Lord Lovel
No: 75; variant: 75C
- LORD TRAVELL stands in his stable-door,
Dressing his milk-white steed,
An bye comes Lady Ounceville:
'I wish you muckle speed.
- 'Oh whar are ye gaun, Lord Travell?' she says,
'Whar are gaun frae me?'
'I am gaun to London town,
Some strange things for to see.'
- 'Whan will ye be back, Lord Travell?' she says,
'Whan will ye be back to me?'
'I will be back in seven lang years,
To wed my gay ladie.'
- 'Oh that is too lang for me,' she says,
'Oh that is too lang for me;
Oh that is too lang for me,' she says,
'To wed thy gay ladie.'
- He hadna been in London town
A week but only three,
When a boding voice thirld in his ear,
That Scotland he maun see.
- He rade an he rode alang the highway,
Till he cam to yon little town:
'Oh is there ony body dead?
The bells they mak sic a sound.'
- He rade an he rode alang the highway,
Till he cam to yon little town:
'Oh is there ony body dead?
The folk gae mournin round.'
- 'Oh yes indeed, there is ane dead,
Her name is Ounceville;
An she has died for a courteous knicht,
His name is Lord Travell.'
- 'Oh hand ye aboot, ye gentlemen,
The white bread an the wine,
For the morn's nicht aboot this time
Ye'll do the same for mine!'