna sailed on the sea 65 A day but barely ane, Till the thoughts o' grief came in her mind, And she lang'd for to be hame.

"O gentle death, come cut my breath, I may be dead ere morn; 70 I may be buried in Scottish ground, Where I was bred and born."

"O hold your tongue, my lily leesome thing, Let a' your mourning be; But for a while we'll stay at Rose Isle, 75 Then see a far countrie.

"Ye'se ne'er be buried in Scottish ground, Nor land ye's nae mair see; I brought you away to punish you, For the breaking your vows to me. 80

"I said ye shou'd see the lilies grow On the banks o' Italy; But I'll let you see the fishes swim, In the bottom o' the sea."

He reached his band to the topmast, 85 Made a' the sails gae down; And in the twinkling o' an e'e, Baith ship and crew did drown.

The fatal flight o' this wretched maid Did reach her ain countrie; 90 Her husband then distracted ran, And this lament made he:--

"O wae be to the ship, the ship, And wae be to the sea, And wae be to the mariners, 95 Took Jeanie Douglas frae me!

"O bonny, bonny was my love, A pleasure to behold; The very hair o' my love's head Was like the threads o' gold. 100

"O bonny was her cheek, her cheek, And bonny was her chin; And bonny was the bride she was, The day she was made mine!"

*** The following stanzas from a version of this ballad printed at Philadelphia (and called _The House Carpenter_) are given in Graham's _Illustrated Magazine_, Sept. 1858.

"I might have married the king's daughter dear;"

"You might have married her," cried she, "For I am married to a House Carpenter, And a fine young man is he."

"Oh dry up your tears, my own true love, And cease your weeping," cried he; "For soon you'll see your own happy home, On the banks of old Tennessee."


From _Buchan's ballads of the North of Scotland_, (i. 227.)

"There is a fashion in this land, And even come to this country, That every lady should meet her lord, When he is newly come frae sea:

"Some wi' hawks, and some wi' hounds, 5 And other some wi' gay monie; But I will gae myself alone, And set his young son on his knee."

She's ta'en her young son in her arms, And nimbly walk'd by yon sea strand; 10 And there she spy'd her father's ship, As she was sailing to dry land.

"Where hae ye put my ain gude lord, This day he stays sae far frae me?"

"If ye be wanting your ain gude lord, 15 A sight o' him ye'll never see."

"Was he brunt, or was he shot?

Or was he drowned in the sea?

Or what's become o' my ain gude lord, That he will ne'er appear to me?" 20

"He wasna brunt, nor was he shot, Nor was he drowned in the sea; He was slain in Dumfermling, A fatal day to you and me."

"Come in, come in, my merry young men, 25 Come in and drink the wine wi' me; And a' the better ye shall fare, For this gude news ye tell to me."

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