He's mounted her on a milk-white steed, And himself on a dapple grey, With a buglet horn hung down by his side And lightly they rode away.

Lord William lookit o'er his left shoulder, To see what he could see, And there he spied her seven brethren bold Come riding o'er the lea.

"Light down, light down, Lady Margaret," he said, "And hold my steed in your hand, Until that against your seven brethren bold, And your father I make a stand."

She held his steed in her milk-white hand, And never shed one tear, Until that she saw her seven brethren fa'

And her father hard fighting, who loved her so dear.

"O hold your hand, Lord William!" she said, "For your strokes they are wondrous sair; True lovers I can get many a ane, But a father I can never get mair."

O, she's ta'en out her handkerchief, It was o' the holland sae fine, And aye she dighted her father's b.l.o.o.d.y wounds, That were redder than the wine.

"O chuse, O chuse, Lady Margaret," he said, "O whether will ye gang or bide?"

"I'll gang, I'll gang, Lord William," she said, "For you have left me nae other guide."

He's lifted her on a milk-white steed, And himself on a dapple grey, With a buglet horn hung down by his side, And slowly they baith rade away.

O they rade on, and on they rade, And a' by the light of the moon, 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!"

"'Tis naething but the shadow of my scarlet cloak, That shines in the water sae plain."

O they rade on, and on they rade, And a' by the light of the moon, Until they came to his mother's ha' door, And there they lighted down.

"Get up, get up, lady mother," he says, "Get up, and let me in!

Get up, get up, lady mother," he says, "For this night my fair lady I've win.

"O mak my bed, lady mother," he says, "O mak it braid and deep!

And lay Lady Margaret close at my back, And the sounder I will sleep."

Lord William was dead lang ere midnight, Lady Margaret lang ere day: And all true lovers that go thegither, May they have mair luck than they!

Lord William was buried in St. Marie's kirk, Lady Margaret in Marie's quire; Out o' the lady's grave grew a bonny red rose, And out o' the knight's a brier.

And they twa met, and they twa plat And fain they wad be near; And a' the world might ken right weel, They were twa lovers dear.

But bye and rade the black Douglas And wow but he was rough!

For he pulled up the bonny brier, And f.l.a.n.g.ed in St. Marie's Loch.

Young Waters

About Yule, when the wind blew cool; And the round tables began, A' there is come to our king's court Mony a well-favoured man.

The queen looked o'er the castle wa', Beheld baith dale and down, And then she saw young Waters Come riding to the town.

His footmen they did rin before, His hors.e.m.e.n rade behind; Ane mantle of the burning gowd Did keep him frae the wind.

Gowden graith'd[FN#1] his horse before, And siller shod behind; The horse young Waters rade upon Was fleeter than the wind.

[FN#1] Graitih'd, girthed.

Out then spake a wily lord, Unto the queen said he: "O tell me wha's the fairest face Rides in the company?"

"I've seen lord, and I've seen laird, And knights of high degree, But a fairer face than young Waters Mine eyen did never see."

Out then spake the jealous king And an angry man was he: "O if he had been twice as fair, You might have excepted me."

"You're neither laird nor lord," she says, "But the king that wears the crown; There is not a knight in fair Scotland, But to thee maun bow down."

For a' that she could do or say, Appeased he wad nae be; But for the words which she had said, Young Waters he maun dee.

They hae ta'en young Waters, And put fetters to his feet; They hae ta'en young Waters, And thrown him in dungeon deep.

"Aft I have ridden thro' Stirling town, In the wind but and the weet; But I ne'er rade thro' Stirling town Wi' fetters at my feet.

"Aft have I ridden thro' Stirling town, In the wind but and the rain; But I ne'er rade thro' Stirling town Ne'er to return again."

They hae ta'en to the heading-hill His young son in his cradle; And they hae ta'en to the heading-hill His horse but and his saddle.

They hae ta'en to the heading-hill His lady fair to see; And for the words the queen had spoke Young Waters he did dee.

Flodden Field

King Jamie hath made a vow, Keepe it well if he may: That he will be at lovely London Upon Saint James his day.

Upon Saint James his day at noone, At faire London will I be, And all the lords in merrie Scotland, They shall dine there with me.

"March out, march out, my merry men, Of hie or low degree; I'le weare the crowne in London towne, And that you soon shall be."

Then bespake good Queene Margaret, The teares fell from her eye: "Leave off these warres, most n.o.ble King, Keepe your fidelitie.

"The water runnes swift, and wondrous deepe, From bottome unto the brimme; My brother Henry hath men good enough; England is hard to winne."