The English and Scottish Popular Ballads/Part 3/Chapter 75

' I fare you well, Lady Ouncebell, For I must needs be gone, And this time two year I'll meet you again, To finish the loves we begun.' 'That is a long time, Lord Lovill,' said she, 'To live in fair Scotland;' 'And so it is, Lady Ouncebell, To leave a fair lady alone.' He had not been in fair Scotland Not half above half a year, But a longin mind came into his head, Lady Ouncebell he woud go see her. He called up his stable-groom, To sadle his milk-white stead; Refrain:Dey down, dey down, dey down dery down, I wish Lord Lovill good speed. He had not been in fair London Not half above half a day, But he heard the bells of the high chapel ring, They rang with a ceserera. He asked of a gentleman, That set there all alone, What made the bells of the high chapel ring, The ladys make all their moan. 'One of the king's daughters are dead,' said he, 'Lady Ouncebell was her name; She died for love of a courtous young night, Lord Lovill he was the same.' He caused her corps to be set down, And her winding sheet undone, And he made a vow before them all He'd never kiss wowman again. Lady Ouncebell died on the yesterday, Lord Lovill on the morrow; Lady Ouncebell died for pure true love, Lord Lovill died for sorrow. Lady Ouncebell was buried in the high chancel, Lord Lovill in the choir; Lady Ouncebell's breast sprung out a sweet rose, Lord Lovill's a bunch of sweet brier. They grew till they grew to the top of the church, And then they could grow no higher; They grew till they grew to a true-lover's not, And then they tyed both together. An old wowman coming by that way, And a blessing she did crave, To cut of a bunch of that true-lover's not, And buried them both in one grave.

he stands at his stable-door, Kaiming his milk-white steed; And by and cam Fair Nancybelle, And wished Lord Lavel good speed. 'O whare are ye going, Lord Lavel?' she said, 'I pray ye tell to me:' 'O I am going to merry England, To win your love aff me.' 'And when will ye return again?' she said, 'Lord Lavel, pray tell to me:' 'Whan seven lang years are past and gane, Fair Nancybelle, I'll return to thee.' ''Tis too lang, Lord Lavel,' she said, ''Tis too lang for me; 'Tis too long, Lord Lavel,' she said, 'A true lover for to see.' He had na been in merry England A month but barely three, Till languishing thoughts cam into his mind, And Nancybelle fain wad he see. He rade, and he rade, alang the hieway, Till he cam to yonder toun; He heard the sound o a fine chapel-bell, And the ladies were mourning roun. He rade, and he rade, alang the hieway, Till he cam to yonder hall; He heard the sound o a fine chapel-bell, And the ladies were mourning all. He asked wha it was that was dead, The ladies did him tell: They said, It is the king's daughter, Her name is Fair Nancybelle; She died for the love of a courteous young knicht, His name is Lord Lavel. 'O hast thou died, Fair Nancybelle, O hast thou died for me! O hast thou died, Fair Nancybelle! Then I will die for thee.' Fair Nancybelle died, as it might be, this day, Lord Lavel he died tomorrow; Fair Nancybelle died with pure, pure love, Lord Lavel he died with sorrow. Lord Lavel was buried in Mary's kirk, Nancybelle in Mary's quire; And out o the ane there grew a birk, Out the other a bonny brier. And ae they grew, and ae they threw, Until they twa did meet, That ilka ane might plainly see They war twa lovers sweet.

stands in his stable-door, Dressing his milk-white steed, An bye comes Lady Ounceville: 'I wish you muckle speed. 'Oh whar are ye gaun, Lord Travell?' she says, 'Whar are gaun frae me?' 'I am gaun to London town, Some strange things for to see.' 'Whan will ye be back, Lord Travell?' she says, 'Whan will ye be back to me?' 'I will be back in seven lang years, To wed my gay ladie.' 'Oh that is too lang for me,' she says, 'Oh that is too lang for me; Oh that is too lang for me,' she says, 'To wed thy gay ladie.' He hadna been in London town A week but only three, When a boding voice thirld in his ear, That Scotland he maun see. He rade an he rode alang the highway, Till he cam to yon little town: 'Oh is there ony body dead? The bells they mak sic a sound.' He rade an he rode alang the highway, Till he cam to yon little town: 'Oh is there ony body dead? The folk gae mournin round.' 'Oh yes indeed, there is ane dead, Her name is Ounceville; An she has died for a courteous knicht, His name is Lord Travell.' 'Oh hand ye aboot, ye gentlemen, The white bread an the wine, For the morn's nicht aboot this time Ye'll do the same for mine!'

