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| CLERK SAUNDERS 1 and may Margaret | |
| Walk’d owre yon garden green; | |
| And sad and heavy was the love | |
| That fell thir twa between. | |
| |
| ‘A bed, a bed,’ Clerk Saunders said, | 5 |
| ‘A bed for you and me!’ | |
| ‘Fye na, fye na,’ said may Margaret, | |
| ‘Till anes we married be!’ | |
| |
| For in may come my seven bauld brothers, | |
| Wi’ torches burning bright; | 10 |
| They’ll say,—‘We hae but ae sister, | |
| And behold she’s wi’ a knight!’ | |
| |
| ‘Then take the sword frae my scabbard, | |
| And slowly lift the pin; | |
| And you may swear, and save your aith, | 15 |
| Ye ne’er let Clerk Saunders in. | |
| |
| ‘Take you a napkin in your hand, | |
| And tie up baith your bonnie e’en, | |
| And you may swear, and save your aith, | |
| Ye saw me na since late yestreen.’ | 20 |
| |
| It was about the midnight hour, | |
| When they asleep were laid, | |
| When in and came her seven brothers, | |
| Wi’ torches burning red. | |
| |
| When in and came her seven brothers, | 25 |
| Wi’ torches burning bright: | |
| They said, ‘We hae but ae sister, | |
| And behold her lying with a knight!’ | |
| |
| Then out and spake the first o’ them, | |
| ‘I bear the sword shall gar him die,’ | 30 |
| And out and spake the second o’ them, | |
| ‘His father has nae mair but he.’ | |
| |
| And out and spake the third o’ them, | |
| ‘I wot that they are lovers dear.’ | |
| And out and spake the fourth o’ them, | 35 |
| ‘They hae been in love this mony a year.’ | |
| |
| Then out and spake the fifth o’ them, | |
| ‘It were great sin true love to twain.’ | |
| And out and spake the sixth o’ them, | |
| ‘It were shame to slay a sleeping man.’ | 40 |
| |
| Then up and gat the seventh o’ them, | |
| And never a word spake he; | |
| But he has striped his bright brown brand | |
| Out through Clerk Saunders’ fair bodye. | |
| |
| Clerk Saunders he started, and Marg’ret she turn’d | 45 |
| Into his arms as asleep she lay; | |
| And sad and silent was the night | |
| That was atween thir twae. | |
| |
| And they lay still, and sleepit sound, | |
| Albeit the sun began to sheen; | 50 |
| She look’d atween her and the wa | |
| And dull and drowsie were his e’en. | |
| |
| Then in and came her father dear; | |
| Said, ‘Let a’ your mourning be; | |
| I’ll carry the dead corpse to the clay, | 55 |
| And I’ll come back and comfort thee.’ | |
| |
| ‘Comfort weel your seven sons, | |
| For comforted I will never be: | |
| I ween ’twas neither knave nor loon | |
| Was in the bower last night wi’ me.’ | 60 |
| |
| The clinking bell gaed through the town, | |
| To carry the dead corse to the clay; | |
| And Clerk Saunders stood at may Marg’ret’s window, | |
| I wot, an hour before the day. | |
| |
| ‘Are ye sleeping, Marg’ret?’ he says, | 65 |
| ‘Or are ye walking presentlie? | |
| Give me my faith and troth again, | |
| I wot, true love, I gied to thee.’ | |
| |
| ‘Your faith and troth ye sall never get, | |
| Nor our true love sall never twin, | 70 |
| Until ye come within my bower, | |
| And kiss me cheik and chin.’ | |
| |
| ‘My mouth it is full cold, Marg’ret; | |
| It has the smell, now, of the ground; | |
| And if I kiss thy comely mouth, | 75 |
| Thy days of life will not be lang. | |
| |
| ‘O cocks are crowing a merry midnight; | |
| I wot the wild fowls are boding day; | |
| Give me my faith and troth again, | |
| And let me fare me on my way.’ | 80 |
| |
| ‘Thy faith and troth thou sall na get, | |
| And our true love sall never twin, | |
| Until ye tell what comes o’ women, | |
| I wot, who die in strong traivelling?’ | |
| |
| ‘Their beds are made in the heavens high, | 85 |
| Down at the foot of our good Lord’s knee, | |
| Weel set about wi’ gillyflowers; | |
| I wot, sweet company for to see. | |
| |
| ‘O cocks are crowing a merry midnight; | |
| I wot the wild fowls are boding day; | 90 |
| The psalms of heaven will soon be sung, | |
| And I, ere now, will be miss’d away.’ | |
| |
| Then she has taken a crystal wand, | |
| And she has stroken her troth thereon; | |
| She has given it him out at the shot-window, | 95 |
| Wi’ mony a sad sigh and heavy groan. | |
| |
| ‘I thank ye, Marg’ret; I thank ye, Marg’ret; | |
| And ay I thank ye heartilie; | |
| Gin ever the dead come for the quick, | |
| Be sure, Marg’ret, I’ll come for thee.’ | 100 |
| |
| It’s hosen and shoon, and gown alone, | |
| She climb’d the wall, and follow’d him, | |
| Until she came to the green forest, | |
| And there she lost the sight o’ him. | |
| |
| ‘Is there ony room at your head, Saunders? | 105 |
| Is there ony room at your feet? | |
| Or ony room at your side, Saunders, | |
| Where fain, fain, I wad sleep?’ | |
| |
| ‘There’s nae room at my head, Marg’ret, | |
| There’s nae room at my feet; | 110 |
| My bed it is fu’ lowly now, | |
| Amang the hungry worms I sleep. | |
| |
| ‘Cauld mould is my covering now, | |
| But and my winding-sheet; | |
| The dew it falls nae sooner down | 115 |
| Than my resting-place is weet. | |
| |
| ‘But plait a wand o’ bonny birk, | |
| And lay it on my breast; | |
| And shed a tear upon my grave, | |
| And wish my saul gude rest. | 120 |
| |
| ‘And fair Marg’ret, and rare Marg’ret, | |
| And Marg’ret, o’ veritie, | |
| Gin ere ye love another man, | |
| Ne’er love him as ye did me.’ | |
| |
| Then up and crew the milk-white cock, | 125 |
| And up and crew the gray; | |
| Her lover vanish’d in the air, | |
| And she gaed weeping away. | |
