The Cruel Brother
No: 11; variant: 11B
- A GENTLEMAN cam oure the sea,
Fine flowers in the valley
And he has courted ladies three.
With the light green and the yellow
- One o them was clad in red:
He asked if she wad be his bride.
- One o them was clad in green:
He asked if she wad be his queen.
- The last o them was clad in white:
He asked if she wad be his heart’s delight.
- ‘Ye may ga ask my father, the king:
Sae maun ye ask my mither, the queen.
- ‘Sae maun ye ask my sister Anne:
And dinna forget my brither John.’
- He has asked her father, the king:
And sae did he her mither, the queen.
- And he has asked her sister Anne:
But he has forgot her brother John.
- Her father led her through the ha,
Her mither danced afore them a’.
- Her sister Anne led her through the closs,
Her brither John set her on her horse.
- It’s then he drew a little penknife,
And he reft the fair maid o her life.
- ‘Ride up, ride up,’ said the foremost man;
‘I think our bride comes hooly on.’
- ‘Ride up, ride up,’ said the second man;
‘I think our bride looks pale and wan.’
- Up than cam the gay bridegroom,
And straucht unto the bride he cam.
- ‘Does your side-saddle sit awry?
Or does your steed . . .
- ‘Or does the rain run in your glove?
Or wad ye chuse anither love?’
- ‘The rain runs not in my glove,
Nor will I e’er chuse anither love.
- ‘But O an I war at Saint Evron’s well,
There I wad licht, and drink my fill!
- ‘Oh an I war at Saint Evron’s closs,
There I wad licht, and bait my horse!’
- Whan she cam to Saint Evron’s well,
She dought na licht to drink her fill.
- Whan she cam to Saint Evron’s closs,
The bonny bride fell aff her horse.
- ‘What will ye leave to your father, the king?’
‘The milk-white steed that I ride on.’
- ‘What will ye leave to your mother, the queen?’
‘The bluidy robes that I have on.’
- ‘What will ye leave to your sister Anne?’
‘My gude lord, to be wedded on.’
- ‘What will ye leave to your brither John?’
‘The gallows pin to hang him on.’
- ‘What will ye leave to your brither’s wife?’
‘Grief and sorrow a’ the days o her life.’
- ‘What will ye leave to your brither’s bairns?’
‘The meal-pock to hang oure the arms.’
- Now does she neither sigh nor groan:
She lies aneath yon marble stone.