The English and Scottish Popular Ballads/Part 3/Chapter 69

and May Margret Walkt ower yon graveld green, And sad and heavy was the love, I wat, it fell this twa between. 'A bed, a bed,' Clark Sanders said, 'A bed, a bed for you and I;' 'Fye no, fye no,' the lady said, 'Until the day we married be. 'For in it will come my seven brothers, And a' their torches burning bright; They'll say, We hae but ae sister, And here her lying wi a knight.' 'Ye'l take the sourde fray my scabbord, And lowly, lowly lift the gin, And you may say, your oth to save, You never let Clark Sanders in. 'Yele take a napken in your hand, And ye'l ty up baith your een, An ye may say, your oth to save, That ye saw na Sandy sen late yestreen. 'Yele take me in your armes twa, Yele carrey me ben into your bed, And ye may say, your oth to save, In your bower-floor I never tread.' She has taen the sourde fray his scabbord, And lowly, lowly lifted the gin; She was to swear, her oth to save, She never let Clerk Sanders in. She has tain a napkin in her hand, And she ty'd up baith her eeen; She was to swear, her oth to save, She saw na him sene late yestreen. She has taen him in her armes twa, And carried him ben into her bed; She was to swear, her oth to save, He never in her bower-floor tread. In and came her seven brothers, And all their torches burning bright; Says thay, We hae but ae sister, And see there her lying wi a knight. Out and speaks the first of them, 'A wat they hay been lovers dear;' Out and speaks the next of them, 'They hay been in love this many a year.' Out an speaks the third of them, 'It wear great sin this twa to twain;' Out an speaks the fourth of them, 'It wear a sin to kill a sleeping man.' Out an speaks the fifth of them, 'A wat they'll near be twaind by me;' Out an speaks the sixt of them, 'We'l tak our leave an gae our way.' Out an speaks the seventh of them, 'Altho there wear no a man but me, . . . . . I bear the brand, I'le gar him die.' Out he has taen a bright long brand, And he has striped it throw the straw, And throw and throw Clarke Sanders' body A wat he has gard cold iron gae. Sanders he started, an Margret she lapt, Intill his arms whare she lay, And well and wellsom was the night, A wat it was between these twa. And they lay still, and sleeped sound, Untill the day began to daw; And kindly till him she did say 'It's time, trew-love, ye wear awa.' They lay still, and sleeped sound, Untill the sun began to shine; She lookt between her and the wa, And dull and heavy was his eeen. She thought it had been a loathsome sweat, A wat it had fallen this twa between; But it was the blood of his fair body, A wat his life days wair na lang. 'O Sanders, I'le do for your sake What other ladys would na thoule; When seven years is come and gone, There's near a shoe go on my sole. 'O Sanders, I'le do for your sake What other ladies would think mare; When seven years is come and gone, Ther's nere a comb go in my hair. 'O Sanders, I'le do for your sake What other ladies would think lack; When seven years is come an gone, I'le wear nought but dowy black.' The bells gaed clinking throw the towne, To carry the dead corps to the clay, An sighing says her May Margret, 'A wat I bide a doulfou day.' In an come her father dear, Stout steping on the floor; . . . . . . . . . . 'Hold your toung, my doughter dear, Let all your mourning a bee; I'le carry the dead corps to the clay, An I'le come back an comfort thee.' 'Comfort well your seven sons, For comforted will I never bee; For it was neither lord nor loune That was in bower last night wi mee.'

