A Collection of Ballads by Andrew Lang (little red riding hood read aloud .txt) 📕

in scarlet, Her merry maids all in green; And every town that they cam to, They took Marie for the queen.

“Ride hooly, hooly, gentlemen, Ride hooly now wi’ me! For never, I am sure, a wearier burd Rade in your cumpanie.”

But little wist Marie Hamilton, When she rade on the brown, That she was ga’en to Edinburgh town, And a’ to be put down.

“Why weep ye so, ye burgess-wives, Why look ye so on me? O, I am going to Edinburgh town, A rich wedding for to see!”

When she gaed up the Tolbooth stairs, The corks frae her heels did flee; And lang or eer she cam down again, She was condemned to die.

When she cam to the Netherbow Port, She laughed loud laughters three; But when she cam to the gallows-foot, The tears blinded her ee.

“Yestreen the queen had four Maries, The night she’ll hae but three; There was Marie Seaton, and Marie Beaten, And Marie Carmichael, and me.

“O, often have I dressd my queen, And put gold upon her hair; But now I’ve gotten for my reward The gallows to be my share.

“Often have I dressd my queen, And often made her bed: But now I’ve gotten for my reward The gallows-tree to tread.

“I charge ye all, ye mariners, When ye sail ower the faem, Let neither my father nor mother get wit, But that I’m coming hame.

“I charge ye all, ye mariners, That sail upon the sea, Let neither my father nor mother get wit, This dog’s death I’m to die.

“For if my father and mother got wit, And my bold brethren three, O mickle wad be the gude red blude, This day wad be spilt for me!

“O little did my mother ken, The day she cradled me, The lands I was to travel in, Or the death I was to die!”

 

Ballad: Kinmont Willie

 

(Child, vol. vi.)

O have ye na heard o the fause Sakelde? O have ye na heard o the keen Lord Scroop? How they hae taen bauld Kinmont Willie, On Hairibee to hang him up?

Had Willie had but twenty men, But twenty men as stout as be, Fause Sakelde had never the Kinmont taen Wi eight score in his companie.

They band his legs beneath the steed, They tied his hands behind his back; They guarded him, fivesome on each side, And they brought him ower the Liddel-rack.

They led him thro the Liddel-rack. And also thro the Carlisle sands; They brought him to Carlisle castell. To be at my Lord Scroope’s commands.

“My hands are tied; but my tongue is free, And whae will dare this deed avow? Or answer by the border law? Or answer to the bauld Buccleuch?”

“Now haud thy tongue, thou rank reiver! There’s never a Scot shall set ye free: Before ye cross my castle-yate, I trow ye shall take farewell o me.”

“Fear na ye that, my lord,” quo Willie: “By the faith o my body, Lord Scroope,” he said, “I never yet lodged in a hostelrie— But I paid my lawing before I gaed.”

Now word is gane to the bauld Keeper, In Branksome Ha where that he lay, That Lord Scroope has taen the Kinmont Willie, Between the hours of night and day.

He has taen the table wi his hand, He garrd the red wine spring on hie; “Now Christ’s curse on my head,” he said, “But avenged of Lord Scroope I’ll be!

“O is my basnet a widow’s curch? Or my lance a wand of the willow-tree? Or my arm a lady’s lilye hand, That an English lord should lightly me?

“And have they taen him, Kinmont Willie, Against the truce of Border tide? And forgotten that the bauld Bacleuch Is keeper here on the Scottish side?

“And have they een taen him, Kinmont Willie, Withouten either dread or fear, And forgotten that the bauld Bacleuch Can back a steed, or shake a spear?

“O were there war between the lands, As well I wot that there is none, I would slight Carlisle castell high, Tho it were builded of marble stone.

“I would set that castell in a low, And sloken it with English blood; There’s nevir a man in Cumberland Should ken where Carlisle castell stood.

“But since nae war’s between the lands, And there is peace, and peace should be; I’ll neither harm English lad or lass, And yet the Kinmont freed shall be!”

He has calld him forty marchmen bauld, I trow they were of his ain name, Except Sir Gilbert Elliot, calld The Laird of Stobs, I mean the same.

He has calld him forty marchmen bauld, Were kinsmen to the bauld Buccleuch, With spur on heel, and splent on spauld, And gleuves of green, and feathers blue.

There were five and five before them a’, Wi hunting-horns and bugles bright; And five and five came wi Buccleuch, Like Warden’s men, arrayed for fight.

And five and five, like a mason-gang, That carried the ladders lang and hie; And five and five, like broken men; And so they reached the Woodhouselee.

And as we crossd the Bateable Land, When to the English side we held, The first o men that we met wi, Whae sould it be but fause Sakelde!

“Where be ye gaun, ye hunters keen?” Quo fause Sakelde; “come tell to me!” “We go to hunt an English stag, Has trespassed on the Scots countrie.”

“Where be ye gaun, ye marshal-men?” Quo fause Sakelde; “come tell me true!” “We go to catch a rank reiver, Has broken faith wi the bauld Buccleuch.”

“Where are ye gaun, ye mason-lads, Wi a’ your ladders lang and hie?” “We gang to herry a corbie’s nest, That wons not far frae Woodhouselee.”

