70. Willie And Lady Maisry
70a: Willie And Lady Maisry
70a.1 Willie was a widows son,
And he wore a milk-white weed, O
And weel could Willie read and write,
Far better ride on steed. O
70a.2 Lady Margerie was the first lady
That drank to him the wine,
And aye as the healths gade round and round,
Laddy, your love is mine.
70A.3 Lady Margerie was the first ladye
That drank to him the beer,
And aye as the healths gade round and round,
Laddy, youre welcome here.
70A.4 You must come into my bower
When the evening bells do ring,
And you must come into my bower
When the evening mass doth sing.
70A.5 Hes taen four and twenty braid arrows,
And laced them in a whang,
And hes awa to Lady Margeries bower,
As fast as he can gang.
70A.6 He set ae foot on the wall,
And the other on a stane,
And hes killed a the kings life-guards,
And hes killed them every man.
70A.7 Oh open, open, Lady Margerie,
Open and let me in;
The weet weets a my yellow hair,
And the dew draps on my chin.
70A.8 With her feet as white as sleet
She strode her bower within,
And with her fingers long and small
Shes looten Sweet Willie in.
70A.9 Shes louten down unto her foot
To loose Sweet Willies shoon;
The buckles were sa stiff they wudna lowse,
The blood had frozen in.
70a.10 O Willie, Willie, I fear that thou
Has bred me dule and sorrow;
The deed that thou has dune this nicht
Will kythe upon the morrow.
70A.11 In then came her father dear,
And a broad sword by his gare,
And hes gien Willie, the widows son,
A deep wound and a sair.
70A.12 Lye yont, lye yont, Willie, she says,
Your sweat weets a my side;
Lye yont, lie yont, Willie, she says,
For your sweat I downa bide.
70A.13 She turned her back unto the wa,
Her face unto the room,
And there she saw her auld father,
Walking up and down.
70A.14 Woe be to you, father, she said,
And an ill deed may you die!
For yeve killd Willie, the widows son
And he would have married me.
70A.15 She turned her back unto the room,
Her face unto the wa,
And with a deep and heavy sich
Her heart it brak in twa.
70b: Willie And Lady Maisry
70b.1 Sweet Willie was a widows son,
And milk-white was his weed;
It sets him weel to bridle a horse,
And better to saddle a steed, my dear,
And better to saddle a steed.
70B.2 But he is on to Maisrys bower-door,
And tirled at the pin:
Ye sleep ye, wake ye, Lady Maisry,
Yell open, let me come in.
70b.3 O who is this at my bower-door,
Sae well that knows my name?
It is your ain true-love, Willie,
If ye love me, lat me in.
70B.4 Then huly, huly raise she up,
For fear o making din,
Then in her arms lang and bent,
She caught sweet Willie in.
70B.5 She leand her low down to her toe,
To loose her true-loves sheen,
But cauld, cauld were the draps o bleed
Fell fae his trusty brand.
70B.6 What frightfu sight is that, my love?
A frightfu sight to see!
What bluid is this on your sharp brand?
O may ye not tell me?
70B.7 As I came thro the woods this night,
The wolf maist worried me;
O shoud I slain the wolf, Maisry?
Or shoud the wolf slain me?
70B.8 They hadna kissd, nor love clapped,
As lovers when they meet,
Till up it starts her auld father,
Out o his drowsy sleep.
70b.9 O whats become o my house-cock,
Sae crouse at ane did craw?
I wonder as much at my bold watch,
Thats nae shooting ower the wa.
70B.10 My gude house-cock, my only son,
Heir ower my land sae free,
If ony ruffian hae him slain,
High hanged shall he be.
70B.11 Then hes on to Maisrys bower-door,
And tirled at the pin:
Ye sleep ye, wake ye, daughter Maisry,
Yell open, lat me come in.
70B.12 Between the curtains and the wa
She rowd her true-love then,
And huly went she to the door,
And let her father in.
70B.13 Whats become o your maries, Maisry,
Your bower it looks sae teem?
Whats become o your green claithing,
Your beds they are sae thin?
70B.14 Gude forgie you, father, she said,
I wish ye bet for sin;
Sae aft as ye hae dreaded me,
But never found me wrang.
70B.15 He turnd him right and round about,
As hed been gaun awa;
But sae nimbly as he slippet in
Behind a screen sae sma.
70B.16 Maisry, thinking a dangers past,
She to her love did say,
Come, love, and take your silent rest;
My auld fathers away.
70B.17 Then baith lockd in each others arms,
They fell full fast asleep,
When up it starts her auld father,
And stood at their bed-feet.
70b.18 I think I hae the villain now
That my dear son did slay;
But I shall be revengd on him
Before I see the day.
70B.19 Then hes drawn out a trusty brand,
And stroakd it oer a stray,
And thro and thro Sweet Willies middle
Hes gart cauld iron gae.
70B.20 Then up it wakend Lady Maisry,
Out o her drowsy sleep,
And when she saw her true-love slain,
She straight began to weep.
70b.21 O gude forgie you now, father, she said,
I wish ye bet for sin;
For I never lovd a love but ane,
In my arms yeve him slain.
70B.22 This night hes slain my gude bold watch,
Thirty stout men and twa;
Likewise hes slain your ae brother,
To me was worth them a.
70B.23 If he has slain my ae brither,
Himsell had a the blame,
For mony a day he plots contrivd,
To hae Sweet Willie slain.
70B.24 And tho hes slain your gude bold watch,
He might hae been forgien;
They came on him in armour bright,
When he was but alane.
70B.25 Nae meen was made for this young knight,
In bower where he lay slain,
But a was for sweet Maisry bright,
In fields where she ran brain.
