THE BRIDAL SARK, AND THE BRIDEGROOM DARG
[THE BRIDAL SHIRT AND THE BRIDEGROOM'S TASKS]
[The Bridal Sark and the Bridegroom Darg were published (p. 108) in Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, a collection of Scottish ballads in 1809. I've divided the two ballads into two sections and added footnotes at the end of each section. Cromek dates these back to c. 1760 however they are recreations by Cunningham written about 1807 and are not traditional. They are included here as curiosities. Below is a brief biography of Cromek.
Child comments: "The 'Bridal Sark,' Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, p. 108, and 'The Bridegroom Darg,' p. 113, are of modern manufacture and impostures; at least, they seem to have imposed upon Cromek."
By saying the ballads were imposed on Cromek, Child means that they were given to Cromek by Cunningham, who wrote them without Cromek's knowledge that they were "impostures."
R. Matteson 2011/2018]
[Robert Hartley Cromek (1770–1812) was an engraver, editor, art dealer and entrepreneur who was most active in the early nineteenth century. He is best known for having allegedly cheated William Blake out of the potential profits of his engraving depicting Chaucer's Canterbury Pilgrims.
In the early years of the nineteenth century Cromek had supported Blake, and had engraved Blake's design for Benjamin Heath Malkin's A Father's Memoirs of his Child in 1806. Cromek later commissioned Blake to illustrate Robert Blair's poem The Grave. Blake had produced the designs, but his sample engraving was considered by Cromek to be too crude to attract subscribers. Cromek then gave the lucrative job of engraving Blake's designs to a rival engraver Luigi Schiavonetti.
In response, Blake proceeded to create a self-engraved illustration to Chaucer's Canterbury Tales. Cromek, however, had also given the idea to Blake's friend Thomas Stothard. Stothard's print became far more popular than Blake's, at least during their lifetimes. It remains unclear whether Blake or Cromek originated this project, but Blake certainly believed that the idea was stolen from him. The incident destroyed the friendship between Blake and Stothard.
As a savagely humorous comment on these events Blake wrote epigrams attacking Cromek:
Cromek loves artists as he loves his meat:
He loves the Art; but 'tis the art to cheat.
A petty sneaking knave I knew--
"O! Mr. Cromek, how do ye do?"
In 1809 Cromek published Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, a collection of Scottish ballads. The aspirant poet Allan Cunningham sent in poems of his own authorship, which Cromek included in the collection, even though he may have suspected their real authorship.]
THE BRIDAL SARK AND THE BRIDEGROOM DARG
(Nithsdale)
There is a sort of nursery song in the Pepysian Collection which runs thus, —
The Elphin Knight sits on a hill,
Ba, ba, ba, lillie ba;
He blows his horn both loud and shill.
The wind hath blown my plaid awa.
This would seem to be the original of these twin songs the "Bridal Sark," and "The Bridegroom Darg." There is a common Scotch song called " Captain Wedderbume's Courtship," much in the same singular and original way. The lady proposes enigmas, which the captain's versatile gallantry soon finds means to solve or to evade.
In these twin songs there is a curious and pleasing collection of Scotch phrases and proverbs, sarcastically chosen and skilfully interspersed to suit the complexion of the songs. This traditionary wisdom has been substituted by some judicious bard for "the wind hath blawn my plaid awa," of the old ballad. Specimens of these national phrases might be given from almost every song and ballad high in public favour. They are full of instruction, conveyed in language often highly figurative and poetical Aware of their sterling value, Bums has, with his accustomed delicacy of selection, transplanted many of the best and most beautiful into his fields of native poesy, where they will flourish for ever. Those of his songs in particular, which pourtray character, are rich in this proverb lore; which, heightening their strain of original poetry, endears them to every Scotchman's
heart So estimable indeed do these adages and phrases appear in Scotland, that there is a master proverb to express their value : —
" I'll make proverbs— you make laws."
