 section 0 of Book of English Ballads by George Edwards, read for LibriVox.org by Mike Harris. Introduction Goethe, who saw so many things with such clearness of vision, brought out the charm of the popular ballad for readers of a later day, in his remark that the value of these songs of the people is to be found in the fact that their motives are drawn directly from nature. And he added that in the art of saying things compactly, uneducated men have greater skill than those who are educated. It's certainly true that no kind of verse is so completely out of the atmosphere of modern writing as the popular ballad. No other form of verse has, therefore, in so great a degree, the charm of freshness. In material, treatment, and spirit, these ballads are set in sharp contrast with the poetry of the hour. They deal with historical events or incidents, with local traditions, with personal adventure or achievement. They are almost without exception entirely objective. Contemporary poetry is, on the other hand, very largely subjective. And even when it deals with events or incidents, it invests them to such a degree with personal emotion and imagination. It so modifies and colors them with temperamental effects that the resulting poem is much more a study of subjective conditions than a picture or drama of objective realities. This projection of the inward upon the outward world, in such a degree that the dividing line between the two is lost, is strikingly illustrated in Matarling's plays. Nothing could be in sharper contrast, for instance, than the famous ballad of The Hunting of the Chevyot and Matarling's Princess Maline. There is no atmosphere and a strict use of the word in the spirited and compact account of the famous contention between the Percy's and the Douglas's, of which Sir Philip Sidney said, that I found not my heart moved more than with a trumpet. It is a breathless, rushing narrative of a swift succession of events, told with the most straightforward simplicity. In the Princess Maline, on the other hand, the narrative is so charged with subjective feeling, the world in which the action takes place is so deeply tinged with lights that never rested on an actual landscape, that all sense of reality has lost. The play depends for its effect mainly upon atmosphere. Certainly, very definite impressions are produced with singular power, but there is no clear, clean stamping of occurrences on the mind. The imagination is skilfully awakened and made to do the work of observation. The note of the popular ballad is its objectivity. It not only takes us out of doors, but it also takes us out of the individual consciousness. The manner is entirely subordinated to the matter. The poet, if there was a poet in the case, obliterates himself. What we get is a definite report of events which have taken place not a study of a man's mind, nor an account of a man's feelings. The true balladist is never introspective. He is concerned not with himself, but with his story. There is no self-disclosure in his song. To the mood of Senate Cor and Amiel he was a stranger. Neither he nor the men to whom he recited or sang would have understood that mood. They were primarily and unreflectively absorbed in the world outside of themselves. They saw far more than they mediated. They recorded far more than they moralized. The popular ballads are, as a rule, entirely free from didacticism in any form. That's one of the main sources of their unfailing charm. They show not only a childlike curiosity about the doings of the day and the things that befall men, but a childlike indifference to moral inference and justification. The bloodier the fray, the better for ballad purposes. No one feels the necessity of apology, either for ruthless aggression or for useless bloodletting. The scene is reported as it was presented to the eye of the spectator, not to his moralizing faculty. He is expected to see and to sing, not to scrutinize and meditate. In those rare cases in which a moral inference is drawn, it's always so obvious and elementary that it gives the impression of having been fastened on at the end of the song in deference to ecclesiastical rather than popular feeling. The social and intellectual conditions which fostered self-unconsciousness, interest in things, incidents, and adventures rather than in moods and inward experiences, and the un-moral or non-moralizing attitude toward events, fostered also that delightful naivete which contributes greatly to the charm of many of the best ballads. A naivete which often heightens the pathos and at times softens it with touches of apparently unconscious humor. The naivete of the child which has in it something of the freshness of a wildflower and yet has also a wonderful instinct for making the heart of a matter plain. This quality has almost entirely disappeared from contemporary verse among cultivated races. One must go to the peasants of remote parts of the continent to discover even a trace of its presence. It has a real but short-lived charm, like the freshness which shines on meadow and garden in the brief dawn which hastens on today. This frank, direct play of thoughts and feeling on an incident or series of incidents compensates for the absence of a more perfect art in the ballad, using the word art