The English and Scottish Popular Ballads/Part 4/Chapter 103

O the Red and White Lilly, Their mother dear was dead, And their father married an ill woman, Wishd them twa little guede. Yet she had twa as fu fair sons As eer brake manis bread, And the tane of them loed her White Lilly, An the tither lood Rose the Red. O biggit ha they a bigly bowr, And strawn it oer wi san, And there was mair mirth i the ladies' bowr Than in a' their father's lan. But out is spake their step-mother, Wha stood a little foreby: I hope to live and play the prank Sal gar your loud sang ly. She's calld upon her eldest son: Come here, my son, to me; It fears me sair, my eldest son, That ye maun sail the sea. 'Gin if fear you sair, my mither dear, Your bidding I maun dee; But never war to Rose the Red Than ye ha been to me.' 'O had your tongue, my eldest son, For sma sal be her part; You'll nae get a kiss o her comely mouth Gin your very fair heart should break.' She's calld upon her youngest son: Come here, my son, to me; It fears me sair, my youngest son, That ye maun sail the sea. 'Gin it fear you sair, my mither dear, Your bidding I maun dee; But be never war to White Lilly Than ye ha been to me.' 'O haud your tongue, my youngest son, For sma sall be her part; You'll neer get a kiss o her comely mouth Tho your very fair heart should break.' When Rose the Red and White Lilly Saw their twa loves were gane, Then stopped ha they their loud, loud sang, And tane up the still mournin; And their step-mother stood listnin by, To hear the ladies' mean. Then out it spake her White Lilly: My sister, we'll be gane; Why should we stay in Barnsdale, To waste our youth in pain? Then cutted ha they their green cloathing A little below their knee, An sae ha they there yallow hair, A little aboon there bree; An they've doen them to haely chapel, Was christened by Our Lady. There ha they chang'd their ain twa names, Sae far frae ony town, An the tane o them hight Sweet Willy, An the tither o them Roge the Roun. Between this twa a vow was made, An they sware it to fulfil; That at three blasts o a bugle-horn, She'd come her sister till. Now Sweet Willy's gane to the kingis court, Her true-love for to see, An Roge the Roun to good green wood, Brown Robin's man to be. As it fell out upon a day They a' did put the stane, Full seven foot ayont them a' She gard the puttin-stane gang. She leand her back against an oak, And gae a loud Ohone! Then out it spake him Brown Robin, But that's a woman's moan! 'O ken ye by my red rose lip? Or by my yallow hair? Nor ken ye by my milk-white breast? For ye never saw it bare?' ken no by your red rose lip, Nor by your yallow hair; Nor ken I by your milk-white breast, For I never saw it bare; But come to your bowr whaever sae likes, Will find a lady there.' 'O gin ye come to my bowr within, Thro fraud, deceit, or guile, Wi this same bran that's in my han, I swear I will the kill.' 'But I will come thy bowr within, An spear nae leave,' quoth he; 'An this same bran that's i my han I sall ware back on the.' About the tenth hour of the night The ladie's bower-door was broken, An eer the first hour of the day The bonny knave-bairn was gotten. When days were gane, and months were run, The lady took travailing, And sair she cry'd for a bowr-woman, For to wait her upon. Then out it spake him Brown Robin: Now what needs a' this din? For what coud any woman do But I coud do the same? ''Twas never my mither's fashion,' she says, 'Nor sall it ever be mine, That belted knights shoud eer remain Where ladies dreed their pine. 'But ye take up that bugle-horn, An blaw a blast for me; I ha a brother in the kingis court Will come me quickly ti.' 