217A: The Broom of Cowdenknows

217A.1	 THERE was a troop of merry gentlemen
	 Was riding atween twa knows,
	 And they heard the voice of a bonny lass,
	 In a bught milking her ews.
217A.2	 There’s ane o them lighted frae off his steed,
	 And has ty’d him to a tree,
	 And he’s gane away to yon ew-bught,
	 To hear what it might be.
217A.3	 ‘O pity me, fair maid,’ he said,
	 ‘Take pity upon me;
	 O pity me, and my milk-white steed
	 That’s trembling at yon tree.’
217A.4	 ‘As for your steed, he shall not want
	 The best of corn and hay;
	 But as to you yoursel, kind sir,
	 I’ve naething for to say.’
217A.5	 He’s taen her by the milk-white hand,
	 And by the green gown-sleeve,
	 And he as led her into the ew-bught,
	 Of her friends he speerd nae leave.
217A.6	 He as put his hand in his pocket,
	 And given her guineas three:
	 ‘If I dinna come back in half a year,
	 Then luke nae mair for me.
217A.7	 ‘Now show to me the king’s hie street,
	 Now show to me the way;
	 Now show to me the king’s hie street,
	 And the fair water of Tay.’
217A.8	 She showd to him the king’s hie street,
	 She showd to him the way;
	 She showd him the way that he was to go,
	 By the fair water of Tay.
217A.9	 When she came home, her father said,
	 ‘Come, tell to me right plain;
	 I doubt you’ve met some in the way,
	 You have not been your lain.’
217A.10	 ‘The night it is baith mist and mirk,
	 You may gan out and see;
	 The night is mirk and misty too,
	 There’s nae body been wi me.
217A.11	 ‘There was a tod came to your flock,
	 The like I neer did see;
	 When he spake, he lifted his hat,
	 He had a bonny twinkling eee.’
217A.12	 When fifteen weeks were past and gane,
	 Full fifteen weeks and three,
	 Then she began to think it lang
	 For the man wi the twinkling eee.
217A.13	 It fell out on a certain day,
	 When she cawd out her father’s ky,
	 There was a troop of gentlemen
	 Came merrily riding by.
217A.14	 ‘Weel may ye sigh and sob,’ says ane,
	 ‘Weel may you sigh and see;
	 Weel may you sigh, and say, fair maid,
	 Wha’s gotten this bairn wi thee?’
217A.15	 She turned her sel then quickly about,
	 And thinking meikle shame,
	 ‘O no, kind sir, it is na sae,
	 For it has a dad at hame.’
217A.16	 ‘O hawd your tongue, my bonny lass,
	 Sae loud as I hear you lee!
	 For dinna you mind that summer night
	 I was in the bught wi thee?’
217A.17	 He lighted off his milk-white steed,
	 And set this fair maid on;
	 ‘Now caw out your ky, good father,’ he said,
	 ‘She’ll neer caw them out again.
217A.18	 ‘I am the laird of Knottington,
	 I’ve fifty plows and three;
	 I’ve gotten now the bonniest lass
	 That is in the hale country.’

217B: The Broom of Cowdenknows

217B.1	 IT was on an evning sae saft and sae clear
	 A bonny lass was milking the kye,
	 And by came a troup of gentlemen,
	 And rode the bonny lassie by.
217B.2	 Then one of them said unto her,
	 ‘Bonny lass, prythee shew me the way:’
	 ‘O if I do sae, it may breed me wae,
	 For langer I dare nae stay.’
	 * * * * *
217B.3	 But dark and misty was the night
	 Before the bonny lass came hame:
	 ‘Now where hae you been, my ae doughter?
	 I am sure you was nae your lane.’
217B.4	 ‘O father, a tod has come oer your lamb,
	 A gentleman of high degree,
	 And ay whan he spake he lifted his hat,
	 And bonny, bonny blinkit his ee.’
217B.5	 Or eer six months were past and gane,
	 Six months but and other three,
	 The lassie begud for to fret and to frown,
	 And think lang for his blinkin ee.
217B.6	 ‘O wae be to my father’s shepherd,
	 An ill death may he die!
	 He bigged the bughts sae far frae hame,
	 And trysted a gentleman to me!’
217B.7	 It fell upon another fair evening
	 The bonny lassie was milking her ky,
	 And by came the troop of Gentlemen,
	 And rode the bonny lassie by.
217B.8	 Then one of them stopt, and said to her,
	 ‘Whae’s aught that baby ye are wi?’
	 That lassie began for to blush, and think,
	 To a father as good as ye.
217B.9	 ‘O had your tongue, my bonny may,
	 Sae loud I hear you lie!
	 O dinnae you mind the misty night
	 I was in the bught with thee?’
217B.10	 Now he’s come aff his milk-white steed,
	 And he has taen her hame:
	 ‘Now let your father bring hame the ky,
	 You neer mair shall ca them agen.
217B.11	 ‘I am a lord of castles and towers,
	 With fifty ploughs of land and three,
	 And I have gotten the bonniest lass
	 That is in this countrie.’