THE BRIDAL SARK
Ye may pu' the red gowan that blossoms at Yule,
(Blaw, blaw, blaw, soft the wind blaw,)
And the gowdenbobb'd lilie that flowers o'er the pool,
(And the wind it has blawn my plaid awa!)
But a bonnie lass mauna be pu'd till she's ripe,
(Saft, saft, saft, does the simmer-wind blaw,)
Or shell melt awa like the snaw frae the dyke,
(And the ripe lilie-tap i' the sun will fa!)
Gae hame to yer mither, my soosie young thing,
(The red, red rose is dawning and a';)
Ye'll aulder be, gin the leap year spring,
(O sweet on the gowan-tap the dew-blobs fa!)
Yere but a young bird wi' the down i' the breast,
(The purple flower hings on yon abbey wa',)
O'er young to hap i' the twigs roun' the nest,
(An' sweet frae its tap does the dew-blobs fa!)
Ye may kame down thae gowd-links thae lang simmers three,
(The new paired birds sing blythe i' the shaw,)
And nae yet be fit a bride for to be,
(O blythe is the sun for he blinks on us a' !)
Thae hands are nae seemlie my sheets for to sew,
(Whan the red gowans at Yule maun blaw,)
But to wash the bum lilie amang the May-dew,
(The kirk-yard's ready wi' corses to saw.)
I hae a web of satin at hame,
(The white haw-bloom drops hinnie an' a',)
Ye maun make me a sark o't a' gowd o' the hem,
(There's hinney i' the wildest weed that can blaw.)
Ye maun shape it but[1] sheers, ye maun sew it but silk,
(There's luve i' the heart tho' the lips say na! )
Ye maun wash it but weet, like a lilie in milk,
(The rose i' the country ay bonniest does blaw.)
Ye maun dry't i' the tap o' the new blossom'd thorn,
(The gray swallow bigs i' the cot-house wa'j)
That never had leaves on't since man was bom,
(O I'll pu' the yellow cowslip sae powder'd an' braw.)
The wind mauna touch't, the sun mauna see't,
(The broom waves yellow whan the simmer winds blaw; )
The dew mauna drop on't, whan laid out to streek,
(At the heart o' the leal love makes the soonest ca'.)
Ye maun rufflet i' the bosom wi' witch-gowan flower, [2]
(The wind wags the rose-tap on our castle wa';)
Ye maun starch't wi' the powther of a pink i' the bower,
(O the tear-draps o' luve are sweet whan they fa'.)
Ye maun sleeve-button 't wi' twa adder-beads,[3]
(O Love at my bower-window saftly did ca' ;)
Wi' unchristened fingers maun plait down the breeds,[4]
(O dinna leave me, lad, till our twa cocks craw.)
Ye maun fauld it and lock it i' the primrose's cup,
(I' the howe-howms o' Nith [5] my love lives an' a',)
Ye maun row't i' the rose-leaf sealed wi' a dew-drop,
(O the sweet kintra lassie is kindliest of a').
And when ye hae finished this bonnie bride-wark,
(O the lilie wad be bonnie to bloom i' the snaw!)
I'll be yere blythe bridegroom and hansel the sark,
(O the laverocks sing loud when the hawk's far awa).
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Footnotes Bridal Sark:
[1] But, without.
[2] Witch-gowan flower are large yellow gowans, with a stalk filled with pernicious sap, resembling milk, which, when anointed on the eyes, is believed to cause instant blindness. This ponicious juice is called by the peasantry "Witches' milk."
[3] Wi' twa adder beads. Adder beads are very rarely found. According to popular belief, they are of a beautiful dark grey colour, about two inches in diameter, with a hole in the centre. They are the workmanship of the adders, which assemble to the amount of some hundreds in a certain time of summer, to cast oflf their sloughs and renew their age. They entwist and writhe themselves among each other until they throw oflf their last year's sloughs, half melted by their exertions. I'hese are all collected and plastered over with frothy saliva, and again wrought to and fro till they are condensed and shaped into an adder bead. Their hissing and noise are frequently heard by the shepherds, when about their painful act of renovation, and woe to those that approach them. The bead is often left, and it is treasured up by the shepherds as a talisman of good luck.
