  IThere was a knight and a lady bright Set trysts The ane to come at morning ear The other at afternoon. II‘I’ll wager, I’ll wager, I’ll wager wi’ you Five hundred merks and ten That a maid shanna gae to the bonny broom And a maiden return again.’— III‘I’ll wager, I’ll wager, I’ll wager wi’ you Five hundred merks and ten That a maid shall gae to the bonny green broom And a maiden return again.’ IVThe may she sat at her mother’s bower door And aye she made her mane: ‘O whether shou’d I gang to the Broomfield Hill, Or should I stay at hame? V‘For if I do gang to the Broomfield Hill, A maid I’ll not return; But if I stay frae the Broomfield Hill, My love will ca’ me man-sworn.’ VIUp then spake an auld witch-wife, Sat in the bower abune: ‘O ye may gang to the Broomfield Hill, And yet come maiden hame, VII‘For when ye gang to the Broomfield Hill, Ye’ll find your love asleep, Wi’ a silver belt above his head, And a broom-cow VIII‘Tak’ ye the bloom frae aff the broom, Strew’t at his head an’ feet, And aye the thicker that ye do strew, The sounder he will sleep. IX‘Tak’ ye the rings aff your fingers, Put them in his right hand, To let him know when he does wake, His love was at his command.’ XLord John has ta’en his milk-white steed And his hawk wi’ his bells sae bright, And he’s ridden swift to the Broomfield Hill, [Was never a baulder] knight. XI‘Now rest, now rest, my milk-white steed, My lady will soon be here, And I’ll lay my head by this rose sae red, And the bonny burn sae near.’ XIIShe’s pu’d the broom-flower on Hive Hill, And strew’d on ’s white breast-bane, And that was to be wittering That maiden she had gane. XIII‘O where were ye, my milk-white steed, That I hae coft That wadna watch and waken me When there was maiden here?’— XIV‘I stampÈd wi’ my foot, master, And gar’d my bridle ring, But no kin’ thing wald waken ye Till she was past and gane.’— XV‘And wae betide ye, my gay goss-hawk, That I hae coft sae dear, That wadna watch an’ waken me When my true-love was here.’— XVI‘I clappÈd wi’ my wings, master, And aye my bells I rang, And aye cried, Waken, waken, master, Before the ladye gang!’— XVII‘But haste, but haste, my gude white steed, To come the maiden till, Or a’ the birds of the gude greenwood O’ your flesh shall have their fill!’— XVIII‘Ye needna burst your gude white steed Wi’ racing o’er the howm Nae bird flies faster thro’ the wood Than she fled thro’ the broom.’ FOOTNOTES: |
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