217C: The Broom of Cowdenknows

217C.1	 IT was on a day whan a lovely may
	 Was cawing out her father’s kye,
	 And she spied a troop o’ gentlemen,
	 As they war passing bye.
217C.2	 ‘O show me the way, my pretty maid,
	 O show me the way,’ said he;
	 ‘My steed has just now rode wrong,
	 And the way I canna see.’
217C.3	 ‘O haud you on the same way,’ she said,
	 ‘O haud ye on’t again,
	 For, if ye haud on the king’s hieway,
	 Rank rievers will do ye na harm.’
217C.4	 He took her by the milk-white hand,
	 And by the gerss-green sleeve,
	 And he has taiglet wi the fair may,
	 And of her he askd na leave.
217C.5	 Whan ance he got her gudwill,
	 Of her he craved na mair,
	 But he poud out a ribbon frae his pouch,
	 And snooded up the may’s hair.
217C.6	 He put his hand into his pouch,
	 And gave her guineas three:
	 ‘If I come na back in twenty weeks,
	 Ye need na look mair for me.’
217C.7	 But whan the may did gang hame,
	 Her father did her blame;
	 ‘Whare hae ye been now, dame?’ he said
	 ‘For ye’ve na been your lane.’
217C.8	 ‘The nicht is misty and mirk, father,
	 Ye may come to the door and see;
	 The nicht is misty and mirk, father,
	 And there’s na body wi me.
217C.9	 ‘But there cam o tod to your flock, father,
	 The like o him I never saw;
	 Or he had tane the lambie that he had,
	 I wad rather he had tane them aw.
217C.10	 ‘But he seemd to be a gentleman,
	 Or a man of some pious degree;
	 For whanever he spak, he lifted up his hat,
	 And he had [a] bonnie twinkling ee.’
217C.11	 Whan twenty weeks were come and gane,
	 Twenty weeks and three,
	 The lassie began to grow thick in the waist,
	 And thoucht lang for his twinkling ee.
217C.12	 It fell upon a day whan bonnie may
	 Was cawing out the kye,
	 She spied the same troop o gentlemen,
	 As they war passing bye.
217C.13	 ‘O well may you save, my pretty may,
	 Weill may you save and see!
	 Weill may ye save, my lovely may!
	 Go ye wi child to me?’
217C.14	 But the may she turnd her back to him,
	 She begoud to think meikle shame;
	 ‘Na, na, na, na, kind sir,’ she said,
	 ‘I’ve a gudeman o my ain.’
217C.15	 ‘Sae loud as I hear ye lie, fair may,
	 Sae loud as I hear ye lee!
	 Dinna ye mind o yon misty nicht
	 Whan I was in the bucht wi thee?’
217C.16	 He lichted aff his hie, hie horse,
	 And he set the bonnie may on:
	 ‘Now caw out your kye, gud father,
	 Ye maun caw them out your lone.
217C.17	 ‘For lang will ye caw them out,
	 And weary will ye be,
	 Or ye get your dochter again
	 . . .
217C.18	 He was the laird o Ochiltree,
	 Of therty ploughs and three,
	 And he has stown awa the loveliest may
	 In aw the south cuntree.

217D: The Broom of Cowdenknows

217D.1	 O BONNIE May is to the yowe-buchts gane,
	 For to milk her daddie’s yowes,
	 And ay she sang, and her voice it rang
	 Out-ower the tap o the knows, knows, knowes,
	 Out-owr the tap o the knowes.
217D.2	 Ther cam a troop gentilmen,
	 As they were rydand by,
	 And ane o them he lichtit doun,
	 For to see May milkand her kye.
217D.3	 ‘Milk on, milk on, my bonnie lass,
	 Milk on, milk on,’ said he,
	 ‘For out o the buchts I winna gang
	 Till ye shaw me owr the lee.’
217D.4	 ‘Ryde on, ryde on, ye rank rydars,
	 Your steeds are stout and strang,
	 For out o the yowe-buchts I winna gae,
	 For fear that ye do me some wrang.’
217D.5	 He took her by the milk-white hand,
	 And by the green gown-sleive,
	 And thare he took the will o her,
	 Bot o her he askit nae leive.
217D.6	 But whan he gat his will o her
	 He loot her up again,
	 And a’ this bonny maid said or did
	 Was, Kind sir, tell me your name.
217D.7	 He pou’t out a sillar kame,
	 Sayand, Kame your yellow hair;
	 And, gin I be na back in three quarters o a year,
	 It’s o me ye’ll see nae mair.
217D.8	 He pu’t out a silken purse
	 And he gied her guineas thrie,
	 Saying, Gin I may na be back in three quarters o a year,
	 It will pay the nourice fee.
217D.9	 He put his fut into the stirrup
	 And rade after his men,
	 And a’ that his men said or did
	 Was, Kind maister, ye’ve taiglit lang.
217D.10	 ‘I hae rade east, I hae rade wast,
	 And I hae rade owr the knowes,
	 But the bonniest lassie that I ever saw
	 Was in the yowe-buchts, milkand her yowes.’
217D.11	 She put the pail upon her heid,
	 And she’s gane merrilie hame,
	 And a’ that her faither said or did
	 Was, Kind dochter, ye’ve taiglit lang.
217D.12	 ‘Oh, wae be to your men, faither,
	 And an ill deth may they die!
	 For they cawit a’ the yowes out-owre the knowes,
	 And they left naebody wi me.
217D.13	 ‘There cam a tod unto the bucht,
	 The like I never saw,
	 And afore that he took the ane that he took,
	 I wad leifar he had tane ither twa.
217D.14	 ‘There cam a tod unto the bucht,
	 The like I never did see,
	 And, ay as he spak, he liftit his hat,
	 And he had a bonnie twinkland ee.’
217D.15	 It was on a day, and it was a fine simmer day,
	 She was cawing out her faither’s kye,
	 There cam a troup o gentilmen,
	 And they rade ways the lass near by.
217D.16	 ‘Wha has dune to you this ill, my dear?
	 Wha has dune to you this wrang?’
	 And she had na a word to say for hersell
	 But, ‘Kind sir, I hae a man o my ain.’
217D.17	 ‘Ye lie, ye lie, bonnie May,’ he says,
	 ‘Aloud I hear ye lie!
	 For dinna ye mind yon bonnie simmer nicht
	 Whan ye war in the yowe-buchts wi me?
217D.18	 ‘Licht doun, licht doun, my foremaist man,
	 Licht doun and let her on,
	 For monie a time she cawit her faither’s kye,
	 But she’ll neir caw them again.
217D.19	 ‘For I am the laird o Ochiltree Wawis,
	 I hae threttie pleuchs and thrie,
	 And I hae tane awa the bonniest lass
	 That is in a’ the north countrie.’

