Earl Brand
No: 7; variant: 7[I]
- 'Rise up, rise up, Lord Douglas,' she said,
'And draw to your arms so bright;
Let it never be said a daughter of yours
Shall go with a lord or a knight.
- 'Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons,
And draw to your armour so bright;
Let it never be said a sister of yours
Shall go with a lord or a night.'
- He looked over his left shoulder,
To see what he could see,
And there he spy'd her seven brethren bold,
And her father that lov'd her tenderly.
- 'Light down, light down, Lady Margret,' he said,
'And hold my steed in thy hand.
That I may go fitht with your seven brethren bold,
And your father who's just at hand.'
- O there she stood, and bitter she stood,
And never did shed a tear,
Till once she saw her seven brethren slain,
And her father she lovd so dear.
- 'Hold, hold your hand, William,' she said,
'For thy strokes are wondrous sore;
For sweethearts I may get many a one,
But a father I neer will get more.'
- She took out a handkerchief of holland so fine
And wip'd her father's bloody wound,
Which ran more clear than the red wine,
And forked on the cold ground.
- 'O chuse you, chuse you, Margret,' he said,
'Whether you will go or bide!'
'I must go with you, Lord William,' she said,
'Since you've left me no other guide.'
- He lifted her on a milk-white steed,
And himself on a dapple grey,
With a blue gilded horn hanging by his side,
And they slowly both rode away.
- Away they rode, and better they rode,
Till they came to yonder sand,
Till once they came to yon river side,
And ther they lighted down.
- They lighted down to take a drink
Of the spring that ran so clear,
And there she spy'd his bonny heart's blood,
A running down the stream.
- 'Hold up, hold up, Lord William,' she says,
'For I fear that you are slain;'
''Tis nought but the shade of my scarlet clothes,
That is sparkling down the stream.'
- He lifted her on a milk-white steed,
And himself on a dapple grey,
With a blue gilded horn hanging by his side,
And slowly they rode away.
- Ay they rode, and better they rode,
Till they came to his mother's bower;
Till once they came to his mother's bower,
And down they lighted there.
- 'O mother, mother, make my bed,
And make it saft and fine,
And lay my lady close at my back,
That I may sleep most sound.'
- Lord William he died eer middle o the night,
Lady Margret long before the morrow;
Lord William he died for pure true love,
And Lady Margret died for sorrow.
- Lord William was bury'd in Lady Mary's kirk,
The other in Saint Mary's quire;
Out of William's grave sprang a red rose,
And out of Margret's a briar.
- And ay they grew, and ay they threw,
As they wad fain been near;
And by this you may ken right well
They were twa lovers dear.