and a gay lady Was walking in yonder green, And heavy, heavy was the love That fell this twa lovers between. 'A bed, a bed,' Clerk Saunders said, 'And ay a bed for you and me;' 'Never a ane,' said the gay lady, 'Till ance we twa married be. 'There would come a' my seven brethern, And a' their torches burning bright, And say, We hae but ae sister, And behad, she's lying wi you the night.' 'You'll take a napkain in your hand, And then you will tie up your een; Then you may swear, and safe your aith, You sawna Sandy sin yestreen. 'You'll take me up upo your back, And then you'll carry me to your bed; Then you may swear, and save your aith, Your board [-floor] Sandy never tred.' She's taen him upo her back, And she's carried him unto her bed, That she might swear, and safe her aith, Her board-floor Sandy never tread. She's taen a napkin in her hand, And lo she did tie up her een, That she might swear, and safe her aith, She sawna Sandy syne yestreen. They were na weel into the room, Nor yet laid weel into the bed, . . . . . . . . . . When in came a' her seven brethern, And a' their torches burning bright; Says they, We hae but ae sister, And behold, she's lying wi you this night. 'I,' bespake the first o them, A wat an ill death mat he die! 'I bear a brand into my hand Shall quickly gar Clerk Saunders die.' 'I,' bespake the second of them, A wat a good death mat he die! 'We will gae back, let him alane, His father has nae mair but he.' 'I,' bespake the third o them, A wat an ill death mat he die! 'I bear the brand into my hand Shall quickly help to gar him die.' 'I,' bespake the fourth o them, A wat an ill death mat he die! 'I bear the brand into my hand Shall never help to gar him die.' 'I,' bespake the fifth o them, A wat a good death mat he die! 'Altho his father hae nae mair, I'll quickly help to gar him die.' 'I,' bespake the sixth o them, A wat a good death mat he die! 'He's a worthy earl's son, I'll never help to gar him die.' 'I,' bespake the seventh of them, A wat an ill death mat he die! 'I bear the brand into my hand Shall quickly gar Clerk Saunders die.' They baith lay still, and sleeped sound, Untill the sun began to sheen; She drew the curtains a wee bit, And dull and drowsie was his een. 'This night,' said she, 'The sleepiest man That ever my twa eyes did see Hay lyen by me, and sweat the sheets; A wite they're a great shame to see.' She rowd the claiths a' to the foot, And then she spied his deadly wounds: 'O wae be to my seven brethern, A wat an ill death mat they die! 'I'm sure it was neither rogue nor loun I had into my bed wi me; 'Twas Clerk Saunders, that good earl's son, That pledgd his faith to marry me.'

was a sad and a rainy nicht As ever raind frae toun to toun; Clerk Saunders and his lady gay They were in the fields sae broun. 'A bed, a bed,' Clerk Saunders cried, 'A bed, a bed, let me lie doun; For I am sae weet and sae wearie That I canna gae nor ride frae toun.' 'A bed, a bed,' his lady cried, 'A bed, a bed, ye'll neer get nane; . . . . . . . . . . . 'For I hae seven bauld brethren, Bauld are they, and very rude; And if they find ye in bouer wi me, They winna care to spill your blude.' 'Ye'll tak a lang claith in your hand, Ye'll haud it up afore your een, That ye may swear, and save your aith, That ye saw na Sandy sin yestreen. 'And ye'll tak me in your arms twa, Ye'll carry me into your bed, That ye may swear, and save your aith, That in your bour-floor I never gaed.' She's taen a lang claith in her hand, She's hauden't up afore her een, That she might swear, and save her aith, That she saw na Sandy sin yestreen. She has taen him in her arms twa, And carried him into her bed, That she might swear, and save her aith, That on her bour-floor he never gaed. Then in there cam her firsten brother, Bauldly he cam steppin in: 'Come here, come here, see what I see! We hae only but ae sister alive, And a knave is in bour her wi.' Then in and cam her second brother, Says, Twa lovers are ill to twin; And in and cam her thirden brother, 'O brother dear, I say the same.' Then in and cam her fourthen brother, 'It's a sin to kill a sleepin man;' And in and cam her fifthen brother, 'O brother dear, I say the same.' Then in and cam her sixthen brother, 'I wat he's neer be steerd by me;' But in and cam her seventhen brother, 'I bear the hand that sall gar him dee.' Then out he drew a nut-brown sword, I wat he stript it to the stroe, And thro and thro Clerk Saunder's body I wat he garrd cauld iron go. Then they lay there in ither's arms Until the day began to daw; Then kindly to him she did say, 'It's time, my dear, ye were awa. 'Ye are the sleepiest young man,' she said, 'That ever my twa een did see; Ye've lain a' nicht into my arms, I'm sure it is a shame to be.' She turnd the blankets to the foot, And turnd the sheets unto the wa, And there she saw his bluidy wound, . . . . . 'O wae be to my seventhen brother, I wat an ill death mot he dee! He's killd Clerk Saunders, an earl's son, I wat he's killd him unto me.' Then in and cam her father dear, Cannie cam he steppin in; Says, Haud your tongue, my dochter dear, What need you mak sic heavy meane? 'We'll carry Clerk Saunders to his grave, And syne come back and comfort thee:' 'O comfort weel your seven sons, father, For man sall never comfort me; Ye'll marrie me wi the Queen o Heaven, For man sall never enjoy me.'