217E: The Broom of Cowdenknows

217E.1	 THERE was a may, and a bonnie may,
	 In the bught, milking the ewes,
	 And by came a troop of gentlemen,
	 And they rode by and by.
217E.2	 ‘O I’ll give thee my milk-white steed,
	 It cost me three hundred pound,
	 If ye’ll go to yon sheep-bught,
	 And bring yon fair maid doun.’
217E.3	 ‘Your steed ye canna want, master,
	 But pay to ane a fee;
	 Fifty pound of good red gold,
	 To be paid down to me.’
217E.4	 ‘Come shew me the way, pretty may,’ he said,
	 ‘For our steeds are quite gone wrong;
	 Will you do to me such a courtesy
	 As to shew us the near-hand way?’
217E.5	 ‘O go ye doun to yon meadow,
	 Where the people are mowing the hay;
	 Go ye doun to yon meadow,
	 And they’ll shew you the near-hand way.’
217E.6	 But he’s taen her by the milk-white hand,
	 And by the grass-green sleeve;
	 He’s bowed her body to the ground,
	 Of her kin he asked no leave.
217E.7	 When he lifted her up again
	 He’s gien her guineas three:
	 ‘If I be na back gin three quarters o a year,
	 Ye need neer think mair on me.’
	 * * * * *
217E.8	 ‘O where hast thou been, bonnie may,’ he said,
	 ‘O where hast thou been sae lang?
	 O where hast thou been, bonnie may?’ he said,
	 ‘Thou hast na been sae lang thy lane.’
217E.9	 ‘O come to the door and see, father,
	 O come to the door and see,
	 And see such a weety and a windy night;
	 There were nobody wi me.
217E.10	 ‘But wae be to your herd, father,
	 And an ill death may he die!
	 For he left the ewes strayed owre the knowes,
	 And he left naebody wi me.
217E.11	 ‘But there came a tod to your bught, father,
	 The like o him I neer saw;
	 For or he had taen the bonnie lamb he took,
	 Ye had as weel hae gien them a’.
217E.12	 There came a tod to your bught, father,
	 The like o him I neer did see;
	 For aye when he spak he lifted up his hat,
	 And he had a bonnie twinkling ee.’
217E.13	 But when twenty weeks were come and gane,
	 Aye, twenty weeks and three,
	 This lassie began to spit and to spew,
	 And to lang for the twinkling ee.
217E.14	 It fell on a day, and a bonnie summer day,
	 She was ca’ing out her father’s kye,
	 And by came a troop of gentlemen,
	 And they rode by and by.
217E.15	 ‘O wha got the bairn wi thee, bonnie may?
	 O wha got the bairn wi thee?’
	 . . . .
	 . . . .
217E.16	 She turned hersell right round about,
	 She began to blush and think shame,
	 And never a word this bonnie lassie spok
	 But ‘I have a good-man at hame.’
217E.17	 ‘Thou lie, thou lie, my bonnie may,
	 Sae loud I hear thee lie!
	 Do ye mind o the weety and windy night
	 When I was in the ewe-bught wi thee?
217E.18	 ‘Light off, light off, the gentlest of my men,
	 And set her on behind,
	 And ca out your kye, good father, yoursell,
	 For she’ll never ca them out again.’
217E.19	 He was the laird o twenty plough o land,
	 Aye, twenty plough and three,
	 And he’s taen awa the bonniest lass
	 Was in a’ the south countrie.

217F: The Broom of Cowdenknows

217F.1	 BONNY MAY has to the ewe-bughts gane,
	 To milk her father’s ewes,
	 An aye as she milked her bonny voice rang
	 Far out amang the knowes.
	 * * * * *
217F.2	 ‘Milk on, milk on, my bonny, bonny may,
	 Milk on, milk on,’ said he;
	 ‘Milk on, milk on, my bonny, bonny may;
	 Will ye shew me out-ower the lea?’
217F.3	 ‘Ride on, ride on, stout rider,’ she said,
	 ‘Yere steed’s baith stout and strang;
	 For out o the eww-bught I daurna come,
	 For fear ye do me wrang.’
217F.4	 But he’s tane her by the milk-white hand,
	 An by the green gown-sleeve,
	 An he’s laid her low on the dewy grass,
	 An at nae ane spiered he leave.
217F.5	 Then he’s mounted on his milk-white steed,
	 An ridden after his men,
	 An a’ that his men they said to him
	 Was, Dear master, ye’ve tarried lang.
217F.6	 ‘I’ve ridden east, an I’ve ridden wast,
	 An I’ve ridden amang the knowes,
	 But the bonniest lassie eer I saw
	 Was milkin her daddie’s yowes.’
217F.7	 She’s taen the milk-pail on her heid,
	 An she’s gane langin hame,
	 An a her father said to her
	 Was, Daughter, ye’ve tarried lang.
217F.8	 ‘Oh, wae be to your shepherds! father,
	 For they take nae care o the sheep;
	 Fro they’ve bygit the ewe-bught far frae hame,
	 An they’ve trysted a man to me.
217F.9	 ‘There came a tod unto the bucht,
	 An a waefu tod was he,
	 An, or ever he had tane that ae ewe-lamb,
	 I had rather he had tane ither three.’
217F.10	 But it fell on a day, an a bonny summer day,
	 She was ca’in out her father’s kye,
	 An bye came a troop o gentlemen,
	 Cam ridin siwftly bye.
217F.11	 Out an spoke the foremost ane,
	 Says, Lassie hae ye got a man?
	 She turned herself saucy round about,
	 Says, Yes, I’ve ane at hame.
217F.12	 ‘Ye lee, ye lee, ye my bonny may,
	 Saw loud as I hear ye lee!
	 For dinna ye mind that misty nicht
	 Ye were in the ewe-bughts wi me?’
217F.13	 He ordered ane o his men to get down;
	 Says, Lift her up behind me;
	 Your father may ca in the kye when he likes,
	 They sall neer be ca’ed in by thee.
217F.14	 ‘For I’m the laird o Athole swaird,
	 Wi fifty ploughs an three,
	 An I hae gotten the bonniest lass
	 In a’ the north countrie.’

