Child Waters in his stable stood

And stroked his milk-white steed;

To him came a fair yong lady

As ever did wear womans weed.

Says, "Christ you save, good Child Waters,"

Says, "Christ you save and see;

My girdle of gold which was too long,

Is now too short for me.

"And all is with one child of yours

I feel stir at my side;

My gown of green it is too straight;

Before, it was too wide."

"If the child be mine, fair Ellen," he said,

"Be mine, as you tell me,

Take you Cheshire and Lancashire both,

Take them your own to be.

"If the child be mine, fair Ellen," he said,

"Be mine, as you do swear,

Take you Cheshire and Lancashire both,

And make that child your heir."

She says, "I had rather have one kiss,

Child Waters, of thy mouth,

Than I would have Cheshire and Lancashire both,

That lies by north and south.

"And I had rather have a twinkling,

Child Waters, of your ee,

Than I would have Cheshire and Lancashire both,

To take them mine own to be."

"To morrow, Ellen, I must forth ride

Far into the north countree;

The fairest lady that I can find,

Ellen, must go with me."

"And ever I pray you, Child Waters,

Your foot-page let me be."

"If you will my foot-page be, Ellen,

As you do tell it me,

Then you must cut your gown of green

An inch above your knee:

"So must you do your yellow locks,

Another inch above your ee;

You must tell no man what is my name;

My foot-page then you shall be."

All this long day Child Waters rode,

She ran barefoot by his side,

Yet he was never so courteous a knight,

To say, "Ellen, will you ride?"

But all this day Child Waters rode,

She ran barefoot through the broom,

Yet he was never so courteous a knight,

As to say, "put on your shoon."

"Ride softly," she said, "Child Waters

Why do you ride so fast?

The child, which is no man's but yours,

My body it will burst."

He says, "sees thou yonder water, Ellen,

That flows from bank to brim?"

"I trust to God, Child Waters," she said,

"You will never see me swim."

But when she came to the water's side,

She sailed to the chin:

"Except the Lord of heaven be my speed,

Now must I learn to swim."

The salt waters bare up Ellen's clothes,

Our Lady bare up her chin;

Child Waters was a woe man, good Lord,

To see fair Ellen swim!

And when she over the water was,

She then came to his knee:

He said, "Come hither, fair Ellen,

Lo yonder what I see.

"Seest thou not yonder hall, Ellen?

Of red gold shine the gates:

There's four and twenty fair ladies,

The fairest is my worldly make.

"Seest thou not yonder hall, Ellen?

Of red gold shineth the tower:

There is four and twenty fair ladies,

The fairest is my paramour."

"I do see the hall now, Child Waters,

That of red gold shineth the gates:

God give good then of yourself,

And of your worldly make.

"I do see the hall now, Child Waters,

That of red gold shineth the tower:

God give good then of yourself,

And of your paramour."

There were four and twenty ladies

Were playing at the ball,

And Ellen, was the fairest lady,

Must bring his steed to the stall.

There were four and twenty fair ladies

Was a playing at the chess,

And Ellen, she was the fairest lady,

Must bring his horse to grass.

And then bespake Child Waters sister,

And these were the words said she:

"You have the prettiest foot-page, brother,

That ever I saw with mine eye.

"But that his belly it is so big,

His girdle goes wondrous high;

And ever, I pray you, Child Waters,

Let him go into the chamber with me."

"It is more meet for a little foot-page,

That has run through moss and mire,

To take his supper upon his knee,

And sit down by the kitchen fire,

Then to go into the chamber with any lady,

That wears so [rich] attire."

But when they had supped every one,

To bed they took the way:

He said, "Come hither, my little foot-page.

Hearken what I do say.

"And go thee down into yonder town,

And low into the street;

The fairest lady that thou canst find,

Hire her in mine arms to sleep;

And take her up in thine arms two,

For filing of her feet."

Ellen is gone into the town,

And low into the street;

The fairest lady that she could find,

She hired in his arms to sleep;

And took her up in her arms two,

For filing of her feet.

"I pray you now, good Child Waters,

That I may creep in at your bed's feet;

For there is no place about this house,

Where I may say a sleep."

This [night] and it drove on afterward,

Till it was near the day,

He said, "Rise up, my little foot-page,

And give my steed corn and hay;

And so do thou the good black oats,

That he may carry me the better away."

