73A: Lord Thomas and Annet

73A.1	LORD THOMAS and Fair Annet
	Sate a’ day on a hill;
	Whan night was cum, and sun was sett,
	They had not talkt their fill.
73A.2	Lord Thomas said a word in jest,
	Fair Annet took it ill:
	‘A, I will nevir wed a wife
	Against my ain friends’ will.’
73A.3	‘Gif ye wull nevir wed a wife,
	A wife wull neir wed yee:’
	Sae he is hame to tell his mither,
	And knelt upon his knee.
73A.4	‘O rede, O rede, mither,’ he says,
	‘A gude rede gie to mee;
	O sall I tak the nut-browne bride,
	And let Fair Annet bee?’
73A.5	‘The nut-browne bride haes gowd and gear,
	Fair Annet she has gat nane;
	And the little beauty Fair Annet haes
	O it wull soon be gane.’
73A.6	And he has till his brother gane:
	‘Now, brother, rede ye mee;
	A, sall I marrie the nut-browne bride,
	And let Fair Annet bee?’
73A.7	‘The nut-browne bride has oxen, brother,
	The nut-browne bride has kye;
	I wad hae ye marrie the nut-browne bride,
	And cast Fair Annet bye.’
	I wad hae ye marrie the nut-browne bride,
	And cast Fair Annet bye.’
73A.8	‘Her oxen may dye i the house, billie,
	And her kye into the byre,
	And I sall hae nothing to mysell
	Bot a fat fadge by the fyre.’
73A.9	And he has till his sister gane:
	‘Now, sister, rede ye mee;
	O sall I marrie the nut-browne bride,
	And set Fair Annet free?’
73A.10	‘I’se rede ye tak Fair Annet, Thomas,
	And let the browne bride alane;
	Lest ye sould sigh, and say, Alace,
	What is this we brought hame!’
73A.11	‘No, I will tak my mither’s counsel,
	And marrie me owt o hand;
	And I will tak the nut-browne bride,
	Fair Annet may leive the land.’
73A.12	Up then rose Fair Annet’s father,
	Twa hours or it wer day,
	And he is gane into the bower
	Wherein Fair Annet lay.
73A.13	‘Rise up, rise up, Fair Annet,’ he says,
	‘Put on your silken sheene;
	Let us gae to St. Marie’s kirke,
	And see that rich weddeen.’
73A.14	‘My maides, gae to my dressing-roome,
	And dress to me my hair;
	‘My maides, gae to my dressing-roome,
	And dress to me my hair;
	Whaireir yee laid a plait before,
	See yee lay ten times mair.
73A.15	‘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.’
73A.16	The horse Fair Annet rade upon,
	He amblit like the wind;
	Wi siller he was shod before,
	Wi burning gowd behind.
73A.17	Four and twanty siller bells
	Wer a’ tyed till his mane,
	And yae tift o the norland wind,
	They tinkled ane by ane.
73A.18	Four and twanty gay gude knichts
	Rade by Fair Annet’s side,
	And four and twanty fair ladies,
	As gin she had bin a bride.
73A.19	And whan she cam to Marie’s kirk,
	She sat on Marie’s stean:
	The cleading that Fair Annet had on
	It skinkled in their een.
73A.20	And whan she cam into the kirk,
	She shimmerd like the sun;
	The belt that was about her waist
	Was a’ wi pearles bedone.
73A.21	She sat her by the nut-browne bride,
	And her een they wer sae clear,
	Lord Thomas he clean forgat the bride,
	Whan Fair Annet drew near.
73A.22	He had a rose into his hand,
	He gae it kisses three,
	And reaching by the nut-browne bride,
	Laid it on Fair Annet’s knee.
73A.23	Up than spak the nut-browne bride,
	She spak wi meikle spite:
	‘And whair gat ye that rose-water,
	That does mak yee sae white?’
73A.24	‘O I did get the rose-water
	Whair ye wull neir get nane,
	For I did get that very rose-water
	Into my mither’s wame.’
73A.25	The bride she drew a long bodkin
	Frae out her gay head-gear,
	And strake Fair Annet unto the heart,
	That word spak nevir mair.
73A.26	Lord Thomas he saw Fair Annet wex pale,
	And marvelit what mote bee;
	But whan he saw her dear heart’s blude,
	A’ wood-wroth wexed hee.
73A.27	He drew his dagger, that was sae sharp,
	That was sae sharp and meet,
	And drave it into the nut-browne bride,
	That fell deid at his feit.
73A.28	‘Now stay for me, dear Annet,’ he sed,
	‘Now stay, my dear,’ he cry’d;
	Then strake the dagger untill his heart,
	And fell deid by her side.
73A.29	Lord Thomas was buried without kirk-wa,
	Fair Annet within the quiere,
	And o the tane thair grew a birk,
	The other a bonny briere.
73A.30	And ay they grew, and ay they threw,
	As they wad faine be neare;
	And by this ye may ken right weil
	They were twa luvers deare.