217G: The Broom of Cowdenknows

217G.1	 O THE broom, and the bonny, bonny broom,
	 And the broom of the Cowdenknows!
	 And aye sae sweet as the lassie sang,
	 I the bought, milking the ewes.
217G.2	 The hills were high on ilka side,
	 An the bought i the lirk o the hill,
	 And aye, as she sang, her voice it rang
	 Out-oer the head o yon hill.
217G.3	 There was a troop o gentlemen
	 Came riding merrilie by,
	 And one o them has rode out o the way,
	 To the bought to the bonny may.
217G.4	 ‘Well may ye save an see, bonny lass,
	 An weel may ye save an see!’
	 ‘An sae wi you, ye weel-bred knight,
	 And what’s your will wi me?’
217G.5	 ‘The night is misty and mirk, fair may,
	 And I have ridden astray,
	 And will ye be so kind, fair may,
	 As come out and point my way?’
217G.6	 ‘Ride out, ride out, ye ramp rider!
	 Your steed’s baith stout and strang;
	 For out of the bought I dare na come,
	 For fear at ye do me wrang.’
217G.7	 ‘O winna ye pity me, bonny lass?
	 O winna ye pity me?
	 An winna ye pity my poor steed,
	 Stands trembling at yon tree?’
217G.8	 ‘I wadna pity your poor steed,
	 Tho it were tied to a thorn;
	 For if ye wad gain my love the night
	 Ye wad slight me ere the morn.
217G.9	 ‘For I ken you by your weel-busked hat,
	 And your merrie twinkling ee,
	 That ye’re the laird o the Oakland hills,
	 An ye may weel seem for to be.’
217G.10	 ‘But I am not the laird o the Oakland hills,
	 Ye’re far mistaen o me;
	 But I’m ane o the men about his house,
	 An right aft in his companie.’
217G.11	 He’s taen her by the middle jimp,
	 And by the grass-green sleeve,
	 He’s lifted her over the fauld-dyke,
	 And speerd at her sma leave.
217G.12	 O he’s taen out a purse o gowd,
	 And streekd her yellow hair:
	 ‘Now take ye that, my bonnie may,
	 Of me till you hear mair.’
217G.13	 O he’s leapt on his berry-brown steed,
	 An soon he’s oertaen his men;
	 And ane and a’ cried out to him,
	 O master, ye’ve tarryd lang!
217G.14	 ‘O I hae been east, and I hae been west,
	 An I hae been far oer the knows,
	 But the bonniest lass that ever I saw
	 Is i the bought, milkin the ewes.’
217G.15	 She set the cog upon her head,
	 An she’s gane singing hame:
	 ‘O where hae ye been, my ae daughter?
	 Ye hae na been your lane.’
217G.16	 ‘O nae body was wi me, father,
	 O nae body has been wi me;
	 The night is misty and mirk, father,
	 Ye may gang to the door and see.
217G.17	 ‘But wae be to your ewe-herd, father,
	 And an ill deed may he die!
	 He bug the bought at the back o the know
	 And a tod has frighted me.
217G.18	 ‘There came a tod to the bought-door,
	 The like I never saw;
	 And ere he had taken the lamb he did
	 I had lourd he had taen them a’.’
217G.19	 O whan fifteen weeks was come and gane,
	 Fifteen weeks and three,
	 That lassie began to look thin and pale,
	 An to long for his merry-twinkling ee.
217G.20	 It fell on a day, on a het simmer day,
	 She was ca’ing out her father’s kye,
	 By came a troop o gentlemen,
	 A’ merrilie riding bye.
217G.21	 ‘Weel may ye save an see, bonny may!
	 Weel may ye save and see!
	 Weel I wat ye be a very bonny may,
	 But whae’s aught that babe ye are wi?’
217G.22	 Never a word could that lassie say,
	 For never a ane could she blame,
	 An never a word could the lassie say,
	 But, I have a good man at hame.
217G.23	 ‘Ye lied, ye lied, my very bonny may,
	 Sae loud as I hear you lie!
	 For dinna ye mind that misty night
	 I was i the bought wi thee?
217G.24	 ‘I ken you by your middle sae jimp,
	 An your merry-twinkling ee,
	 That ye’re the bonny lass i the Cowdenknow,
	 An ye may weel seem for to be.’
217G.25	 Than he’s leapd off his berry-brown steed,
	 An he’s set that fair may on:
	 ‘Caw out your kye, gude father, yoursel,
	 For she’s never caw them out again.
217G.26	 I am the laird of the Oakland hills,
	 I hae thirty plows and three,
	 An I hae gotten the bonniest lass
	 That’s in a’ the south country.’

