The English and Scottish Popular Ballads/Part 9/Chapter 299

One evening as a maid did walk, The moon was shining clearly, She heard a trooper at the gates, She thought it was her dearie. She’s taen his horse then by the head, And led him to the stable, And gien to him baith corn and hay, To eat what he was able. Bonny lass, gin I come near you, Bonny lass, gin I come near you, I’ll gar a’ your ribbons reel, Bonny lass, or eer I lea you.

She’s taen the trooper by the hand, And led him to the table, And furnishd him wi bread and cheese, To eat what he was able. She’s taen the wine-glass in her hand, Poured out the wine sae clearly; ‘Here is your health an mine,’ she cried, ‘And ye’re welcome hame, my deary!

‘A glass o wine for gentlemen, And bonny lads for lasses, And bread and cheese for cavaliers, And corn and hay for asses.’ Then she went but and made his bed, She made it like a lady, And she coost aff her mankie gown, Says, Laddie, are you ready?

Then he coost aff his big watch-coat, But and his silken beaver, A pair o pistols frae his side, And he lay down beside her. ‘Bonny lassie, I am wi you now, Bonny lassie I am wi you, But I’ll gar a’ your ribbons reel, Bonny lassie, ere I lea you.’

The trumpet sounds thro Birldale, Says, Men and horse, make ready; The drums do beat at Staneman hill, ‘Lads, leave your mam and daddie.’ The fifes did play at Cromley banks, ‘Lads, leave the lewes o Fyvie;’ And then the trooper he got up, Says, Lassie, I must lea you.

‘Bonny lassie, I maun lea you now, Bonny lassie, I maun lea you; But if ever I come this road again, I will come in and see you.’

She’s taen her gown out-ower her arms, And followed him to Stirling, And aye the trooper he did say, O turn ye back, my darling. ‘O when will we twa meet again? Or when will you me marry?’ ‘When rashin rinds grow gay gowd rings, I winna langer tarry.’

‘O when will we twa meet again? Or when will you me marry?’ ‘When heather-knaps grow siller taps, I winna langer tarry.’ ‘O when will we twa meet again? Or when will you me marry?’ ‘When heather-cows grow owsen-bows, I winna langer tarry.’

‘O when will we twa meet again? Or when will you me marry?’ ‘When cockle-shells grow siller bells, I winna langer tarry.’ ‘O when will we twa meet again? Or when will you me marry?’ ‘When apple-trees grow in the seas, I winna langer tarry.’

‘O when will we twa meet again? Or when will you me marry?’ ‘When fishes fly, and seas gang dry, I winna langer tarry.’ ‘O when will we twa meet again? Or when will you me marry?’ ‘When frost and snaw shall warm us a’, I winna langer tarry.’

‘Yestreen I was my daddie’s dow, But an my mamy’s dawtie; This night I gang wi bairn to you, Wae’s me that I eer saw thee!’ ‘Yestreen ye were your daddie’s dow, But an your mammie’s dawtie; But gin ye gang wi bairn to me, Ye may rue that eer ye saw me.

‘O turn back, my bonny lass, And turn back, my dearie; For the Highland hills are ill to climb, And the bluidy swords woud fear ye.’

There cam a trooper frae the West, And of riding he was weary; He rappit at and clappit at, In calling for his dearie. By chance the maid was in the close, The moon was shining clearly, She opened the gates and let him in, Says, Ye’re welcome hame, my dearie.

She took the horse by the bridle-reins And led him to the stable; She gave him corn and hay to eat, As much as he was able. She up the stair and made the bed, She made it fit for a lady, Then she coost aff her petticoat, Said, Trooper, are ye ready?

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ‘There’s bread and cheese for musqueteers, And corn and hay for hor[s]es, Sack and sugar for auld wives, And lads for bonnie lasses.’

He coost aff his gude buff coat, His boots, likewise his beaver, He drew his rapier frae his side, And streekit him down beside her. ‘Bonnie lass, I trew I’m near the[e] now, Bonnie lass, I trew I’m near thee, And I’ll gar a’ thy ribbons reel, Bonnie lassie, or I lea thee.’

They had but spoken little a while Till of speaking they were weary; They sleeped together in each other’s arms Till the sun was shining clearly. The very first sound the trumpet gave Was, Troopers, are ye ready? Away you must to London town, Or else for Londonderry.

She took the bottle in her hand, The glass into the other, She filled it up with blood-red wine, Until it ran quite over. She drank a health to her love on the stair, Saying, When shall we two marry? Or when shall we two meet again, On purpose for to marry?

‘O when shall we two meet again? Or when shall we two marry?’ ‘Whem cockle-shells grow siller bells; No longer must I tarry.’

THERE cam a trooper frae the west, And he’s ridden till his deary; ‘It’s open and lat me in,’ he says, For I am wet and weary.’ * * * * * * *

‘O whan sall we be married, love? O whan sall we be married?’ ‘Whan heather-cows turn owsen-bows, It’s then that we’ll be married.’

‘O whan sall we be married, love? O when sall we be married?’ ‘When cockle-shells turn siller bells, It’s then that we’ll be married.’

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ‘Whan the sun and moon dance on the green, It’s then that we’ll be married.’

The tropper lad cam to oor gate, And oh! but he was weary, He rapped at and chapped at, Syne called for his kind deary.

The bonnie lass being in the close, The moon was shining clearly,-+- ‘Ye’r welcome here, my trooper lad, Ye’r welcome, my kind deary.’

She’s taen his horse by the bridle-reins, And led him to the stable, She’s gien him corn and hay to eat, As much as he was able.

She’s taen the knight by the milk-white hand, And led him to her chamber, And gied him bread and cheese to eat, And wine to drink his pleasure.

‘Bonnie lassie, I’ll lie near ye noo, Bonnie lassie, I’ll lie near ye, An I’ll gar a’ your ribbons reel In the morning or I leave ye.’

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . And she put off her wee white smock, Crying, ‘Laddie, are ye ready?’

The first time that the trumpet played Was, Up, up and awa, man! The next time that the trumpet played Was, The morn’s the battle-day, man!

‘Bonnie lassie, I maun leave ye noo, Bonne lassie, I maun leave ye; But, if e’er I come this way again I will ca in an see ye.’

Bread and cheese for gentlemen, An corn and hay for horses; Pipes and tobacco for auld wives, And bonnie lads for lasses.

‘When will us twa meet again? When will we meet and marry?’ ‘When cockle-shells turn silver bells, Nae langer, love, we’ll tarry.’

So he’s taen his auld grey cloak about him noo, An he’s ower the mountains fairly, Crying, ‘Fare ye weel, my bonnie lass, Farewell, my ain kind deary.’