No: 75; variant: 75I
- There came a ghost to Helen's bower,
Wi monny a sigh and groan:
'O make yourself ready, at Wednesday at een,
Fair Helen, you must be gone.'
- 'O gay Death, O gallant Death,
Will you spare my life sae lang
Untill I send to merry Primrose,
Bid my dear lord come hame?'
- 'O gay Helen, O galant Helen,
I winna spare you sae lang;
But make yoursell ready, again Wednesday at een,
Fair Helen, you must be gane.'
- 'O where will I get a bonny boy,
That would win hose and shoon,
That will rin fast to merry Primrose,
Bid my dear lord come soon?'
- O up and speak a little boy,
That would win hose and shoon:
'Aft have I gane your errants, lady,
But by my suth I'll rin.'
- When he came to broken briggs
He bent his bow and swam,
And when he came to grass growing
He cast off his shoon and ran.
- When he came to merry Primrose,
His lord he was at meat:
'O my lord, kend ye what I ken,
Right little wad ye eat.'
- 'Is there onny of my castles broken doun,
Or onny of my towers won?
Or is Fair Helen brought to bed
Of a doughter or a son?'
- 'There's nane of [your] castles broken doun,
Nor nane of your towers won,
Nor is Fair Helen brought to bed
Of a doghter or a son.'
- 'Gar sadle me the black, black steed,
Gar sadle me the brown;
Gar sadle me the swiftest horse
Eer carried man to town.'
- First he bursted the bonny black,
And then he bursted the brown,
And then he bursted the swiftest steed
Eer carried man to town.
- He hadna ridden a mile, a mile,
A mile but barelins ten,
When he met four and twenty gallant knights,
carrying a dead coffin.
- 'Set down, set down Fair Helen's corps,
Let me look on the dead;'
And out he took a little pen-knife,
And he screeded the winding-sheet.
- O first he kist her rosy cheek,
And then he kist her chin,
And then he kist her coral lips,
But there's nae life in within.
- 'Gar deal, gar deal the bread,' he says,
'The bread bat an the wine,
And at the morn at twelve o'clock
Ye's gain as much at mine.'
- The tane was buried in Mary's kirk,
The tother in Mary's choir,
And out of the tane there sprang a birch,
And out of the tother a briar.
- The tops of them grew far sundry,
But the roots of them grew neer,
And ye may easy ken by that
They were twa lovers dear.