English and Scottish Popular Ballads

Rose Adelaide Witham, William Allan Neilson
Houghton Mifflin, 1909 - 187 ページ

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38 ページ - The first line that Sir Patrick red, A loud lauch lauched he; The next line that Sir Patrick red, The teir blinded his ee. "O wha is this has don this deid, This ill deid don to me, To send me out this time o' the yeir, To sail upon the se!
42 ページ - I dought neither speak to prince or peer, Nor ask of grace from fair ladye.' 'Now hold thy peace!' the lady said, 'For as I say, so must it be.' He has gotten a coat of the even cloth, And a pair of shoes of velvet green ; And till seven years were gane and past, True Thomas on earth was never seen.
137 ページ - That name does not belang to me; I am but the Queen of fair elfland, That am hither come to visit thee." "Harp and carp, Thomas," she said; " Harp and carp along wi me; And if ye dare to kiss my lips, Sure of your bodie I will be.
108 ページ - Lay me a green sod under my head, And another at my feet ; And lay my bent bow by my side, Which was my music sweet ; And make my grave of gravel and green, Which is most right and meet. Let me have length and breadth enough. With a green sod under my head ; That they may say, when I am dead, Here lies bold Robin Hood.
83 ページ - He was a braw gallant, And he rid at the ring: And the bonny Earl of Murray, Oh he might have been a king! He was a braw gallant, And he playd at the ba; And the bonny Earl of Murray Was the flower amang them a'.
46 ページ - I wish the wind may never cease, Nor fashes in the flood, Till my three sons come hame to me In earthly flesh and blood!
52 ページ - O what hills are yon, yon pleasant hills, That the sun shines sweetly on ?' 'O yon are the hills of heaven,' he said, 'Where you will never win.' 'O whaten a mountain is yon,' she said, ' All so dreary wi' frost and snow ?' 'O yon is the mountain of hell,' he cried, 'Where you and I will go.
88 ページ - They thought King James and a' his men Had won the house wi' bow and spear; It was but twenty Scots and ten, That put a thousand in sic a stear! Wi' coulters, and wi' forehammers, We garr'd the bars bang merrilie, Until we came to the inner prison, Where Willie o
38 ページ - Wi ae lock o' his gowden hair We'll theek our nest when it grows bare. "Mony a one for him makes mane, But nane sall ken where he is gane; Oer his white banes, when they are bare, The wind sall blaw for evermair.
77 ページ - Fight on, my merry men all, And see that none of you be taine ; For I will stand...