Scottish Ballads and Songs, Historical and Traditionary, Volumen2

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W. Patterson, 1868
 

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Página 156 - O hold your hand, Lord William!' she said, 'For your strokes they are wond'rous sair; True lovers I can get many a ane, But a father I can never get mair.
Página 152 - A brawer bower ye ne'er did see, Than my true love he built for me. There came a man, by middle day, He spied his sport, and went away ; And brought the king that very night, Who brake my bower, and slew my knight. He slew my knight, to me sae dear ; He slew my knight, and poin'd ' his gear ; My servants all for life did flee, And left me in extremitie, I...
Página 157 - ... Until they came to yon wan water, And there they lighted down. They lighted down to tak a drink Of the spring that ran sae clear; And down the stream ran his gude heart's blood, And sair she 'gan to fear. "Hold up, hold up, Lord William," she says, "For I fear that you are slain!
Página 122 - Alack for wae !" quoth the gude auld lord, " And ever my heart is wae for thee ! But fye, gar cry on Willie, my son, And see that he come to me speedilie ! " Gar warn the water, braid and wide,* Gar warn it soon and hastily ! They that winna ride for Telfer's kye, Let them never look in the face o...
Página 180 - The starling flew to his mother's window stane, It whistled and it sang ; And aye the ower word o' the tune Was — " Johnie tarries lang !" They made a rod o' the hazel bush, Another o' the slae-thorn tree, And mony mony were the men At fetching our Johnie.
Página 155 - RISE up, rise up, now, Lord Douglas," she says, " And put on your armour so bright ; Let it never be said that a daughter of thine Was married to a lord under night. " Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons, And put on your armour so bright, And take better care of your youngest sister, For your eldest's awa
Página 216 - O gentle wind, that bloweth south, « From where my love repaireth, Convey a kiss from his dear mouth, And tell me how he fareth ! " But in the glen strive armed men ; They've wrought me dole and sorrow ; »i They've slain — the comeliest knight they've slain — He bleeding lies on Yarrow.
Página 122 - I, Watty Wudspurs, loose the kye, I winna layne my name frae thee ! And I will loose out the Captain's kye, In scorn of a
Página 179 - Then out and spak the first forester, The heid man ower them a'— " If this be Johnie o' Breadislee, Nae nearer will we draw." But up and spak the sixth forester (His sister's son was he),
Página 133 - been at Carlisle town, Where Sir Robert Bewick he met me; He says ye're a lad, and ye are but bad, And billie to his son ye canna be. 'I sent ye to the schools, and ye wadna learn; I bought ye books, and ye wadna read; Therefore my blessing ye shall never earn, Till I see with Bewick thou save thy head.

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