'O I have seven bold brethren, And they are all valiant men, If they knew a man that would tread my bower His life should not go along wi him.' 'Then take me up into your arms, And lay me low down on your bed, That ye may swear, and keep your oath clear, That your bower-room I did na tread. 'Tie a handkerchief round your face, And you must tye it wondrous keen, That you may swear, and keep your oath clear, Ye saw na me since late yestreen.' But they were scarsley gone to bed, Nor scarse fa'n owre asleep, Till up and started her seven brethren, Just at Lord Saunder's feet. Out bespoke the first brither, 'Oh but love be wondrous keen!' Out bespoke the second brither, 'It's ill done to kill a sleeping man.' Out bespoke the third brither, 'We had better gae and let him be;' Out bespoke the fourth brither, 'He'll no be killd this night for me:' Out bespoke the fifth brother, 'This night Lord Saunders he shall die; Tho there were not a man in all Scotland, This night Lord Saunders he shall die.' He took out a rousty rapier, And he drew it three times thro the strae; Between Lord Saunders' short rib and his side He gard the rusty rapier gae. 'Awake, awake, Lord Saunders,' she said, 'Awake, awake, for sin and shame! For the day is light, and the sun shines bricht, 'And I am afraid we will be taen. 'Awake, awake, Lord Saunders,' she said, 'Awake, awake, for sin and shame! For the sheets they are asweat,' she said, 'And I am afraid we will be taen. 'I dreamed a dreary dream last night, I wish it may be for our good, That I was cutting my yellow hair, And dipping it in the wells o blood.' Aye she waukened at this dead man, Aye she put on him to and fro; Oh aye she waukend at this dead man, But of his death she did not know. 'It's I will do for my love's sake What many ladies would think lang; Seven years shall come and go Before a glove go on my hand. 'And I will do for my love's sake What many ladies would not do; Seven years shall come and go Before I wear stocking or shoe. 'Ther'll neer a shirt go on my back, There'll neer a kame go in my hair, There'll never coal nor candle-light Shine in my bower nae mair.'

ensign and a lady gay, As they were walking on a green, The ensign said to the lady gay, Will you tak me to your bower at een? 'I have seven bluidy brithers, Och and to you they have nae good will; And if they catch you in my bower, They'll value not your bluid to spill.' 'O you may take me on your back, And carry me to your chamber-bed, That I may swear, and avow richt clear, That your flowery bower I did never tread. 'O take a napkin from your pocket, And with it blindfold my een, That I may swear, and avow richt clear, That your flowery bower I have never seen.' O she's taen him upon her back, And carried him to her chamber-bed, That he might swear, and avow it clear, That her flowery [bower] he did never tread. O she's taen a napkin from her pocket, And with it blinded baith his een, That he might swear, and avow it clear, That her flowery bower he had never seen. They were not well into their bed, Nor were they scarsely fallen asleep, Till in there came her seven bluidy brithers, And placed themselves at the ensign's feet. Said the first one to the second, 'Och it is long since this love began;' Said the second unto the third, 'It's a sin to kill a sleeping man.' Said the third one to the fourth, 'I will go to yon tavern hie;' Said [the] fourth one to the fifth, 'O if you will go, so will I.' Said the fifth to the sixth, 'Och it's long since this love began;' Said the sixth to the seventh, 'It's a sin to kill a sleeping man.' Out then spoke the seventh bluidy brither, Aye and an angry man was he: 'Altho there was no more men alive, The ensign's butcher I will be.' He's taen out his rusty broad-sword, And ran it three times along his throat, And thro and thro the ensign's body The tempered steel it went thro and thro. 'O I have dreamed a dream,' she said, 'And such an dreams cannot be good; I dreamed my bower was full of swine, And the ensign's clothes all dipped in blood. 'I have dreamed another dream, And such an dreams are never good; That I was combing down my yellow hair, And dipping it in the ensign's blood.' 'O hold your tongue, my sister dear, And of your weeping let a be; For I will get you a better match Than eer the ensign, what was he?' 'So woe be to you, my seven bluidy brithers, Aye and an ill death may you die! For you durst not fight him in battle-field, But you killed him sleeping in bed wi me. 'I'll do more for my love's sake That other lovers would not incline; Seven years shall come and go Before I wash this face of mine. 'I will do for my love's sake What other lovers would not repair; Seven years shall come and go Before I comb down my yellow hair. 'I'll do more for my love's sake, What other lovers will not do; Seven years shall come and go Before I cast off stocking and shoe. 'I will do for my love's sake What other lovers they will be slack; Seven years shall come and go Before I cast off my robes of black. 'Go make to me a high, high tower, Be sure you make it stout and strong, And on the top put an honour's gate, That my love's ghost may go out and in.'

