Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border: Consisting of Historical and Romantic Ballads, Collected in the Southern Counties of Scotland; with a Few of Modern Date, Founded Upon Local Tradition, Volume 2

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Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme and Brown, 1821 - Ballads, Scots
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Page 215 - Yell sit on his white hausc bane, " And I'll pike out his bonny blue een : " Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair, " We'll theek* our nest when it grows bare. " Mony a one for him makes mane, " But nane sail ken whare he is gane : " O'er his white banes, when they are bare, " The wind sall blaw for evermair.
Page 213 - 1792, p. 155. I have seen a copy of this dirge much modernized. THE TWA CORBIES. As I was walking all alane, I heard twa corbies making a mane; The tane unto the t'other say, " Where sail we gang and dine to-day ? n
Page 223 - And they twa met, and they twa plat, And fain they wad be near; And a' the warld might ken right weel, They were twa lovers dear. But bye and rade the Black Douglas, And wow but he was rough ! For he pull'd up the bonny brier, And flang'd in St Mary's Loch. VOL. II.
Page 326 - O Helen fair ! O Helen chaste ! If I were with thee, I were blest, Where thou lies low, and takes thy rest. On fair Kirconnell Lee. I wish my grave were growing green, A winding sheet drawn ower my een, And I in Helen's arms lying, On fair Kirconnell Lee.
Page 371 - Wi' my true love, on Yarrow. " O gentle wind, that bloweth south, " From where my love repaireth, " Convey a kiss from his dear mouth, " And tell me how he fareth ! But in the glen strive armed men; " They've wrought me dole and sorrow; They've slain—the comeliest knight they've slain— " He bleeding lies on Yarrow.
Page 220 - O hold your hand, Lord William !" she said, " For your strokes they are wond'rous sair; " True lovers I can get many a ane, " But a father I can never get mair.' ' O she's ta'en out her handkerchief, It was o' the holland sae fine, And aye she dighted her father's bloody wounds, That were redder than the
Page 363 - hosen and shoon, Every night and alle ; Sit thee down, and put them on; And Christe receive thye saule. If hosen and shoon thou ne'er gavest nane, Every night and alle; The whinnes shall pricke thee to the bare bane ; And Christe receive thy saule. From Whinny-muir when thou
Page 426 - a league, a league, A league but barely three, When dismal grew his countenance, And drumlie grew his e'e. The masts that were like the beaten gold, Bent not on the heaving seas ; But the sails, that were o ' the taffetie, Fill'd not in the east land breeze. They had not sailed a league, a league
Page 424 - O I'm come to seek my former vows " Ye granted me before.'" " O hold your tongue of your former vows, " For they will breed sad strife; " O hold your tongue of your former vows, • " For I am become a wife." He turn'd him right and round about, And the tear blinded his
Page 214 - In behint yon auld fail* dyke, " I wot there lies a new-slain knight; " And nae body kens that he lies there, " But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair. " His hound is to the hunting gane,

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