73B: Lord Thomas and Annet

73B.1	SWEET WILLIE and Fair Annie
	Sat a’ day on yon hill;
	Though they had sat til the leventh o June,
	They wad na got their fill.
73B.2	But Willie spak a word amiss,
	Fair Annie took it ill:
	‘I’ll neer marry a tocherless lass
	Agen my ain friends’ will.’
73B.3	Then on she lap, and awa she gat,
	As fast as she could hie:
	‘Fare ye weel now, Sweet Willie,
	It’s fare ye weel a wee.’
73B.4	Then he is gane to his father’s ha,
	And tirled at the pin;
	Then up and rase his father proud.
	And loot Sweet Willie in.
73B.5	‘Come riddle us, riddle us, father dear,
	Yea both of us into ane;
	Whether sall I marry Fair Annie,
	Or bring the brown bride hame?’
73B.6	‘The brown bride she has houses and land,
	And Annie she has nane;
	Sae on my blessing, my auld son,
	Bring ye Brown Bride hame.’
73B.7	Then he is to his mither’s bouer,
	And tirled at the pin;
	Then up and rose his mother dear
	To let Sweet Willie in.
73B.8	‘Come riddle us, riddle us, mother dear,
	Yea baith o us into ane;
	Whether sall I marry Fair Annie,
	Or bring the brown bride hame?’
73B.9	‘The brown bride she has gowd and gear,
	Fair Annie she has nane;
	And for my blessing, my auld son,
	Bring ye Brown Bride hame.’
73B.10	Then he is to his sister’s bouer,
	And tirled at the pin;
	And wha sae ready as his sister dear
	To let her brither in.
73B.11	‘Come riddle us, riddle us, sister fair,
	Us baith yea into ane;
	Whether sall I marry Fair Annie,
	Or bring the brown bride hame?’
73B.12	‘The brown bride she has horse and kye,
	And Annie she has nane;
	But for my love, my brither dear,
	Bring hame the fair woman.
73B.13	‘Your horse may dee into the staw,
	The kye into the byre,
	And ye’ll hae nocht but a howther o dirt,
	To feed about your fire.’
73B.14	Then he is to Fair Annie’s bouer,
	And tirled at the pin;
	And wha sae ready as Fair Annie
	To let Sweet Willie in.
73B.15	‘You’re welcome here to me, Willie,
	You’re welcome here to me:’
	‘I’m na welcome to thee, Annie,
	I’m na welcome to thee,
	For I’m come to bid ye to my wedding,
	It’s gey sad news to thee.’
73B.16	‘It’s gey sad news to me, Willie,
	The saddest ye could tell;
	It’s gey sad news to me, Willie,
	That shoud been bride mysel.’
73B.17	Then she is to her father gane,
	And bowed low on her knee:
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
73B.18	‘Come riddle us, riddle us, father dear,
	Us baith yea into ane;
	Whether sall I gang to Willie’s wedding,
	Or sall I stay at hame?’
73B.19	‘Whare ane will be your frien, Annie,
	Twenty will be your fae;’
	‘But prove it gude, or prove it bad,
	To Willie’s wedding I’ll gae.
73B.20	‘I’ll na put on the grisly black,
	Nor yet the dowie green,
	But I’ll put on a scarlet robe
	To sheen like onie queen.’
73B.21	She’s orderd the smiths to the smithy,
	To shoe her a riding steed;
	She has orderd the tailors to her bouer,
	To dress her a riding weed.
73B.22	She has calld her maries to her bour,
	To lay gowd on her hair:
	‘Whare e’er ye put ae plait before,
	See ye lay ten times mair.’
73B.23	The steed Fair Annie rade upon,
	He bounded like the wind;
	Wi silver he was shod before,
	Wi burning gowd behind.
73B.24	And four and twenty siller bells
	War ti d til his mane;
	Wi ae blast o the norland wind
	They tinkled ane by ane.
73B.25	And whan she cam unto the place,
	And lichted on the green,
	Ilka ane that did her see
	Thought that she was a queen.
73B.26	‘Is this your bride, Sweet Willie?’ she said,
	‘I think she’s wondrous wan;
	Ye micht have had as fair a bride
	As eer the sun sheend on.’
73B.27	‘O haud your tongue, Fair Annie,’ he said,
	‘Wi your talk let me abee;
	For better I loe your little finger
	Than the brown bride’s haill bodie.’
73B.28	Then out and spak the nut-brown bride,
	And she spak out of spite:
	‘O whare gat ye the water, Annie,
	That washd your face sae white?’
73B.29	‘O I gat een the water,’ quo she,
	‘Whare ye will neer get nane;
	It’s I gat een the water,’ quo she,
	‘Aneath yon marble stane.’
73B.30	Then out and spake the nut-brown bride,
	And she spak yet again:
	‘O whare gat ye the claith, Annie,
	That dried your face sae clean?’
73B.31	‘O I gat een the claith,’ quo she,
	‘Whare ye will neer get nane;
	It’s I gat een the claith,’ quo she,
	‘Aneath yon bouer o bane.’
73B.32	The brown bride had a little penknife,
	Which she kept secret there;
	She stabbd Fair Annie to the heart,
	A deep wound and a sair.
73B.33	It’s out and spak he Sweet Willie,
	And he spak yet again:
	‘O what’s the matter wi thee, Annie,
	That ye do look sae wan?’
73B.34	‘Oh are ye blind, Willie?’ she said,
	‘Or do ye no weel see?
	I think ye micht see my heart’s blude,
	Come rinning by my knee.’
73B.35	Then Willie took a little sword,
	Which he kept secret there,
	And strak the brown bride to the heart,
	A word she neer spak mair.
73B.36	And after that a’ this was dune,
	He drew it through the strae,
	And through his ain fair bodie
	He causd the cauld iron gae.
73B.37	The last words that Sweet Willie spak,
	His heart was almaist gane;
	‘May never a young man like me
	Have sic a sad wedding.
73B.38	‘For gear will come, and gear will gang,
	And gear’s ae but a lend,
	And monie a ane for warld’s gear
	A silly brown bride brings hame.’
	And monie a ane for warld’s gear
	A silly brown bride brings hame.’
73B.39	Sweet Willie was buried in Mary’s kirk,
	And Annie in Mary’s quire,
	And out o the ane there grew a birk,
	And out o the ither a brier.
73B.40	And ae they grew, and ae they threw,
	Until the twa did meet,
	That ilka ane micht plainly see
	They were true lovers sweet.