in its true sense as including complete, adequate and beautiful handling of subject matter and masterly working out of its possibilities. These popular songs so dear to the hearts of the generations on whose lips they were fashioned and to all who care for the fresh note, the direct word, the unrestrained emotion rarely touched the highest points of poetic achievement. Their charm lies not in their perfection of form, but in their spontaneity, sincerity and graphic power. They are not rivers of song, wide, deep and swift. They are rather cool, clear springs among the hills. In the reactions against sophisticated poetry which set in from time to time, the popular ballad, the true folk song, has often been exalted at the expense of other forms of verse. It's idle to attempt to arrange the various forms of poetry in an order of absolute values. It's enough that each has its own quality and therefore its own value. The drama, the epic, the ballad, the lyric, each strikes its note in the complete expression of human emotion and experience. Each belongs to a particular stage of development, and each has the authority and the enduring charm which attach to every authentic utterance of the spirit of man under the conditions of life. In this wide range of human expression the ballad follows the epic as a kind of aftermath, a second and scattered harvest, springing without regularity or nurture out of a rich and unexhausted soil. The epic fastens upon some event of such commanding importance that it marks a main current of history. Some story, historic or mythologic, some incidents susceptible of extended narrative treatment. It is always in its popular form a matter of growth, its direct, simple, free from didacticism, representing as Aristotle says, a single action, entire and complete. It subordinates character to action, it delights in episode and dialogue, it's content to tell the story as a story and leave the moralization to hearers or readers. The popular ballad is so closely related to the popular epic that it may be said to reproduce its qualities and characteristics within a narrower compass and on a smaller scale. It's also a piece of the memory of the people or a creation of the imagination of the people, but the tradition or fact which it preserves is of local rather than national importance. It is indifferent to nice distinctions and delicate gradations or shadings. Its power springs from its directness, vigor and simplicity. It's often entirely occupied with the narration or description of a single episode. It has no room for dialogue but it often secures the effect of the dialogue by its unconventional freedom of phrase and sometimes by the introduction of brief and compact charge and denial, question and reply. Sometimes the incidents upon which the ballad makers fastened have a unity or connection with each other which hints at a complete story. The ballads which deal with Robin Hood are so numerous and so closely related that they constantly suggest not only the possibility but the probability of epic treatment. It's surprising that the richness of the material and its notable illustrative quality did not inspire some earlier chaucer to combine the incidents in a sustained narrative. But the epic poet did not appear and the most representative of English popular heroes remains the central figure in a series of detached episodes and adventures preserved in a long line of disconnected ballads. This apparent arrest in the ballad stage of a story which seemed destined to become an epic naturally suggests the vexed question of the authorship of the popular ballads. They're in a very real sense the songs of the people. They make no claim to individual authorship. On the contrary, the inference of what may be called community authorship is in many instances irresistible. They are the product of a social condition which so to speak holds song of this kind in solution of an age in which improvisation, singing and dancing are the most natural and familiar forms of expression. They deal almost without exception with matters which belong to the community memory or imagination. They constantly reappear with variations so noticeable as to indicate free and common handling of themes of wide local interest. All this is true of the popular ballad but all this does not decisively settle the question of authorship. What share did the community have in the making of these songs and what share fell to individual singers? Herder, whose conception of the origin and function of literature was so vitalizing in the general aridity of thinking about the middle of the last century and who'd even more for ballad verse in Germany than Bishop Percy did in England, laid emphasis almost exclusively on community authorship. His profound instinct for reality in all forms of art, his deep feeling for life and the immense importance he attached to spontaneity and unconsciousness in the truest productivity made community authorship not only attractive but inevitable to him. In his pronounced reaction against the superficial ideas of literature so widely held in the Germany of his time, he espoused the conception of community authorship as the only possible explanation of the epics, ballads and other folk songs. In nature and popular life, or universal