Lady Maisry
Anonymous
| Original | Bonny Susie Cleland |
| LADY MAISRY The young lords o the north country Have all a wooing gane, To win the love of Lady Maisry, But o them she woud hae nane. O thae hae sought her Lady Maisry Wi a’ kin kind of things; An they hae sought her Lady Maisry Wi brotches an wi’ rings. An they hae sought her Lady Maisry Frae father and frae mither; An they hae sought her Lady Maisry Frae sister an frae brither. An they ha followd her Lady Maisry Thro chamber an thro ha; But a’ that they coud say to her, Her answer still was Na. ‘O haud your tongues, young men,’ she says, ‘An think nae mair o me; For I’ve gien my love to an English lord, An think nae mair o me.’ Her father’s kitchy-boy heard that, An ill death mot he dee! An he is on to her brother, As fast as gang coud he. ‘O is my father an my mother weel, But an my brothers three? Gin my sister Lady Maisry be weel, There’s naething can ail me.’ ‘Your father and your mother is weel, But an your brothers three; Your sister Lady Maisry’s weel, So big wi bairn gangs she.’ ‘A malison light on the tongue, Sic tidings tells to me! But gin it be a lie you tell, You sal be hangit hie.’ He’s done him to his sister’s bowr, Wi meikle doole an care; An there he saw her Lady Maisry, Kembing her yallow hair. ‘O wha is aucht that bairn,’ he says, ‘That ye sae big are wi’ And gin ye winna own the truth, This moment ye sall dee.’ She turnd her richt an roun about, An the kem fell frae her han; A trembling seizd her fair bodie, An her rosy cheek grew wan. ‘O pardon me, my brother dear, An the truth I’ll tell to thee; My bairn it is to Lord William, An he is betrothd to me.’ ‘O coudna ye gotten dukes, or lords, Intill your ain countrie, That ye drew up wi an English dog, To bring this shame on me? ‘But ye maun gi up the English lord, Whan youre young babe is born; For, gin you keep by him an hour langer, Your life sall be forlorn.’ ‘I will gi up this English blood, Till my young babe be born; But the never a day nor hour langer, Tho my life should be forlorn.’ ‘O whare is a’ my merry young men, Wham I gi meat and fee, To pu the bracken and the thorn, To burn this vile whore wi?’ ‘O whare will I get a bonny boy, To help me in my need, To rin wi hast to Lord William, And bid him come wi speed?’ O out it spake a bonny boy, Stood by her brother’s side: ‘It's I wad rin your errand, lady, Oer a’ the warld wide. ‘Aft hae I run your errands, lady, Whan blawin baith win and weet; But now I’ll rin your errand, lady, Wi saut tears on my cheek.’ O whan he came to broken briggs, He bent his bow and swam, An whan he came to the green grass growin, He slackd his shoon and ran. O whan he came to Lord William’s yetts, He badena to chap or ca, But set his bent bow till his breast, An lightly lap the wa; An, or the porter was at the yett, The boy was i the ha. ‘O is my biggins broken, boy? Or is my towers won? Or is my lady lighter yet, O' a dear daughter or son?’ ‘Your biggin isna broken, sir, Nor is your towers won; But the fairest lady in a’ the lan This day for you maun burn.’ ‘O saddle me the black, the black, Or saddle me the brown; O saddle me the swiftest steed That ever rade frae a town.’ Or he was near a mile awa, She heard his weir horse sneeze: ‘Mend up the fire, my fause brother, It’s nae come to my knees.’ O, whan he lighted at the yett, She heard his bridle ring: ‘Mend up the fire, my fause brother, It’s far yet frae my chin. ‘Mend up the fire to me, brother, Mend up the fire to me; For I see him comin hard an fast Will soon men’t up to thee. ‘O gin my hands had been loose, Willy, Sae hard as they are boun, I would have turnd me frae the gleed, And casten out your young son.’ ‘O I’ll gar burn for you, Maisry, Your father an your mother; An I’ll gar burn for you, Maisry, Your sister an your brother. ‘An I’ll gar burn for you, Maisry, The chief of a’ your kin; An the last bonfire that I come to, Mysell I will cast in.’ | LADY MAISRY There lived a lady in Scotland Hey my love and ho my joy There lived a lady in Scotland Wha dearly lo’d me There lived a lady in Scotland She’s fa’n in love wi’ an Englishman And bonnie Susie Cleland’s tae be burnt in Dundee. The faither tae the dochter cam’ “Will ye forsake yer Englishman?” And bonnie Susie Cleland’s tae be burnt in Dundee. “If ye’ll no’ that Englishman forsake Then I maun burn ye at the stake” And bonnie Susie Cleland’s tae be burnt in Dundee. “I’ll no’ that Englishman forsake Though ye may burn me at the stake” And bonnie Susie Cleland’s tae be burnt in Dundee. “Oh whaur will I get a little wee boy Tae carry tidings tae my joy That bonnie Susie Cleland’s tae be burnt in Dundee?” “Here am I a pretty wee boy An’ I’ll carry tidings tae yer joy That bonnie Susie Cleland’s tae be burnt in Dundee.” “O gie tae him my right hand glove Tell him tae get another love For bonnie Susie Cleland’s tae be burnt in Dundee.” “Gie tae him this gay gowd ring Tell him I’m gaun tae my burnin’ And bonnie Susie Cleland’s tae be burnt in Dundee.” Her faither he ca’d up the stake Her brither he the fire did make And bonnie Susie Cleland was burnt in Dundee. |
