Читать книгу The Oxford Book of Ballads - Various Authors - Страница 20
ОглавлениеI
‘I was but seven year auld
When my mither she did dee;
My father married the ae warst woman
The warld did ever see.
II
‘For she has made me the laily132 worm, That lies at the fit o’ the tree, An’ my sister Masery she’s made The machrel of the sea.
III
‘An’ every Saturday at noon
The machrel comes to me,
An’ she takes my laily head
An’ lays it on her knee,
She kaims it wi’ a siller kaim,
An’ washes ’t in the sea.
IV
‘Seven knights hae I slain,
Sin I lay at the fit of the tree,
An’ ye war na my ain father,
The eighth ane ye should be.’—
V
‘Sing on your song, ye laily worm,
That ye did sing to me.’—
‘I never sung that song but what
I would sing it to thee.
VI
‘I was but seven year auld,
When my mither she did dee;
My father married the ae warst woman
The warld did ever see.
VII
‘For she changed me to the laily worm,
That lies at the fit o’ the tree,
And my sister Masery
To the machrel of the sea.
VIII
‘And every Saturday at noon
The machrel comes to me,
An’ she takes my laily head
An’ lays it on her knee,
An’ kames it wi’ a siller kame,
An’ washes it i’ the sea.
IX
‘Seven knights hae I slain
Sin I lay at the fit o’ the tree;
An’ ye war na my ain father,
The eighth ane ye should be.’
X
He sent for his lady,
As fast as send could he:
‘Whar is my son that ye sent frae me,
And my daughter, Lady Masery?’—
XI
‘Your son is at our king’s court,
Serving for meat an’ fee,
An’ your daughter’s at our queen’s court,
The queen’s maiden to be.’—
XII
‘Ye lee, ye lee, ye ill woman,
Sae loud as I hear ye lee;
My son’s the laily worm,
That lies at the fit o’ the tree,
And my daughter, Lady Masery,
Is the machrel of the sea!’
XIII
She has tane a siller wan’,
An’ gi’en him strokès three,
And he’s started up the bravest knight
That ever your eyes did see.
XIV
She has ta’en a small horn,
An’ loud an’ shrill blew she,
An’ a’ the fish came her untill
But the machrel of the sea:
‘Ye shapeit me ance an unseemly shape,
An’ ye’s never mare shape me.’
XV
He has sent to the wood
For whins and for hawthorn,
An’ he has ta’en that gay lady,
An’ there he did her burn.