73C: Lord Thomas and Annet

73C.1	‘COME read my rede, O mother dear,
	Come riddle it all in one;
	O whether will I take Fair Annie,
	Or bring the brown bride home?’
73C.2	‘The brown, brown bride has kye and ewes,
	Fair Annie she has none;
	She has nothing but a bonny, bonny face,
	And that’ll soon be gone.’
73C.3	‘Where will I get a pretty little boy,
	That’ll rin my errands soon,
	That will rin to Fair Annie’s bower,
	And bid her to my wedding?’
73C.4	‘Here am I, a pretty little boy,
	That’ll rin your errands soon,
	That will rin to Fair Annie’s bower,
	And bid her to your wedding.’
73C.5	‘Forbid her to put on her silks so black,
	Or yet her silks so brown;
	But she must put on her suddled silks,
	That she wears up and down.
73C.6	‘Forbid her to put on her silks so green,
	Or yet her sils so gray;
	But she must put on her suddled silks,
	That she wears every day.’
73C.7	When he gade to Fair Annie’s bower,
	He tirled at the pin;
	So ready was Fair Annie hersell
	To open and let him in.
73C.8	‘What news, what news, my little boy?
	What news hast thou to me?’
	‘You must prepare for Lord Thomas’ wedding,
	And that’s bad news for thee.’
73C.9	‘Good news, good news,’ Fair Annie says,
	‘Good news is it for me,
	For me to be bride and him bridegroom,
	And that’s good news for me.’
73C.10	‘He forbids thee to put on thy silks so black,
	Or yet thy silks so brown;
	But thou must put on thy suddled silks,
	That thou wears up and down.
73C.11	‘He forbids you to put on thy silks so green,
	Or yet thy silks so gray;
	But thou must on thy suddled silks,
	That thou wears every day.’
73C.12	‘There are smiths into my smiddy-bour
	That’ll dress to me a steed,
	There are tailors in my tailor-house
	That’ll dress to me a weed.
73C.13	‘There are maidens in my maiden-bower
	That’ll lay gold in my hair,
	And where eer there were ane link before,
	It shall be nine times mair.’
73C.14	Then Annie got herself attired,
	In all things very fine,
	With red ribbons, and silks so fair,
	That owre her shoulders shine.
73C.15	When she came to Lord Thomas’ yett,
	She shined amang them a’,
	And the buttons on Lord Thomas’ coat
	Brusted and brak in twa.
73C.16	‘Brown, brown is your steed,’ she says,
	‘But browner is your bride;
	But gallant is that handkerchy
	That hideth her din hide.’
73C.17	‘O hold thy peace, Fair Annie,’ he says,
	‘Speak not of that to me,
	For happy is that bonny, bonny lad
	That leads his life with thee.’
73C.18	Then out bespoke the brown, brown bride,
	And she spoke out with spite:
	‘O whare gets thou that water-cherry,
	That washes thee so white?’
73C.19	‘I got in my father’s garden,
	Below an olive tree,
	And although thou war to seek long seven years
	That water thou’ll never see.
73C.20	‘Tho thou hast got Lord Thomas’ hand
	That water thou’ll neer see;
	For thou’s sunbrunt from thy mother’s womb,
	And thou’ll never be like me.’
	* * * * *

73D: Lord Thomas and Annet

73D.1	LORD THOMAS he was a bold forrester,
	And a chaser of the king’s deer;
	Fair Ellinor was a fair woman,
	And Lord Thomas he loved her dear.
73D.2	‘Come riddle my riddle, dear mother,’ he said,
	‘And riddle us both as one,
	Whether I shall marry Fair Ellinor,
	And let the brown girl alone.’
73D.3	‘The brown girl she has got houses and lands,
	And Fair Ellinor she has got none;
	Therefore I charge you on my blessing
	To bring me the brown girl home.’
73D.4	And as it befell on a high holidaye,
	As many did more beside,
	Lord Thomas he went to Fair Ellinor,
	That should have been his bride.
73D.5	But when he came to Fair Ellinor’s bower,
	He knocked there at the ring;
	But who was so ready as Fair Ellinor
	For to let Lord Thomas in.
73D.6	‘What news, what news, Lord Thomas,’ she said,
	‘What news hast thou brought unto me?’
	‘I am come to bid thee to my wedding,
	And that is bad news to thee.’
73D.7	‘Oh God forbid, Lord Thomas,’ she said,
	‘That such a thing should be done;
	I thought to have been thy bride my own self,
	And you to have been the brid’s-groom.
73D.8	‘Come riddle my riddle, dear mother,’ she sayd,
	‘And riddle it all in one;
	Whether I shall go to Lord Thomas’s wedding,
	Or whether I shall tarry at home.’
73D.9	‘There’s many that are your friends, daughter,
	And many that are your fo;
	Therefore I charge you on my blessing,
	To Lord Thomas’s wedding don’t go.’
73D.10	‘There’s many that are my friends, mother,
	If a thousand more were my foe,
	Betide my life, betide my death,
	To Lord Thomas’s wedding I’le go.’
73D.11	She cloathed herself in gallant attyre,
	And her merry men all in green,
	And as they rid thorough everye towne,
	They took her to have been a queene.
73D.12	But when she came to Lord Thomas’s gate,
	She knocked there at the ring;
	But who was so ready as Lord Thomas
	To lett Fair Ellinor in.
73D.13	‘Is this your bride?’ Fair Ellin she sayd,
	‘Methinks she looks wondrous browne;
	Thou mightest have had as fair a woman
	As ever trod on the ground.’
73D.14	‘Despise her not, Fair Ellin,’ he sayd,
	‘Despise her not now unto mee;
	For better I love thy little finger
	Than all her whole body.’
73D.15	This browne bride had a little penknife,
	That was both long and sharp,
	And betwixt the short ribs and the long
	Prickd Fair Ellinor to the heart.
73D.16	‘Oh Christ now save thee,’ Lord Thomas he said,
	‘Methinks thou lookst wondrous wan;
	Thou wast usd for to look with as fresh a colour
	As ever the sun shin’d on.’
73D.17	‘Oh art thou blind, Lord Thomas?’ she sayd,
	‘Or canst thou not very well see?
	Oh dost thou not see my own heart’s blood
	Runs trickling down my knee?’
73D.18	Lord Thomas he had a sword by his side,
	As he walked about the hall;
	He cut off his bride’s head from her shoulders,
	And he threw it against the wall.
73D.19	He set the hilte against the ground,
	And the point against his heart;
	There was never three lovers that ever met
	More sooner they did depart.