To make a bead," is a Scottish phrase, applied when a ring of people is formed on any hurried and important business.
4. Wi' unchristened fingers maun plait down the breeds. This is an allusion to the Scottish Browmib, whose unbaptised fingers loved to plait and fit on the ladies' frills. See the Appendix.
5. the howe-howms o' Nith my love lives an' a'. This line establishes by local testimony a Nithsdale claim to this and the following song. The howe- howms of Nith is a romantic vale, of near ten miles diameter, at the bottom of which stands Dumfries. Cottages, farm-houses, ruined remains of architectural greatness, with gentlemen's seats, beautifully embosomed in plantations, natural and cultivated, with the richness of the harvest fields, form the noblest scene perhaps in the Lowlands of Scotland.
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THE BRIDEGROOM DARG [1]
(NITHSDALE)
The fairest roses fade, which nane ever pu',
(Blaw, blaw, blaw, saft the wind blaw,)
Though the vellow hinnie hings frae their red rosy mou',
(Tlie wind fa's saft whare the primroses blaw.)
The lealest maidens stand like a rose i' the dew,
(The wild cushat-doo has nestlings twa,)
And silly man gangs by, nor heeds for to pu',
(The saft thistle-tap lines the gowdspink's ha'.)
Ye may stand up i' the auld bane dyke, [2]
(There's a worm i' the prettiest rose that can blaw,)
And the corbies will pyke ye afore I be ripe,
(The young birds sing owre near the hawk's ha'.)
I'll lay ye down 'mang the gowans to streek,
(!' the deer's den the dog has whalpit an' a')
And turn ye i' the sun, into love it may ye beek;
(O the ice i' the beard o' the thistle will thaw.)
I'll wash ye wi' May-dew, i' the neck and the cheek,
(The bairn maun be washen by the kimmers an a',)
They were wat by the priest i' the mirk Monday [3] week,
(The brocket fac'd cat dights her mou wi' her paw.)
I was owre the lugs in luve wi' yere psalm-singing look,
(There's a blaek prent bible i' the reek o' the ha',)
Ye're the half-flayed saint i' the martyrs' book!
(It's my auld aunt's bolster atween the sheets sma'.)
I was deep in love, though nae owre far gane,
(O love's like the dew, it heeds nae where to fa' )
Wi' death an' his sand-glass on the martyrs' [4] stane
(O haffet locks look weel whan they're bleach'd like the snaw.)
And a' for the Sark ye hae gien me to sew,
(My bower is a' wormwood wi' gowd-bolts twa,)
I hae a darg for a bridegroom to do
(Wi' a bed o' sweet nettles for to haud lovers twa.)
I hae sax rigs of braid pleugh land,
(My bride-hood's ready wi' mantle an' a',)
Fenced 'tween the salt seas and the sand,
(Wi' sax leal maidens a' waiting my ca'.)
Ye maun plow't a' wi' a braid elf-arrow, [5]
ar maun ye gang ere ye come to my ha')
Ye maun rake out the weeds wi' a sjowd-teethed harrow,
(A hill o' heckle teeth for to climb owre an' a'.)
Ye maun saw't a' wi' ae pyle o' corn,
(Deil get the clungest quo the haggis to claw!)
That never had chafT on't since man was born,
(The birds pair kindliest whan they 're nestlings an' a'.)
To wear aff the birds, be a scaur-craw yoursel,
(The gled pykes the banes o' the auld hoodie craw.)
And there's never a corbie daur play pouk at yere tail,
(The flowers spring up whan the spring winds blaw.)
Ye maun weet it wi' dew that never has fa'n,
(There's a sour crab grows at our barn wa',)
Ye maun cool't a' wi' wind that never has blawn,
(And the birds winna big in't nor sing in't ava.)
It mauna grow wi' its tap to the sun,
(O love pairs low like biythe birds twa;)
But maun streek up and ripen wi' the light o' the moon,
(Ye may catch a young lass like a bird i' the snaw.)