'O gin ye ha a brither on earth That ye love better nor me, Ye blaw the horn yoursel,' he says, 'For ae blast I winna gie.' She's set the horn till her mouth, And she's blawn three blasts sae shrill; Sweet Willy heard i the kingis court, And came her quickly till. Then up it started Brown Robin, An an angry man was he: 'There comes nae man this bowr within But first must fight wi me.' O they hae fought that bowr within Till the sun was gaing down, Till drops o blude frae Rose the Red Came hailing to the groun. She leand her back against the wa, Says, Robin, let a' be; For it is a lady born and bred That's foughten sae well wi thee. O seven foot he lap a back; Says, Alas, and wae is me! I never wishit in a' my life, A woman's blude to see; An a' for the sake of ae fair maid Whose name was White Lilly. Then out it spake her White Lilly, An a hearty laugh laugh she: She's lived wi you this year an mair, Tho ye kentna it was she. Now word has gane thro a' the lan, Before a month was done, That Brown Robin's man, in good green wood, Had born a bonny young son. The word has gane to the kingis court, An to the king himsel; 'Now, by my fay,' the king could say, 'The like was never heard tell!' Then out it spake him Bold Arthur, An a hearty laugh laugh he: I trow some may has playd the loun, And fled her ain country. 'Bring me my steed,' then cry'd the king, 'My bow and arrows keen; I'l ride mysel to good green wood, An see what's to be seen.' 'An't please your grace,' said Bold Arthur, 'My liege, I'll gang you wi, An try to fin a little foot-page, That's strayd awa frae me.' O they've hunted i the good green wood The buck but an the rae, An they drew near Brown Robin's bowr, About the close of day. Then out it spake the king in hast, Says, Arthur, look an see Gin that be no your little foot-page That leans against yon tree. n Arthur took his bugle-horn, An blew a blast sae shrill; Sweet Willy started at the sound, An ran him quickly till. 'O wanted ye your meat, Willy? Or wanted ye your fee? Or gat ye ever an angry word, That ye ran awa frae me?' 'I wanted nought, my master dear; To me ye ay was good; I came but to see my ae brother, That wons in this green wood.' Then out it spake the king again, Says, Bonny boy, tell to me Wha lives into yon bigly bowr, Stands by yon green oak tree? 'O pardon me,' says Sweet Willy, 'My liege, I dare no tell; An I pray you go no near that bowr, For fear they do you fell.' 'O haud your tongue, my bonny boy, For I winna be said nay; But I will gang that bowr within, Betide me weel or wae.' They've lighted off their milk-white steeds, An saftly enterd in, An there they saw her White Lilly, Nursing her bonny yong son. 'Now, by the rood,' the king coud say, 'This is a comely sight; I trow, instead of a forrester's man, This is a lady bright!' Then out it spake her Rose the Red, An fell low down on her knee: O pardon us, my gracious liege, An our story I'll tell thee. Our father was a wealthy lord, That wond in Barnsdale; But we had a wicked step-mother, That wrought us meickle bale. Yet she had twa as fu fair sons As ever the sun did see, An the tane o them lood my sister dear, An the tither sayd he lood me. Then out it spake him Bold Arthur, As by the king he stood: Now, by the faith o my body, This shoud be Rose the Red! Then in it came him Brown Robin, Frae hunting o the deer, But whan he saw the king was there, He started back for fear. The king has taen him by the hand, An bade him naithing dread; Says, Ye maun leave the good green wood, Come to the court wi speed. Then up he took White Lilly's son, An set him on his knee; Says, Gin ye live to wiald a bran, My bowman ye sall bee. The king he sent for robes of green, An girdles o shinning gold; He gart the ladies be arrayd Most comely to behold. They've done them unto Mary Kirk, An there gat fair wedding, An fan the news spread oer the lan, For joy the bells did ring. Then out it spake her Rose the Red, An a hearty laugh laugh she: I wonder what would our step-dame say, Gin she this sight did see!

