"When shall stones dance on the water, Merry son of mine?" 55 "When a feather sinks to the bottom, O dear mother mine."
"When shall feathers sink to the bottom, Merry son of mine?"
"When we all shall come to judgment, 60 O dear mother mine."
THE TWA BROTHERS. See p. 220.
From Motherwell's _Minstrelsy_, p. 61.
There were twa brothers at the scule, And when they got awa',-- "It's will ye play at the stane-chucking, Or will ye play at the ba', Or will ye gae up to yon hill head, 5 And there we'll warsel a fa'?"
"I winna play at the stane-chucking, Nor will I play at the ba'; But I'll gae up to yon bonnie green hill, And there we'll warsel a fa'." 10
They warsled up, they warsled down, Till John fell to the ground; A dirk fell out of William's pouch, And gave John a deadly wound.
"O lift me upon your back, 15 Take me to yon well fair, And wash my bluidy wounds o'er and o'er, And they'll ne'er bleed nae mair."
He's lifted his brother upon his back, Ta'en him to yon well fair; 20 He's wash'd his bluidy wounds o'er and o'er, But they bleed ay mair and mair.
"Tak ye aff my Holland sark, And rive it gair by gair, And row it in my bluidy wounds, 25 And they'll ne'er bleed nae mair."
He's taken aff his Holland sark, And torn it gair by gair; He's rowit it in his bluidy wounds, But they bleed ay mair and mair. 30
"Tak now aff my green cleiding, And row me saftly in; And tak me up to yon kirk style, Whare the grass grows fair and green."
He's taken aff the green cleiding, 35 And rowed him saftly in; He's laid him down by yon kirk style, Whare the grass grows fair and green.
"What will ye say to your father dear, When ye gae hame at e'en?" 40 "I'll say ye're lying at yon kirk style, Whare the grass grows fair and green."
"O no, O no, my brother dear, O you must not say so; But say that I'm gane to a foreign land, 45 Whare nae man does me know."
When he sat in his father's chair, He grew baith pale and wan: "O what blude 's that upon your brow?
O dear son, tell to me." 50 "It is the blude o' my gude gray steed, He wadna ride wi' me."
"O thy steed's blude was ne'er sae red, Nor e'er sae dear to me: O what blude 's this upon your cheek? 55 O dear son, tell to me."
"It is the blude of my greyhound, He wadna hunt for me."
"O thy hound's blude was ne'er sae red, Nor e'er sae dear to me: 60 O what blude 's this upon your hand?
O dear son, tell to me."
"It is the blude of my gay goss hawk, He wadna flee for me."
"O thy hawk's blude was ne'er sae red, 65 Nor e'er sae dear to me: O what blude 's this upon your dirk?
Dear Willie, tell to me."
"It is the blude of my ae brother, O dule and wae is me!" 70
"O what will ye say to your father?
Dear Willie, tell to me."
"I'll saddle my steed, and awa I'll ride To dwell in some far countrie."
"O when will ye come hame again? 75 Dear Willie, tell to me."
"When sun and mune leap on yon hill, And that will never be."
She turn'd hersel' right round about, And her heart burst into three: 80 "My ae best son is deid and gane, And my tother ane I'll ne'er see."
THE MILLER AND THE KING'S DAUGHTER. See p. 231.
From _Wit Restor'd_, (1658,) reprinted, London, 1817, i. 153. It is there ascribed to "Mr. Smith," (Dr. James Smith, the author of many of the pieces in that collection,) who may have written it down from tradition, and perhaps added a verse or two. Mr. Rimbault has printed the same piece from a broadside dated 1656, in _Notes and Queries_, v. 591. A fragment of it is given from recitation at p.
316 of that volume, and a copy quite different from any before published, at p. 102 of vol. vi. Although two or three stanzas are ludicrous, and were probably intended for burlesque, this ballad is by no means to be regarded as a parody.
There were two sisters, they went a-playing, _With a hie downe, downe, a downe a_; To see their fathers ships sayling in.
_With a hy downe, downe, a downe o._
And when they came into the sea brym, _With_, &c.
The elder did push the younger in.
"O sister, O sister, take me by the gowne, 5 _With_, &c.
And drawe me up upon the dry ground."
"O sister, O sister, that may not bee, _With_, &c.
Till salt and oatmeale grow both of a tree."
Somtymes she sanke, somtymes she swam, _With_, &c.
Untill she came unto the mildam. 10 _With_, &c.
The miller runne hastily downe the cliffe, _With_, &c.
And up he betook her withouten her life.
What did he doe with her brest bone?
He made him a viall to play thereupon.
What did he doe with her fingers so small? 15 _With_, &c.
He made him peggs to his violl withall.
What did he doe with her nose-ridge?