And up then rose fair Ellen,

And gave his steed corn and hay;

And so she did and the good black oats,

That he might carry him the better away.

She leaned her back to the manger side,

And grievously did groan;

And that beheard his mother dear,

And heard her make her moan.

She said, "Rise up, thou Child Waters,

I think thou art a cursed man;

For yonder is a ghost in thy stable,

That grievously doth groan;

Or else some woman labours of child,

She is so woe-begone."

But up then rose Child Waters,

And did on his shirt of silk;

Then he put on his other clothes,

On his body as white as milk.

And when he came to the stable door,

Full still that he did stand,

That he might hear now fair Ellen,

How she made her monand.

She said, "Lullaby, my own dear child,

Lullaby, dear child, dear;

I would thy father were a king,

Thy mother laid on a bier."

"Peace now," he said, "good, fair Ellen,

And be of good cheer, I thee pray;

And the bridal and the churching both

They shall be upon one day,"

Earl Richard

Earl Richard once upon a day,

And all his valiant men so wight,

He did him down to Barnisdale,

Where all the land is fair and light.

He was aware of a damosel,

I wot fast on she did her bound,

With towers of gold upon her head,

As fair a woman as could be found.

He said, "Busk on you, fair lady,

The white flowers and the red;

For I would give my bonnie ship,

To get your maidenhead."

"I wish your bonnie ship rent and rive,

And drown you in the sea;

For all this would not mend the miss

That ye would do to me."

"The miss is not so great, lady,

Soon mended it might be.

"I have four-and-twenty mills in Scotland,

Stands on the water of Tay;

You'll have them, and as much flour

As they'll grind in a day."

"I wish your bonnie ship rent and rive,

And drown you in the sea;

For all that would not mend the miss

That ye would do to me."

"The miss is not so great, lady,

Soon mended it will be.

"I have four-and-twenty milk-white cows,

All calved in a day;

You'll have them, and as much hained grass

As they all on can gae."

"I wish your bonnie ship rent and rive,

And drown you in the sea;

For all that would not mend the miss

That ye would do to me."

"The miss is not so great, lady,

Soon mended it might be.

"I have four-and-twenty milk-white steeds,

All foaled in one year;

You'll have them, and as much red gold

As all their backs can bear.''

She turned her right and round about,

And she swore by the mould,

"I would not be your love," said she,

"For that church full of gold."

He turned him right and round about,

And he swore by the mass,

Says,—"Lady, ye my love shall be,

And gold ye shall have less."

She turned her right and round about,

And she swore by the moon,

"I would not be your love," says she,

"For all the gold in Rome."

He turned him right and round about,

And he swore by the moon,

Says,—"Lady, ye my love shall be,

And gold ye shall have none."

He caught her by the milk-white hand,

And by the grass-green sleeve;

And there has taken his will of her,

Wholly without her leave.

The lady frowned and sadly blushed,

And oh! but she thought shame:

Says,—"If you are a knight at all,

You surely will tell me your name."

"In some places they call me Jack,

In other some they call me John;

But when into the Queens Court,

Oh then Lithcock it is my name."

"Lithcock! Lithcock!" the lady said,

And oft she spelt it over again;

"Lithcock! its Latin," the lady said,

"Richard's the English of that name."

The knight he rode, the lady ran,

A live long summer's day;

Till they came to the wan water

That all men do call Tay.

He set his horse head to the water,

Just thro' it for to ride;

And the lady was as ready as him

The waters for to wade.

For he had never been as kind-hearted

As to bid the lady ride;

And she had never been so low-hearted

As for to bid him bide.

But deep into the wan water

There stands a great big stone;

He turned his wight horse head about,

Said, "Lady fair, will ye loup on?"

She's taken the wand was in her hand,

And struck it on the foam,

And before he got the middle stream,

The lady was on dry land.

"By help of God and our Lady,

My help lies not in your hand.

"I learned it from my mother dear,—

Few are there that have learned better-

When I come to deep water,

I can swim thro' like any otter.

"I learned it from my mother dear,—

I find I learned it for my weel;

When I come to a deep water,

I can swim thro' like any eel."

"Turn back, turn back, you lady fair,

You know not what I see;

There is a lady in that castle,

That will burn you and me."

"Betide me weal, betide me wae,

That lady I will see."

She took a ring from her finger,

And gave't the porter for his fee:

Says, "Take you that, my good porter,

And bid the Queen speak to me."

