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

na for your fee; But O and O for my bonny hyn, Beneath the hollin tree!”

“O were ye at your sister’s bower, Your sister fair to see, Ye’ll think na mair o your bonny hyn Beneath the hollin tree.”

 

Ballad: Young Bicham

 

(Child, vol. ii.)

In London city was Bicham born, He longd strange countries for to see, But he was taen by a savage Moor, Who handld him right cruely.

For thro his shoulder he put a bore, An thro the bore has pitten a tree, And he’s gard him draw the carts o wine, Where horse and oxen had wont to be.

He’s casten [him] in a dungeon deep, Where he coud neither hear nor see; He’s shut him up in a prison strong, An he’s handld him right cruely.

O this Moor he had but ae daughter, I wot her name was Shusy Pye; She’s doen her to the prison-house, And she’s calld young Bicham one word by.

“O hae ye ony lands or rents, Or citys in your ain country, Coud free you out of prison strong, An coud maintain a lady free?”

O London city is my own, An other citys twa or three, Coud loose me out o prison strong, An could maintain a lady free.”

O she has bribed her father’s men Wi meikle goud and white money, She’s gotten the key o the prison doors, And she has set Young Bicham free.

She’s gi’n him a loaf o good white bread, But an a flask o Spanish wine, An she bad him mind on the ladie’s love That sae kindly freed him out o pine.

“Go set your foot on good ship-board, An haste you back to your ain country, An before that seven years has an end, Come back again, love, and marry me.”

It was long or seven years had an end She longd fu sair her love to see; She’s set her foot on good ship-board, An turnd her back on her ain country.

She’s saild up, so has she down, Till she came to the other side; She’s landed at Young Bicham’s gates, An I hop this day she sal be his bride.

“Is this Young Bicham’s gates?” says she. “Or is that noble prince within?” “He’s up the stair wi his bonny bride, An monny a lord and lady wi him.”

“O has he taen a bonny bride, An has he clean forgotten me?” An sighing said that gay lady, “I wish I were in my ain country!”

She’s pitten her ban in her pocket, An gin the porter guineas three; Says, “Take ye that, ye proud porter, An bid the bridegroom speak to me.”

O whan the porter came up the stair, He’s fa’n low down upon his knee: “Won up, won up, ye proud porter, And what makes a’ this courtesy?”

“O I’ve been porter at your gates This mair nor seven years an three, But there is a lady at them now The like of whom I never did see.

“For on every finger she has a ring, An on the mid-finger she has three, An there’s as meikle goud aboon her brow As woud buy an earldom o lan to me.”

Then up it started Young Bicham, An sware so loud by Our Lady, “It can be nane but Shusy Pye That has come oor the sea to me.”

O quickly ran he down the stair, O fifteen steps he has made but three, He’s tane his bonny love in his arms An a wot he kissd her tenderly.

“O hae you tane a bonny bride? An hae you quite forsaken me? An hae ye quite forgotten her That gae you life an liberty?”

She’s lookit oer her left shoulder To hide the tears stood in her ee; “Now fare thee well, Young Bicham,” she says, “I’ll strive to think nae mair on thee.”

“Take back your daughter, madam,” he says, “An a double dowry I’ll gie her wi; For I maun marry my first true love, That’s done and suffered so much for me.”

He’s tak his bonny love by the han, And led her to yon fountain stane; He’s changed her name frae Shusy Pye, An he’s cald her his bonny love, Lady Jane.

 

Ballad: The Loving Ballad Of Lord Bateman

 

(Child, vol. ii. Cockney copy.)

Lord Bateman was a noble lord, A noble lord of high degree; He shipped himself all aboard of a ship, Some foreign country for to see.

He sailed east, he sailed west, Until he came to famed Turkey, Where he was taken and put to prison, Until his life was quite weary.

All in this prison there grew a tree, O there it grew so stout and strong! Where he was chained all by the middle, Until his life was almost gone.

This Turk he had one only daughter, The fairest my two eyes eer see; She steal the keys of her father’s prison, And swore Lord Bateman she would let go free.

O she took him to her father’s cellar, And gave to him the best of wine; And every health she drank unto him Was “I wish, Lord Bateman, as you was mine.”

“O have you got houses, have you got land, And does Northumberland belong to thee? And what would you give to the fair young lady As out of prison would let you go free?”

“O I’ve got houses and I’ve got land, And half Northumberland belongs to me; And I will give it all to the fair young lady As out of prison would let me go free.”

“O in seven long years I’ll make a vow For seven long years, and keep it strong, That if you’ll wed no other woman, O I will wed no other man.”

O she took him to her father’s harbor, And gave to him a ship of fame, Saying, “Farewell, farewell to you, Lord Bateman, I fear I shall never see you again.”

Now seven long years is gone and past, And fourteen days, well known to me; She packed up all her gay clothing, And swore Lord Bateman she would go see.