was an earl's son, He livd upon sea-sand; May Margaret was a king's daughter, She livd in upper land. Clerk Saunders was an earl's son, Weel learned at the scheel; May Margaret was a king's daughter, They baith loed ither weel. He's throw the dark, and throw the mark, And throw the leaves o green, Till he came to May Margaret's door, And tirled at the pin. 'O sleep ye, wake ye, May Margaret, Or are ye the bower within?' O wha is that at my bower-door, Sae weel my name does ken?' 'It's I, Clerk Saunders, your true-love, You'll open and lat me in. 'O will ye to the cards, Margaret, Or to the table to dine? Or to the bed, that's weel down spread, And sleep when we get time?' 'I'll no go to the cards,' she says, 'Nor to the table to dine; But I'll go to a bed, that's weel down spread, And sleep when we get time.' They were not weel lyen down, And no weel fa'en asleep, When up and stood May Margaret's brethren, Just up at their bed-feet. 'O tell us, tell us, May Margaret, And dinna to us len, O wha is aught yon noble steed, That stands your stable in?' 'The steed is mine, and it may be thine, To ride whan ye ride in hie; . . . . . . . . . . 'But awa, awa, my bald brethren, Awa, and mak nae din; For I am as sick a lady the nicht As eer lay a bower within.' 'O tell us, tell us, May Margaret, And dinna to us len, O wha is aught yon noble hawk, That stands your kitchen in?' 'The hawk is mine, and it may be thine, To hawk whan ye hawk in hie; . . . . . . . . . . 'But awa, awa, my bald brethren, Awa, and mak nae din; For I'm ane o the sickest ladies this nicht That eer lay a bower within.' 'O tell us, tell us, May Margaret, And dinna to us len, O wha is that, May Margaret, You and the wa between?' 'O it is my bower-maiden,' she says, 'As sick as sick can be; O it is my bower-maiden,' she says, 'And she's thrice as sick as me.' 'We hae been east, and we've been west, And low beneath the moon; But a' the bower-women eer we saw Hadna goud buckles in their shoon.' Then up and spak her eldest brither, Ay in ill time spak he: 'It is Clerk Saunders, your true-love, And never mat I the But for this scorn that he has done This moment he sall die.' But up and spak her youngest brother, Ay in good time spak he: 'O but they are a gudelie pair! True lovers an ye be, The sword that hangs at my sword-belt Sall never sinder ye.' Syne up and spak her nexten brother, And the tear stood in his ee: 'You've loed her lang, and loed her weel, And pity it wad be The sword that hangs at my sword-belt Shoud ever sinder ye.' But up and spak her fifthen brother: 'Sleep on your sleep for me; But we baith sall never sleep again, For the tane o us sall die.' And up and spak her thirden brother, Ay in ill time spak he: 'Curse on his love and comeliness! Dishonourd as ye be, The sword that hangs at my sword-belt Sall quickly sinder ye.' The eldest brother has drawn his sword, The second has drawn anither, Between Clerk Saunders' hause and collarbane The cald iron met thegither. 'O wae be to you, my fause brethren, And an ill death mat ye die! Ye mith slain Clerk Saunders in open field, And no in bed wi me.'

