Lady Maisry- Brown (Falkland) 1783 Child A
[This was taken from Jamieson-Brown MS., mostly taken down from the month of Mrs Brown by Professor Scott of Aberdeen about 1783. Born in 1747, Anna Gordon Brown learned her ballads before the age of 10 from her mother. Below, at the bottom of the page, is the same text from Jamieson published in 1806.]
Lady Maisry- Version A; Child 65, Lady Maisry
Jamieson-Brown Manuscript, fol. 24.
1 The young lords o the north country
Have all a wooing gone,
To win the love of Lady Maisry,
But o them she woud hae none.
2 O they hae courted Lady Maisry
Wi a' kin kind of things;
An they hae sought her Lady Maisry
Wi brotches an wi' rings.
3 An they ha sought her Lady Maisry
Frae father and frae mother;
An they ha sought her Lady Maisry
Frae sister an frae brother.
4 An they ha followd her Lady Maisry
Thro chamber an thro ha;
But a' that they coud say to her,
Her answer still was Na.
5 'O had your tongues, young men,' she says,
'An think nae mair o me;
For I've gien my love to an English lord,
An think nae mair o me.'
6 Her father's kitchy-boy heard that,
An ill death may he dee!
An he is on to her brother,
As fast as gang coud he.
7 'O is my father an my mother well,
But an my brothers three?
Gin my sister Lady Maisry be well,
There's naething can ail me.'
8 'Your father and your mother is well,
But an your brothers three;
Your sister Lady Maisry's well,
So big wi bairn gangs she.'
9 'Gin this be true you tell to me,
My mailison light on thee!
But gin it be a lie you tell,
You sal be hangit hie.'
10 He's done him to his sister's bowr,
Wi meikle doole an care;
An there he saw her Lady Maisry,
Kembing her yallow hair.
11 'O wha is aught that bairn,' he says,
'That ye sae big are wi'
And gin ye winna own the truth,
This moment ye sall dee.'
12 She turnd her right an roun about,
An the kem fell frae her han;
A trembling seizd her fair body,
An her rosy cheek grew wan.
13 'O pardon me, my brother dear,
An the truth I'll tell to thee;
My bairn it is to Lord William,
An he is betrothd to me.'
14 'O coud na ye gotten dukes, or lords,
Intill your ain country,
That ye draw up wi an English dog,
To bring this shame on me?
15 'But ye maun gi up the English lord,
Whan youre young babe is born;
For, gin you keep by him an hour langer,
Your life sall be forlorn.'
16 'I will gi up this English blood,
Till my young babe be born;
But the never a day nor hour langer,
Tho my life should be forlorn.'
17 'O whare is a' my merry young men,
Whom I gi meat and fee,
To pu the thistle and the thorn,
To burn this wile whore wi?'
18 'O whare will I get a bonny boy,
To help me in my need,
To rin wi hast to Lord William,
And bid him come wi speed?'
19 O out it spake a bonny boy,
Stood by her brother's side:
'O I would rin your errand, lady,
Oer a' the world wide.
20 'Aft have I run your errands, lady,
Whan blawn baith win and weet;
But now I'll rin your errand, lady,
Wi sat tears on my cheek.'
21 O whan he came to broken briggs,
He bent his bow and swam,
An whan he came to the green grass growin,
He slackd his shoone and ran.
22 O whan he came to Lord William's gates,
He baed na to chap or ca,
But set his bent bow till his breast,
An lightly lap the wa;
An, or the porter was at the gate,
The boy was i the ha.
23 'O is my biggins broken, boy?
Or is my towers won?
Or is my lady lighter yet,
Of a dear daughter or son?'
24 'Your biggin is na broken, sir,
Nor is your towers won;
But the fairest lady in a' the lan
For you this day maun burn.'
25 'O saddle me the black, the black,
Or saddle me the brown;
O saddle me the swiftest steed
That ever rade frae a town.'
26 Or he was near a mile awa,
She heard his wild horse sneeze:
'Mend up the fire, my false brother,
It's na come to my knees.'
27 han he lighted at the gate,
She heard his bridle ring:
'Mend up the fire, my false brother,
It's far yet frae my chin.
28 'Mend up the fire to me, brother,
Mend up the fire to me;
For I see him comin hard an fast
Will soon men't up to thee.
29 'O gin my hands had been loose, Willy,
Sae hard as they are boun,
I would have turnd me frae the gleed,
And castin out your young son.'
30 'O I'll gar burn for you, Maisry,
Your father an your mother;
An I'll gar burn for you, Maisry,
Your sister an your brother.
