Up then rose the faire Ellen, And gave his steede corne and hay; And soe shee did the good black oates, To carry him the better awaye.
She leaned her back to the manger side, 145 And grievouslye did groane; She leaned her back to the manger side, And there shee made her moane.
And that beheard his mother deare, Shee heard her woefull woe:[L150] 150 Shee sayd, "Rise up, thou Childe Waters, And into thy stable goe.
"For in thy stable is a ghost, That grievouslye doth grone; Or else some woman laboures with childe, 155 Shee is so woe-begone."
Up then rose Childe Waters soone, And did on his shirte of silke; And then he put on his other clothes, On his bodye as white as milke. 160
And when he came to the stable dore, Full still there hee did stand, That hee mighte heare his fayre Ellen, Howe shee made her monand.
She sayd, "Lullabye, mine own dear childe, 165 Lullabye, deare childe, deare; I wolde thy father were a kinge, Thy mothere layd on a biere."
"Peace nowe," hee sayd, "good, faire Ellen, Bee of good cheere, I praye; 170 And the bridale and the churchinge bothe Shall bee upon one daye.
13, MS. be inne.
33, 34, supplied by Percy.
133, 134, supplied by Percy.
150, her woefull woe, Percy!
Printed from Mrs. Brown's recitation, in Jamieson's _Popular Ballads_, i. 117. We have restored the text by omitting some interpolations of the editor, and three concluding stanzas by the same, which, contrary to all authority, gave a tragic turn to the story.
Lord John stood in his stable door, Said he was boun to ride; Burd Ellen stood in her bower door, Said she'd rin by his side.
He's pitten on his cork-heel'd shoon, 5 And fast awa rade he; She's clad hersel in page array, And after him ran she:
Till they came till a wan water, And folks do call it Clyde; 10 Then he's lookit o'er his left shoulder, Says, "Lady, will ye ride?"
"O I learnt it wi' my bower woman, And I learnt it for my weal, Whanever I cam to wan water, 15 To swim like ony eel."
But the firsten stap the lady stappit, The water came till her knee; "Ochon, alas!" said the lady, "This water's o'er deep for me." 20
The nexten stap the lady stappit, The water came till her middle; And sighin says that gay lady, "I've wat my gouden girdle."
The thirden stap the lady stappit, 25 The water came till her pap; And the bairn that was in her twa sides For cauld began to quake.
"Lie still, lie still, my ain dear babe; Ye work your mother wae: 30 Your father rides on high horse back, Cares little for us twae."
O about the midst o' Clyde's water There was a yeard-fast stane; He lightly turn'd his horse about, 35 And took her on him behin.
"O tell me this now, good lord John, And a word ye dinna lie, How far it is to your lodgin, Whare we this night maun be?" 40
"O see na ye yon castell, Ellen, That shines sae fair to see?
There is a lady in it, Ellen, Will sinder you and me.
"There is a lady in that castell 45 Will sinder you and I"-- "Betide me weal, betide me wae, I sall gang there and try."
"My dogs shall eat the good white bread, And ye shall eat the bran; 50 Then will ye sigh, and say, alas!
That ever I was a man!"
"O I shall eat the good white bread, And your dogs shall eat the bran; And I hope to live to bless the day, 55 That ever ye was a man."
"O my horse shall eat the good white meal, And ye sall eat the corn; Then will ye curse the heavy hour That ever your love was born." 60
["O I shall eat the good white meal, And your horse shall eat the corn;][L62]
I ay sall bless the happy hour That ever my love was born."
O four and twenty gay ladies 65 Welcom'd lord John to the ha', But a fairer lady than them a'
Led his horse to the stable sta.'
O four and twenty gay ladies Welcom'd lord John to the green; 70 But a fairer lady than them a'
At the manger stood alane.
When bells were rung, and mass was sung, And a' men boun to meat, Burd Ellen was at the bye-table 75 Amang the pages set.
"O eat and drink, my bonny boy, The white bread and the beer."-- "The never a bit can I eat or drink, My heart's sae fu' o' fear." 80
"O eat and drink, my bonny boy, The white bread and the wine."-- "O how sall I eat or drink, master, Wi' heart sae fu' o' pine?"
But out and spak lord John's mother, 85 And a wise woman was she: "Whare met ye wi' that bonny boy, That looks sae sad on thee?
Sometimes his cheek is rosy red, And sometimes deadly wan; 90 He's liker a woman big wi' bairn, Than a young lord's serving man."
"O it makes me laugh, my mother dear, Sic words to hear frae thee; He is a squire's ae dearest son, 95 That for love has followed me.
"Rise up, rise up, my bonny boy, Gi'e my horse corn and hay."-- "O that I will, my master dear, As quickly as I may." 100
She's ta'en the hay under her arm, The corn intill her hand, And she's gane to the great stable, As fast as e'er she can.
"O room ye round, my bonny brown steeds, 105 O room ye near the wa'; For the pain that strikes me through my sides Full soon will gar me fa'."
She lean'd her back against the wa'; Strong travel came her on; 110 And e'en amang the great horse feet Burd Ellen brought forth her son.
Lord Johnis mither intill her bower Was sitting all alane, When, in the silence o' the nicht, 115 She heard Burd Ellen's mane.
"Won up, won up, my son," she says, "Gae see how a' does fare; For I think I hear a woman's groans, And a bairnie greetin' sair." 120
O hastily he gat him up, Staid neither for hose nor shoon, And he's doen him to the stable door Wi' the clear light o' the moon.