Ye maun shear't a' wi' a young tup's horn,
(I winna grip wi' chaff like a bird i' the snaw,)
That never had woo on't since man was born,
(Ye maun catch me wi' corn if ye catch me at a'.)
Ye maun thresh't out on yon castle tap,
(The Jintic chittles sad i' the high tower wa',)
And nae for yere life let ae pickle drap;
(The wee-bird's blythe whan the winter's awa.)
Ye maun sift it a' wi' a bottomless sieve,
(The spring-gowan's cauld wi' it's happin of snaw,)
Ye maun sack it up, i' the thumb o' a glove,
(But it keeks lovely out whan the sun 'gins to thaw.)
Ye maun kill-dry 't wi' ice, ye maun grun't but a quairn, [6]
(Will ye bigme a bowerique in simmer of snaw;
Ye maun barrel't i' the ring of an unchristen'd bairn,
(The westlin star's comelie whan the sun sinks awa.)
Ye maun make Brydal brose o't but water or lowe, [7]
(Twa todlin burns 'mang the birk banks fa')
Ye maun borrow smid-meal frae the fairie at the Knowe,
(I hae twa mills whilk the todlin burns ca'.)
Ye maun dish't a' out in a braid cockle-shell,
(Bride's maids are mim at a supper an' a',)
For my sax bride-maidens to sup at a meal,
(The gled lo'es gore, and the cat lo'es a'.)
And whan ye hae finish'd this bridegroom Darg,
(My white-sheeted bed is siller at the wa')
Come like a blythe wooster an' hansel yere Sark,
(An' there's armfu's o' luve atween the sheets sma'.)
Not many of these songs appear to be very old; some of them perhaps not above forty or fifty years. [published in 1809, dating back to 1760] It may be deemed proper to explain in what way they have passed upon the breath of tradition. It is to the country-meetings of men and women, young men and maidens, that we owe their preservation, and often their rise. The first kind of meeting that shall be noticed is the Song Trystes. These were agreements of probably twenty or thirty lads and lasses to meet at an appointed house, (either a farmer's or a respectable cottar's,) for song-singing and merriment. There were also wool-combing and spinning Trystes, which, though for the express purpose of friendly assistance, always ended and were mixed with singing songs and reciting ballads. These trystcd themselves through part of a parish, until all the wool was carded and spun. Then were dancing Trystes, which were twin iisters to those of song: the lads would carry wine and whiskey with sweetmeats, to refresh their partners in the intervals of dancing. They then selected some of the most melting songs ; such as were touched keenly with the finger of love: these were sung by the young women ; and their partners joined in the tenderest parts, which suited their own situations and feelings.
The 'Lord's Marie' had its rise from one of these meetings, and it is a fine example of unadorned poesy, and of rustic taste. Many of the songs, however, were 'higher-kilted' than is now meet for a modest ear. Old Glenae, a Nithsdale song, mentioned by Burns, in his ' Remarks on Scottish song,' belongs to weddings and to dancing Trystes. It was sung in the character
of an old man, worn down with age, and abounds with local humour, but it is too gross for insertion. It begins--
'Silly poor auld Glenae,
What ails the kirk at thee? '
Beside all these, there were Halloween meetings, which, though dedicated solely to spells and charms, and casting cantraips, were intermingled with song-singing and ballad-reciting. To them we may justly place some of the most exquisite productions of the rural muse of Caledonia. Buhns speaks of these meetings and their purposes:
'On fasten een we had a rockin [8]
To ca' the crack and weave our stockin ;
And there was muckle fun an' jokin,
Ye need na doubt ;
At length we had a hearty yokin
At sang about.'
Epistle to J. Lapraik.