O when she arrived at Lord Bateman’s castle, How boldly then she rang the bell! “Who’s there? who’s there?” cries the proud young porter, “O come unto me pray quickly tell.”

“O is this here Lord Bateman’s castle, And is his lordship here within?” “O yes, O yes,” cries the proud young porter, “He’s just now taking his young bride in.”

“O bid him to send me a slice of bread, And a bottle of the very best wine, And not forgetting the fair young lady As did release him when close confine.”

O away and away went this proud young porter, O away and away and away went he, Until he came to Lord Bateman’s chamber, Where he went down on his bended knee.

“What news, what news, my proud young porter? What news, what news? come tell to me:” “O there is the fairest young lady As ever my two eyes did see.

“She has got rings on every finger, And on one finger she has got three; With as much gay gold about her middle As would buy half Northumberlee.

“O she bids you to send her a slice of bread, And a bottle of the very best wine, And not forgetting the fair young lady As did release you when close confine.”

Lord Bateman then in passion flew, And broke his sword in splinters three, Saying, “I will give half of my father’s land, If so be as Sophia has crossed the sea.”

Then up and spoke this young bride’s mother, Who never was heard to speak so free; Saying, “You’ll not forget my only daughter, If so be Sophia has crossed the sea.”

“O it’s true I made a bride of your daughter, But she’s neither the better nor the worse for me; She came to me with a horse and saddle, But she may go home in a coach and three.”

Lord Bateman then prepared another marriage, With both their hearts so full of glee, Saying, “I will roam no more to foreign countries, Now that Sophia has crossed the sea.”

 

Ballad: The Bonnie House O’ Airly

 

(Child, vol. vii. Early Edition.)

It fell on a day, and a bonnie summer day, When the corn grew green and yellow, That there fell out a great dispute Between Argyle and Airly.

The Duke o’ Montrose has written to Argyle To come in the morning early, An’ lead in his men, by the back O’ Dunkeld, To plunder the bonnie house o’ Airly.

The lady look’d o’er her window sae hie, And O but she looked weary! And there she espied the great Argyle Come to plunder the bonnie house o’ Airly.

“Come down, come down, Lady Margaret,” he says, “Come down and kiss me fairly, Or before the morning clear daylight, I’ll no leave a standing stane in Airly.”

“I wadna kiss thee, great Argyle, I wadna kiss thee fairly, I wadna kiss thee, great Argyle, Gin you shouldna leave a standing stane Airly.”

He has ta’en her by the middle sae sma’, Says, “Lady, where is your drury?” “It’s up and down by the bonnie burn side, Amang the planting of Airly.”

They sought it up, they sought it down, They sought it late and early, And found it in the bonnie balm-tree, That shines on the bowling-green o’ Airly,

He has ta’en her by the left shoulder, And O but she grat sairly, And led her down to yon green bank, Till he plundered the bonnie house o’ Airly.

“O it’s I hae seven braw sons,” she says, “And the youngest ne’er saw his daddie, And altho’ I had as mony mae, I wad gie them a’ to Charlie.

“But gin my good lord had been at hame, As this night he is wi’ Charlie, There durst na a Campbell in a’ the west Hae plundered the bonnie house o’ Airly.

 

Ballad: Rob Roy

 

(Child, vol. vi. Early Edition.)

Rob Roy from the Highlands cam, Unto the Lawlan’ border, To steal awa a gay ladie To haud his house in order. He cam oure the lock o’ Lynn, Twenty men his arms did carry; Himsel gaed in, an’ fand her out, Protesting he would many.

“O will ye gae wi’ me,” he says, “Or will ye be my honey? Or will ye be my wedded wife? For I love you best of any.” “I winna gae wi’ you,” she says, “Nor will I be your honey, Nor will I be your wedded wife; You love me for my money.”

 

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But he set her on a coal-black steed, Himsel lap on behind her, An’ he’s awa to the Highland hills, Whare her frien’s they canna find her.

 

*

 

“Rob Roy was my father ca’d, Macgregor was his name, ladie; He led a band o’ heroes bauld, An’ I am here the same, ladie. Be content, be content, Be content to stay, ladie, For thou art my wedded wife Until thy dying day, ladie.

“He was a hedge unto his frien’s, A heckle to his foes, ladie, Every one that durst him wrang, He took him by the nose, ladie. I’m as bold, I’m as bold, I’m as bold, an more, ladie; He that daurs dispute my word, Shall feel my guid claymore, ladie.”

 

Ballad: The Battle Of Killie-Crankie

 

(Child, vol. vii. Early Edition.)

Clavers and his Highlandmen Came down upo’ the raw, man, Who being stout, gave mony a clout; The lads began to claw then. With sword and terge into their hand, Wi which they were nae slaw, man, Wi mony a fearful heavy sigh, The lads began to claw then.

O’er bush, o’er bank,