Clerk Sanders
No: 69; variant: 69F
- CLERK SAUNDERS was an earl's son,
He livd upon sea-sand;
May Margaret was a king's daughter,
She livd in upper land.
- Clerk Saunders was an earl's son,
Weel learned at the scheel;
May Margaret was a king's daughter,
They baith loed ither weel.
- He's throw the dark, and throw the mark,
And throw the leaves o green,
Till he came to May Margaret's door,
And tirled at the pin.
- 'O sleep ye, wake ye, May Margaret,
Or are ye the bower within?'
O wha is that at my bower-door,
Sae weel my name does ken?'
'It's I, Clerk Saunders, your true-love,
You'll open and lat me in.
- 'O will ye to the cards, Margaret,
Or to the table to dine?
Or to the bed, that's weel down spread,
And sleep when we get time?'
- 'I'll no go to the cards,' she says,
'Nor to the table to dine;
But I'll go to a bed, that's weel down spread,
And sleep when we get time.'
- They were not weel lyen down,
And no weel fa'en asleep,
When up and stood May Margaret's brethren,
Just up at their bed-feet.
- 'O tell us, tell us, May Margaret,
And dinna to us len,
O wha is aught yon noble steed,
That stands your stable in?'
- 'The steed is mine, and it may be thine,
To ride whan ye ride in hie;
. . . . .
. . . . .
- 'But awa, awa, my bald brethren,
Awa, and mak nae din;
For I am as sick a lady the nicht
As eer lay a bower within.'
- 'O tell us, tell us, May Margaret,
And dinna to us len,
O wha is aught yon noble hawk,
That stands your kitchen in?'
- 'The hawk is mine, and it may be thine,
To hawk whan ye hawk in hie;
. . . . .
. . . . .
- 'But awa, awa, my bald brethren,
Awa, and mak nae din;
For I'm ane o the sickest ladies this nicht
That eer lay a bower within.'
- 'O tell us, tell us, May Margaret,
And dinna to us len,
O wha is that, May Margaret,
You and the wa between?'
- 'O it is my bower-maiden,' she says,
'As sick as sick can be;
O it is my bower-maiden,' she says,
'And she's thrice as sick as me.'
- 'We hae been east, and we've been west,
And low beneath the moon;
But a' the bower-women eer we saw
Hadna goud buckles in their shoon.'
- Then up and spak her eldest brither,
Ay in ill time spak he:
'It is Clerk Saunders, your true-love,
And never mat I the
But for this scorn that he has done
This moment he sall die.'
- But up and spak her youngest brother,
Ay in good time spak he:
'O but they are a gudelie pair!
True lovers an ye be,
The sword that hangs at my sword-belt
Sall never sinder ye.'
- Syne up and spak her nexten brother,
And the tear stood in his ee:
'You've loed her lang, and loed her weel,
And pity it wad be
The sword that hangs at my sword-belt
Shoud ever sinder ye.'
- But up and spak her fifthen brother:
'Sleep on your sleep for me;
But we baith sall never sleep again,
For the tane o us sall die.'
- And up and spak her thirden brother,
Ay in ill time spak he:
'Curse on his love and comeliness!
Dishonourd as ye be,
The sword that hangs at my sword-belt
Sall quickly sinder ye.'
- The eldest brother has drawn his sword,
The second has drawn anither,
Between Clerk Saunders' hause and collarbane
The cald iron met thegither.
- 'O wae be to you, my fause brethren,
And an ill death mat ye die!
Ye mith slain Clerk Saunders in open field,
And no in bed wi me.'