Historical Ballad of May Culzean (Ary) 1817 print
[From the chapbook The Historical Ballad of May Culzean, Founded on fact. With, A poem on the times. Ayrshire: Printed by D. Macarter & Co, 1817. In verse. Tune-Gil Morrice. This is a later version of "Western Tragedy."
R. Matteson 2018]
The Historical Ballad of May Culzean
HAVE ye not heard of fause Sir John?
Wha liv’d in the west country,
How he has betray’d eight damsels fair,
And drown’d them in the sea?
Now he’s awa to May Culzean,
She was her father’s heir,
The greatest beauty o’ the land
I solemnly declare.
Thou art the darling o’ my heart,
He says, fair May Culzean,
Thou far exceed’st the beauties all,
That ever I hae seen.
And I’m a Knight of wealth and might,
Of Town lands twenty-three,
And yes be the lady o’ them a’,
Fair May, if ye’ll gae wi’ me.
Excuse me then, she said Sir John,
To wed I am owre young,
Unless I hae my parent’s leave,
Wi’ you I dare na gang.
But he’s taen a charm frae aft his arm
And stuck it on her sleeve,
Til he has made her follow him
Without her parents’ leave.
Gold and jewels she has taen[1]
Wi' her five hundred pound,
And the bravest horse her father had,
She’s taen to ride upon.
So merrily they rod along,
Dade[2] neither stop nor stay,
Til they came to the fatal place,
Which is called, Benan Bay.
Light down, light down, now May Culzean,
Light down, and speak to me,
For here have I drowned eight damsels fair,
And the ninth ane ye shall be.
Cast aff, cast aff thy Jewels fine,
So coastly rich and brave,
For they’re too coastly and too good,
To sink in the sea wave.
Her jewels fine she then put aff,
And thus she made her moan,
Have mercy on a virgin young,
I pray thee, sweet Sir John.
Cast aff thy coats, and gay manteel,
And smock o’ Holland lawm,
For their owre costly and owre guid,
To rot in the sea sawn.
Then turn thee round, I pray Sir John,
See the leaf flee owre the tree,
For it never befitted a book learned man,
A naked lady to see.
As fause Sir John did turn him round,
To see the leaf flee owre the tree
She grasped him in her arms sma’
And flung him in the sea.
Now lie ye there ye wild Sir John,
Whar ye thought to lay me,
Ye wad hae drown’d me as naked’s I was born
But ye’s get your claes frae me.
Your jewels coastly, rich and rare
She straight puts on again,
She lightly springs upon her horse
And leads his by the rein.
His lady dear, was void of fear,
Her steeds were swift and free,
And she reached her father’s lofty towers,
Before the clock struck three.
And first she met the stable groom,
He was her waiting man,
And when he heard his lady’s voice,
He ran with cap in han’
Whar hae ye been, fair May Culzean?
Wha owns this dapple gray?
That’s a foundling, she replied,
Which I got on my way.”
Then out and spake the green parrot,
He says, fair May Culzean,
What hae ye done wi’ yon brave Knight
That gied wi’ you yestreen?
Haud your tongue my pretty parrot,
An’ I’se be kind to thee,
For where ye got ae handfu’ o’ groats
My parrot shall get three.
Then out and spake her father dear,
From the chamber where he lay,
What is it ails my pretty parrot
That he speaks so long e'er day?
There came a cat into my cage
Had nearly worried me,
And I was calling on May Culzean
To come and set me free.”
And first she told her father dear,
Of the deed that she had done,
And likewise to her mother dear,
Concerning fause Sir John.
So aff they sent with one consent,
By dawning of the day,
Until they came to the Carleton sands;
And there his corpse it lay.
His body tall, by that great fall
Was dashed too and fro,
The golden ring that he had on.
Was broke in pieces two.
And they hae taken up his corpse
To yonder pleasant green,
And there they buried fause Sir John,
For fear he should be seen.
1. The first letters are clipped off of lines 1 and 3 for this stanza and the next stanza
2. This is clipped, means "They'd"