Lord Ingram and Chiel Wyet
No: 66; variant: 66B
- LORD INGRAM and Gil Viett
Were baith born in ae ha;
They laid their love on ae lady,
An fate they coud na fa.
- Lord Ingram and Gil Viett
Were baith laid in ae wame;
They laid their love on ae lady,
The greater was their shame.
- Lord Ingram wood her Lady Masery
Frae father and frae mither;
Gill Viett wood her Lady Masery
Frae sister and frae brither.
- Lord Ingram courted her Lady Masery
Among the company a';
Gill Viett he wood her Lady Masery
Among the sheets so sma.
- 'Get up, my daughter dear,
Put on your bridal gown;
This day's your bridal day
Wi Lord Ingram.'
- 'How can I get up,
An put on my bridal gown,
Or how marry the ae brither,
An the tither's babe in my womb?'
- 'O laugh you at mysell, brither,
Or at my companie?
Or laugh ye at my bonnie bride,
She wad na laugh at thee?'
- 'I laugh na at yoursel, brither,
Nor at your companie;
Nor laugh I at your buirlie bride,
She wad na laugh at me.
- 'But there's a brotch on a breast-bane,
A garlan on ane's hair;
Gin ye kend what war under that,
Ye wad neer love woman mair.
- 'There is a brotch on a breast-bane,
An roses on ane's sheen;
Gin ye kend what war under that,
Your love wad soon be deen.'
- Whan bells were rung, and mass was sung,
And a' man boun to bed,
Lord Ingram and Lady Masery
In ae chamer were laid.
- He put his hand out oure his bonnie bride,
The babe between her sides did quake:
. . . . . .
. . . . .
- 'O father your babe on me, Lady Masery,
O father your babe on me.'
. . . . . .
. . . . .
- 'I may father my babe on a stock,
Sae may I on a stane,
But my babe shall never hae
A father but its ain.'
- He took out a brand,
And laid it atween them twa;
. . . . . .
. . . . .
- Gill Viett took out a long brand,
And stroakd it oer a stro,
An thro and thro Lord Ingram's bodie
He made it come and go.
- 'Wae mat worth ye, Gill Viett,
An ill died mat ye die!
For I had the cup in my hand
To hae drunken her oer to thee.'
- '[For] ae mile [I wad gae] for Gil Viett,
For Lord Ingram I wad hae gaen three;
An a' for that in good kirk-door
Fair wedding he gave me.'
- Gil Viett took a long brand,
An stroakd it on a stro,
An through and thro his own bodie
He made it come and go.
- There was nae mean made for that godd lords,
In bowr whar they lay slain,
But a' was for that lady,
In bowr whar she gaed brain.
- There was nae mean made for that lady,
In bowr whar she lay dead,
But a' was for the bonnie babe
That lay blabbering in her bleed.