experience, he found the rich sources of the poetry whose charm he felt so deeply and whose power and beauty he did so much to reveal to his contemporaries. Genius and nature are magical words with him because they suggested such depths of being under all forms of expression, such unity of the whole being of a race in its thought, its emotion and its action, such entire unconsciousness of self or of formulated aim and such spontaneity of spirit and speech. The language of those times when words had not yet been divided into Nobles' middle class and plebeians was, he said, the richest for poetical purposes. Our tongue, compared with the idiom of the savage, seems adapted rather for reflection than for the senses of imagination. The rhythm of popular verse is so delicate, so rapid, so precise, that it is no easy matter to defect it with our eyes. But do not imagine it to have been equally difficult for those living populations who listened to instead of reading it, who were accustomed to the sound of it from their infancy, who themselves sang it, and whose ear had been formed by its cadence. This conception of poetry is arising in the hearts of the people and taking form on their lips is still more definitely and strikingly expressed in two sentences, which let us into the heart of Herger's philosophy of poetry. Quote, poetry in those happy days lived in the ears of the people on the lips and in the hearts of living bards. It sang of history, of the events of the day, of mysteries, miracles and signs. It was the flower of a nation's character, language and country, of its occupations, its prejudices, its passions, its aspirations, and its soul. In these words, at once comprehensive and vague, after the manner of Herger, we find ourselves face to face with that conception not only a popular song in all its forms, but with literature as a whole, which has revolutionized literary study in this century and revitalized it as well. For Herger was a man of prophetic instinct. He sometimes felt more clearly than he saw. He divined where he could not reach results by analysis. He was often vague, fragmentary, and inconclusive like all men of his type, but he had a genius for getting at the heart of things. His statements often need qualification, but he's almost always on the right track. When he says that the great traditions in which both the memory and the imagination of a race were engaged, and which were still living in the mouths of the people, quote, of themselves took on poetic form, close quote, he is using language which is too general to convey a definite impression of method. But he's probably suggesting the deepest truth with regard to these popular stories. They actually were of community origin. They actually were common property. They were given a great variety of forms by a great number of persons. The forms which have come down to us are very likely the survivors of a kind of informal competition, which went on for years at the fireside and at the festivals of a whole countryside. Barger, whose Lenore is one of the most widely known of modern ballads, held the same view of the origin of popular song, and was even more definite in his confession of faith and herder. He declared in the most uncompromising terms that all real poetry must have a popular origin, quote, can be and must be of the people, for that is the seal of its perfection, close quote. And he comments on the delight with which he has listened in Village Street and Home to unwritten songs, the poetry which finds its way in quiet rivulets to the remotest peasant home. In like manner, Helen Vakoresco overheard the songs of the Romanian people hiding in the maze to catch the reaping songs, listening at spinning parties, at festivals, at deathbeds, at taverns, taking the songs down from the lips of peasant women, fortune-tellers, gypsies, and all manner of humble folk who were the custodians of this vagrant community verse. We have passed so entirely out of the song-making period, and literature has become to us so exclusively the work of a professional class, that we find it difficult to imagine the intellectual and social conditions which fostered improvisation on a great scale, and trained the ear of great populations to the music of spoken poetry. It was almost impossible for us to disassociate literature from writing. There is still, however, a considerable volume of unwritten literature in the world in the form of stories, songs, proverbs, and pithy phrases. A literature handed down in large part from earlier times, but still receiving editions from contemporary men and women. The unwritten literature is to be found, it's hardly necessary to say, almost exclusively among country people remote from towns, and whose mental attitude and community feeling reproduce, in a way, the conditions under which the English and Scotch ballads were originally composed. The Romanian peasants sing their songs upon every occasion of domestic or local interest, and sewing and harvesting, birth, christening, marriage, the burial—these notable events in the life of the countryside are all celebrated by unknown poets, or rather by improvisers, who give definite formed sentiments, phrases, and words which are on many lips. The Russian peasant tells his stories as they