stands at his stable-door, Mounted upon a grey steed, And bye cam Ladie Nanciebel, And wishd Lord Lovel much speed. 'O whare are ye going, Lord Lovel? My dearest, tell unto me:' 'I am going a far journey, Some strange countrey to see. 'But I'll return in seven long years, Lady Nanciebel to see:' 'Oh seven, seven, seven long years, They are much too long for me.' He was gane about a year away, A year but barely ane, Whan a strange fancy cam intil his head That faire Nanciebel was gane. It's then he rade, and better rade, Untill he cam to the toun, And there he heard a dismal noise, For the church bells au did soun. He asked what the bells rang for; They said, It's for Nanciebel; She died for a discourteous squire, And his name is Lord Lovel. The lid of the coffin he opened up, The linens he faulded doun, And ae he kissd her pale, pale lips, And the tears cam trinkling doun. 'Weill may I kiss these pale, pale lips, For they will never kiss me; I'll mak a vow, and I'll keep it true, That I'll neer kiss ane but thee.' Lady Nancie died on Tuesday's nicht, Lord Lovel upon the niest day; Lady Nancie died for pure, pure love, Lord Lovel for deep sorraye.

' fare ye well, Lady Oonzabel, For I must needs be gone, To visit the king of fair Scotland, Oh I must be up and ride.' So he called unto him his little foot-page, To saddle his milk-white steed; Refrain:Hey down, hey down, hey derry, hey down, How I wish my Lord Lovel good speed! He had not been in fair Scotland, Not passing half a year, When a lover-like thought came into his head, Lady Oonzabel he would go see her. So he called unto him his little foot-page, To saddle his milk-white steed; Refrain:Hey down, hey down, hey derry, hey down, How I wish my Lord Lovel good speed. He had not been in fair England, Not passing half a day, When the bells of the high chappel did ring, And they made a loud sassaray. He asked of an old gentleman Who was sitting there all alone, Why the bells of the high chappel did ring, And the ladies were making a moan. 'Oh, the king's fair daughter is dead,' said he; 'Her name's Lady Oonzabel; And she died for the love of a courteous young knight, And his name it is Lord Lovel.' He caused the bier to be set down, The winding sheet undone, And drawing forth his rapier bright, Through his own true heart did it run. Lady Oonzabel lies in the high chappel, Lord Lovel he lies in the quier; And out of the one there grew up a white rose, And out of the other a brier. And they grew, and they grew, to the high chappel top; They could not well grow any higher; And they twined into a true lover's knot, So in death they are joined together.

was at the stable-door, Mounting his milk-white steed, Who came by but poor Nancy Bell, And she wished Lovel good speed. 'O where are ye going, Lord Lovel?' she said, 'How long to tarry from me?' 'Before six months are past and gone, Again I'll return to thee.' He had not been a twelvemonth away, A twelvemonth and a day, Till Nancy Bell grew sick and sad, She pined and witherd away. The very first town that he came to, He heard the death-bell knell; The very next town that he came to, They said it was Nancy Bell. He orderd the coffin to be broke open, The sheet to be turned down, And then he kissd her cold pale lips, Till the tears ran tricklin down. The one was buried in St. John's church, The other in the choir; From Nancy Bell sprang a bonny red rose, From Lord Lovel a bonny briar. They grew, and they grew, to the height o the church, To they met from either side, And at the top a true lover's knot Shows that one for the other had died.