word is gane thro a' the land, Gude seal that it sae spread! To Rose the Red and White Lillie, Their mither dear was dead. Their father's married a bauld woman, And brought her ower the sea, Twa sprightly youths, her ain young sons, Intill her companie. They fixd their eyes on those ladies, On shipboard as they stood, And sware, if ever they wan to land, These ladies they woud wed. But there was nae a quarter past, A quarter past but three, Till these young luvers a' were fond O other's companie. The knights they harped i their bower, The ladies sewd and sang; There was mair mirth in that chamer Than a' their father's lan. Then out it spak their step-mither, At the stair-foot stood she: I'm plagued wi your troublesome noise! What makes your melodie? O Rose the Red, ye sing too loud, White Lillie, your voice is strang; But gin I live and brook my life, I'se gar you change your sang. 'We maunna change our loud, loud song For nae duke's son ye'll bear; We winna change our loud, loud song, But aye we'll sing the mair. 'We never sung the sang, mither, But we'll sing ower again; We'll take our harps into our hands, And we'll harp, and we'll sing.' She's calld upon her twa young sons, Says, Boun ye for the sea; Let Rose the Red and White Lillie Stay in their bower wi me. 'O God forbid,' said her eldest son, 'Nor lat it ever be, Unless ye were as kind to our luves As gin we were them wi.' 'Yet never the less, my pretty sons, Ye'll boun you for the faem; Let Rose the Red and White Lillie Stay in their bowers at hame.' 'O when wi you we came alang, We felt the stormy sea, And where we go, ye neer shall know, Nor shall be known by thee.' Then wi her harsh and boisterous word She forc'd these lads away, While Rose the Red and White Lillie Still in their bowers did stay. But there was not a quarter past, A quarter past but ane, Till Rose the Red in rags she gaed, White Lillie's claithing grew thin. Wi bitter usage every day, The ladies they thought lang; 'Ohon, alas!' said Rose the Red, 'She's gard us change our sang. 'But we will change our own fu names, And we'll gang frae the town, Frae Rose the Red and White Lillie To Nicholas and Roger Brown. 'And we will cut our green claithing A little aboon our knee, And we will on to gude greenwood, Twa bauld bowmen to be.' 'Ohon, alas!' said White Lillie, 'My fingers are but sma, And tho my hands woud wield the bow, They winna yield at a'.' 'O had your tongue now, White Lillie, And lat these fears a' be; There's naething that ye're awkward in But I will learn thee.' Then they are on to gude greenwood, As fast as gang coud they; O then they spied him Robin Hood, Below a green aik tree. 'Gude day, gude day, kind sir,' they said, 'God make you safe and free:' 'Gude day, gude day,' said Robin Hood, 'What is your wills wi me?' 'Lo here we are, twa banishd knights, Come frae our native hame; We're come to crave o thee service, Our king will gie us nane.' 'If ye be twa young banishd knights, Tell me frae what countrie:' 'Frae Anster town into Fifeshire; Ye know it as well as we.' 'If a' be true that ye hae said, And tauld just now to me, Ye're welcome, welcome, every one; Your master I will be. 'Now ye shall eat as I do eat, And lye as I do lye; Ye salna wear nae waur claithing Nor my young men and I.' Then they went to a ruinous house, And there they enterd in, And Nicholas fed wi Robin Hood, And Roger wi Little John. But it fell ance upon a day They were at the putting-stane, Whan Rose the Red she viewd them a', As they stood on the green. She hit the stane then wi her foot, And kepd it wi her knee, And spaces three aboon them a' I wyte she gard it flee. She sat her back then to a tree, And gae a loud Ohon! A lad spak in the companie, I hear a woman's moan. 'How know you that, young man?' she said, 'How know you that o me? Did eer ye see me in that place Ae foot my ground to flee? 'Or know ye by my cherry cheeks? Or by my yellow hair? Or by the paps on my breast-bane? Ye never saw them bare.' 'I know not by your cherry cheeks, Nor by your yellow hair; But I know by your milk-white chin, On it there grows nae hair. 'I never saw you in that cause Ae foot your ground to flee; I've seen you stan wi sword in han Mang men's blood to the knee. 'But if I come your bower within, By night, or yet by day, I shall know before I go If ye be man or may.' 'O if you come my bower within, By night, or yet by day, As soon's I draw my trusty brand, Nae lang ye'll wi me stay.' But he is haunted to her bower, Her bigly bower o stane, Till he has got her big wi bairn, And near sax months she's gane. Whan three mair months were come and gane, They gaed to hunt the hynde; She wont to be the foremost ane, But now stayd far behynd. Her luver looks her in the face, And thus to her said he; I think your cheeks are pale and wan; Pray, what gaes warst wi thee? O want ye roses to your breast? Or ribbons to your sheen? Or want ye as muckle o dear bought luve As your heart can conteen? 