"Farewell, farewell, my gude Lord Scroope! My gude Lord Scroope, farewell!" he cried"I'll pay you for my lodging mail,

When first we meet on the Border side."

Then shoulder high, with shout and cry,
We bore him down the ladder lang;
At every stride Red Rowan made,

I wot the Kinmont's airns played clang!

"O mony a time," quo' Kinmont Willie,
"I've ridden horse baith wild and wood;
But a rougher beast than Red Rowan
I ween my legs have ne'er bestrode.

"And mony a time," quo' Kinmont Willie,
"I've pricked a horse out owre the furs;
But since the day I backed a steed,
I never wore sic cumbrous spurs!"

We scarce had won the Staneshaw-bank
When a' the Carlisle bells were rung,
And a thousand men on horse and foot,
Cam wi' the keen Lord Scroope along.

Buccleuch has turned to Eden Water,
Even where it flowed frae bank to brim,
And he has plunged in wi' a' his band,
And safely swam them through the stream.

He turned him on the other side,

And at Lord Scroope his glove flung he; "If ye like na my visit in merry England, In fair Scotland come visit me!"

All sore astonished stood Lord Scroope,
He stood as still as rock of stane;

He scarcely dared to trust his eyes,

When through the water they had gane,

The Dowie Houms of Yarrow 2607

"He is either himsell a devil frae hell,
Or else his mother a witch maun be;
I wadna have ridden that wan water

For a' the gowd in Christentie."

Unknown

THE DOWIE HOUMS OF YARROW

LATE at een, drinkin' the wine,

And ere they paid the lawin', They set a combat them between To fight it in the dawin',

"O stay at hame, my noble lord! O stay at hame, my marrow! My cruel brother will you betray,

On the dowie houms o' Yarrow."

"O fare ye weel, my lady gay!

O fare ye weel, my Sarah!

For I maun gae, though I ne'er return
Frae the dowie banks o' Yarrow."

She kissed his cheek, she kamed his hair,
As she had done before, O;

She belted on his noble brand,
An' he's awa to Yarrow.

O he's gane up yon high, high hill-
I wat he gaed wi' sorrow-
An' in a den spied nine armed men,
I' the dowie houms o' Yarrow.

"O are ye come to drink the wine,
As ye
hae doon before, O?
Or are ye come to wield the brand,

On the dowie houms o' Yarrow?"

"I am no come to drink the wine, As I hae don before, O,

But I am come to wield the brand,

On the dowie houms o' Yarrow."

Four he hurt, an' five he slew,

On the dowie houms o' Yarrow,

Till that stubborn knight cam him behind,
An' ran his body thorrow.

"Gae hame, gae hame, good brother John, An' tell your sister Sarah

To come an' lift her noble lord,

Who's sleepin' sound on Yarrow."

"Yestreen I dreamed a dolefu' dream;
I kenned there wad be sorrow;
I dreamed I pu'd the heather green,
On the dowie banks o' Yarrow."

She gaed up yon high, high hill-
I wat she gaed wi' sorrow-
An' in a den spied nine dead men,
On the dowie houms o' Yarrow.

She kissed his cheek, she kamed his hair,
As oft she did before, O;

She drank the red blood frae him ran,
On the dowie houms o' Yarrow.

"O haud your tongue, my douchter dear,

For what needs a' this sorrow?

I'll wed you on a better lord

Than him you lost on Yarrow."

"O haud your tongue, my father dear

An' dinna grieve your Sarah;

A better lord was never born

Than him I lost on Yarrow.

"Tak hame your ousen, tak hame your kye, For they hae bred our sorrow;

I wiss that they had a' gane mad

Whan they cam first to Yarrow."

Unknown

Lord Lovel

2609

LORD LOVEL

LORD LOVEL he stood at his castle gate,
Combing his milk-white steed;

When up came Lady Nancy Belle,
To wish her lover good speed.

"Where are you going, Lord Lovel?" she said,
"Oh! where are you going?" said she;
"I'm going, my Lady Nancy Belle,

Strange countries for to see.”

"When will you be back, Lord Lovel?" she said,
"Oh! when will you come back?" said she;
"In a year or two or three, at the most,
I'll return to my fair Nancy."

But he had not been gone a year and a day,
Strange countries for to see,

When languishing thoughts came into his head,
Lady Nancy Belle he would go see.

So he rode, and he rode on his milk-white steed, Till he came to London town,

And there he heard St. Pancras' bells,

And the people all mourning round.

"Oh, what is the matter," Lord Lovel he said, "Oh! what is the matter?" said he;

"A lord's lady is dead," a woman replied,

"And some call her Lady Nancy."

So he ordered the grave to be opened wide,
And the shroud he turned down,

And there he kissed her clay-cold lips,
Till the tears came trickling down.

Lady Nancy she died as it might be to-day,
Lord Lovel he died as to-morrow;
Lady Nancy she died out of pure, pure grief,
Lord Lovel he died out of sorrow.

Lady Nancy was laid in St. Pancras' church,
Lord Lovel was laid in the choir;

And out of her bosom there grew a red rose,

And out of her lover's a brier.

They grew, and they grew, to the church-steeple top, And then they could grow no higher:

So there they entwined in a true-lover's knot,

For all lovers true to admire.

Unknown

BARBARA ALLEN'S CRUELTY

IN Scarlet town, where I was born,
There was a fair maid dwellin',
Made every youth cry Well-a-way !
Her name was Barbara Allen.

All in the merry month of May,
When green buds they were swellin',
Young Jemmy Grove on his death-bed lay,
For love of Barbara Allen.

He sent his man in to her then,

To the town where she was dwellin', "O haste and come to my master dear, If your name be Barbara Allen."

So slowly, slowly rase she up,

And slowly she came nigh him, And when she drew the curtain by"Young man, I think you're dyin'."

"O it's I am sick and very very sick,
And it's all for Barbara Allen."
"O the better for me ye'se never be,

Though your heart's blood were a-spillin'!