VII. SIR JOHN GREHME AND BARBARA ALLAN. A SCOTTISH BALLAD. Printed, with a few conjectural emendations, from a written copy. It was in and about the Martinmas time, He sent his man down throw the towne, 5 To the plaice wher she was dwellan : O haste and cum to my maister deare, O hooly, hooly raise she up, To the plaice wher he was lyan; Young man, I think ye're dyan.* 10 An ingenious friend thinks the rhymes Dyand and Lyand ought to be transposed; as the taunt Young man, I think ye're lyand, would be very characteristical. O its I'm sick, and very very sick, And its a' for Barbara Allan. Though your harts blude wer spillan. Remember ye nat in the tavern, sir, Whan ye the cups wer fillan; 15 How ye made the healths gae round and round, And slighted Barbara Allan ? He turn'd his face unto the wa', And death was with him dealan ; Adiew! adiew! my dear friends a', Be kind to Barbara Allan. 20 And hooly, hooly, left him; And sighan said, she could not stay, Shee had not gane a mile but twa, Whan she heard the deid-bell knellan; 30 And everye jow the deid-bell geid, Cried, Wae to Barbara Allan! O mither, mither, mak my bed, O mak it saft and narrow : Since my love died for me to day, 35 VIII. THE BAILIFF'S DAUGHTER OF ISLINGTON. From an ancient black-letter copy in the Pepys Collection, with some improvements communicated by a lady as she had heard the same recited in her youth. The full title is, "True love requited: Or, the Bailiff's daughter of Islington." ISLINGTON in Norfolk is probably the place here meant. THERE was a youthe, and a well-beloved youthe, He loved the bayliffes daughter deare, That lived in Islington. Yet she was coye, and would not believe That he did love her soe, Noe nor at any time would she 5 And when he had been seven long yeares, And never his love could see: Many a teare have I shed for her sake, 15 When she little thought of mee. Then all the maids of Islington Went forth to sport and playe,, All but the bayliffes daughter deare; She pulled off her gowne of greene, And to faire London she would go Her true love to enquire. And as she went along the high road, 7 The weather being hot and drye, She sat her downe upon a green bank, And her true love came riding bye. She started up, with a colour soe redd, Catching hold of his bridle-reine; One penny, one penny, kind sir, she sayd, Before I give you one penny, sweet-heart, Praye tell me where you were borne. At Islington, kind sir, sayd shee, Where I have had many a scorne. I prythee, sweet-heart, then tell to mee, If she be dead, then take my horse, 40 O staye, O staye, thou goodlye youthe, 45 She is here alive, she is not dead, And readye to be thy bride. O farewell griefe, and welcome joye, Ten thousand times therefore; For nowe I have founde mine owne true love, Whom I thought I should never see more. 50 |