31 'An I'll gar burn for you, Maisry,
The chief of a' your kin;
An the last bonfire that I come to,
Mysel I will cast in.'
________________
Popular ballads and songs: from tradition, manuscripts and scarce editions edited by Robert Jamieson; 1806
LADY MAISRY.
The young lords o' the north country
Have all a-wooing gane,
To win the love of lady Maisry;
But o' them she wou'd hae nane.
O, thae hae sought her, lady Maisry,
Wi' broaches, and wi' rings;
And they hae courted her, lady Maisry,
Wi' a' kin kind of things.
And they hae sought her, lady Maisry,
Frae father and frae mither;
And they hae sought her, lady Maisry,
Frae sister and frae brither.
And they hae followed her, lady Maisry,
Thro' chamber, and through ha';
But a' that they could say to her,
Her answer still was "Na."
"O, haud your tongues, young men," she said,
"And think nae mair on me;
For I've gi'en my love to an English lord,
Sae think nae mair on me."
Her father's kitchey-boy heard that,
(An ill death mot he die!)
And he is in to her brother,
As fast as gang cou'd he.
"O, is my father and my mother weel,
But, and my brothers three?
Gin my sister lady Maisry be weel,
There's naething can ail me."
"Your father and your mother is weel,
But and your brothers three;
Your sister, Lady Maisry's, weel;
Sae big wi' bairn is she.
"A malison light on the tongue,
Sic tidings tells to me!—
But gin it be a lie you tell,
You shall be hanged hie."
He's doen him to his sister's bower,
Wi' mickle dool and care;
And there he saw her, lady Maisry,
Kembing her yellow hair.
"O wha is aucht that bairn," he says,
"That ye sae big are wi' i
And gin ye winna own the truth,
This moment ye sall die."
She's turned her richt and round about,
And the kembe fell frae her han';
A trembling seized her fair bodie,
And her rosy cheek grew wan.
"O pardon me, my brother dear,
And the truth I'll tell to thee;
My bairn it is to Lord William,
And he is betrothed to me."
"O cou'dna ye gotten dukes, or lords,
Intill your ain countrie,
That ye drew up wi' an English dog,
To bring this shame on me?
"But ye maun gi'e up your English lord,
Whan your young babe is born;
For, gin ye keep by him an hour langer,
Your life shall be forlorn."
"I will gi'e up this English lords,
Till my young babe be born;
But the never a day nor hour langer,
Though my life should be forlorn."
"O whare is a' my merry young men,
Wham I gi'e meat and fee,
To pu' the bracken and the thorn,
To burn this vile whore wi'?"
"O whare will I get a bonny boy,
To help me in my need,
To rin wi' haste to Lord William,
And bid him come wi' speed: "
O out it spak a bonny boy,
Stood by her brother's side;
"It's I wad riu your errand, lady,
O'er a' the warld wide.
"Aft ha'e I run your errands, lady,
When blawin baith wind and weet;
But now I'll rin your errand, lady,
With saut tears on my cheek."
O whan he came to broken briggs,
He bent his bow and swam;
And when he came to the green grass growin',
He slack'd his shoon and ran.
And whan he came to Lord William's yeats,
He badena to chap or ca';
But set his bent bow to his' breast,
And lightly lap the wa';
And, or the porter was at the yeat,
The boy was in the ha'.
"O is my biggins broken, boy?
Or is my towers won?
Or is my lady lighter yet,
O' a dear daughter or son?"
"Your biggin isna broken, sir,
Nor is your towers won;
But the fairest lady in a' the land
This day for you maun burn."
"O saddle to me the black, the black,
Or saddle to me the brown;
Or saddle to me the swiftest steed
That ever rade frae a town."
Or he was near a mile awa',
She heard his weir-horse sneeze;
"Mend up the fire, my fause brother,
It's nae come to my knees."
O, whan he lighted at the yeat,
She heard his bridle ring:
"Mend up the fire, my fause brother;
It's far yet frae my chin.
"Mend up the fire to me, brother,
Mend up the fire to me;
For I see him comin' hard and fast,
Will soon men't up for thee.
"O gin my hands had been loose, Willy,
Sae hard as they are boun',
I wadd hae turn'd me frae the gleed,
And casten out your young son."
"O I'll gar burn for you, Maisiy,
Your father and your mother;
And I'll gar burn for you, Maisry,
Your sister and your brother;
"And I'll gar burn for you, Maisry,
The chief o' a' your kin;
And the last bonfire that I come to,
Mysell I will cast in."