were told to him, those heroic epics whose life is believed in some cases to date back at least a thousand years. These great popular stories form a kind of sacred inheritance bequeathed by one generation to another as a possession of the memory, and are almost entirely unrelated to the written literature of the country. Ms. Hapgood tells a very interesting story of a government official stationed on the western shore of Lake Onega, who became so absorbed in the search for this literature of the people that he followed singers and reciters from place to place, eager to learn from their lips the most widely known of these folktales. On such an expedition of discovery he found himself one stormy night on an island in the lake. The hut of refuge was already full of stormbound peasants when he entered. Having made himself some tea and spread his blanket in a vacant place, he fell asleep. He was presently awakened by a murmur of recurring sounds. Sitting up he found the group of peasants hanging on the words of an old man, of kindly face, expressive eyes, and melodious voice, from whose lips flowed a marvellous song, grave and gay biterns, monotonous and passionate in succession, but wonderfully fresh, picturesque and fascinating. The listener soon became aware that he was hearing for the first time the famous story of Sadko, the merchant of Novgorod. It was like being present at the birth of a piece of literature. The fact that unwritten songs and stories still exist in great numbers among remote country folk of our own time, and that additions are still being made to them, help us to understand the probable origin of our own popular ballads, and what community authorship may really mean. To put ourselves even in thought in touch with the ballad-making period of English and Scotch history, we must dismiss from our minds all modern ideas of authorship, all notions of individual origination and ownership of any form of words. Professor Tanbrink tells us that in the ballad-making age there was no production, there was only reproduction. There was a stock of traditions, memories, experiences, held in common by large populations, in constant use on the lips of numberless persons, told and retold in many forms with countless changes, variations, and modifications, without conscious artistic purpose, with no sense of personal control or possession, with no constructive aim either in plot or treatment, no composition in a modern sense of the term. Such a mass of poetic material in the possession of a large community was in a sense fluid, and ran into a thousand forms almost without direction or premeditation. Constant use of such rich material gave a poetic turn of thought and speech to countless persons who, under other conditions, would have given no sign of the possession of the faculty of imagination. There was not only the stimulus to the faculty, which sees events and occurrences with the eyes of the imagination, but there was also constant and familiar use of the language of poetry. To speak metrically or rhythmically is no difficult matter if one is in the atmosphere or habit of verse-making. And there's nothing surprising either in the feats of memory or of improvisation performed by the minstrels and balladists of the old time. The faculty of improvising was easily developed and was very generally used by people of all classes. This facility was still possessed by rural populations, among whom songs are still composed as they are sung, each member of the company contributing a new verse or a variation suggested by local conditions of a well-known stanza. When to the possession of a mass of traditions and stories and of facility of improvisation is added the habit of singing and dancing, it's not difficult to reconstruct in our own thought the conditions under which popular poetry came into being, nor to understand in what sense a community can make its own songs. In the brave days when ballads were made the rustic peoples were not mute as they are today, nor sad as they have become in so many parts of England. They sang and they danced by instinct and as an expression of social feeling. Originally the ballads were not only sung but they gave measure to the dance. They grew from mouth to mouth in the very act of dancing. Individual dancers adding verse to verse and the frequent refrain coming in as a kind of chorus. Gesture and to a certain extent acting would naturally accompany so free in general an expression of community feeling. There was no poet because all were poets. To quote Professor Tenbrink once more, quote, song and playing were cultivated by peasants and even by freedmen and serfs. At beer fests the harp went from hand to hand. Herein lies the essential difference between that age and our own. The result of poetical activity was not the property and was not the production of a single person but of the community. The work of the individual endured only as long as its delivery lasted. He gained personal distinction only as a virtuoso. The permanent elements of what he presented, the material, the ideas, even the style and the meter already existed. Quote, the work of the singer was only a ripple in the stream of national poetry. Who can say how much the individual contributed to it or where in his poetical recitation