And when she came before the Queen,

There she fell low down on her knee:

Says, "There is a knight into your court,

This day has robbed me."

"O has he robbed you of your gold,

Or has he robbed you of your fee?"

"He has not robbed me of my gold,

He has not robbed me of my fee;

He has robbed me of my maidenhead,

The fairest flower of my body."

"There is.no knight in all my court,

That thus has robbed thee,

But you'll have the truth of his right hand,

Or else for your sake he'll die,

Tho' it were Earl Richard, my own brother;

And oh forbid that it be!"

Then, sighing, said the lady fair,

"I wot the same man is he."

The Queen called on her merry men,

Even fifty men and three;

Earl Richard used to be the first man,

But now the hindmost man was he.

He's taken out one hundred pounds,

And told it in his glove:

Says, "Take you that, my lady fair,

And seek another love."

"Oh no, oh no," the lady cried,

"That's what shall never be;

I'll have the truth of your right hand,

The Queen it gave to me."

"I wish I had drunk of your water, sister,

When I did drink your wine;

That for a carl's fair daughter,

It does gar me dree all this pine."

"May be I am a carl's daughter,

And may be never nane;

When ye met me in the green wood,

Why did you not let me alane?"

"Will you wear the short clothes,

Or will you wear the side;

Or will you walk to your wedding,

Or will you till it ride?"

"I will not wear the short clothes,

But I will wear the side;

I will not walk to my wedding,

But I to it will ride."

When he was set upon the horse,

The lady him bellin',

Then cauld and eerie were the words

The twa had them between.

She said, "Good e'en, ye nettles tall,

Just there where ye grow at the dike;

If the auld carline my mother was here,

Sae weel's she would your pates pike.

"How she would stap you in her poke,

I wot at that she wadna fail;

And boil ye in her auld brass pan,

And of ye make right good kail.

"And she would meal you with millering

That she gathers at the mill,

And make you thick as any dough -,

And when the pan was brimful,

"Would mess you up in scuttle dishes,

Syne bid us sup till we were fou -,

Lay down her head upon a poke.

Then sleep and snore like any sow."

"Away! away! you bad woman,

For all your vile words grieveth me;

When ye hide so little for yourself,

I;m sure ye'll hide far less for me.

"I wish I had drunk your water, sister,

When that I did drink of your wine -,

Since for a carls fair daughter,

It aye gars me dree all this pine."

"May be I am a carl's daughter,

And may be never nane;

When ye met me in the good green wood,

Why did you not let me alane?

"Gude e'en, gude e'en, ye heather berries,

As ye're growing on yon hill;

If the auld carline and her bags were here,

I wot she would get meat her fill.

"Late, late at night I knit our pokes,

With even four-and-twenty knots;

And in the morn at breakfast time,

I'll carry the keys of an earl's locks.

"Late, late at night I knit our pokes,

With even four-and-twenty strings;

And if you look to my white fingers,

They have as many gay gold rings."

"Away! away! ye ill woman,

So sore your vile words grieveth me;

When you hide so little for yourself,

I'm sure ye'll hide far less for me.

"But if you are a carls daughter,

As I take you to be,

How did you get the gay clothing,

In green wood ye had on thee?"

"My mother she's a poor woman,

She nursed earls children three;

And I got them from a foster sister,

For to beguile such sparks as thee."

"But if you be a carl's daughter,

As I believe you be,

How did you learn the good Latin,

In green wood ye spoke to me?"

"My mother she's a mean woman,

She nursed earl's children three;

I learned it from their chaplain,

To beguile such sparks as ye."

When mass was sung, and bells were rung,

And all men bound for bed,

Then Earl Richard and this lady

In ae bed they were laid.

He turned his face unto the stock,

And she hers to the stane;

And cauld and dreary was the love

That was these twa between.

Great mirth was in the kitchen,

Likewise intill the ha';

But in his bed lay Earl Richard,

Wiping the tears awa'.

He wept till he fell fast asleep,

Then slept till light was come;

Then he did hear the gentlemen

That talked in the room:

Said,—"Saw ye ever a fitter'match,

Betwixt the ane and ither;

The King o' Scotland's fair dochter,

And the Queen of England's brither?"

"And is she the King o' Scotland's fair dochter?

This day, oh, weel is me!

For seven times has my steed been saddled,

To come to court with thee;

And with this witty lady fair,

How happy must I be!"