73E: Lord Thomas and Annet

73E.1	Sweet Willie and Fair Annie
	Sat a’ day on a hill,
	And though they had sitten seven year,
	They neer wad had their fill.
73E.2	Sweet Willie said a word in haste,
	And Annie took it ill:
	‘I winna wed a tocherless maid,
	Against my parents’ will.’
73E.3	‘Ye’re come o the rich, Willie,
	And I’m come o the poor;
	I’m oer laigh to be your bride,
	And I winna be your whore.’
73E.4	O Annie she’s gane till her bower,
	And Willie down the den,
	And he’s come till his mither’s bower,
	By the lei light o the moon.
73E.5	‘O sleep ye, wake ye, mither?’ he says,
	‘Or are ye the bower within?’
	‘I sleep richt aft, I wake richt aft;
	What want ye wi me, son?
73E.6	‘Whare hae ye been a’ nicht, Willie?
	O wow, ye’ve tarried lang!’
	‘I have been courtin Fair Annie,
	And she is frae me gane.
73E.7	‘There is twa maidens in a bower;
	Which o them sall I bring hame?
	The nut-brown maid has sheep and cows,
	And Fair Annie has nane.’
73E.8	‘It’s an ye wed the nut-brown maid,
	I’ll heap gold wi my hand;
	But an ye wed her Fair Annie,
	I’ll straik it wi a wand.
73E.9	‘The nut-brown maid has sheep and cows,
	And Fair Annie has nane;
	And Willie, for my benison,
	The nut-brown maid bring hame.’
73E.10	‘O I sall wed the nut-brown maid,
	And I sall bring her hame;
	But peace nor rest between us twa,
	Till death sinder’s again.
73E.11	‘But, alas, alas!’ says Sweet Willie,
	‘O fair is Annie’s face!’
	‘But what’s the matter, my son Willie?
	She has nae ither grace.’
73E.12	‘Alas, alas!’ says Sweet Willie,
	‘But white is Annie’s hand!’
	‘But what’s the matter, my son Willie?
	She hasna a fur o land.’
73E.13	‘Sheep will die in cots, mither,
	And owsen die in byre;
	And what’s this warld’s wealth to me,
	An I get na my heart’s desire?
73E.14	‘Whare will I get a bonny boy,
	That wad fain win hose and shoon,
	That will rin to Fair Annie’s bower,
	Wi the lei light o the moon?
73E.15	‘Ye’ll tell her to come to Willie’s weddin,
	The morn at twal at noon;
	Ye’ll tell her to come to Willie’s weddin,
	The heir o Duplin town.
73E.16	‘She manna put on the black, the black,
	Nor yet the dowie brown,
	But the scarlet sae red, and the kerches sae white,
	And her bonny locks hangin down.’
73E.17	He is on to Annie’s bower,
	And tirled at the pin,
	And wha was sae ready as Annie hersel
	To open and let him in.
73E.18	‘Ye are bidden come to Willie’s weddin,
	The morn at twal at noon;
	Ye are bidden come to Willie’s weddin,
	The heir of Duplin town.
73E.19	‘Ye manna put on the black, the black,
	Nor yet the dowie brown,
	But the scarlet sae red, and the kerches sae white,
	And your bonny locks hangin down.’
73E.20	‘It’s I will come to Willie’s weddin,
	The morn at twal at noon;
	It’s I will come to Willie’s weddin,
	But I rather the mass had been mine.
73E.21	‘Maidens, to my bower come,
	And lay gold on my hair;
	And whare ye laid ae plait before,
	Ye’ll now lay ten times mair.
73E.22	‘Taylors, to my bower come,
	And mak to me a weed;
	And smiths, unto my stable come,
	And shoe to me a steed.’
73E.23	At every tate o Annie’s horse mane
	There hang a silver bell,
	And there came a wind out frae the south,
	Which made them a’ to knell.
73E.24	And whan she came to Mary-kirk,
	And sat down in the deas,
	The light that came frae Fair Annie
	Enlightend a’ the place.
73E.25	But up and stands the nut-brown bride,
	Just at her father’s knee:
	‘O wha is this, my father dear,
	That blinks in Willie’s ee?’
	‘O this is Willie’s first true-love,
	Before he loved thee.’
73E.26	‘If that be Willie’s first true-love,
	He might hae latten me be;
	She has as much gold on ae finger
	As I’ll wear till I die.
73E.27	‘O whare got ye that water, Annie,
	That washes you sae white?’
	‘I got it in my mither’s wambe,
	Whare ye’ll neer get the like.
73E.28	‘For ye’ve been washd in Dunny’s well,
	And dried on Dunny’s dyke,
	And a’ the water in the sea
	Will never wash ye white.’
73E.29	Willie’s taen a rose out o his hat,
	Laid it in Annie’s lap:
	. . . . .
	‘Hae, wear it for my sake.’
73E.30	‘Tak up and wear your rose, Willie,
	And wear’t wi mickle care;
	For the woman sall never bear a son
	That will make my heart sae sair.’
73E.31	Whan night was come, and day was gane,
	And a’ man boun to bed,
	Sweet Willie and the nut-brown bride
	In their chamber were laid.
73E.32	They werena weel lyen down,
	And scarcely fa’n asleep,
	Whan up and stands she Fair Annie,
	Just up at Willie’s feet.
73E.33	‘Weel brook ye o your brown, brown bride,
	Between ye and the wa;
	And sae will I o my winding sheet,
	That suits me best ava.
73E.34	‘Weel brook ye o your brown, brown bride,
	Between ye and the stock;
	And sae will I o my black, black kist,
	That has neither key nor lock.’
73E.35	Sad Willie raise, put on his claise,
	Drew till him his hose and shoon,
	And he is on to Annie’s bower,
	By the lei light o the moon.
73E.36	The firsten bower that he came till,
	There was right dowie wark;
	Her mither and her three sisters
	Were makin to Annie a sark.
73E.37	The nexten bower that he came till,
	There was right dowie cheir;
	Her father and her seven brethren
	Were makin to Annie a bier.
73E.38	The lasten bower that he came till,
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
	And Fair Annie streekit there.
73E.39	He’s lifted up the coverlet,
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
73E.40	‘It’s I will kiss your bonny cheek,
	And I will kiss your chin,
	And I will kiss your clay-cald lip,
	But I’ll never kiss woman again.
73E.41	‘The day ye deal at Annie’s burial
	The bread but and the wine;
	Before the morn at twall o’clock,
	They’ll deal the same at mine.’
73E.42	The tane was buried in Mary’s kirk,
	The tither in Mary’s quire,
	And out o the tane there grew a birk,
	And out o the tither a brier.
73E.43	And ay they grew, and ay the drew,
	Untill they twa did meet,
	And every ane that past them by
	Said, Thae’s been lovers sweet!

