English and Scottish Ballads, Volumen1

Francis James Child
Houghton, Osgood, 1880

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Página 212 - THERE lived a wife at Usher's Well, And a wealthy wife was she ; She had three stout and stalwart sons, And sent them oer the sea...
Página 110 - 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 ! ' ' Betide me weal, betide me woe, That weird shall never daunton me ; Syne he has kiss'd her rosy lips, All underneath the Eildon Tree. ' Now, ye maun go wi' me,' she said, ' True Thomas, ye maun go wi
Página 239 - I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie down." — LORD RANDAL. 249 " Where gat ye your dinner, Lord Randal, my son? Where gat ye your dinner, my handsome young man?
Página 214 - Bring water from the well; For a' my house shall feast this night, Since my three sons are well.
Página 111 - Ye'll ne'er get back to your ain countrie." 0 they rade on, and farther on, And they waded through rivers aboon the knee, And they saw neither sun nor moon, But they heard the roaring of the sea. It was mirk mirk night, and there was nae stern light, And they waded through red blude to the knee ; For a' the blude that's shed on earth Rins through the springs o
Página 204 - O that I were where Helen lies ! Night and day on me she cries ; Out of my bed she bids me rise, Says,
Página 147 - He sent his man down through the town, To the place where she was dwelling: "O haste and come to my master dear, Gin ye be Barbara Allan.
Página 122 - My maids, gae to my dressing-room, And dress to me my smock; The one half is o the holland fine, The other o needle-work.
Página 112 - Rins through the springs o' that countrie. Syne they came on to a garden green, And she pu'd an apple frae a tree * — " Take this for thy wages, true Thomas ; It will give thee the tongue that can never lie." —
Página 214 - The cock doth craw, the day doth daw, The channerin' worm doth chide ; Gin we be mist out o' our place, A sair pain we maun bide. " Fare ye weel, my mother dear ! Fareweel to barn and byre ! And fare ye weel, the bonny lass> That kindles my mother's fire.

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