Lady Margaret- Johnson 1827 Motherwell; Child B
["Lady Margaret" (my title) should be the title although there are different ballads with identical or similar titles. Motherwell's text is included in a related ballad, see below]
Lady Margaret (The King's Dochter Lady Jean)- Version B Child 52
Motherwell's Manuscript, p. 275; the first six lines in Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 189. From Margery Johnson.
1 Lady Margaret sits in her bow-window,
Sewing her silken seam;
. . . . .
. . . . .
2 She's drapt the thimble at her tae,
And her scissars at her heel,
And she's awa to the merry green-wood,
To see the leaves grow green.
3 She had scarsely bowed a branch,
Or plucked a nut frae the tree,
Till up and starts a fair young man,
And a fair young man was he.
4 'How dare ye shake the leaves?' he said,
'How dare ye break the tree?
How dare ye pluck the nuts,' he said,
'Without the leave of me?'
5 . . . . . .
. . . . .
'Oh I know the merry green wood's my ain,
And I'll ask the leave of nane.'
6 He gript her by the middle sae sma,
He gently sat her down,
While the grass grew up on every side,
And the apple trees hang down.
7 She says, Young man, what is your name?
For ye've brought me to meikle shame;
For I am the king's youngest daughter,
And how shall I gae hame?
8 'If you're the king's youngest daughter,
It's I'm his auldest son,
And heavy heavy is the deed, sister,
That you and I have done.'
9 He had a penknife in his hand,
Hang low down by his gair,
And between the long rib and the short one
He woundit her deep and sair.
10 . . . . . .
. . . . .
And fast and fast her ruddy bright blood
Fell drapping on the ground.
11 She took the glove off her right hand,
And slowly slipt it in the wound,
And slowly has she risen up,
And slowly slipped home.
* * * * *
12 'O sister dear, when thou gaes hame
Unto thy father's ha,
It's make my bed baith braid and lang,
Wi the sheets as white as snaw.'
* * * * *
13 'When I came by the high church-yard
Heavy was the stain that bruised my heel,
. . . . . . . that bruised my heart,
I'm afraid it shall neer heal.'
_______________
[From Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 189; Footnotes moved to the end.]
THE BROOM BLOOMS BONNIE AND SAYS IT IS FAIR. The revolting nature of the subject of this ballad, might, in the opinion of many readers, have been a sufficient reason for withholding its publication; but, as tales of this kind abound in the traditionary poetry of Scotland, a Collection, like the present, would have been incomplete, without at least one solitary specimen. In its details, too, the Editor conceives it to be less abhorrent than either the ballad of Lizie Wan,[1] or that of the Bonny Hynd; [2] he also preferred it to the fragment of another ballad, on a similar subject, which, like the present, he obtained from recitation. The fragment begins thus:—
"Lady Margaret sits in her bow window
Sewing her silken seam;
She dropt her thimble at her toe,
Her scissars at her heel,
And she's awa to the merry green wood
To see the leaves grow green;"
and in its principal features bears a strong resemblance to the Bonny Hynd. With the exception of three verses, which appeared in Johnson's Musical Museum, vol. v. p 474, under the title of "The broom blooms bonny, the broom blooms fair," the present ballad is for the first time printed. It is evidently a composition of considerable antiquity; and, in poetical merit, it may stand a comparison with either of the ballads above referred to.
It is talked, it is talked, the warld all over,
The broom blooms bonnie and says it is fair,
That the king's dochter gaes wi' child to her brother,
And we'll never gang down to the broom onie mair.
He's ta'en his sister down to her father's deer park,
The broom blooms bonnie and says it is fair,
Wi' his yew-tree bow and arrows fast slung at his back,
And we'll never gang down to the broom onie mair.
"O when that ye hear me gie a loud, loud cry,
The broom blooms bonnie and says it is fair,
Shoot an arrow frae thy bow and there let me lye,
And we'll never gang down to the broom onie mair.
"And when that ye see I am lying cauld and dead,
The broom blooms bonnie and says it is fair,
Then ye'll put me in a grave wi a turf at my head,
And we'll never gang down to the broom onie mair."
Now when he heard her gie a loud, loud cry,
The broom blooms bonnie and says it is fair,
His silver arrow frae his bow he suddenly let fly,
Now they'll never gang down to the broom onie mair.
He has houkit a grave that was lang and was deep,
The broom blooms bonnie and says it is fair,
And he has buried his sister wi' her babie at her feet,
And they'll never gang down to the broom onie mair.
And when he came hame to his father's court ha',
The broom blooms bonnie and says it is fair,
There was music and minstrels and dancing 'mang them a',
But they'll never gang down to the broom onie mair.
"O Willie! O Willie! what make thee in pain?"
The broom blooms bonnie and says it is fair,
"I have lost a sheath and knife that I'll never see again,
For we'll never gang down to the broom onie mair."
"There are ships o' your father's sailing on the sea,
The broom blooms bonnie and says it is fair,
That will bring as good a sheath and a knife unto thee,
And we'll never gang down to the broom onie mair."
"'There are ships o' my father's sailing on the sea,
The broom blooms bonnie and says it is fair,
But sic a sheath and knife they can never bring to me
Now well never gang down to the broom onie mair."
Footnotes:
1. Ancient and Modem Scottish Songs, Heroic Ballads, Ac. Edin. 1776, vol . i. p. 98.
2. Border Minstrelsy, fifth edition, vol . iii. p. 102.