73F: Lord Thomas and Annet

73F.1	SWEET WILLIE and Fair Annie,
	As they sat on yon hill,
	If they hed sat frae morn till even,
	They hed no talked their fill.
	* * * * *
73F.2	Willie’s dune him hame again,
	As fast as gang could he:
	‘An askin, an askin, my mother,
	And I pray ye’ll grant it me.
73F.3	‘Oh will I merry the nut-brown maid,
	Wi her oxen and her kye?
	Or will I merry my Fair Annie,
	That hes my heart for aye?’
73F.4	‘Oh if ye merry your Fair Annie,
	Your mither’s malison you’ll wun;
	But if ye merry the nut-brown may,
	Ye will get her blessin.’
73F.5	‘Oh voe’s me, mother,’ Willie said,
	‘For Annie’s bonny face!’
	‘Little metter o that, my son Willie,
	When Annie hesna grace.’
73F.6	‘Oh voe’s me, mither,’ Willie said,
	‘For Annie’s bonny han!’
	‘And what’s the metter, son Willie,
	When Annie hesna lan?
73F.7	‘But ye will merry the nut-brown may,
	Wi her oxen and her kye;
	But ye will merry the nut-brown may,
	For she hes my hert for aye.’
73F.8	Out and spak his sister Jane,
	Where she sat be the fire:
	‘What’s the metter, brother Willie?
	Tack ye your heart’s desire.
73F.9	‘The oxen may die into the pleuch,
	The cow drown i the myre;
	And what’s the metter, brother Willie?
	Tak ye your heart’s desire.’
73F.10	‘Whare will I get a bonny boy,
	That will wun hose and shune,
	That will run on to Anny’s bower,
	And come right sune again?’
73F.11	‘Ye’ll bid her come to Willie’s weddin,
	The morn is the day;
	Ye’ll bid her come to Willie’s weddin,
	And no make no delay.
73F.12	‘Ye’ll forbid her to put on the black, the black,
	Or yet the dowie brown;
	But the white silk and the reed skarlet,
	That will shine frae town to town.’
73F.13	He is on to Anie’s bower,
	And tirled at the pin,
	And wha was sae ready as Annie hersel
	To let the ladie in.
73F.14	‘Ye’r bidden to come to Willie’s weddin,
	The morn is the day;
	Ye’r bidden come to Willie’s weddin,
	And no mack no delay.
73F.15	‘Ye’r forbidden to put on the black, the black,
	Or yet the dowie brown;
	But the white silk and the red scarlet,
	That will shine frae town to town.
73F.16	‘Ye’r forbidden to put on the black, the black,
	Or yet the dowie gray;
	But the white silk and the red scarlet,
	That will shine frae brae to brae.’
73F.17	‘It’s I will come to Willie’s weddin,
	Gif the morn be the day;
	It’s I will come to Willie’s weddin,
	And no mack no delay.’
73F.18	Annie’s steed was silver shod,
	And golden graithed behin;
	At every teet o her horse mane
	A silver bell did ring.
73F.19	When Annie was in her sadle set,
	She glanced like the moon;
	There was as much gould abov her brow
	Would buy an earldom.
73F.20	When Annie was on her sadel set,
	She glanced like the fire;
	There was as much gould above her brow
	Was worth a yearl’s hire.
73F.21	Annie gaed in the heigh, heigh hill,
	And Willie the dowie glen;
	Annie alane shone brighter
	Than Willie and a’ his men.
73F.22	‘Oh wha is that, my ane Willie,
	That glances in your ee?’
	‘Oh it is Annie, my first fore love,
	Come till see you and me.’
73F.23	‘Oh far got ye that water, Annie,
	That washes ye so wan?’
	‘Oh I got it aneth yon marble stane,
	Where ye will nere get nane.
73F.24	‘Ye’ve been brunt sare anent the sun,
	And rocket i the reek;
	And tho ye wad wash till doom’s day,
	Ye wad never be so white.’
73F.25	‘If this be Annie, your first fore love,
	Come our weddin to see,
	She has by far owr brent a brow
	To lat ye bide by me.’
73F.26	When bells were rung, and mass was sung,
	And a’ men bun to bed,
	Sweet Willie and his nut-brown bride
	In ae chamber were laid.
73F.27	The hedna weel layn down, layn down,
	But nor hed fallen asleep,
	When up and started Fair Annie,
	And stud at Willie’s feet.
73F.28	‘Vo be to you, nut-brown bride,
	Wi yer oxen and your sheep!
	It is Annie, my first fore love,
	And I fear sair she is dead.
73F.29	‘Vo be te you, nut-brown bride,
	An ill death you betide!
	For you’ve parted me and my first fore love,
	And I fear death is her guide.
73F.30	‘You’ll seddle to me the black, the black,
	You’ll seddle to me the brown,
	Till I ride on to Annie’s bower
	And see how she is bune.’
73F.31	When he came to Fair Annie’s bower,
	And lighted and gaed in,
	. . . . . .
	. . . . .
73F.32	Her father was at her heed, her heed,
	Her mother at her feet,
	Her sister she was at her side,
	Puttin on her winding sheet.
73F.33	‘It’s kiss will I yer cheek, Annie,
	And kiss will I your chin,
	And I will kiss your wan, wan lips,
	Tho there be no breath within.
73F.34	‘Ye birl, ye birle at my luve’s wake
	The white bread and the wine,
	And or the morn at this same time
	Ye’ll brile the same at mine.’
73F.35	They birled, they birled at Annies wake
	The white bread and the wine,
	And ere the morn at that same time
	At his they birled the same.
73F.36	The one was buried at Mary’s kirk,
	The other at Mary’s quire,
	And throw the one there sprang a birk,
	And throw the other a brier.
73F.37	And ay at every year’s ane
	They grew them near and near,
	And every one that passed them by
	Said, They be lovers dear.

