329 Lord Ullin's Daughter
'Lord Ullin's Daughter.' Sung by Mr. and Mrs. James York. From a pre-
vious recording by Dr. W. A. Abrams at Boone, Watauga county, September 8,
1940. Cf. FMNEE 58, 'The Water of Tyne.' It is interesting to find quite a
ADDITIONAL I! A L L A D S 347
relationship between this tune and that to 'Barbara Allen,' 2yK{6) above, both
sung by the same singers.
town, Kind boat - man,
do
not
tar - ry,-
And I'll give you
iifv-
sil ver crown to o'er
the fer ry-—
Scale: Tetratonic (2, 4), plagal. Tonal Center: g. Structure: aa^ (4,4;.
Circular tune (V).
The poem, the complete text of which is given below, was written by
Thomas Campbell. It was first sketched in Mull, in 1795, and (in 1804) elabo-
rated at Sydenham. It was published with the first edition of Gertrude of
IVyom'mg in 1809. The singers told the present editor that they learned the
song from Mr. James York's mother, Mrs. Ivah Redman York, whose parents
came from England. For a Scotch version and comments, see Our Familiar
Songs, New York, 1881, pp. 331-2.
Lord Ullin's Daughter
by Thomas Campbell
A chieftain to the Highlands bound
Cries 'Boatman, do not tarry !
And I'll give thee a silver pound
To row us o'er the ferry.'
'Now who be 3'e would cross Lochgyle
This dark and stormy water ?'
'O, I'm the chief of Ulva's isle,
And this Lord Ullin's daughter.
'And fast before her father's men
Three days we've fled together.
For, should he find us in the glen,
My blood would stain the heather.
'His horsemen hard behind us ride ;
Should they our steps discover,
Then who will cheer my bonny bride
When they have slain her lover ?'
348 NORTH CAROLINA FOLKLORE
Out spoke the hardy Highland wight,
'I'll go, my chief! I'm ready;
It is not for your silver bright.
But for your winsome lady.
'And, by my word ! the bonny bird
In danger shall not tarry ;
So, though the waves are raging white
I'll row you o'er the ferry.'
By this the storm grew loud apace,
The water-wraith was shrieking ;
And in the scowl of heaven each face
Grew dark as they were speaking.
But still, as wilder blew the wind,
And as the night grew drearer,
Adown the glen rode armed men —
Their trampling sounded nearer.
'O haste thee, haste !' the lady cries,
'Though tempests round us gather ;
I'll meet the raging of the skies.
But not an angry father.'
The boat has left a stormy land,
A stormy sea before her.
When, oh ! too strong for human hand,
The tempest gathered o'er her.
And still they rowed amidst the roar
Of waters fast prevailing:
Lord Ullin reached that fatal shore.
His wrath was changed to wailing.
For sore dismayed, through storm and shade.
His child he did discover :
One lovely hand she stretched for aid.
And one was round her lover.
'Come back! come back!' he cried in grief
Across the stormy water :
'And I'll forgive your Highland chief,
My daughter ! oh my daughter !'
'Twas vain : the loud waves lashed the shore,
Return or aid preventing;
The waters wild went o'er his child,
And he was left lamenting.