70a.1 Willie was a widows son,
And he wore a milk-white weed, O
And weel could Willie read and write,
Far better ride on steed. O
70a.2 Lady Margerie was the first lady
That drank to him the wine,
And aye as the healths gade round and round,
Laddy, your love is mine.
70A.3 Lady Margerie was the first ladye
That drank to him the beer,
And aye as the healths gade round and round,
Laddy, youre welcome here.
70A.4 You must come into my bower
When the evening bells do ring,
And you must come into my bower
When the evening mass doth sing.
70A.5 Hes taen four and twenty braid arrows,
And laced them in a whang,
And hes awa to Lady Margeries bower,
As fast as he can gang.
70A.6 He set ae foot on the wall,
And the other on a stane,
And hes killed a the kings life-guards,
And hes killed them every man.
70A.7 Oh open, open, Lady Margerie,
Open and let me in;
The weet weets a my yellow hair,
And the dew draps on my chin.
70A.8 With her feet as white as sleet
She strode her bower within,
And with her fingers long and small
Shes looten Sweet Willie in.
70A.9 Shes louten down unto her foot
To loose Sweet Willies shoon;
The buckles were sa stiff they wudna lowse,
The blood had frozen in.
70a.10 O Willie, Willie, I fear that thou
Has bred me dule and sorrow;
The deed that thou has dune this nicht
Will kythe upon the morrow.
70A.11 In then came her father dear,
And a broad sword by his gare,
And hes gien Willie, the widows son,
A deep wound and a sair.
70A.12 Lye yont, lye yont, Willie, she says,
Your sweat weets a my side;
Lye yont, lie yont, Willie, she says,
For your sweat I downa bide.
70A.13 She turned her back unto the wa,
Her face unto the room,
And there she saw her auld father,
Walking up and down.
70A.14 Woe be to you, father, she said,
And an ill deed may you die!
For yeve killd Willie, the widows son
And he would have married me.
70A.15 She turned her back unto the room,
Her face unto the wa,
And with a deep and heavy sich
Her heart it brak in twa.
70b: Willie And Lady Maisry
70b.1 Sweet Willie was a widows son,
And milk-white was his weed;
It sets him weel to bridle a horse,
And better to saddle a steed, my dear,
And better to saddle a steed.
70B.2 But he is on to Maisrys bower-door,
And tirled at the pin:
Ye sleep ye, wake ye, Lady Maisry,
Yell open, let me come in.
70b.3 O who is this at my bower-door,
Sae well that knows my name?
It is your ain true-love, Willie,
If ye love me, lat me in.
70B.4 Then huly, huly raise she up,
For fear o making din,
Then in her arms lang and bent,
She caught sweet Willie in.
70B.5 She leand her low down to her toe,
To loose her true-loves sheen,
But cauld, cauld were the draps o bleed
Fell fae his trusty brand.
70B.6 What frightfu sight is that, my love?
A frightfu sight to see!
What bluid is this on your sharp brand?
O may ye not tell me?
70B.7 As I came thro the woods this night,
The wolf maist worried me;
O shoud I slain the wolf, Maisry?
Or shoud the wolf slain me?
70B.8 They hadna kissd, nor love clapped,
As lovers when they meet,
Till up it starts her auld father,
Out o his drowsy sleep.
70b.9 O whats become o my house-cock,
Sae crouse at ane did craw?
I wonder as much at my bold watch,
Thats nae shooting ower the wa.
70B.10 My gude house-cock, my only son,
Heir ower my land sae free,
If ony ruffian hae him slain,
High hanged shall he be.
70B.11 Then hes on to Maisrys bower-door,
And tirled at the pin:
Ye sleep ye, wake ye, daughter Maisry,
Yell open, lat me come in.
70B.12 Between the curtains and the wa
She rowd her true-love then,
And huly went she to the door,
And let her father in.
70B.13 Whats become o your maries, Maisry,
Your bower it looks sae teem?
Whats become o your green claithing,
Your beds they are sae thin?
70B.14 Gude forgie you, father, she said,
I wish ye bet for sin;
Sae aft as ye hae dreaded me,
But never found me wrang.
70B.15 He turnd him right and round about,
As hed been gaun awa;
But sae nimbly as he slippet in
Behind a screen sae sma.
70B.16 Maisry, thinking a dangers past,
She to her love did say,
Come, love, and take your silent rest;
My auld fathers away.
70B.17 Then baith lockd in each others arms,
They fell full fast asleep,
When up it starts her auld father,
And stood at their bed-feet.
70b.18 I think I hae the villain now
That my dear son did slay;
But I shall be revengd on him
Before I see the day.
70B.19 Then hes drawn out a trusty brand,
And stroakd it oer a stray,
And thro and thro Sweet Willies middle
Hes gart cauld iron gae.
70B.20 Then up it wakend Lady Maisry,
Out o her drowsy sleep,
And when she saw her true-love slain,
She straight began to weep.
70b.21 O gude forgie you now, father, she said,
I wish ye bet for sin;
For I never lovd a love but ane,
In my arms yeve him slain.
70B.22 This night hes slain my gude bold watch,
Thirty stout men and twa;
Likewise hes slain your ae brother,
To me was worth them a.
70B.23 If he has slain my ae brither,
Himsell had a the blame,
For mony a day he plots contrivd,
To hae Sweet Willie slain.
70B.24 And tho hes slain your gude bold watch,
He might hae been forgien;
They came on him in armour bright,
When he was but alane.
70B.25 Nae meen was made for this young knight,
In bower where he lay slain,
But a was for sweet Maisry bright,
In fields where she ran brain.
