No: 5; variant: 5B
- COSPATRICK has sent oer the faem,
Cospatrick brought his ladye hame.
- And fourscore ships have come her wi,
The ladye by the grenewood tree.
- There were twal and twal wi baken bread,
And twal and twal wi gowd sae reid:
- And twal and twal wi bouted flour,
And twal and twal wi the paramour.
- Sweet Willy was a widow’s son,
And at her stirrup he did run.
- And she was clad in the finest pall,
But aye she let the tears down fall.
- ‘O is your saddle set awrye?
Or rides your steed for you owre high?
- ‘Or are you mourning in your tide
That you suld be Cospatrick’s bride?’
- ‘I am not mourning at this tide
That I suld be Cospatrick’s bride;
- ‘But I am sorrowing in my mood
That I suld leave my mother good.
- ‘But, gentle boy, come tell to me,
What is the custom of thy countrye?’
- ‘The custom thereof, my dame,’ he says,
‘Will ill a gentle laydye please.
- ‘Seven king’s daughters has our lord wedded,
And seven king’s daughters has our lord bedded;
- ‘But he’s cutted their breasts frae their breast bane,
And sent them mourning hame again.
- ‘Yet, gin you’re sure that you’re a maid,
Ye may gae safely to his bed;
- ‘But gif o that ye be na sure,
Then hire some damsell o your bour.’
- The ladye’s calld her bour-maiden,
That waiting was into her train;
- ‘Five thousand merks I will gie thee,
To sleep this night with my lord for me.’
- When bells were rung, and mass was sayne,
And a’ men unto bed were gane,
- Cospatrick and the bonny maid,
Into ae chamber they were laid.
- ‘Now, speak to me, blankets, and speak to me, bed,
And speak, thou sheet, inchanted web;
- ‘And speak up, my bonny brown sword, that winna lie,
Is this a true maiden that lies by me?’
- ‘It is not a maid that you hae wedded,
But it is a maid that you hae bedded.
- ‘It is a liel maiden that lies by thee,
But not the maiden that it should be.’
- O wrathfully he left the bed,
And wrathfully his claiths on did.
- And he has taen him thro the ha,
And on his mother he did ca.
- ‘I am the most unhappy man
That ever was in christen land!
- ‘I courted a maiden meik and mild,
And I hae gotten naething but a woman wi child.’
- ‘O stay, my son, into this ha,
And sport ye wi your merrymen a’;
- ‘And I will to the secret bour,
To see how it fares wi your paramour.’
- The carline she was stark and sture;
She aff the hinges dang the dure.
- ‘O is your bairn to laird or loun?
Or is it to your father’s groom?’
- ‘O hear me, mother, on my knee,
Till my sad story I tell to thee.
- ‘O we were sisters, sisters seven,
We were the fairest under heaven.
- ‘It fell on a summer’s afternoon,
When a’ our toilsome task was done,
- ‘We cast the kavils us amang,
To see which suld to the grene-wood gang.
- ‘O hon, alas! for I was youngest,
And aye my wierd it was the hardest.
- ‘The kavil it on me did fa,
Whilk was the cause of a’ my woe.
- ‘For to the grene-wood I maun gae,
To pu the red rose and the slae;
- ‘To pu the red rose and the thyme,
To deck my mother’s bour and mine.
- ‘I hadna pu’d a flower but ane,
When by there came a gallant hende,
- ‘Wi high-colld hose and laigh-colld shoon,
And he seemd to be sum king’s son.
- ‘And be I maid or be I nae,
He kept me there till the close o day.
- ‘And be I maid or be I nane,
He kept me there till the day was done.
- ‘He gae me a lock o his yellow hair,
And bade me keep it ever mair.
- ‘He gae me a carknet o bonny beads,
And bade me keep it against my needs.
- ‘He gae to me a gay gold ring,
And bade me keep it abune a’ thing.’
- ‘What did ye wi the tokens rare
That ye gat frae theat gallant there?’
- ‘O bring that coffer unto me,
And a’ the tokens ye sall see.’
- ‘Now stay, daughter, your bour within,
While I gae parley wi my son.’
- O she has taen her thro the ha,
And on her son began to ca.
- ‘What did you wi the bonny beads
I bade ye keep against your needs?
- ‘What did you wi the gay gowd ring
I bade ye keep abune a’ thing?’
- ‘I gae them a’ to a ladye gay
I met in grene-wood on a day.
- ‘But I wad gie a’ my halls and tours,
I had that ladye within my bours.
- ‘But I wad gie my very life,
I had that ladye to my wife.’
- ‘Now keep, my son, your ha’s and tours;
Ye have that bright burd in your bours.
- ‘And keep, my son, your very life;
Ye have that ladye to your wife.’
- Now or a month was cum and gane,
The ladye bore a bonny son.
- And ‘twas weel written on his breast-bane,
‘Cospatrick is my father’s name.’
- ‘O rowe my ladye in satin and silk,
And wash my son in the morning milk.’