and a lady gay Where walking in the garden green, And great and heavy was the love That hae befa'en these twa between. 'A bed, a bed,' said Clerk Sandy, 'A bed, my love, for you and me;' 'O never a foot,' said the lady gay, 'Till ance that we twa married be. 'My seven brithers will come in, And a' their torches burning bright; They'll say, We hae but ae sister, And here she's lying wi a knight.' 'Ye'll take my brand I bear in hand, And wi the same ye'll lift the gin; Then ye may swear, and save your oath, That ye neer let Clerk Sandy in. 'Ye'll take that kurchie on your head, And wi the same tie up your een; And ye will swear, and save your oath, Ye saw not Sandy sin yestreen. 'Ye'll lift me in your arms twa, And carry me unto your bed; Then ye may swear, and save your oath, Clerk Sandy in your bower neer tread.' She's taen the brand he bare in hand, And wi the same lifted the gin; It was to swear, and save her oath, She never loot Clerk Sandy in. She's taen the kurchie frae her head, And wi the same tied up her een; It was to swear, and save her oath, She saw not Sandy sin yestreen. She's taen him in her arms twa, And she's carried him to her bed; It was to swear, and save her oath, Clerk Sandie in her bower neer tread. They hadna kissd, nor love clapped, Like other lovers when they meet, Till in a quarter's space and less These two lovers fell sound asleep. Then in it came her seven brothers, And a' their torches burning bright; They said, We hae but ae sister, And here she's lying wi a knight. O out it speaks the first o them, 'We will awa and lat them be;' Then out it speaks the second o them, 'His father has nae mair but he.' Out it speaks the third o them, For he was standing on the birk: 'Nae sweeter coud twa lovers lye, Tho they'd been married in a kirk.' Then out it speaks the fourth o them, Mair fair and lovely is his buke: 'Our sister dear we cannot blame, Altho in him she pleasure took.' Then out it speaks the fifth o them, 'It were a sin to do them ill;' Then out it spake the sixth o them, 'It's hard a sleeping man to kill.' But out it speaks the seventh o them, I wish an ill death mat he dee! 'I wear the sharp brand by my side That soon shall gar Clerk Sandy die.' Then he's taen out his trusty brand, And he has stroakd it ower a strae; And thro and thro Clerk Sandy's middle I wat he's gart it come and gae. The lady slept by her love's side Until the dawning o the day, But what was dune she naething knew, For when she wak'd these words did say: 'Awake, awake, now Clerk Sandy, Awake, and turn you unto me; Ye're nae sae keen's ye were at night, When you and I met on the lee.' O then she calld her chamber-maid To bring her coal and candle seen: 'I fear Clerk Sandy's dead eneuch, I had a living man yestreen.' They hae lifted his body up, They hae searched it round and round, And even anent his bonny heart Discovered the deadly wound. She wrung her hands, and tore her hair, And wrung her hands most bitterlie: 'This is my fause brothers, I fear, This night hae used this crueltie. 'But I will do for my love's sake Woud nae be done by ladies rare; For seven years shall hae an end Or eer a kame gang in my hair. 'O I will do for my love's sake What other ladies woud think lack; For seven years shall hae an end Or eer I wear but dowie black. 'And I will do for my love's sake What other ladies woudna thole; Seven years shall hae an end Or eer a shoe gang on my sole.' In it came her father dear, And he was belted in a brand; Sae softly as he trad the floor, And in her bower did stately stand. Says, Hold your tongue, my daughter dear, And ye'll lat a' your mourning be; I'll wed you to a higher match Or eer his father's son coud be. 'Wed well, wed well your seven sons; I wish ill wedded they may be, Sin they hae killd him Clerk Sandy! For wedded shall I never be.' His corpse was laid in the cauld clay, The bells went tinkling thro the town; 'Alas! alas!' said the lady gay, 'That eer I heard that waefu soun!' When she had sitten intill her bower A twalmonth lang and weary day, Even below her bower-window She heard a ghaist to knock an cry. She says, Ye're thief or bauld robber, Or biggin come to burn or brake; Or are you ony masterfu man, That is come seeking ony make? 'I am not thief nor bauld robber, Nor bigging come to burn nor brake; Nor am I ony masterfu man, That is come seeking ony make; But I'm Clerk Sandy, your first love, And wants wi you again to speak. 'Gin ye're Clerk Sandy, my first love, And wants wi me to speak again, Tell me some o' the love tokens That you and I had last between.' 'O mind not ye, ye gay lady, Sin last I was in bower wi thee, That in it came your seven brethren, The youngest gart me sairly dree?' Then sighd and said the gay lady, 'Sae true a tale as ye tell me.' Sae painfully she clam the wa, She clam the wa up after him; 'Twas not for want of stockings nor sheen, But hadna time to put them on; And in the midst o gude greenwood, 'Twas there she lost the sight o him. The lady sat, and mourning there, Until she coudna weep nae mair; At length the cloks and wanton flies They biggit in her yellow hair. 'O had your peace, my dearest dear, For I am come to mak you wise; Or this night nine nights come and gang, We baith shall be in Paradise.'