217H: The Broom of Cowdenknows

217H.1	 THERE was a may, a maiden sae gay,
	 Went out wi her milking-pail;
	 Lang she foucht or her ewes wad bucht,
	 And syne she a milking fell.
217H.2	 And ay as she sang the rocks they rang,
	 Her voice gaed loud and shill;
	 Ye wad hae heard the voice o the maid
	 On the tap o the ither hill.
217H.3	 And ay she sang, and the rocks they rang,
	 Her voice gaed loud and hie;
	 Till by there cam a troop o gentlemen,
	 A riding up that way.
217H.4	 ‘Weel may ye sing, ye bonnie may,
	 Weel and weel may ye sing!
	 The nicht is misty, weet, and mirk,
	 And we hae ridden wrang.’
217H.5	 ‘Haud by the gate ye cam, kind sir,
	 Haud by the gate ye cam;
	 But tak tent o the rank river,
	 For our streams are unco strang.’
217H.6	 ‘Can ye na pity me, fair may,
	 Canna ye pity me?
	 Canna ye pity my puir steed,
	 Stands trembling at yon tree?’
217H.7	 ‘What pity wad ye hae, kind sir?
	 What wad ye hae frae me?
	 If he has neither corn nor hay,
	 He has gerss at libertie.’
217H.8	 ‘Can ye na pity me, fair may,
	 Can ye na pity me?
	 Can ye na pity a gentle knicht
	 That’s deeing for love o thee?’
217H.9	 He’s tane her by the milk-white hand,
	 And by the gerss-green sleeve;
	 He’s laid her laigh at the bucht-end,
	 At her kin speird na leave.
217H.10	 ‘After ye hae tane your will o me,
	 Your will as ye hae tane,
	 Be as gude a gentle knicht
	 As tell to me your name.’
217H.11	 ‘Some do call me Jack,’ says he,
	 ‘And some do call me John;
	 But whan I’m in the king’s hie court
	 Duke William is my name.
217H.12	 ‘But I ken by your weel-faurd face,
	 And by your blinking ee,
	 That ye are the Maid o the Cowdenknows,
	 And seem very weel to be.’
217H.13	 ‘I am na the maid o the Cowdenknows,
	 Nor does not thnk to be;
	 But I am ane o her best maids,
	 That’s aft in her companie.
217H.14	 ‘But I ken by your black, black hat,
	 And by your gay gowd ring,
	 That ye are the Laird o Rochna hills,
	 Wha beguiles a’ our women.’
217H.15	 ‘I am na the Laird o Rochna hills,
	 Nor does na think to be;
	 But I am ane o his best men,
	 That’s aft in his companie.’
217H.16	 He’s put his hand in his pocket
	 And tane out guineas three;
	 Says, Tak ye that, my bonnie may;
	 It’ll pay the nourice fee.
217H.17	 She’s tane her cog upon her head,
	 And fast, fast gaed she hame:
	 ‘Whare hae ye been, my dear dochter?
	 Ye hae na been your lane.
217H.18	 ‘The nicht is misty, weet, and mirk;
	 Ye may look out and see;
	 The ewes war skippin oure the knowes,
	 They wad na bucht in for me.
217H.19	 ‘But wae be to your shepherd, father,
	 An ill death may he dee!
	 He bigget the buchts sae far frae the toun,
	 And he trysted a man to me.
217H.20	 ‘There cam a tod amang the flock,
	 The like o him I neer did see;
	 Afore he had tane the lamb that he took,
	 I’d rather he’d tane ither three.’
217H.21	 Whan twenty weeks war past and gane,
	 Twenty weeks and three,
	 The lassie begoud to spit and spue,
	 And thought lang for ’s blinkin ee.
217H.22	 ’Twas on a day, and a day near bye,
	 She was ca’ing out the kye,
	 That by cam a troop o merry gentlemen,
	 Cam riding bye that way.
217H.23	 ‘Wha’s gien ye the scorn, bonnie may?
	 O wha’s done ye the wrang?’
	 ‘Na body, na body, kind sir,’ she said,
	 ‘My baby’s father’s at hame.’
217H.24	 ‘Ye lee, ye lee, fause may,’ he said,
	 ‘Sae loud as I hear ye lee!
	 Dinna ye mind o the mirk misty nicht
	 I buchted the ewes wi thee?’
217H.25	 ‘Weel may I mind yon mirk misty nicht,
	 Weel may I mind,’ says she;
	 ‘For ay when ye spak ye lifted up your hat,
	 Ye had a merry blinkin ee.’
217H.26	 He’s turned him round and richt about,
	 And tane the lassie on;
	 ‘Ca out your kye, auld father,’ he said,
	 ‘She sall neer ca them again.
217H.27	 ‘For I am the Laird o Rochna hills,
	 O thirty plows and three;
	 And I hae gotten the bonniest lass
	 O a’ the west countrie.’
217H.28	 ‘And I’m the Maid o the Cowdenknows,
	 O twenty plows and three;
	 And I hae gotten the bonniest lad
	 In a’ the north countrie.’

217I: The Broom of Cowdenknows

217I.1	 THE lassie sang sae loud, sae loud,
	 The lassie sang sae shill;
	 The lassie sang, and the greenwud rang,
	 At the farther side o yon hill.
217I.2	 Bye there cam a troop o merry gentlemen,
	 They aw rode merry bye;
	 The very first and the foremaist
	 Was the first that spak to the may.
217I.3	 ‘This is a mark and misty nicht,
	 And I have ridden wrang;
	 If ye wad be sae gude and kind
	 As to show me the way to gang.’
217I.4	 ‘If ye binna the laird o Lochnie’s lands,
	 Nor nane o his degree,
	 I’ll show ye a nearer road that will keep you frae
	 The glen-waters and the raging sea.’
217I.5	 ‘I’m na the laird o Lochnie’s lands,
	 Nor nane o his degree;
	 But I am as brave a knicht,
	 And ride aft in his company.
217I.6	 ‘Have ye na pity on me, pretty maid?
	 Have ye na pity on me?
	 Have ye na pity on my puir steed,
	 That stands trembling by yon tree?’
217I.7	 ‘What pity wad ye hae, kind sir?
	 What pity wad ye hae frae me?
	 Though your steed has neither corn nor hay,
	 It has gerss at its liberty.’
217I.8	 He has trysted the pretty maid
	 Till they cam to the brume,
	 And at the end o yon ew-buchts
	 It’s there they baith sat doun.
217I.9	 Till up she raise, took up her milk-pails,
	 And away gaed she hame;
	 Up bespak her auld father,
	 ‘It’s whare hae ye been sae lang?’
217I.10	 ‘This is a mark and a misty nicht,
	 Ye may gang to the door and see;
	 The ewes hae taen a skipping out-oure the knows,
	 They winna bucht in for me.
217I.11	 ‘I may curse my father’s shepherd;
	 Some ill death mat he dee!
	 He has buchted the ewes sae far frae the toun,
	 And has trysted the young men to me.’

217J: The Broom of Cowdenknows

217J.1	 IT was a dark and a misty night,
	 . . . .
	 And by came a troop o gentlemen,
	 Said, Lassie, shew me the way.
217J.2	 ‘Oh well ken I by your silk mantle,
	 And by your grass-green sleeve,
	 That you are the maid of the Cowdenknows,
	 And may well seem to be.’
217J.3	 ‘I’m nae the maid of the Cowdenknows,
	 Nor ever think to be;
	 I am but ane of her hirewomen,
	 Rides aft in her companie.
217J.4	 ‘Oh well do I ken by your milk-white steed,
	 And by your merry winking ee,
	 That you are the laird of Lochinvar,
	 And may well seem to be.’
217J.5	 ‘I’m nae the laird of Lochinvar,
	 Nor may well seem to be;
	 But I am one of his merry young men,
	 And am oft in his companie.’
	 * * * * *
217J.6	 ‘The tod was among your sheep, father,
	 You may look forth and see;
	 And before he had taen tha lamb he’s taen
	 I had rather he had taen three.’
217J.7	 When twenty weeks were come and gane,
	 Twenty weeks and three,
	 The lassie she turned pale and wan
	 . . . .
217J.8	 . . . .
	 And was caain out her father’s kye,
	 When by came a troop of gentlemen,
	 Were riding along the way.
217J.9	 ‘Fair may it fa thee, weel-fa’rt may!
	 Wha’s aught the bairn ye’re wi?’
	 ‘O I hae a husband o my ain,
	 To father my bairn te.’
217J.10	 ‘You lie, you lie, you weel-far’d may,
	 Sae loud ’s I hear you lie!
	 Do you mind the dark and the misty night
	 I was in the bught wi thee?’
217J.11	 ‘Oh well do I ken by your milk-white steed,
	 And by your merry winkin ee,
	 That you are the laird of Lochinvar,
	 That was in the bught wi me.’

