What gars you mourn sae sair?"
"You know," said she, "I'm with child to thee, These eight lang months and mair."
"Will ye gae to my mother's bower, 25 Stands on yon stately green?
Or will ye gae to the gude greenwood, Where ye will not be seen?"
"I winna gang to your mother's bower, Stands on yon stately green; 30 But I will on to gude greenwood, For I will not be seen."
He's girt his sword down by his side, Took his lady by the hand; And they are on thro' gude greenwood, 35 As fast as they could gang.
With slowly steps these couple walk'd, About miles scarcely three; When this lady, being sair wearied out, Lay down beneath a tree. 40
"O for a few of yon junipers, To cheer my heart again; And likewise for a gude midwife, To ease me of my pain."
"I'll bring to you yon junipers, 45 To cheer your heart again; And I'll be to you a gude midwife, To ease you of your pain."
"Had far awa' frae me, Archibald, For this will never dee; 50 That's nae the fashion o' our land, And its nae be used by me.
"Ye'll take your small sword by your side, Your buckler and your bow; And ye'll gae down thro' gude greenwood, 55 And hunt the deer and roe.
"You will stay in gude green wood, And with the chase go on; Until yon white hind pass you by, Then straight to me ye'll come." 60
He's girt his sword then by his side, His buckler and his bow; And he is on thro' gude greenwood, To hunt the deer and roe.
And in the greenwood he did stay, 65 And with the chase gaed on, Until the white hind pass'd him by, Then to his love he came.
He girt his sword then by his side, Fast thro' greenwood went he; 70 And there he found his love lie dead, Beneath the green oak tree.
The sweet young babe that she had born Right lively seemed to be; "Ohon, alas!" said young Archibald, 75 "A mournful scene to me!
"Altho' my sweet babe is alive, This does increase my woe; How to nourish a motherless babe Is mair than I do know." 80
He looked east, he looked west, To see what he could see; Then spied the Earl o' Huntingdon, And mony a man him wi'.
Then Archibald fled from the earl's face, 85 Among the leaves sae green, That he might hear what might be said, And see, and nae be seen.
The earl straight thro' the greenwood came, Unto the green oak tree; 90 And there he saw his daughter dead, Her living child her wi'.
Then he's taen up the little boy, Rowed him in his gown sleeve; Said, "Tho' your father's to my loss, 95 Your mother's to me leave.
"And if ye live until I die, My bowers and lands ye'se heir; You are my only daughter's child, But her I never had mair. 100
"Ye'se hae all kinds of nourishment, And likewise nurses three; If I knew where the fause knave were, High hanged should he be."
His daughter he buried in gude church-yard, 105 All in a mournful mood; And brought the boy to church that day, And christen'd him Robin Hood.
This boy was bred in the earl's ha', Till he became a man; 110 But loved to hunt in gude green wood To raise his noble fame.
ROSE THE RED AND WHITE LILLIE.
From Buchan's _Ballads of the North of Scotland_, i. 67. See p. 173.
Now word is gane thro' a' the land, Gude seal that it sae spread!
To Rose the Red and White Lillie, Their mither dear was dead.
Their father's married a bauld woman, 5 And brought her ower the sea; Twa sprightly youths, her ain young sons, Intill her companie.
They fix'd their eyes on those ladies, On shipboard as they stood, 10 And sware, if ever they wan to land, These ladies they wou'd wed.
But there was nae a quarter past, A quarter past but three, Till these young luvers a' were fond 15 O' others companie.
The knights they harped i' their bower, The ladies sew'd and sang; There was mair mirth in that chamer Than a' their father's lan'. 20
Then out it spak their step-mither, At the stair-foot stood she; "I'm plagued wi' your troublesome noise, What makes your melodie?
"O Rose the Red, ye sing too loud, 25 While Lillie your voice is strang; But gin I live and brook my life, I'se gar you change your sang."
"We maunna change our loud, loud song, For nae duke's son ye'll bear; 30 We winna change our loud, loud song, But aye we'll sing the mair.
"We never sung the sang, mither, But we'll sing ower again; We'll take our harps into our hands, 35 And we'll harp, and we'll sing."
She's call'd upon her twa young sons, Says, "Boun ye for the sea; Let Rose the Red, and White Lillie, Stay in their bower wi' me." 40
"O God forbid," said her eldest son, "Nor lat it ever be, Unless ye were as kind to our luves As gin we were them wi."
"Yet never the less, my pretty sons, 45 Ye'll boun you for the faem; Let Rose the Red, and White Lillie, Stay in their bowers at hame."
"O when wi' you we came alang, We felt the stormy sea; 50 And where we go, ye ne'er shall know, Nor shall be known by thee."
Then wi' her harsh and boisterous word, She forc'd these lads away; While Rose the Red and White Lillie 55 Still in their bowers did stay.
But there was not a quarter past, A quarter past but ane; Till Rose the Red in rags she gaed, White Lillie's claithing grew thin. 60
Wi' bitter usage every day, The ladies they thought lang; "Ohon, alas!" said Rose the Red, "She's gar'd us change our sang.
"But we will change our own fu' names, 65 And we'll gang frae the town; Frae Rose the Red and White Lillie, To Nicholas and Roger Brown.
"And we will cut our green claithing A little aboon our knee; 70 And we will on to gude greenwood, Twa bauld bowmen to be."
"Ohon, alas!" said White Lillie, "My fingers are but sma'; And tho' my hands wou'd wield the bow, 75 They winna yield at a'."
"O had your tongue now, White Lillie, And lat these fears a' be; There's naething that ye're awkward in But I will learn thee." 80
Then they are on to gude greenwood As fast as gang cou'd they; O then they spied him, Robin Hood, Below a green aik tree.
"Gude day, gude day, kind sir," they said, 85 "God make you safe and free."