“Where be ye gaun, ye broken men?” Quo fause Sakelde; “come tell to me?” Now Dickie of Dryhope led that band, And the nevir a word o lear had he.

“Why trespass ye on the English side? Row-footed outlaws, stand!” quo he; The neer a word had Dickie to say, Sae he thrust the lance thro his fause bodie.

Then on we held for Carlisle toun, And at Staneshaw-bank the Eden we crossd; The water was great and meikle of spait, But the nevir a horse nor man we lost.

And when we reachd the Staneshaw-bank, The wind was rising loud and hie; And there the laird garrd leave our steeds, For fear that they should stamp and nie.

And when we left the Staneshaw-bank, The wind began full loud to blaw; But ‘twas wind and weet, and fire and sleet, When we came beneath the castell-wa.

We crept on knees, and held our breath, Till we placed the ladders against the wa; And sae ready was Buccleuch himsell To mount she first, before us a’.

He has taen the watchman by the throat, He flung him down upon the lead: “Had there not been peace between our lands, Upon the other side thou hadst gaed.

“Now sound out, trumpets!” quo Buccleuch; “Let’s waken Lord Scroope right merrilie!” Then loud the warden’s trumpet blew “O whae dare meddle wi me?”

Then speedilie to wark we gaed, And raised the slogan ane and a’, And cut a hole through a sheet of lead, And so we wan to the castel-ha.

They thought King James and a’ his men Had won the house wi bow and speir; It was but twenty Scots and ten That put a thousand in sic a stear!

Wi coulters, and wi fore-hammers, We garrd the bars bang merrilie, Until we came to the inner prison, Where Willie o Kinmont he did lie.

And when we came to the lower prison, Where Willie o Kinmont he did lie, “O sleep ye, wake ye, Kinmont Willie, Upon the morn that thou’s to die?”

“O I sleep saft, and I wake aft, It’s lang since sleeping was fley’d frae me; Gie my service back to my wyfe and bairns And a’ gude fellows that speer for me.”

Then Red Rowan has hente him up, The starkest man in Teviotdale: “Abide, abide now, Red Rowan, Till of my Lord Scroope I take farewell.

“Farewell, farewell, my gude Lord Scroope! My gude Lord Scroope, farewell!” he cried; “I’ll pay you for my lodging-maill, 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 airms playd clang!

“O mony a time,” quo Kinmont Willie. “I have ridden horse baith wild and wood; But a rougher beast than Red Rowan, I ween my legs have neer bestrode.

“And mony a time,” quo Kinmont Willie, “I’ve pricked a horse out oure the furs; But since the day I backed a steed I nevir wore sic cumbrous spurs!”

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

Buccleuch has turned to Eden Water, Even where it flowd frae bank to brim, And he has plunged in wi a’ his band, And safely swam them thro 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 trew his eyes, When thro the water they had gane.

“He is either himsell a devil frae hell, Or else his mother a witch maun be; I wad na have ridden that wan water For a’ the gowd in Christentie.”

 

Ballad: Jamie Telfer

 

(Child, vol. vi. Early Edition.)

It fell about the Martinmas tyde, When our Border steeds get corn and hay The captain of Bewcastle hath bound him to ryde, And he’s ower to Tividale to drive a prey.

The first ae guide that they met wi’, It was high up Hardhaughswire; The second guide that we met wi’, It was laigh down in Borthwick water.

“What tidings, what tidings, my trusty guide?” “Nae tidings, nae tidings, I hae to thee; But, gin ye’ll gae to the fair Dodhead, Mony a cow’s cauf I’ll let thee see.”

And whan they cam to the fair Dodhead, Right hastily they clam the peel; They loosed the kye out, ane and a’, And ranshackled the house right weel.

Now Jamie Telfer’s heart was sair, The tear aye rowing in his e’e; He pled wi’ the captain to hae his gear, Or else revenged he wad be.

The captain turned him round and leugh; Said—“Man, there’s naething in thy house, But ae auld sword without a sheath, That hardly now wad fell a mouse!”

The sun was na up, but the moon was down, It was the gryming o’ a new fa’n snaw, Jamie Telfer has run three myles a-foot, Between the Dodhead and the Stobs’s Ha’

And whan he cam to the fair tower yate, He shouted loud, and cried weel hie, Till out bespak auld Gibby Elliot— “Wha’s this that brings the fraye to me?”

“It’s I, Jamie Telfer o’ the fair Dodhead, And a harried man I think I be! There’s naething left at the fair Dodhead, But a waefu’ wife and bairnies three.

“Gae seek your succour at Branksome Ha’. For succour ye’se get nane frae me! Gae seek your succour where ye paid black-mail, For, man! ye ne’er paid money to me.”

Jamie has turned him round about, I wat the tear blinded his e’e— “I’ll ne’er pay mail to Elliot again, And the fair Dodhead I’ll never see!

“My hounds may a’ rin masterless, My hawks may fly frae tree to tree; My lord may grip my vassal lands, For there again maun I never be.”

He has turned him to the Tiviot side, E’en as fast