Young Beichan
No: 53; variant: 53D
- YOUNG BEACHEN was born in fair London,
And foreign lands he langed to see;
He was taen by the savage Moor,
An the used him most cruellie.
- Through his showlder they pat a bore,
And through the bore the pat a tree;
They made him trail their ousen carts,
And they used him most cruellie.
- The savage Moor had ae daughter,
I wat her name was Susan Pay;
And she is to the prison house,
To hear the prisoner's moan.
- He made na his moan to a stocke,
He made na it to a stone,
Bit it was to the Queen of Heaven
That he made his moan.
- 'Gin a lady wad borrow me,
I at her foot wad run;
An a widdow wad borrow me,
I wad become her son.
- 'But an a maid wad borrow me,
I wad wed her wi a ring;
I wad make her lady of haas and bowers,
An of the high towers of Line.'
- 'Sing oer yer sang, Young Beachen,' she says,
'Sing oer yer sang to me;'
'I never sang that sang, lady,
But I wad sing to thee.
- 'Gin a lady wad borrow me,
I at her foot wad run;
An a widdow wad borrow me,
I wad become her son.
- 'But an a maid wad borrow me,
I wad wed her wi a ring;
I wad make her lady of haas and bowers,
An of the high towers of Line.'
- Saftly, [saftly] gaed she but,
An saftlly gaed she ben,
It was na for want of hose nor shoon,
Nor time to pet them on.
- . . . . .
. . . . .
An she has staen the keys of the prison,
An latten Young Beachen gang.
- She gae him a leaf of her white bread,
An a bottle of her wine,
She bad him mind on the lady's love
That freed him out of pine.
- She gae him a steed was guid in need,
A saddle of the bane,
Five hundred pown in his pocket,
Bad him gae speeding hame.
- An a leash of guid grayhounds,
. . . . .
. . . . .
. . . . .
- Whan seven lang years were come and gane,
Shusie Pay thought lang,
An she is on to fair London,
As fast as she could gang.
- Whan she cam to Young Beachen's gate,
. . . . .
'Is Young Beachan at hame,
Or is he in this countrie?'
- 'He is at hame, is hear,' they said,
. . . . .
An sighan says her Susie Pay,
Has he quite forgotten me?
- On every finger she had a ring,
On the middle finger three;
She gae the porter ane of them:
'Get a word o your lord to me.'
- He gaed up the stair,
Fell low down on his knee:
'Win up, my proud porter,
What is your will wi me?'
- 'I hae been porter at yer gate
This thirty year and three;
The fairst lady is at yer gate
Mine eyes did ever see.'
- Out spak the bride's mither,
An a haghty woman was she:
'If ye had na eccepted the bonny bride,
Ye might well ha eccepted me.'
- 'No disparagement to you, madam,
Nor none unto her Grace;
The sole of yonr lady's foot
Is fairer than her face.'
- He's gaen the table wi his foot,
And couped it wi his knee:
'I wad my head and a' my land
'Tis Susie Pay, come oer the sea.'
- The stair was thirty steps,
I wat he made them three;
He took her in his arms twa:
'Susie Pay, ye'r welcome to me.'
- 'Gie me a shive of your white bread,
An a bottle of your wine;
Dinna ye mind on the lady's love
That freed ye out of pine?'
- He took her . . . .
Down to yon garden green,
An changed her name fra Susie Pay,
An called her bonny Lady Jean.
- 'Yer daughter came here on high horse-back,
She sal gae hame in coaches three,
An I sall double her tocher our,
She's nane the war o me.'
- 'It's na the fashion o our countrie,
Nor yet o yer nane,
To wed a maid in the morning,
An send her hame at een.'
- 'It's na the fashion o my countrie,
Nor is it of my nane,
But I man mind on the lady's love
That freed me out of pine.'