73G: Lord Thomas and Annet

73G.1	SWEET WILLIE and Fair Annie,
	They sat on yon hill,
	And frae the morning till night
	This twa neer talked their fill.
73G.2	Willie spak a word in jest,
	And Ann  took it ill:
	‘We’s court na mare maidens,
	Against our parent’s will.’
73G.3	‘It’s na against our parent’s will,’
	Fair Annie she did say,
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
73G.4	Willie is hame to his bower,
	To his book all alane,
	And Fair Annie is to her bower,
	To her book and her seam.
73G.5	Sweet Willie is to his mother dear,
	Fell low down on his knee:
	‘An asking, my mother dear,
	And ye grant it to me;
	O will I marry the nut-brown may,
	An lat Fair Annie gae?’
73G.6	‘The nut-brown may has ousen, Willie,
	The nut-brown may has key;
	An ye will winn my blessing, Willie,
	And latt Fair Annie be.’
73G.7	He did him to his father dear,
	Fell low down on his knee:
	‘An asking, my father,
	An ye man grant it me.’
73G.8	‘Ask on, my ae son Willie,
	Ye’r sur yer askin’s free;
	Except it is to marry her Fair Annie,
	And that manna be.’
73G.9	Out spak his little sister,
	As she [sat] by the fire:
	‘The ox-leg will brack in the plough,
	And the cow will drown in the mire.
73G.10	‘An Willie will ha nathing
	But the dam to sitt by the fire;
	Fair Annie will sit in her beagly bower,
	An winn a earl’s hire.’
73G.11	‘Fair faa ye, my little sister,
	A guid dead mat ye die!
	An ever I hae goud,
	Well tochered sall ye be.’
73G.12	He’s awa to Fair Annie,
	As fast as gan could he:
	‘O will ye come to my marriage?
	The morn it is to be.’
73G.13	‘O I will come to yer marriage,
	The morn, gin I can win.’
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
73G.14	Annie did her to her father dear,
	Fell down on her knee:
	‘An askin, my father,
	And ye man grant it me;
	Lat me to Sweet Willie’s marriage,
	The morn it is to be.’
73G.15	‘Yer horse sall be siller shod afore,
	An guid red goud ahin,
	An bells in his mane,
	To ring against the win.’
73G.16	She did her to her mother dear,
	Fell down on her knee:
	‘Will ye lat me to Willie’s marriage?
	The morn it is to be;’
	‘I’ll lat ye to Willie’s marriage,
	An we the morn see.’
73G.17	Whan Annie was in her saddle set
	She flam’d against the fire;
	The girdle about her sma middle
	Wad a won an earl’s hire.
73G.18	Whan they came to Mary kirk,
	And on to Mary quire,
	‘O far gat ye that watter, Ann,
	That washes ye sae clear?’
73G.19	‘I got it in my father’s garden,
	Aneth a marbell stane;
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
73G.20	‘O whar gat ye that water, Annie,
	That washes ye sae fite?’
	‘I gat it in my mother’s womb,
	Whar ye[’s] never get the like.
73G.21	‘For ye ha been christned wi moss-water,
	An roked in the reak,
	An ser brunt in yer mither’s womb,
	For I think ye’ll neer be fite.’
73G.22	The nut-brown bride pat her hand in
	. . . at Annie[’s] left ear,
	And gin her . . . .
	A deep wound and a sare.
73G.23	Than . . Annie ged on her horse back,
	An fast away did ride,
	But lang or cock’s crowing,
	Fair Annie was dead.
73G.24	Whan bells were rung, and mess was sung,
	An a’ man boun to bed,
	Sweet Willie and the nut-brown bride
	In a chamber were laid.
73G.25	But up and wakend him Sweet Willie
	Out of his dreary dream:
	‘I dreamed a dream this night,
	God read a’ dream to guid!
73G.26	‘That Fair Annies bowr was full of gentlemen,
	An herself was dead;
	But I will on to Fair Annie,
	An si’t if it be guid.’
73G.27	Seven lang mile or he came near,
	He heard a dolefull chear,
	Her father and her seven brithern,
	Walking at her bier;
	The half of it guid red goud,
	The other silver clear.
73G.28	‘Ye deal at my love’s leak
	The white bread an the wine;
	But on the morn at this time
	Ye’s dee the like at mine.’
73G.29	The ane was buried at Mary kirk,
	The ither at Mary quire;
	Out of the ane grew a birk,
	Out of the ither a briar.
73G.30	An aye the langer that they grew,
	They came the ither near,
	An by that ye might a well kent
	They were twa lovers dear.