he stands in his stable-door, He was dressing a milk-white steed; A lady she stands in her bour-door, A dressin with haste an speed. 'O where are you goin, Lord Revel,' she said, 'Where are you going from me?' 'It's I am going to Lonnon toun, That fair city for to see.' 'When will you be back, Lord Revel?' she said, 'When will you be back to me?' 'I will be back in the space of three years, To wed you, my gey ladie.' 'That's too long a time for me,' she said, 'That's too long a time for me; For I'll be dead long time ere that, For want of your sweet companie.' He had not been in Lonnon toun A month but barely three, When word was brought that Isabell Was sick, an like to dee. He had not been in Lonnon toun A year but barely ane, When word was brought from Lonnon toun That Isabell was gane. He rode an he rode along the high way, Till he came to Edenborrow toon: Is there any fair lady dead,' said he, 'That the bells gie such a tone?' 'Oh yes, there's a ladie, a very fine ladie, Her name it is Isabell; She died for the sake of a young Scottish knight, His name it is Lord Revel.' 'Deal well, deal well at Isabell's burial The biscuit and the beer, An gainst the morrow at this same time You'll aye deal mair and mair. 'Deal well, deal well at Isabell's burial The white bread and the wine, An gainst the morn at this same time You'll deal the same at mine.' They dealt well, dealt weel at Isabell's burial The biscuit an the beer, And gainst the morn at that same time They dealt them mair an mair. They dealt weel, dealt weel at Isabell's burial The white bread an the wine, An gainst the morn at that same time They dealt the same again.

he stood at his castle-gate, Combing his milk-white steed, When up came Lady Nancy Belle, To wish her lover good speed, speed, 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, today, Lord Lovel he died as tomorrow; 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 briar. They grew, and they grew, to the church-steeple too, And then they could grow no higher; So there they entwined in a true-lover's knot, For all lovers true to admire.

There came a ghost to Helen's bower, Wi monny a sigh and groan: 'O make yourself ready, at Wednesday at een, Fair Helen, you must be gone.' 'O gay Death, O gallant Death, Will you spare my life sae lang Untill I send to merry Primrose, Bid my dear lord come hame?' 'O gay Helen, O galant Helen, I winna spare you sae lang; But make yoursell ready, again Wednesday at een, Fair Helen, you must be gane.' 'O where will I get a bonny boy, That would win hose and shoon, That will rin fast to merry Primrose, Bid my dear lord come soon?' O up and speak a little boy, That would win hose and shoon: 'Aft have I gane your errants, lady, But by my suth I'll rin.' When he came to broken briggs He bent his bow and swam, And when he came to grass growing He cast off his shoon and ran. When he came to merry Primrose, His lord he was at meat: 'O my lord, kend ye what I ken, Right little wad ye eat.' 'Is there onny of my castles broken doun, Or onny of my towers won? Or is Fair Helen brought to bed Of a doughter or a son?' 'There's nane of [your] castles broken doun, Nor nane of your towers won, Nor is Fair Helen brought to bed Of a doghter or a son.' 'Gar sadle me the black, black steed, Gar sadle me the brown; Gar sadle me the swiftest horse Eer carried man to town.' First he bursted the bonny black, And then he bursted the brown, And then he bursted the swiftest steed Eer carried man to town. He hadna ridden a mile, a mile, A mile but barelins ten, When he met four and twenty gallant knights, carrying a dead coffin. 'Set down, set down Fair Helen's corps, Let me look on the dead;' And out he took a little pen-knife, And he screeded the winding-sheet. O first he kist her rosy cheek, And then he kist her chin, And then he kist her coral lips, But there's nae life in within. 'Gar deal, gar deal the bread,' he says, 'The bread bat an the wine, And at the morn at twelve o'clock Ye's gain as much at mine.' The tane was buried in Mary's kirk, The tother in Mary's choir, And out of the tane there sprang a birch, And out of the tother a briar. The tops of them grew far sundry, But the roots of them grew neer, And ye may easy ken by that They were twa lovers dear.

Lord Lovel was standing at his stable-door, Kaiming down his milk-white steed, When by came Lady Anzibel, Was wishing Lord Lovel good speed, good speed, Was wishing Lord Lovel good speed. 'O where are you going, Lord Lovel?' she said, 'O where are you going?' said she: 'I'm going unto England, And there a fair lady to see.' 'How long will you stay, Lord Lovel?' she said, 'How long will you stay?' says she: 'O three short years will soon go by, And then I'll come back to thee.'