217K: The Broom of Cowdenknows

217K.1	 * * * * *
	 THERE was four and twenty gentlemen,
	 As they were ridin by,
	 And aff there loups the head o them,
	 Cums in to this fair may.
217K.2	 ‘It’s a mark and a mark and a misty night,
	 And we canna know the way;
	 And ye wad be as gude to us
	 As shew us on the way.’
217K.3	 ‘Ye’ll get a boy for meat,’ she says,
	 ‘Ye’ll get a boy for fee,
	 . . . .
	 That will shew you the right way.’
217K.4	 ‘We’ll get a boy for meat,’ he says,
	 ‘We’ll get a boy for fee,
	 But we do not know where to seek
	 That bonny boy out.’
	 * * * * *
217K.5	 ‘It’s foul befa my auld father’s men,
	 An ill death mat they die!
	 They’ve biggit the ewe bucht sae far frae the town
	 They’ve tristed the men to me.’

217L: The Broom of Cowdenknows

217L.1	 O THE broom, the bonny, bonny broom,
	 The broom grows oer the burn!
	 Aye when I mind on’s bonny yellow hair,
	 I aye hae cause to mourn.
??	 There was a bonny, a well-fared may,
	 In the fauld milking her kye,
	 When by came a troop of merry gentlemen,
	 And sae merrily they rode by.
	 O the broom, etc.
217L.2	 The maid she sang till the hills they rang,
	 And a little more forebye,
	 Till in came ane of these gentlemen
	 To the bught o the bonny may.
217L.3	 ‘Well mat ye sing, fair maid,’ he says,
	 ‘In the fauld, milking your kye;
	 The night is misty, weet and dark,
	 And I’ve gane out o my way.’
217L.4	 ‘Keep on the way ye ken, kind sir,
	 Keep on the way ye ken;
	 But I pray ye take care o Clyde’s water,
	 For the stream runs proud and fair.’
217L.5	 ‘I ken you by your lamar beads,
	 And by your blinking ee,
	 That your mother has some other maid
	 To send to the ewes than thee.’
217L.6	 ‘I ken you by your powderd locks,
	 And by your gay gold ring,
	 That ye are the laird o Rock-rock lays,
	 That beguiles all young women.’
217L.7	 ‘I’m not the laird o the Rock-rock lays,
	 Nor ever hopes to be;
	 But I am one o the finest knights
	 That’s in his companie.
217L.8	 ‘Are ye the maid o the Cowden Knowes?
	 I think you seem to be;’
	 ‘No, I’m not the maid o the Cowden Knowes,
	 Nor ever hopes to be;
	 But I am one of her mother’s maids,
	 And oft in her companie.’
217L.9	 ‘He’s taen her by the milk-white hand,
	 And by her grass-green sleeve,
	 He’s set her down upon the ground
	 Of her kin spierd nae leave.
217L.10	 He’s gien her a silver comb,
	 To comb her yellow hair;
	 He bade her keep it for his sake,
	 For fear she never got mair.
217L.11	 He pat his hand in his pocket,
	 He’s gien her guineas three;
	 Says, Take ye that, fair maid, he says,
	 ’Twill pay the nourice’s fee.
217L.12	 She’s taen the milk-pail on her head,
	 And she gaed singing hame,
	 And a’ that her auld father did say,
	 ‘Daughter, ye’ve tarried lang.’
217L.13	 ‘Woe be to your shepherd, father,
	 And an ill death mat he die!
	 He’s biggit the bught sae far frae the town,
	 And trystit a man to me.
217L.14	 ‘There came a tod into the bught,
	 The like o ’m I neer did see;
	 Before he’d taen the lamb he’s taen,
	 I’d rather he’d taen other three.’
217L.15	 Or eer six months were past and gane,
	 Six months but other three,
	 This lassie begud for to fret and frown,
	 And lang for his blinking ee.
217L.16	 It fell upon another day,
	 When ca’ing out her father’s kye,
	 That by came the troop o gentlemen,
	 Sae merrily riding by.
217L.17	 Then ane of them stopt, and said to her,
	 ‘Wha’s aught that bairn ye’re wi?’
	 The lassie began for to blush, and think,
	 To a father as good as ye.
217L.18	 She turnd her right and round about
	 And thought nae little shame;
	 Then a’ to him that she did say,
	 ‘I’ve a father to my bairn at hame.’
217L.19	 ‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye well-fared may,
	 Sae loud’s I hear ye lie!
	 For dinna ye mind yon misty night
	 I was in the bught wi thee?
217L.20	 ‘I gave you a silver comb,
	 To comb your yellow hair;
	 I bade you keep it for my sake,
	 For fear ye’d never get mair.
217L.21	 ‘I pat my hand in my pocket,
	 I gae you guineas three;
	 I bade you keep them for my sake,
	 And pay the nourice’s fee.’
217L.22	 He’s lappen aff his berry-brown steed
	 And put that fair maid on;
	 ‘Ca hame your kye, auld father,’ he says,
	 ‘She shall never mair return.
217L.23	 ‘I am the laird o the Rock-rock lays,
	 Hae thirty ploughs and three,
	 And this day will wed the fairest maid
	 That eer my eyes did see.’
	 O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom,
	 The broom grows oer the burn!
	 Aye when she minds on his yellow hair,
	 She shall neer hae cause to mourn.

