PR Website - Fair Mary of Wallington

No: 91; variant: 91B

'WHEN we were sisters seven, An five of us deyd wi child, And there is nane but you and I, Mazery, And we'll go madens mild.'
But there came knights, and there came squiers, An knights of high degree; She pleasd hersel in Levieston, They wear a comly twa.
He has bought her rings for her fingers, And garlands for her hair, The broochis till her bosome braid; What wad my love ha mair? And he has brought her on to Livingston, And made her lady thear.
She had na been in Liveingston A twelvemonth and a day, Till she was as big wi bairn As ony lady could gae.
The knight he knocked his white fingers, The goude rings flew in twa: 'Halls and bowers they shall go wast Ere my bonny love gie awa!'
The knight he knocked his white fingers, The goude rings flew in foure: 'Halls and bowers they shall go waste Eren my bonny lady gie it ore!'
The knight he knocked his white fingers, The lady[s] sewed and sung; It was to comfort Lady Mazery, But her life-days wear na long.
'O whare will I get a bonny boy, That will win both hoos and shoon, That will win his way to Little Snoddown, To my mother, the Queen?'
Up and stands a bonny boy, Goude yellow was his hair; I wish his mother mickle grace at him, And his trew-love mickle mare.
'Here am I a bonny boy, That will win baith hoos an shoon, That will win my way to Little Snoddown, To thy mother, the Queen.'
'Here is the rings frae my fingers, The garlonds frae my hair, The broches fray my bosom braid; Fray me she'll nere get mare.
'Here it is my weeding-goun, It is a' goude but the hem; Gi it to my sister Allen, For she is left now bird her lane.
'When you come whare brigs is broken, Ye'l bent your bow and swim; An when ye come whare green grass grows, Ye'l slack your shoon and run.
'But when you come to yon castle, Bide neither to chap nor ca, But you'l set your bent bow to your breast, And lightly loup the wa, And gin the porter be half-gate, Ye'll be ben throw the ha!
O when he came whare brigs was broken, He bent his bow and swam; An when he came where green grass grows, He slackd his shoon an ran.
And when he came to yon castel, He stayed neither to chap no ca'l, But bent his bow unto his breast, And lightly lap the wa'l; And gin the porter was hafe-gate, He was ben throw the ha'l.
'O peace be to you, ladys a'l! As ye sit at your dine Ye ha little word of Lady Mazere:, For she drees mickel pine.
'Here is the rings frae her fingers, The garlands frae her hair, The broches frae her bosome brade; Fray her ye'l nere get mare.
'Here it is her weeding-goun, It is a' goude but the hem; Ye'll ge it to her sister Allen, For she is left bird her lane.'
She ca'd the table wi her foot, And coped it wi her tae, Till siller cups an siller cans Unto the floor did gae.
'Ye wash, ye wash, ye bonny boy, Ye wash, and come to dine; It does not fit a bonny boy His errant for to tine.
'Ge saddle to me the black, the black, Ge saddle to me the brown, Ge saddle to me the swiftest steed That ever rid frae a town.'
The first steed they saddled to her, He was the bonny black; He was a good steed, an a very good steed, But he tiyrd eer he wan the slack.
The next steed they saddled to her, He was the bonny brown; He was a good steed, an a very good steed, But he tiyird ere he wan the town.
The next steed they saddled to her, He was the bonny white; Fair fa the mair that fo'd the fole That carried her to Mazeree['s] lear!
As she gaed in at Leivingston, Thair was na mickel pride; The scobs was in her lovely mouth, And the razer in her side.
'O them that marrys your daughter, lady, I think them but a foole; A married man at Martimass, An a widdow the next Yule!'
'O hold your toung now, Livingston, Let all your folly abee; I bear the burden in my breast, Mun suffer them to dee.'
Out an speaks her Bird Allen, For she spake ay through pride; 'That man shall near be born,' she says, 'That shall ly down by my side.'
'O hold your toung now, Bird Allen, Let all your folly abee; For you shall marry a man,' she says, 'Tho ye shoud live but rathes three.'