Ancient Ballads and Songs of the North of Scotland: Hitherto Unpublished, with Explanatory Notes, Volume 1

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W. & D. Laing, and J. Stevenson, 1828 - Ballads, Scots - 352 pages
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Page 7 - Fair lady Isabel sits in her bower sewing, Aye as the gowans grow gay There she heard an elf-knight blawing his horn. The first morning in May . "If I had yon horn that I hear blawing, And yon elf-knight to sleep in my bosom.
Page 90 - How can I turn to my horse head, And learn how to sowm ? I've gotten my mither's malison, It's here that I maun drown!" The very hour this young man sank Into the pot sae deep, Up it waken'd his love, Meggie, Out o' her drowsy sleep. " Come kere, come here, my mither dear, And read this dreary dream ; I dream'd my love was at our gates, And nane wad let him in.
Page 30 - Then he has staid in bower wi' her For sax lang years and ane, Till sax young sons to him she bare, And the seventh she's brought hame.
Page 33 - For naething cou'd the companie do, Nor naething cou'd they say ; But they saw a flock o' pretty birds That took their bride away.
Page 166 - The first an' town that they came till, He bought her brooch and ring ; But aye he bade her turn again, And gang nae farder wi' him. But again, dear love, and again, dear love, Will ye never love me again ? Alas ! for loving you sae well, : And you, nae me again.
Page 33 - Her seven sons in seven swans, Aboon their heads to flee; And he himsell a gay gos-hawk, A bird o high degree. This flock o birds took flight and flew Beyond the raging sea, And landed near the Earl Mar's castle, Took shelter in every tree. They were a flock o pretty birds, Right comely to be seen; The people viewd them wi surprise, As they dancd on the green.
Page xvi - He gae the third to the minstrel That play'd before the king; And he play'd success to the bonny boy, Came thro
Page 146 - He's ta'en her by the milk-white hand, And by the grass-green sleeve ; He's mounted her hie behind himsell, At her kinsmen spiered na leave. " Now take your bride, lord Lochinvar ! Now take her if you may ! But if you take your bride again, Well call it but foul play.
Page 7 - Then she became a turtle dow, To fly up in the air, And he became another dow, And they flew pair and pair.
Page 32 - Get nae dancers to dance, mither, Nor minstrells for to play ; For the mither o' my seven sons, The morn's her wedding-day." " O tell me, tell me, Florentine, Tell me, and tell me true, Tell me this day without a flaw, What I will dc for you.

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