memory ceased and creative impulse began? In any case the work of the individual lived on only as the ideal possession of the aggregate body of the people. And it soon lost the stamp of originality. In view of such a development of poetry we must assume a time when the collective consciousness of a people or race is paramount in its unity. When the intellectual life of each is nourished from the same treasury of views and associations of myths and sagas, when similar interests stir each breast and the ethical judgment of all applies itself to the same standard. In such an age the form of poetical expression will also be common to all, necessarily solemn, earnest and simple. When the conditions which produced the popular ballads became clear to the imagination, their depth of rooted not only in the community life but in the community love became also clear. We understand the charm which these old songs have for us for a later age and the spell which they cast upon men and women who knew the secret of their birth. We understand why the mistrules of the time when popular poetry was in its best estate were held in such honor. Why, Telefer sang the song of Roland at the head of the advancing Normans on the day of Hastings, and why good Bishop Altheim, when he wanted to get the ears of his people, stood on the bridge and sang a ballad. These old songs were the flowering of the imagination of the people. They drew their life as directly from the general experience the common memory, the universal feelings as did the Greek dramas in those primitive times, when they were part of rustic festivity and worship. The popular ballads have passed away with the conditions which produced them. Modern poets have in several instances written ballads of striking picturesqueness and power. But as unlike the ballad of popular origin as the world of today is unlike the world in which Chevy Chase was first sung, these modern ballads are not necessarily better or worse than their predecessors, but they are necessarily different. It's idle to exalt the wild flower at the expense of the garden flower. Each has its fragrance, its beauty, its sentiment, and the world is wide. In the selection of the ballads which appear in this fogging no attempt has been made to follow a chronological order or to enforce a rigid principle of selection of any kind. The aim has been to bring within modern compass a collection of these songs of the people which should fairly represent the range, the descriptive felicity, the dramatic power, and the genuine poetic feeling of a body of verse, which is still, it is to be feared, unfamiliar to a large number of those to whom it would bring refreshment and delight. Written by Hamilton Wright, maybe. George Wharton Edwards This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Susan Frum, Chevy Chase. God prosper long our noble king, our lives and safeties all. A woeful hunting once there did in Chevy Chase befall. To drive the deer with hound and horn, Earl Percy took his way. The child may rue that is unborn, the hunting of that day. The stouter of Northumberland, a vow to God did make, his pleasure in the Scottish woods, three summer days to take. The chiefest hearts in Chevy Chase to kill and bear away. These tidings to Earl Douglas came in Scotland where he lay, who sent Earl Percy present word he would prevent his sport. The English Earl not fearing that, did to the woods resort. With 1500 bowmen bold, all chosen men of might, who knew full well in time of need, to aim their shafts aright, the gallant Greyhound swiftly ran to chase the fallow deer. On Monday they began to hunt, ere daylight did appear, and long before high noon they had a hundred fat buck slain, then having dined the drovers went to rouse the deer again. The bowmen mustered on the hills, well able to endure, their backsides all with special care, that day were guarded sure. The hounds ran swiftly through the woods, the nimble deer to take, that with their cries the hills and dales an echo shrill did make. Lord Percy to the quarry went, to view the tender deer, Quoth he, Earl Douglas promised, this day to meet me here. But if I thought he would not come, no longer would I stay. With that, a brave young gentleman, thus to the Earl did say, Low yonder doth Earl Douglas come, his men in armor bright, full twenty hundred Scottish spears, all marching in our sight. O man of pleasant Tivodale, fast by the river tweed, O cease your sport, Earl Percy said, and take your bows with speed. And now with me, my countrymen, your courage forth advance, for never was their champion yet, in Scotland or in France, that ever did on horseback come. But if my habit were, I durst encounter man for man, with him to break a spear. Earl Douglas on his milk-white steed, most like a barren bold, wrote foremost of his company, whose armor shone like gold. Show me, said he, whose men you be, that hunt so boldly here, that without my consent to chase and kill my fellow dear? The man that first did answer make was noble Percy he, who said, we list not to declare, nor shoe whose men we be. Yet will we spend our dearest blood, thy chiefest heart to slay? Then Douglas swore a solemn oath, and thus in rage did say, ere thus I will out bravid be, one of us too shall die. I know thee