'I want nae roses to my breast, Nae ribbons to my sheen; Nor want I as muckle dear bought luve As my heart can conteen. 'I'd rather hae a fire behynd, Anither me before, A gude midwife at my right side, Till my young babe be bore.' 'I'll kindle a fire wi a flint-stane, Bring wine in a green horn; I'll be midwife at your right side, Till your young babe be born.' 'That was neer my mither's custom, Forbid that it be mine! A knight stan by a lady bright Whan she drees a' her pine. 'There is a knight in gude greenwood, If that he kent o me, Thro stock and stane and the hawthorn Sae soon's he woud come me tee.' 'If there be a knight in gude greenwood Ye like better than me, If ance he come your bower within, Ane o us twa shall dee.' She set a horn to her mouth, And she blew loud and shrill; Thro stock and stane and the hawthorn Brave Roger came her till. 'Wha's here sae bauld,' the youth replied, 'Thus to encroach on me?' 'O here I am,' the knight replied, 'Hae as much right as thee.' Then they fought up the gude greenwood, Sae did they down the plain; They niddart ither wi lang braid-swords, Till they were bleedy men. Then out it spak the sick woman, Sat under the greenwood tree; O had your han, young man, she said, She's a woman as well as me. Then out it speaks anither youth, Amang the companie; Gin I had kent what I ken now, 'Tis for her I woud dee. 'O wae mat worth you, Rose the Red, An ill death mat ye dee! Altho ye tauld upo yoursell, Ye might hae heald on me.' 'O for her sake I was content For to gae ower the sea; For her I left my mither's ha, Tho she proves fause to me.' But whan these luvers were made known, They sung right joyfullie, Nae blyther was the nightingale, Nor bird that sat on tree. Now they hae married these ladies, Brought them to bower and ha; And now a happy life they lead; I wish sae may we a'.

king has wedded an ill woman, Into some foreign land; His daughters twa, that stood in awe, They bravely sat and sang. Then in became their step-mother, Sae stately steppin ben: 'O gin I live and bruik my life, I'll gar ye change your tune.' 'O we sang neer that sang, ladie, But we will sing again; ??'O we sang neer that sang, ladie, But we will sing again; ??'O we sang neer that sang, ladie, But we will sing again; ??'O we sang neer that sang, ladie, But we will sing again; And ye neer boor that son, ladie, But we will sing again; And ye neer boor that son, ladie, We wad lay our love on. 'But we will cow our yellow locks A little abune our bree, And we will on to gude greenwud, And serve for meat and fee. 'And we will kilt our gay claithing A little below the knee, And we will on to gude greenwud, Gif Robin Hood we see. And we will on to gude greenwud, Gif Robin Hood we see. And we will on to gude greenwud, Gif Robin Hood we see. And we will on to gude greenwud, Gif Robin Hood we see. 'And we will change our ain twa names, When we gae frae the toun; The tane we will call Nicholas, The tither Rogee Roun.' Then they hae cowd their yellow locks A little abune their bree, And they are on to gude greenwud, To serve for meat and fee. And they hae kilt their gay claithing A little below their knee, And they are on to gud greenwud, Gif Robin Hood they see. And they hae chang'd thair ain twa names, Whan they gaed frae the toun; The tane they've called Nicholas, The tither Rogee Roun. And they hae staid in gude greenwud, And never a day thoucht lang, Till it fell ance upon a day That Rogee sang a sang. 'Whan we were in our father's bouer, We sewd the silken seam; But now we walk the gude greenwud, And bear anither name. 'When we were in our father's ha, We wore the beaten gold; But now we wear the shield sae sharp; Alas, we'll die with cold!' Then up bespak him Robin Hood, As he to them drew near: 'Instead of boys to carry the bow, Two ladies we've got here.' So they had not been in gud greenwud A twalmonth and a day, Till Rogee Roun was as big wi bairn As onie lady could gae. 'O wae be to my stepmother, That garrd me leave my hame! For I'm wi bairn to Robin Hood, And near nine month is gane. 'O wha will be my bouer-woman? Na bouer-woman is here; O wha will be my bouer-woman, Whan that sad time draws near?' Then up bespak him Robin Hood, At the foot o yon greenwud tree: O hold your tongue, fair Rogee Roun, For married ye sall be. The tane was wedded to Robin Hood, And the tither to Little John; And it was a' owing to their stepmother, That garrd them leave their hame.