217M: The Broom of Cowdenknows

217M.1	 ’TWAS on a misty day, a fair maiden gay
	 Went out to the Cowdenknowes;
	 Lang, lang she thought ere her ewes woud bught,
	 Wi her pail for to milk the ewes.
	 O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom,
	 The broom o the Cowdenknowes!
	 And aye sae sweet as the lassie sang,
	 In the ewe-bught, milking her ewes.
217M.2	 And aye as she sang the greenwoods rang,
	 Her voice was sae loud and shrill;
	 They heard the voice of this well-far’d maid
	 At the other side o the hill.
217M.3	 ‘My mother she is an ill woman,
	 And an ill woman is she;
	 Or than she might have got some other maid
	 To milk her ewes without me.
217M.4	 ‘My father was ance a landed laird,
	 As mony mair have been;
	 But he held on the gambling trade
	 Till a ’s free lands were dune.
217M.5	 ‘My father drank the brandy and beer,
	 My mother the wine sae red;
	 Gars me, poor girl, gang maiden lang,
	 For the lack o tocher guid.’
217M.6	 There was a troop o merry gentlemen
	 Came riding alang the way,
	 And one o them drew the ewe-bughts unto,
	 At the voice of this lovely may.
217M.7	 ‘O well may you sing, my well-far’d maid,
	 And well may you sing, I say,
	 For this is a mirk and a misty night,
	 And I’ve ridden out o my way.’
217M.8	 ‘Ride on, ride on, young man,’ she said,
	 ‘Ride on the way ye ken;
	 But keep frae the streams o the Rock-river,
	 For they run proud and vain.
217M.9	 ‘Ye winna want boys for meat, kind sir,
	 And ye winna want men for fee;
	 It sets not us that are young women
	 To show young men the way.’
217M.10	 ‘O winna ye pity me, fair maid?
	 O winna ye pity me?
	 O winna ye pity my poor steed,
	 Stnads trembling at yon tree?’
217M.11	 ‘Ride on, ride on, ye rank rider,
	 Your steed’s baith stout and strang;
	 For out o the ewe-bught I winna come,
	 For fear that ye do me wrang.
217M.12	 ‘For well ken I by your high-colld hat,
	 And by your gay gowd ring,
	 That ye are the Earl o Rock-rivers,
	 That beguiles a’ our young women.’
217M.13	 ‘O I’m not the earl o the Rock-rivers,
	 Nor ever thinks to be;
	 But I am ane o his finest knights,
	 Rides aft in his companie.
217M.14	 ‘I know you well by your lamar beads,
	 And by your merry winking ee,
	 That ye are the maid o the Cowdenknowes,
	 And may very well seem to be.’
217M.15	 He’s taen her by the milk-white hand,
	 And by the grass-green sleeve,
	 He’s laid her down by the ewe-bught-wa,
	 At her he spiered nae leave.
217M.16	 When he had had got his wills o her,
	 And his wills he had taen,
	 He lifted her up by the middle sae sma,
	 Says, Fair maid, rise up again.
217M.17	 Then he has taen out a siller kaim,
	 Kaimd down her yellow hair;
	 Says, Fair maid, take that, keep it for my sake,
	 Case frae me ye never get mair.
217M.18	 Then he put his hand in his pocket,
	 And gien her guineas three;
	 Says, Take that, fair maiden, till I return,
	 ’Twill pay the nurse’s fee.
217M.19	 Then he  lap on his milk-white steed,
	 And he rade after his men,
	 And a’ that they did say to him,
	 ‘Dear master, ye’ ve tarried lang.’
217M.20	 ‘I’ve ridden east, I’ve ridden west,
	 And over the cowdenknowes,
	 But the bonniest lass that eer I did see,
	 Was i the ewe-bught, milking her ewes.’
217M.21	 She’s taen her milk-pail on her head,
	 And she gaed singing hame;
	 But a’ that her auld father did say,
	 ‘Daughter, ye’ve tarried lang.’
	 ‘O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom,
	 The broom o the Cowdenknowes!
	 Aye sae sair ’s I may rue the day,
	 In the ewe-bughts, milking my ewes.
217M.22	 ‘O this is a mirk and a misty night,
	 O father, as ye may see;
	 The ewes they ran skipping over the knowes,
	 And they woudna bught in for me.
217M.23	 . . . .
	 . . . .
	 ‘Before that he’d taen the lamb that he took,
	 I rather he’d taen other three.’
217M.24	 When twenty weeks were come and gane,
	 And twenty weeks and three,
	 The lassie’s colour grew pale and wan,
	 And she longed this knight to see.
217M.25	 Says, ‘Wae to the fox came amo our flock!
	 I wish he had taen them a’
	 Before that he’d taen frae me what he took;
	 It’s occasiond my downfa.’
217M.26	 It fell ance upon a time
	 She was ca’ing hame her kye,
	 There came a troop o merry gentlemen,
	 And they wyled the bonny lassie by.
217M.27	 But one o them spake as he rode past,
	 Says, Who owes the bairn ye are wi?
	 A little she spake, but thought wi hersell,
	 ‘Perhaps to ane as gude as thee.’
217M.28	 O then she did blush as he did pass by,
	 And dear! but she thought shame,
	 And all that she did say to him,
	 ‘Sir, I have a husband at hame.’
217M.29	 ‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye well-far’d maid,
	 Sae loud as I hear you lie!
	 For dinna ye mind yon misty night,
	 Ye were in the bught wi me?
	 ‘O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom,
	 The broom o the Cowdenknowes!
	 Aye sae sweet as I heard you sing,
	 In the ewe-bughts, milking your ewes.’
217M.30	 ‘O well do I mind, kind sir,’ she said,
	 ‘As ye rode over the hill;
	 Ye took frae me my maidenhead,
	 Fell sair against my will.
	 ‘O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom,
	 The broom o the Cowdenknowes!
	 And aye sae sair as I rue the day
	 I met you, milking my ewes.
217M.31	 ‘And aye as ye spake, ye lifted your hat,
	 Ye had a merry winking ee;
	 I ken you well to be the man,
	 Then kind sir, O pity me!’
217M.32	 ‘Win up, win up, fair maiden,’ he said,
	 ‘Nae langer here ye’ll stay;
	 This night ye’se be my wedded wife,
	 Without any more delay.’
217M.33	 He lighted aff his milk-white steed
	 And set the lassie on;
	 ‘Ca in your kye, auld man,’ he did say,
	 ‘She’ll never ca them in again.
217M.34	 ‘I am the Earl o the Rock-rivers,
	 Hae fifty ploughs and three,
	 And am sure I’ve chosen the fairest maid
	 That ever my eyes did see.’
217M.35	 Then he stript her o the robes o grey,
	 Donned her in the robes o green,
	 And when she came to her lord’s ha
	 They took her to be some queen.
	 O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom,
	 The broom o the Cowdenknowes!
	 And aye sae sweet as the bonny lassie sang,
	 That ever she milked the ewes.

