Ballad Book Part 4

"And ye maun dry it upon a thorn, (Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw,) That never budded sin' Adam was born."

(And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'.)

"O gin that kindness I do for thee; (Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw,) There's something ye maun do for me.

(And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'.)

"I hae an acre o' gude lea-land, (Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw,) Between the saut sea and the strand; (And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'.)

"Ye'll plough it wi' your blawing horn, (Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw,) And ye will sow it wi' pepper corn, (And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'.)

"And ye maun harrow't wi' a single tyne, (Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw,) And shear it wi' a sheep's shank bane; (And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'.)

"And bigg a cart o' lime and stane, (Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw,) And Robin Redbreast maun trail it hame, (And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'.)

"And ye maun barn it in a mouse-hole, (Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw,) And ye maun thresh it in your shoe sole; (And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'.)

"And ye maun winnow it wi' your loof, (Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw,) And ye maun sack it in your glove; (And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'.)

"And ye maun dry it, but candle or coal, (Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw,) And ye maun grind it, but quern or mill; (And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'.)

"When ye hae done, and finish'd your wark, (Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw,) Then come to me, and ye'se get your sark!"

(And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'.)

LADY ISOBEL AND THE ELF-KNIGHT.

There cam' a bird out o' a bush, On water for to dine, An' sighing sair, says the king's daughter, "O wae's this heart o' mine!"

He's taen a harp into his hand, He's harped them all asleep, Except it was the king's daughter, Who ae wink couldna get.

He's luppen on his berry-brown steed, Taen 'er on behind himsell, Then baith rede down to that water That they ca' Wearie's Well.

"Wide in, wide in, my lady fair, Nae harm shall thee befall; Aft times hae I water'd my steed Wi' the water o' Wearie's Well."

The first step that she stepped in, She stepped to the knee; And sighing sair, says this lady fair, "This water's nae for me."

"Wide in, wide in, my lady fair, Nae harm shall thee befall; Aft times hae I water'd my steed Wi' the water o' Wearie's Well."

The neist step that she stepped in, She stepped to the middle; "O," sighend says this lady fair, "I've wat my gowden girdle."

"Wide in, wide in, my lady fair, Nae harm shall thee befall; Aft times hae I water'd my steed Wi' the water o' Wearie's Well."

The neist step that she stepped in, She stepped to the chin; "O," sighend says this lady fair, "I'll wade nae farer in."

"Seven king's-daughters I've drownd here, In the water o' Wearie's Well, And I'll mak' you the eight o' them, And ring the common bell."

"Sin' I am standing here," she says, "This dowie death to die, Ae kiss o' your comely mouth I'm sure wad comfort me."

He's louted him o'er his saddle bow, To kiss her cheek and chin; She's taen him in her arms twa, An' thrown him headlong in.

"Sin' seven king's-daughters ye've drownd here, In the water o' Wearie's Well, I'll mak' you bridegroom to them a', An' ring the bell mysell."

TOM THUMBE.

In Arthurs court Tom Thumbe did live, A man of mickle might, The best of all the table round, And eke a doughty knight:

His stature but an inch in height, Or quarter of a span; Then thinke you not this little knight, Was prov'd a valiant man?

His father was a plow-man plaine, His mother milkt the cow, But yet the way to get a sonne This couple knew not how,

Untill such time this good old man To learned Merlin goes, And there to him his deepe desires In secret manner showes,

How in his heart he wisht to have A childe, in time to come, To be his heire, though it might be No bigger than his Thumbe.

Of which old Merlin thus foretold, That he his wish should have, And so this sonne of stature small The charmer to him gave.

No blood nor bones in him should be, In shape and being such, That men should heare him speake, but not His wandring shadow touch:

But all unseene to goe or come Whereas it pleasd him still; And thus King Arthurs Dwarfe was born, To fit his fathers will:

And in foure minutes grew so fast, That he became so tall As was the plowmans thumbe in height, And so they did him call

Tom Thumbe, the which the Fayry-Queene There gave him to his name, Who, with her traine of Goblins grim, Unto his christning came.

Whereas she cloath'd him richly brave, In garments fine and faire, Which lasted him for many yeares In seemely sort to weare.

His hat made of an oaken leafe, His s.h.i.+rt a spiders web, Both light and soft for those his limbes That were so smally bred;

His hose and doublet thistle downe, Togeather weav'd full fine; His stockins of an apple greene, Made of the outward rine;

His garters were two little haires, Pull'd from his mothers eye, His bootes and shooes a mouses skin, There tand most curiously.

Thus, like a l.u.s.tie gallant, he Adventured forth to goe, With other children in the streets His pretty trickes to show.

Where he for counters, pinns, and points, And cherry stones did play, Till he amongst those gamesters young Had loste his stocke away,

Yet could he soone renew the same, When as most nimbly he Would dive into their cherry-baggs, And there partaker be,

Unseene or felt by any one, Untill a scholler shut This nimble youth into a boxe, Wherein his pins he put.

Of whom to be reveng'd, he tooke (In mirth and pleasant game) Black pots, and gla.s.ses, which he hung Upon a bright sunne-beam.

The other boyes to doe the like, In pieces broke them quite; For which they were most soundly whipt, Whereat he laught outright.