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Child #48: Young Andrew

Francis James Child 1965 [1882-1898], The English and Scottish Popular Ballads, Dover, New York, ballad number 48, “Young Andrew”.

Text

Percy MS., p. 292. Hales and Furnivall, II, 328.

As I was cast in my ffirst sleepe,
A dreadffull draught in my mind I drew,
Ffor I was dreamed of a yong man,
Some men called him yonge Andrew.
The moone shone bright, and itt cast a ffayre light,
Sayes shee, Welcome, my honey, my hart, and my sweete!
For I haue loued thee this seuen long yeere,
And our chance itt was wee cold neuer meete.
Then he tooke her in his armes two,
And kissed her both cheeke and chin,
And twise or thrise he pleased this may
Before they tow did piarrt in twinn.
Saies, Now, good siirr, you haue had yoiurr will,
You can demand no more of mee;
Good siirr, remember what you said before,
And goe to the church and marry mee.
“Ffaire maid, I cannott doe as I wold;
. . . . .
Goe home and fett thy fathers redd gold,
And I'le goe to the church and marry thee.
This ladye is gone to her ffathers hall,
And well she knew where his red gold lay,
And counted fforth five hundred pound,
Besides all other iuells and chaines:
Itt was well counted vpon his knee;
And brought itt all to younge Andrew,
Then he tooke her by the lillye white hand,
And led her vp to an hill soe hye.
Shee had vpon a gowne of blacke veluett,
(A pittyffull sight after yee shall see:)
“Put of thy clothes, bonny wenche,” he sayes,
“For noe ffoote further thoust gang wiirth mee.”
But then shee put of her gowne of veluett,
Wiirth many a salt teare from her eye,
And in a kirtle of ffine breaden silke
Shee stood beffore young Andrews eye.
Sais, O put off thy kirtle of silke,
Ffor some and all shall goe with mee;
And to my owne lady I must itt beare,
Who I must needs loue better then thee.
Then shee put of her kirtle of silke,
Wiirth many a salt teare still ffrom her eye;
In a peticoate of scarlett redd
Shee stood before young Andrewes eye.
Saies, O put of thy peticoate,
For some and all of itt shall goe wiirth mee;
And to my owne lady I will itt beare,
Wihirch dwells soe ffarr in a strange countrye
But then shee put of her peticoate,
Wiirth many a salt teare still from her eye,
And in a smocke of braue white silke
She stood before young Andrews eye.
Saies, O put of thy smocke of silke,
For some and all shall goe wiirth mee;
Vnto my owne ladye I will itt beare,
Thart dwells soe ffarr in a strange countrye.
Sayes, O remember, young Andrew,
Once of a woman you were borne;
And ffor thart birth thart Marye bore,
I pray you let my smocke be vpon!
“Yes, ffayre ladye, I know itt well,
Once of a woman I was borne;
Yett ffor noe birth thart Mary bore,
Thy smocke shall not be left here vpon.”
But then shee put of her head-geere ffine;
Shee hadd billaments worth a hundred pound;
The hayre thart was vpon this bony wench head
Couered her bodye downe to the ground.
Then he pulled forth a Scottish brand,
And held itt there in his owne right hand;
Saies, Whether wilt thou dye vpon my swords point, ladye,
Or thow wilt goe naked home againe?
“Liffe is sweet,” then, “Siirr,” said shee,
“Therfore I pray you leaue mee wiirth mine;
Before I wold dye on yoiurr swords point,
I had rather goe naked home againe.
“My ffather,” shee sayes, “is a right good erle
As any remaines in his countrye;
If euer he doe yoiurr body take,
Yoiu' sure to fflower a gallow tree.
“And I haue seuen brethren,” shee sayes,
“And they are all hardy men and bold;
Giff euer the: doe yoiurr body take,
You must neuer gang quicke ouierr the mold.”
“If yoiurr ffather be a right good erle
As any remaines in his owne countrye,
Tush! he shall neuer by body take,
I'le gang soe ffast ouer the sea.
“If you have seuen brethren,” he sayes,
“If they be neuierr soe hardy or bold,
Tush! they shall neuierr my body take,
I'le gang soe ffast into the Scottish mold.”
Now this ladye is gone to her fathers hall,
When euery body their rest did take;
But the Erle wihirch was her ffather
Lay waken for his deere daughters sake.
“But who is thart,” her ffather can say,
“Thart soe priuilye knowes the pinn?”
“It's Hellen, yoiurr owne deere daughter, ffather,
I pray you rise and lett me in.”
. . . . .
“Noe, by my hood!” qiuorth her ffather then,
“My [house] thoust neuer come wiirthin,
Wiirthout I had my red gold againe.”
“Nay, yoiurr gold is gone, ffather!” said shee,
. . . . .
“Then naked thou came into this world,
And naked thou shalt returne againe.”
“Nay! God fforgaue his death, father,” shee sayes,
“And soe I hope you will doe mee;”
“Away, away, thou cursed woman,
I pray God an ill death thou may dye!”
Shee stood soe long quacking on the ground
Till her hart itt burst in three;
And then shee ffell dead downe in a swoond,
And this was the end of this bonny ladye.
Ithe morning, when her ffather gott vpp,
A pittyffull sight there he might see;
His owne deere daughter was dead, wiirthout clothes,
The teares they trickeled fast ffrom his eye.
. . . . . .
Sais, Fye of gold, and ffye of ffee!
For I sett soe much by my red gold
Thart now itt hath lost both my daughter and mee!”
. . . . . .
But after this time he neere dought good day,
But as flowers doth fade in the frost,
Soe he did wast and weare away.
But let vs leaue talking of this ladye,
And talke some more of young Andrew;
Ffor ffalse he was to this bonny ladye,
More pitty thart he had not beene true.
He was not gone a mile into the wild forrest,
Or halfe a mile into the hart of Wales,
But there they cought him by such a braue wyle
Thart hee must come to tell noe more tales.

* * * * *
. . . . .
Ffull soone a wolfe did of him smell,
And shee came roaring like a beare,
And gaping like a ffeend of hell.
Soe they ffought together like two lyons,
And fire betweene them two glashet out;
The: raught eche other such a great rappe,
Thart there young Andrew was slaine, well I wott.
But now young Andrew he is dead,
But he was neuer buryed vnder mold,
For there as the wolfe devoured him,
There lyes all this great erles gold.

Child #48: Young Andrew

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