73H: Lord Thomas and Annet

73H.1	FAIR ANNIE and Sweet Willie,
	As they talked on yon hill,
	Though they had talked a lang summer day,
	They wad na hae talked their fill.
73H.2	‘If you would be a good woman, Annie,
	An low leave a’ your pride,
	In spite of a’ my friends, Annie,
	I wad mak you my bride.’
73H.3	‘Thick, thick lie your lands, Willie,
	An thin, thin lie mine;
	An little wad a’ your friends think
	O sic a kin as mine.
73H.4	‘Thick, thick lie your lands, Willie,
	Down by the coving-tree;
	An little wad a’ your friends think
	O sic a bride as me.
73H.5	‘O Fair Annie, O Fair Annie,
	This nicht ye’ve said me no;
	But lang or ever this day month
	I’ll make your heart as sore.’
73H.6	It’s Willie he went home that night,
	An a sick man lay he down;
	An ben came Willie’s auld mither,
	An for nae gude she came.
	* * * * *
73H.7	‘It’s if ye marry Fair Annie,
	My malison ye’s hae;
	But if ye marry the nut-brown may,
	My blessin an ye’s hae.’
73H.8	‘Mother, for your malison,
	An mother, for your wis,
	It’s I will marry the nut-brown may,
	. . . . .
73H.9	. . . . .
	. . . . .
	It’s up an spak his sister,
	. . . . .
73H.10	‘The owsen may hang in the pleugh,
	The kye drown in the myre,
	An he’ll hae naething but a dirty drab
	To sit doun by the fire.’
	* * * * *
73H.11	‘Where will I get a bonny boy,
	That will win hose and shoon,
	That will rin on to Annie’s bower,
	An haste him back again?’
73H.12	‘It’s I have run your errands, Willie,
	An happy hae I been;
	It’s I will rin your errands, Willie,
	Wi the saut tears in my een.’
73H.13	‘When ye come to Annie’s bower,
	She will be at her dine;
	And bid her come to Willie’s weddin,
	On Monday in good time.
73H.14	‘Tell her neither to put on the dowie black,
	Nor yet the mournfu brown,
	But the gowd sae reed, and the silver white,
	An her hair weel combed down.
73H.15	‘Tell her to get a tailor to her bower,
	To shape for her a weed,
	And a smith to her smithy,
	To shoe for her a steed.
73H.16	‘To be shod wi silver clear afore,
	An gold graithed behind,
	An every foot the foal sets down,
	The gold lie on the ground.’
73H.17	It’s when he came to Annie’s bower,
	It’s she was at her dine:
	‘Ye’re bidden come to Willie’s weddin,
	On Monday in good time.
73H.18	‘You’re neither to put on the dowie black,
	Nor get the mournfu brown,
	But the gowd sae reid, an the silver white,
	An yere hair well combed doun.
73H.19	‘You’re to get a tailor to your bower,
	To shape for you a weed,
	And likewise a smith to your smithy,
	To shoe for you a steed.
73H.20	‘To be shod with silver clear afore,
	An gold graithed behind,
	An every foot the foal sets down,
	The gold lie on the ground.’
73H.21	‘It’s I will come to Willie’s weddin,
	I rather it had been mine;
	It’s I will come to Willie’s weddin,
	On Monday in good time.
73H.22	‘It’s I’ll send to Willie a toweld silk,
	To hing below his knee.
	An ilka time he looks on it,
	He’ll hae gude mind o me.
	* * * * *
73H.23	‘An askin, father, an askin,
	An I hope you will grant me;
	For it is the last askin
	That ever I’ll ask of thee.’
73H.24	‘Ask me, Annie, gold,’ he said,
	‘An ask me, Annie, fee,
	But dinna ask me Sweet Willie,
	Your bedfellow to be.’
73H.25	‘It’s I will ask you gold, father,
	Sae will I ask you fee,
	But I needna ask you Sweet Willie,
	My bedfellow to be.
73H.26	‘For I am bidden to Willie’s weddin,
	On Monday in good time,
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
	* * * * *
73H.27	On every tait o her horse’s mane
	A siller bell did hing,
	An on every tait o her horse’s tail
	A golden bell did ring.
73H.28	Twal and twal rade her afore,
	An twal an twal ahind,
	An twal an twal on every side,
	To hold her frae the wind.
73H.29	Fair Annie shined mair on the top o the hill
	Than Willie did in the glen;
	Fair Annie shined mair on the heid o the hill
	Than Willie wi a’ his men.
73H.30	Whan she came to Mary’s kirk,
	She lighted on the stane;
	An when she came to the kirk-door,
	She bade the bride gae in.
73H.31	‘Clear, clear is your day, Willie,
	But brown, brown is your bride;
	Clear, clear is her lawn curches,
	But weel dunned is her hide.’
73H.32	‘Where got ye yon water, Annie,
	That has made you so white?’
	‘I got it in my father’s garden,
	Below yon hollan dyke.
73H.33	‘But ye hae been washed i the moss water,
	An rocked in the reek;
	Ye hae been brunt in your mither’s wame,
	An ye will neer be white.’
73H.34	‘Whatna fool were ye, Willie,
	To lay your love on me;
	She’s mair gowd on her heid this day
	Than I’ll wear till I die!’
73H.35	‘I’ve laid nae love on you, brown may,
	I’ve laid nae love on you;
	I’ve mair love for Fair Annie this day
	Than I’ll hae for you till I dee.’
	* * * * *
73H.36	‘If you will neither eat nor drink,
	You’ll see good game an play;’
	But she turned her horse head to the hill,
	An swift she rode away.
	* * * * *
73H.37	When they were all at supper set,
	. . . . .
	Till he went to Fair Annie’s bower,
	By the ley licht o the mune.
73H.38	An when he came to Annie’s bower,
	Annie was lying deid,
	An seven o Annie’s sisters an sisters’ bairns
	Were sewing at Annie’s weed.
73H.39	‘It’s I will take your hand, Annie,
	Since ye wald neer take mine;
	The woman shall never have the hand
	That I’ll touch after thine.
73H.40	‘An I will kiss your mouth, Annie,
	Since ye will never kiss mine;
	The woman shall never have the lips
	That I’ll kiss after thine.
	* * * * *
73H.41	. . . . .
	. . . . .
	‘As much breid ye deal at Annie’s dairgie
	Tomorrow ye’s deal at mine.’

