  IWillie stands in his stable door, And clapping at his steed, And over his white fingers His nose began to bleed. II‘Gie corn unto my horse, mither, Gie meat unto my man; For I maun gang to Margaret’s bour Before the nicht comes on.’— III‘O bide at hame this nicht, Willie, This ae bare nicht wi’ me: The bestan bed in a’ my house Sall be well made to thee. IV‘O bide at hame this nicht, Willie, This ae bare nicht wi’ me: The bestan bird in a’ the roost At your supper, son, sall be.’— V‘A’ your beds and a’ your roosts I value not a pin; But I sall gae to my love’s gates This nicht, gif I can win.’— VI‘O stay at home, my son Willie, The wind blaws cauld an’ sour; The nicht will be baith mirk and late Before ye reach her bour.’— VII‘O though the nicht were ever sae dark, Or the wind blew never sae cauld, I will be in my Margaret’s bour Before twa hours be tald.’— VIII‘O an ye gang to Margaret’s bour Sae sair against my will, I’ the deepest pot o’ Clyde’s water My malison IXAs he rade owre yon high high hill, And doun yon dowie The roaring that was in Clyde’s water Wad fley’d XHis heart was warm, his pride was up, Sweet Willie kentna fear; But yet his mither’s malison Aye soundit in his ear. XI‘O spare, O spare me, Clyde’s water: Your stream rins wondrous strang: Mak’ me your wrack as I come back, But spare me as I gang!’ XIIThen he rade in, and further in, And he swam to an’ fro, Until he’s grippit a hazel bush That brung him to the brow. XIIIThen he is on to Margaret’s bour, And tirlÈd at the pin; But doors were steek’d and windows barr’d, And nane wad let him in. XIV‘O open the door to me, Marg’ret! O open and let me in! For my boots are fu’ o’ Clyde’s water And the rain rins owre my chin.’— XV‘I darena open the door to you, Nor darena let you in; For my mither she is fast asleep, And I maun mak’ nae din.’— XVI‘O hae ye ne’er a stable?’ he says, ‘Or hae ye ne’er a barn? Or hae ye ne’er a wild-goose house Where I might rest till morn?’— XVII‘My barn it is fu’ o’ corn,’ she says, ‘My stable is fu’ o’ hay; My house is fu’ o’ merry young men; They winna remove till day.’— XVIII‘O fare ye weel then, May Marg’ret, Sin’ better may na be! I’ve gotten my mither’s malison This nicht, coming to thee.’ XIXHe’s mounted on his coal-black steed, —O but his heart was wae! But ere he came to Clyde’s water ’Twas half up owre the brae. XX‘An hey, Willie! an hoa, Willie! Winna ye turn agen?’ But aye the louder that she cried He rade agenst the win’. XXIAs he rade owre yon high high hill, And doun yon dowie den, The roaring that was in Clyde’s water Wad fley’d a thousand men. XXIIThen he rade in, and farther in, Till he cam’ to the chine; The rushing that was in Clyde’s water Took Willie’s riding-cane. XXIIIHe lean’d him owre his saddle-bow To catch the rod by force; The rushing that was in Clyde’s water Took Willie frae his horse. XXIV‘O how can I turn my horse’s head? How can I learn to sowm I’ve gotten my mither’s malison, And it’s here that I maun drown!’ XXVO he swam high, and he swam low, And he swam to and fro, But he couldna spy the hazel-bush Wad bring him to the brow. XXVI[555] malison = curse. |
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