well, an Earl Thou art, Lord Percy, so am I. But trust me, Percy, pity it were, and great offence to kill, any of these our guiltless men, for they have done no ill. Let Thou and I the battle try, and set our men aside. A cursed be he, Earl Percy said, by whom this is denied. Then stepped a gallant squire forth, Witherington was his name, who said, I would not have it told, to Henry our king for shame. That ere my captain fought on foot, and I stood looking on. You be too, Earl, said Witherington, and I a squire alone. I'll do the best that do I may, while I have power to stand, while I have power to wield my sword, I'll fight with heart and hand. Our English archers bent their bows, their hearts were good and true. At the first flight of arrows sent, full four score scots, they slew. Yet bides Earl Douglas on the bent, as chieftain stout and good, as valiant captain, all unmoved, the shock he firmly stood. His host he parted had in three, as leader wear and tried, and soon his spearmen on their foes bear down on every side. Throughout the English archery they dealt full many a wound, but still our valiant Englishmen all firmly kept their ground. And throwing straight their bows away, they grasped their swords so bright, and now sharp blows a heavy shower on shields and helmets light. They closed full fast on every side, no slackness there was found, and many a gallant gentleman lay gasping on the ground. O Christ it was a grief to see, and likewise for to hear, the cries of men lying in their gore, and scattered here and there. At last these two stout earls did meet like captains of great might, like lions would, they laid on load and made a cruel fight. They fought until they both did sweat, with swords of tempered steel, until the blood, like drops of rain, they trickling down did feel. Yield thee, Lord Percy, Douglas said, in faith I will thee bring, where thou shalt high advance it be, by James our Scottish King. Thy ransom I will freely give, and thus report of thee, thou art the most courageous night that ever I did see. No, Douglas, quoth Earl Percy then, thy proffer I do scorn. I will not yield to any scot that ever yet was born. With that there came an arrow-keen out of an English bow, which struck Earl Douglas to the heart a deep and deadly blow. Who never spake more words than these, fight on my merry man all, for why my life is at an end. Lord Percy sees my fall. Then, leaving life, Earl Percy took the dead man by the hand, and said, Earl Douglas, for thy life would I had lost my land. O Christ, my very heart doth bleed with sorrow for thy sake, for sure a more renowned night, mischance could never take. A night amongst the scots there was, which saw Earl Douglas die, who straight in wrath did vow revenge upon the Lord Persailles. Sir Humont Gummary was he called, who with a spear most bright, well-mounted on a gallant steed, ran fiercely through the fight, and passed the English archers all, without all dread or fear, and through Earl Percy's body then he thrust his hateful spear. With such a vehement force and might he did his body gore. The spear ran through the other side, a large cloth yard, and more. So thus did both these nobles die, whose courage none could stain. An English archer then perceived the noble Earl was slain. He had a bow bent in his hand, made of a trusty tree, an arrow of a cloth yard long, up to the head drew he. Against Sir Humont Gummary, so right the shaft he set, the gray goose wing that was there on, in his heart's blood was wet. This fight did last from break of day till setting of the sun, for when they wrung the evening bell the battle scarce was done. With stout Earl Percy there was slain, Sir John of Edgerton, Sir Robert Radcliffe and Sir John, Sir James that bold baron. And with Sir George and stout Sir James, both knights of good account, good Sir Ralph Rabby there was slain, whose prowess did surmount. For witherington needs must I wail as one indolful dumps, for when his legs were smitten off he fought upon his stumps. And with Earl Douglas there was slain, Sir Humont Gummary, Sir Charles Murray that from the field one foot would never flee. Sir Charles Murray of Radcliffe too, his sister's son was he, Sir David Lamb so well esteemed, yet save it could not be. And the Lord Maxwell in light case did with Earl Douglas die, of twenty-hundred Scottish spears, scarce fifty-five did fly. Of fifteen hundred Englishmen went home but fifty-three. The rest were slain in Chevy Chase under the greenwood tree. Next day did many widows come, their husbands too be wail. They washed their wounds in brinish tears but all would not prevail. Their bodies bathed in purple blood, they bore with them away. They kissed them dead a thousand times, ere they were glad in clay. This news was brought to Edinburgh where Scotland's king did reign. That brave Earl Douglas suddenly was with an arrow slain. Oh heavy news, King James did say, Scotland can witness be. I have not any captain more of such account as he. Like tidings to King Henry came, within as short a space, that Percy of Northumberland was slain in Chevy Chase. Now God be with him, said our King, sith it will no better be. I trust I have within my realm five hundred as good as he. Yet shall not Scots nor Scotland say, but I will vengeance