217N: The Broom of Cowdenknows

217N.1	 O THERE war a troop o merry gentlemen
	 Cam riding oure the knowes,
	 And they hear the voice o a bonny lass,
	 In the bichts, milking the yowes.
217N.2	 ‘O save thee, O save thee, my bonnie may!
	 O saved may ye be!
	 My steed he has riden wrang,
	 Fain wad I ken the way.’
217N.3	 She has tane the steed by the bridle-reins,
	 Has led him till the way,
	 And he has tane out three gowd rings,
	 Gien them to that bonnie may.
217N.4	 And he has tane her by the milk-white hand
	 And by the gerss-green sleeve,
	 And he laid her doun on the side o yon hill,
	 At her daddie speird na leave.
217N.5	 Now she has hame to her father gane,
	 Her father did her blame:
	 ‘O whare hae ye been, my ae dochter?
	 For ye hae na been your lane.’
217N.6	 ‘O the nicht is mirk, and very, very wet,
	 Ye may gang to the door and see;
	 O there’s nabody been wi me, father,
	 There’s nabody been wi me.
217N.7	 ‘But there cam a tod to your bucht, father,
	 The like o him I neer saw;
	 Afore you’d gien him the lamb that he took,
	 Ye’d rather hae gien them a’.
217N.8	 ‘O wae be to my father’s sheep-hird,
	 An ill death may he dee!
	 For bigging the bucht sae nar the road,
	 Let the Lochinvar to me!’
217N.9	 She’s tane her pig and her cog in her hand,
	 And she’s gane to milk the kye;
	 But ere she was aware, the Laird o Lochinvar
	 Cam riding in the way.
217N.10	 ‘O save thee, O save thee, my bonnie may!
	 I wish ye may be sound;
	 O save thee, O save thee, my bonnie may!
	 What maks thy belly sae round?’
217N.11	 O she has turnd hersel round about,
	 And she within her thoucht shame:
	 ‘O it’s nabody’s wills wi me, kind sir,
	 For I hae a gudeman o my ain.’
217N.12	 ‘Ye lee, ye lee, my bonnie may,
	 Weel do I ken ye lee!
	 For dinna ye mind o the three gowd rings
	 I gied ye o the new moneye?’
217N.13	 ‘O weel do I mind thee, kind sir,
	 O weel do I mind thee;
	 For ae when ye spak ye lifted up your hat,
	 And ye had a bonnie twinklin ee.’
217N.14	 ‘O ye need na toil yoursel, my dear,
	 Neither to card nor to spin;
	 For there’s ten pieces I gie unto thee;
	 Keep them for your lying in.’
217N.15	 Now she has hame to her father gane,
	 As fast as she could hie;
	 And she was na weel crownd wi joy
	 Till her auld son gat she.
217N.16	 But she’ll na tell the daddie o it
	 Till father not to mither,
	 And she’ll na tell the daddie o it
	 To sister nor to brither.
217N.17	 And word is to the Lochinvar,
	 And word is to him gane,
	 That sic a tenant’s dochter
	 Has born a bastard son:
217N.18	 And she’ll na tell the daddie o it
	 To father nor to mither,
	 And she’ll na tell the daddie o it
	 Till sister nor to brither.
217N.19	 ‘O weel do I ken the reason o that,
	 And the reason weel do I ken;
	 O weel ken I the reason o that;
	 It’s to some o her father’s men.
217N.20	 ‘But I will awa to Littlejohn’s house,
	 Shule them out o the door;
	 For there’s na tenant on a’ my land
	 Shall harbour an arrant hure.’
217N.21	 Then out and spak the house-keeper,
	 ‘Ye’d better lat her abee;
	 For an onie harm befa this may,
	 A’ the wyte will be on me.’
217N.22	 O he has turnd himsel round about,
	 Within himsel thoucht he
	 ‘Better do I loe her little finger
	 Than a’ thy haill bodie.
217N.23	 ‘Gae saddle to me my six coach-mares,
	 Put a’ their harness on,
	 And I will awa to Littlejohn’s house
	 For reports o this bastard son.’
217N.24	 Now whan he cam to Littlejohn’s house,
	 Littlejohn was at the door:
	 ‘Ye rascal, ye rogue, ye impudent dog,
	 Will ye harbour an arrant hure!’
217N.25	 ‘O pardon me, my sovereign liege,
	 O pardon me, I pray;
	 Oh that the nicht that she was born
	 She’d deed the very neist day!’
217N.26	 But he is in to his bonnie lassie gane,
	 And has bolted the door behind,
	 And there he has kissd his bonnie lassie sweet,
	 It’s over and over again.
217N.27	 ‘Ye did weel, ye did weel, my bonnie may,
	 To keep the secret twixt me and thee;
	 For I am the laird o the Ochilberry swair,
	 The lady o ’t I’ll mak thee.
217N.28	 ‘Come doun, come duun, now gentlemen a’,
	 And set this fair lady on;
	 Mither, ye may milk the ewes as ye will,
	 For she’ll neer milk them again.
217N.29	 ‘For I am the laird o the Ochilberry swair,
	 O thirty plows and three,
	 And I hae gotten the bonniest may
	 That’s in a’ the south countrie.’