Poems & Ballads - LightNovelsOnl.com
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"Stand up, stand up, thou May Janet, And go to the wars with me."
He's drawn her by both hands With her face against the sea.
"He that strews red shall gather white, He that sows white reap red, Before your face and my daughter's Meet in a marriage-bed.
"Gold coin shall grow in the yellow field, Green corn in the green sea-water, And red fruit grow of the rose's red, Ere your fruit grow in her."
"But I shall have her by land," he said, "Or I shall have her by sea, Or I shall have her by strong treason And no grace go with me."
Her father's drawn her by both hands, He's rent her gown from her, He's ta'en the smock round her body, Cast in the sea-water.
The captain's drawn her by both sides Out of the fair green sea; "Stand up, stand up, thou May Janet, And come to the war with me."
The first town they came to There was a blue bride-chamber; He clothed her on with silk And belted her with amber.
The second town they came to The bridesmen feasted knee to knee; He clothed her on with silver, A stately thing to see.
The third town they came to The bridesmaids all had gowns of gold; He clothed her on with purple, A rich thing to behold.
The last town they came to He clothed her white and red, With a green flag either side of her And a gold flag overhead.
THE b.l.o.o.d.y SON
(FINNISH)
"O where have ye been the morn sae late, My merry son, come tell me hither?
O where have ye been the morn sae late?
And I wot I hae not anither."
"By the water-gate, by the water-gate, O dear mither."
"And whatten kin' o' wark had ye there to make, My merry son, come tell me hither?
And whatten kin' o' wark had ye there to make?
And I wot I hae not anither."
"I watered my steeds with water frae the lake, O dear mither."
"Why is your coat sae fouled the day, My merry son, come tell me hither?
Why is your coat sae fouled the day?
And I wot I hae not anither."
"The steeds were stamping sair by the weary banks of clay, O dear mither."
"And where gat ye thae sleeves of red, My merry son, come tell me hither?
And where gat ye thae sleeves of red?
And I wot I hae not anither."
"I have slain my ae brither by the weary waterhead, O dear mither."
"And where will ye gang to mak your mend, My merry son, come tell me hither?
And where will ye gang to mak your mend?
And I wot I hae not anither."
"The warldis way, to the warldis end, O dear mither."
"And what will ye leave your father dear, My merry son, come tell me hither?
And what will ye leave your father dear?
And I wot I hae not anither."
"The wood to fell and the logs to bear, For he'll never see my body mair, O dear mither."
"And what will ye leave your mither dear, My merry son, come tell me hither?
And what will ye leave your mither dear?
And I wot I hae not anither."
"The wool to card and the wool to wear, For ye'll never see my body mair, O dear mither."
"And what will ye leave for your wife to take, My merry son, come tell me hither?
And what will ye leave for your wife to take?
And I wot I hae not anither."
"A goodly gown and a fair new make, For she'll do nae mair for my body's sake, O dear mither."
"And what will ye leave your young son fair, My merry son, come tell me hither?
And what will ye leave your young son fair?
And I wot ye hae not anither."
"A twiggen school-rod for his body to bear, Though it garred him greet he'll get nae mair, O dear mither."
"And what will ye leave your little daughter sweet, My merry son, come tell me hither?
And what will ye leave your little daughter sweet?
And I wot ye hae not anither."
"Wild mulberries for her mouth to eat, She'll get nae mair though it garred her greet, O dear mither."
"And when will ye come back frae roamin', My merry son, come tell me hither?
And when will ye come back frae roamin'?
And I wot I hae not anither."
"When the sunrise out of the north is comen, O dear mither."
"When shall the sunrise on the north side be, My merry son, come tell me hither?
When shall the sunrise on the north side be?
And I wot I hae not anither."
"When chuckie-stanes shall swim in the sea, O dear mither."
"When shall stanes in the sea swim, My merry son, come tell me hither?
When shall stanes in the sea swim?
And I wot I hae not anither."
"When birdies' feathers are as lead therein, O dear mither."
"When shall feathers be as lead, My merry son, come tell me hither?
When shall feathers be as lead?
And I wot I hae not anither."
"When G.o.d shall judge between the quick and dead, O dear mither."
