"Lie still, lie still, a little wee while, Lie still but if we may; Gin my mother should miss us when she wakes, O they've ta'en up their mother's mantle, "Fare-ye-weel, my mother dear! A LYKE-WAKE DIRGE THIS ae nighte, this ae nighte, When thou from hence away art passed, To Whinny-muir thou com'st at last; If ever thou gavest hosen and shoon, Sit thee down and put them on; And Christe receive thy saule. Unknown If hosen and shoon thou ne'er gav'st nane, The whinnes sall prick thee to the bare bane; From Whinny-muir when thou may'st pass, To Brig o' Dread thou com'st at last; And Christe receive thy saule. From Brig o' Dread when thou may'st pass, -Every nighte and alle, To Purgatory fire thou com'st at last; And Christe receive thy saule. If ever thou gavest meat or drink, The fire sall never make thee shrink; If meat or drink thou ne'er gav'st nane, The fire will burn thee to the bare bane; This ae nighte, this ae nighte, Fire and sleet and candle-lighte, And Christe receive thy saule. Unknown THE DOUGLAS TRAGEDY "RISE up, rise up, now, Lord Douglas," she says, "And put on your armor so bright; Let it never be said that a daughter of thine "Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons, And take better care of your youngest sister, He's mounted her on a milk-white steed, With a bugelet-horn hung down by his side, And lightly they rode away. Lord William lookit o'er his left shoulder, To see what he could see, And there he spied her seven brethren bold, "Light down, light down, Lady Marg'ret," he said, "And hold my steed in your hand, Until that against your seven brethren bold, She held his steed in her milk-white hand, Until that she saw her seven brethren fa', And her father hard fighting, who loved her so dear. "O haud your hand, Lord William!" she said, "For your strokes they are wondrous sair; True lovers I can get many an ane, But a father I can never get mair." O she's ta'en out her handkerchief, "O chuse, O chuse, Lady Margret," he said, "O whether will ye gang or bide?" "I'll gang, I'll gang, Lord William," she said, "For ye've left me no other guide." He's lifted her on a milk-white steed, With a bugelet-horn hung down by his side, O they rade on, and on they rade, They lighted doun to tak' a drink And doun the stream ran his gude heart's blood, "Haud up, haud up, Lord William," she says, "For I fear that you are slain!" "Tis naething but the shadow of my scarlet cloak, That shines in the water sae plain." O they rade on, and on they rade, "Get up, get up, lady mother," he says, Get up, get up, lady mother," he says, "O mak my bed, lady mother," he says, And lay Lady Margʼret close at my back, Lord William was dead lang ere midnight, And all true lovers that go thegither, Lord William was buried in St. Mary's kirk, Out o' the lady's grave grew a bonny red rose, And they twa met, and they twa plat, And a' the warld might ken right weel But by and rade the Black Douglas, Unknown FAIR ANNIE THE reivers they stole Fair Annie, As she walked by the sea; But a noble knight was her ransom soon, Wi' gowd and white monie. She bided in strangers' land wi' him, "It's narrow, narrow, mak your bed, For I'm gaun owre the sea, Fair Annie, Wi' you I ne'er gat nane. "But wha will bake my bridal bread, Or brew my bridal ale? And wha will welcome my bright Bride, That I bring owre the dale?" "It's I will bake your bridal bread, And brew your bridal ale; And I will welcome your bright Bride, "But she that welcomes my bright Bride Maun gang like maiden fair; She maun lace on her robe sae jimp, "Bind up, bind up your yellow hair, And tie it on your neck; And see you look as maiden-like As the day that first we met." |