A Collection of Ballads eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 192 pages of information about A Collection of Ballads.

I heard a cow low, a bonnie cow low,
An’ a cow low down in yon glen;
Lang, lang will my young son greet,
Or his mither bid him come ben.

I heard a cow low, a bonnie cow low,
An’ a cow low down in yon fauld;
Lang, lang will my young son greet,
Or is mither take him frae cauld.

Waken, Queen of Elfan,
An hear your Nourrice moan. 
O moan ye for your meat,
Or moan ye for your fee,
Or moan ye for the ither bounties
That ladies are wont to gie?

I moan na for my meat,
Nor yet for my fee,
But I mourn for Christened land—­
It’s there I fain would be.

O nurse my bairn, Nourice, she says,
Till he stan’ at your knee,
An’ ye’s win hame to Christen land,
Whar fain it’s ye wad be.

O keep my bairn, Nourice,
Till he gang by the hauld,
An’ ye’s win hame to your young son,
Ye left in four nights auld.

Ballad:  Cospatrick


Cospatrick has sent o’er the faem;
Cospatrick brought his ladye hame;
And fourscore ships have come her wi’,
The ladye by the green-wood tree.

There were twal’ and twal’ wi’ baken bread,
And twal’ and twal’ wi’ gowd sae red,
And twal’ and twal’ wi’ bouted flour,
And twal’ and twal’ wi’ the paramour.

Sweet Willy was a widow’s son,
And at her stirrup he did run;
And she was clad in the finest pall,
But aye she loot the tears down fall.

“O is your saddle set awrye? 
Or rides your steed for you owre high? 
Or are you mourning, in your tide,
That you suld be Cospatrick’s bride?”

“I am not mourning, at this tide,
That I suld he Cospatrick’s bride;
But I am sorrowing in my mood,
That I suld leave my mother good.”

“But, gentle boy, come tell to me,
What is the custom of thy countrie?”
“The custom thereof, my dame,” he says,
“Will ill a gentle ladye please.

“Seven king’s daughters has our lord wedded,
And seven king’s daughters has our lord bedded;
But he’s cutted their breasts frae their breast-bane,
And sent them mourning hame again.

“Yet, gin you’re sure that you’re a maid,
Ye may gae safely to his bed;
But gif o’ that ye be na sure,
Then hire some damsel o’ your bour.”

The ladye’s called her bour-maiden,
That waiting was unto her train. 
“Five thousand marks I’ll gie to thee,
To sleep this night with my lord for me.”

When bells were rung, and mass was sayne,
And a’ men unto bed were gane,
Cospatrick and the bonny maid,
Into ae chamber they were laid.

“Now speak to me, blankets, and speak to me, bed,
And speak, thou sheet, enchanted web;
And speak, my sword, that winna lie,
Is this a true maiden that lies by me?”

“It is not a maid that you hae wedded,
But it is a maid that you hae bedded;
It is a leal maiden that lies by thee,
But not the maiden that it should be.”

Project Gutenberg
A Collection of Ballads from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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