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Saying, Fight on, my merry men all,

And see that none of you be taine;
For rather then men shall say we were hange'd,
Let them report how we were slaine.

Then, God wott, faire Eddenburrough rose,
And so besett poore Ionnë rounde,

That fowerscore and tenn of Ionnës best men
Lay gasping all upon the ground.

Then like a mad man Ionnë laide about,
And like a mad man then fought hee,
Untill a falce Scot came Ionnë behinde,
And runn him through the faire boddee.

Saying, Fight on, my merry men all,

And see that none of you be taine;
For I will stand by and bleed but awhile,
And then will I come and fight againe.

Newes then was brought to young Ionnë Armestrong,
As he stood by his nurses knee,

Who vowed if ere he live'd for to be a man,
O the treacherous Scots revenged hee'd be.

4

SIR PATRICK SPENCE1

The king sits in Dumferling toune,2
Drinking the blude-reid wine:
"O whar will I get guid sailor,
To sail this schip of mine?"

Up and spak an eldern knicht,
Sat at the kings richt kne:
"Sir Patrick Spence is the best sailor
That sails upon the se."

The king has written a braid letter,3
And signd it wi his hand,

And sent it to Sir Patrick Spence,
Was walking on the sand.

The first line that Sir Patrick red,
A loud lauch lauched he;

The next line that Sir Patrick red,
The teir blinded his ee.

"O wha is this has don this deid,
This ill deid don to me,

To send me out this time o' the yeir,

To sail upon the se!

1. This ballad may or may not have a historical basis. In 1290 a deputation was sent to bring the Princess Margaret, heir to the crown of Scotland, from Norway to England to marry the eldest son of Edward I, but she died on the voyage. According to one account she perished in a storm. The ballad may be based upon this voyage. 2. Dumferling toune. Fifteen miles northwest of Edinburgh. 3. Braid letter.

Either a letter on a broad sheet, or a long letter.

"Mak hast, mak haste, my mirry men all,
Our guid schip sails the morne:"
“O say na sae, my master deir,
For I feir a deadlie storme.

"Late late yestreen I saw the new moone,
Wi the auld moone in hir arme,
And I feir, I feir, my deir master,
That we will cum to harme."

O our Scots nobles wer richt laith
To weet their cork-heild schoone;
Bot lang owre a' the play wer playd,
Thair hats they swam aboone.*

O lang, lang may their iadies sit,
Wi thair fans into their hand,
Or eir they se Sir Patrick Spence
Cum sailing to the land.

O lang, lang may the ladies stand,

Wi thair gold kems in their hair,
Waiting for thair ain deir lords,
For they'll se thame na mair.

Haf owre, haf owre to Aberdour,

It's fiftie fadom deip,

And thair lies guid Sir Patrick Spence,

Wi the Scots lords at his feit.

4. Thair hats they swam aboone. Floated on the water, the men being drowned.

5

YOUNG WATERS1

About Yule, when the wind blew cule,

And the round tables 2 began,

3

A3 there is cum to our king's court
Mony a well-favord man.

The queen luikt owre the castle-wa,
Beheld baith dale and down,+
And there she saw Young Waters
Cum riding to the town.

His footmen they did rin before,
His horsemen rade behind;
And mantel of the burning gowd
Did keip him frae the wind.

Gowden-graithed his horse before,
And siller-shod behind;

The horse Young Waters rade upon
Was fleeter than the wind.

Out then spack a wylie lord,

Unto the queen said he,

"O tell me wha's the fairest face

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7.

8.

9.

"I've sene lord, and I've sene laird,

And knights of high degrce,

Bot a fairer face than Young Waters
Mine eyne did never see."

Out then spack the jealous king,
And an angry man was he:
"O if he had bin twice as fair,

You micht have excepted me."

"You're neither laird nor lord," she says, "Bot the king that wears the crown; There is not a knight in fair Scotland But to thee maun bow down."

For a' that she coud do or say,
Appeasd he wad nae bee,

Bot for the words which she had said,
Young Waters he maun die.

They hae taen Young Waters,
And put fetters to his feet;
They hae taen Young Waters,
And thrown him in dungeon deep.

"Aft I have ridden thro Stirling town
In the wind bot 9 and the weit;
Bot I neir rade thro Stirling town
Wi fetters at my feet.

"Aft I have ridden thro Stirling town
In the wind bot and the rain;

Bot I neir rade thro Stirling town
Neir to return again."

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Stirling. Thirty-five miles northwest of Edinburgh.

Bot. Both.

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