Part 6 (2/2)
Young Waters
About Yule, when the wind blew cool; And the round tables began, A' there is come to our king's court Mony a well-favoured man.
The queen looked o'er the castle wa', Beheld baith dale and down, And then she saw young Waters Come riding to the town.
His footmen they did rin before, His hors.e.m.e.n rade behind; Ane mantle of the burning gowd Did keep him frae the wind.
Gowden graith'd[FN#1] his horse before, And siller shod behind; The horse young Waters rade upon Was fleeter than the wind.
[FN#1] Graitih'd, girthed.
Out then spake a wily lord, Unto the queen said he: ”O tell me wha's the fairest face Rides in the company?”
”I've seen lord, and I've seen laird, And knights of high degree, But a fairer face than young Waters Mine eyen did never see.”
Out then spake the jealous king And an angry man was he: ”O if he had been twice as fair, You might have excepted me.”
”You're neither laird nor lord,” she says, ”But the king that wears the crown; There is not a knight in fair Scotland, But to thee maun bow down.”
For a' that she could do or say, Appeased he wad nae be; But for the words which she had said, Young Waters he maun dee.
They hae ta'en young Waters, And put fetters to his feet; They hae ta'en young Waters, And thrown him in dungeon deep.
”Aft I have ridden thro' Stirling town, In the wind but and the weet; But I ne'er rade thro' Stirling town Wi' fetters at my feet.
”Aft have I ridden thro' Stirling town, In the wind but and the rain; But I ne'er rade thro' Stirling town Ne'er to return again.”
They hae ta'en to the heading-hill His young son in his cradle; And they hae ta'en to the heading-hill His horse but and his saddle.
They hae ta'en to the heading-hill His lady fair to see; And for the words the queen had spoke Young Waters he did dee.
Flodden Field
King Jamie hath made a vow, Keepe it well if he may: That he will be at lovely London Upon Saint James his day.
Upon Saint James his day at noone, At faire London will I be, And all the lords in merrie Scotland, They shall dine there with me.
”March out, march out, my merry men, Of hie or low degree; I'le weare the crowne in London towne, And that you soon shall be.”
Then bespake good Queene Margaret, The teares fell from her eye: ”Leave off these warres, most n.o.ble King, Keepe your fidelitie.
”The water runnes swift, and wondrous deepe, From bottome unto the brimme; My brother Henry hath men good enough; England is hard to winne.”
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