Eager to outshine his fellow peasants each selected the finest song for pathos and humour, which was either printed or recited. They laid hold of their own emotions of heart and dressed them up in rhyme. Their own adventures, or particular state of feeling and affection, furnished ample scope for poetic display. The taste of their sweethearts was the critical tribunal to
which they appealed, where love and nature were judges, and affixed their seal of approbation. They knew no higher court of appeal, nor dreaded passing below the saws and harrows-of-iron of classic criticism.
To these meetings we may assign the many variations and additions which are found in the old songs, and of which, in the present collection, there are a few pointed out, and specimens preserved.
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Footnotes: Bridegroom's Darg
1. Darg, Day's Work.
2. 'Ye may stand up i' the auld bane dyke.' This phrase belongs to a game now much neglected among the Lowland peasantry, called the JVadds. Young men and women arranged themselves on each side of the hearth fire, and alternately bestowed husbands and wives on each other. It begins thus:
'O its hame, an' its hame, an' its hame, hame, hame,
I think this night I maun gae hame. '
The other party cries:
'Ye had better lycht an' byde a' night,
An' I'll choose you a bonnie ane.'
'O wha'll ye chuse an' I wi' ye byde?'
'I'll gie ye (here name the person) to lie by yere side.'
If the partner please:
'I'll set her up on the bonnie pear tree,
It's straught an' tall, an' sae is she,
I wad wauke a' night her hive to be. '
But if the person proposed be rejected:
' I'll set her up i' the bank dyke,
She'll be rotten ere I be ripe,
The Corbies her auld banes wadna pyke.'
This if she be old If she be young and rejected:
I'll set her up on the high crab-tree,
Its sowre and dowre, an' sae is she;
She may gang to the moots unkist by me.'
This refusal must be atoned for by a wadd, or forfeit. A piece of monev, a knife, or any little thing which the owner prizes, and will redeem. His penance of redemption is frequently to kiss those very lips which he had rejected, or any object which is expected to be disagreeable to him. The performance of this looses his wadd. This game, I understand, was frequently used to beguile a long winter evening in the cottages of rustics.
3. Mirk Monday was a day of almost total darkness, and is frequently counted from as an era. Windy Saturday is another of those traditional eras. They are app'ied as sarcastic reflections on old bachelors or old maids. Thus Burns
'Auld uncle John wha wedlock's joys,
Since Mar's year [1715] did desire;
Because he gat the toom-dish thrice,
He heaved them on the fire.'
4. Wi' death an his sand-glass on the martyrs' stane. The martyrs, as itiswell known, are those unfortunate people who perished in the deadly struggle of the church of Scotland with English prelacy. Their graves were marked out by their countrymen with hewn stones, ( called the martyrs' -tanes,) rudely sculptured, and strewn with rhymes of scriptural denunciation against their persecutors. The ground where they are interred is consecrated with devotional pilgrimage.
5. See the history of the fairies, Appendix F.
6. Ye maun kill-drift wi ice, ye maun grunt but a quairn: little hand mills which are yet to be found in some old peonies' houses for grinding com. They were common be- fore water-nulls became so general. These stones are thin and that, made of field free-stone, and are called quairns.
7. Besides these there were troughs found at every hamlet for the purpose of knocking their bear in, before barley mills
were erected. Small kilns, with ribs of wood, covered with oat straw, over which was spread the corn, were the joint and common property of a few neighbours. Great care was taken while beefing the kiln lest they should fire the straw. Thus the unfortunate Gudeman of Auchtermuchty,
'Then he bore kendling to the kill,
But scho start all up in a lowe.'
[8] There is another custom here, commonly known in the language of the country by the name of rocking; that is, when neighbours visit one another in pairs, or three or more in company, during the moonlight of winter or spring, and spend the evening alternately in one another's houses. It is here noticed, because the custom seems to have arisen when spinning on the rock or distaff was in use, which therefore was carried along with the visitant to a neighbour's house. The custom still prevails, though the rock is laid aside; and when one neighbour says to another, in the words of former clays, 'I am coining over with my rock,' he means no more than to tell him that he intends to spend an evening with him.' See the account of the
Parish of Muirkirk, Statist. Ace. VII. 6I2, 613.