73[I]: Lord Thomas and Annet

73[I].1	Fair Annie an Sweet Willie
	Sat a’ day on yon hill;
	Whan day was gane an night was comd,
	They hadna said their fill.
73[I.2]	Willie spak but ae wrang word,
	An Annie took it ill:
	‘I’ll never marry a fair woman
	Against my friends’s will.’
73[I.3]	Annie spak but ae wrang word,
	An Willy lookit down:
	‘If I binna gude eneugh for yer wife,
	I’m our-gude for yer loun.’
73[I.4]	Willie’s turnd his horse’s head about,
	He’s turnd it to the broom,
	An he’s away to his father’s bower,
	I the ae light o the moon.
73[I.5]	Whan he cam to his father’s bower,
	[He tirlt at the pin;
	Nane was sae ready as his father
	To rise an let him in.]
73[I.6]	‘An askin, an askin, dear father,
	An askin I’ll ask thee;’
	‘Say on, say on, my son Willie,
	Whatever your askin be.’
73[I.7]	‘O sall I marry the nit-brown bride,
	Has corn, caitle an kye,
	Or sall I marry Fair Annie,
	Has nought but fair beauty?’
73[I.8]	‘Ye ma sit a gude sate, Willy,
	Wi corn, caitle an kye;
	But ye’ll but sit a silly sate
	Wi nought but fair beauty.’
73[I.9]	Up than spak his sister’s son,
	Sat on the nurse’s knee,
	Sun-bruist in his mother’s wame,
	Sun-brunt on his nurse’s knee:
73[I.10]	‘O yer hogs will die out i the field,
	Yer kye ill die i the byre;
	An than, whan a’ yer gear is gane,
	A fusom fag by yer fire!
	But a’ will thrive at is wi you
	An ye get yer heart’s desire.’
73[I.11]	Willie’s turnd his horse’s head about,
	He’s away to his mother’s bour, etc.
73[I.12]	‘O my hogs ill die out i the field,
	My kye die i the byre,
	An than, whan a’ my gear is gane,
	A fusom fag bi my fire!
	But a’ will thrive at is wi me
	Gin I get my heart’s desire.’
73[I.13]	Willie’s, etc.,
	He’s awae to his brother’s bower, etc.
73[I.14]	"] "] "] "] sister’s bower, etc.
73[I.15]	Than Willie has set his wadin-day
	Within thirty days an three,
	An he has sent to Fair Annie
	His waddin to come an see.
73[I.16]	The man that gade to Fair Annie
	Sae weel his errant coud tell:
	‘The morn it’s Willie’s wadin-day,
	Ye maun be there yer sell.’
73[I.17]	’Twas up an spak her aged father,
	He spak wi muckle care;
	‘An the morn be Willie’s wadin-day,
	I wate she maun be there.
73[I.18]	‘Gar take a steed to the smiddie,
	Caw on o it four shoon;
	Gar take her to a merchant’s shop,
	Cut off for her a gown.’
73[I.19]	She wadna ha ’t o the red sae red,
	Nor yet o the grey sae grey,
	But she wad ha ’t o the sky couler
	That she woor ilka day.
	* * * * * * *
73[I.20]	There war four-an-twontie gray goss-hawks
	A flaffin their wings sae wide,
	To flaff the stour thra off the road
	That Fair Annie did ride.
73[I.21]	The[re] war four-a-twontie milk-white dows
	A fleein aboon her head,
	An four-an-twontie milk-white swans
	Her out the gate to lead.
73[I.22]	Whan she cam to St Marie’s kirk,
	She lightit on a stane;
	The beauty o that fair creature
	Shone oer mony ane.
73[I.23]	’Twas than out cam the nit-brown bride,
	She spak wi muckle spite;
	‘O where gat ye the water, Annie,
	That washes you sae white?’
73[I.24]	‘I gat my beauty
	Where ye was no to see;
	I gat it i my father’s garden,
	Aneath an apple tree.
73[I.25]	‘Ye ma wash i dubs,’ she said,
	‘An ye ma wash i syke,
	But an ye wad wash till doomsday
	Ye neer will be as white.
73[I.26]	‘Ye ma wash i dubs,’ she said,
	‘An ye ma wash i the sea,
	But an ye soud wash till doomsday
	Ye’ll neer be as white as me.
73[I.27]	‘For I gat a’ this fair beauty
	Where ye gat never none,
	For I gat a’ this fair beauty
	Or ever I was born.’
73[I.28]	It was than out cam Willie,
	Wi hats o silks and flowers;
	He said, Keep ye thae, my Fair Annie,
	An brook them weel for yours.’
73[I.29]	‘Na, keep ye thae, Willie,’ she said,
	‘Gie them to yer nit-brown bride;
	Bid her wear them wi mukle care,
	For woman has na born a son
	Sal mak my heart as sair.’
73[I.30]	Annie’s luppen on her steed
	An she has ridden hame,
	Than Annie’s luppen of her steed
	An her bed she has taen.
73[I.31]	When mass was sung, an bells war rung,
	An a’ man bound to bed,
	An Willie an his nit-brown bride
	I their chamber war laid.
73[I.32]	They war na weel laid in their bed,
	Nor yet weel faen asleep,
	Till up an startit Fair Annie,
	Just up at Willie’s feet.
73[I.33]	‘How like ye yer bed, Willie?
	An how like ye yer sheets?
	An how like ye yer nut-brown bride,
	Lies in yer arms an sleeps?’
73[I.34]	‘Weel eneugh I like my bed, Annie,
	Weel eneugh I like my sheets;
	But wae be to the nit-brown bride
	Lies in my arms an sleeps!’
73[I.35]	Willie’s ca’d on his merry men a’
	To rise an pit on their shoon;
	‘An we’ll awae to Annie’s bower,
	Wi the ae light o the moon.’
73[I.36]	An whan he cam to Annie’s bower,
	He tirlt at the pin;
	Nane was sae ready as her father
	To rise an let him in.
73[I.37]	There was her father a[n] her se’en brethren
	A makin to her a bier,
	Wi ae stamp o the melten goud,
	Another o siller clear.
73[I.38]	When he cam to the chamber-door
	Where that the dead lay in,
	There was her mother an six sisters
	A makin to her a sheet,
	Wi ae drap o . . . .
	Another o silk sae white.
73[I.39]	‘Stand by, stand by now, ladies a’,
	Let me look on the dead;
	The last time that I kiss[t] her lips
	They war mair bonny red.’
73[I.40]	‘Stand by, stand by now, Willie,’ they said,
	‘An let ye her alane;
	Gin ye had done as ye soud done,
	She wad na there ha lien.’
73[I.41]	‘Gar deal, gar deal at Annie’s burrial
	The wheat bread an the wine,
	For or the morn at ten o clock
	Ye’s deal’d as fast at mine.’