take. I'll be revenged on them all. For brave Earl Percy's sake, this vow full well the king performed after at Humboldown in one day fifty nights were slain with lords of great renown. And of the rest of small account did many thousands die. Thus endeth the hunting in Chevy Chase made by the Earl Percy. God save our King and bless this land in plenty joy and peace and grant henceforth that foul debate to ex-noble men may cease. End of Chevy Chase. This recording is in the public domain. Section two of Book of English Ballots by George Edwards. Read for LibriVox.org by Rape and Notation. King Cathedral and the Begummaid. I read that once in Africa a princely white did reign who had come to name Cafetua as poets they did fame. From nature's laws he did decline for sure he was not of my mind. He cared not for women kind but did them all disdain. But Mark what happened on a day as he out of his window lay he saw a beggar all in gray the witch did cause his pain. The blinded boy that shoot so trim from heaven down did high. He drew a dart and shot at him in place where he did lie. Which soon did pierce him to the quick and when he felt the arrow prick which in his tender heart did stick he looketh as he would die. What sudden chance is this worthy that I to love must subject thee which never fair to would agree but still did it defy. Then from the window he did come and laid him on his bed. A thousand heaps of care did run within his troubled head. For now he means to crave her love and now he seeks which way to prove how he has fancy might remove and not this beggar wed. But Cupid had him so insnare that this poor beggar must prepare a salve to cure him of his care or else he would be dead. And as he newsing thus did lie he thought for two devise how he might have her company that so did amaze his eyes. In thee quote he doth rest my life for surely thou shall be my wife or else this hand with bloody knife the gods shall sure suffice. Then from his bed he soon arose and to his palace gate he goes full little then this beggar knows when she the king espies. The gods preserve your majesty the beggars all gone cry vouchsafed to give your charity our children's food to buy. The king to them his purse did cast and they to part it made great haste this silly woman was the last but after them did high. The king he call her back again and unto her he gave his chain and said with us you shall remain till such time as we die. For thou quoth he shall be my wife and honored for my queen with thee I mean to lead my life as shortly shall be seen our wedding shall appointed be and everything in its degree come on quoth thee and follow me thou shalt go shift thee clean what is thy name fair maid quoth thee penelophon oh king quoth she with that she made a low curtsy a trim one as I wing. Thus hand in hand along they walk unto the king's palace the king with courteous commonly talk this burger doth embrace the beggar blushed scarlet red and straight again as pale as lead but not a word at all she said she was in such a maze at last she spoke with trembling voice and said oh king I do rejoice that you will take me for your choice and my degree so base and when the wedding day was come the king commanded straight the nobleman both all and some upon the queen to wait and she behaved herself that day as if she had never walked the way she had forgot her gown of gray which she did wear of late the proverb old is come to pass the priest when he begins his mass forgets that ever clerk he was he knoweth not his estate here you may read cofetua though long time fancy fed compelled by the blinded boy the beggar for to wed he that did lovers looks disdain to do the same was glad and fame or else he would himself have slain in story as we read disdain no wait oh lady dear but pity now thy servant here lest that it happen to thee this year as to that king it did and thus they led a quiet life during their princely rain and in a tomb were buried both as writers she was playing the lords there took it grievously the ladies took it heavily the commons cried piteously their death to them was pain their fame did sound so passingly that it did pierce the starry sky and throughout all the world did fly to every prince's realm end of ballad this recording is in the public domain section three of book of english ballads by george edwards read for libra vox dot org by michael helgens of the watson files dot com on may first 2010 from cedar rapids i hope king lear and his three daughters king lear once ruled in this land with princely power and peace and had all things with hearts content that might his joys increase amongst those things that nature gave three daughters fair had he so princely seeming beautiful as fair could not be so on a time it pleased the king a question thus to move which of his daughters to his grace could show the dearest love for to my age you bring content korthy then let me hear which of you three is plighted truth the kindest will appear to whom the eldest thus began dear father mined korthy before your face to do you good my blood shall render to be and for your sake my bleeding heart shall here be cut in air that i see your reverend age the smallest grief sustain and so will i the second said dear father for your sake the worst of all extremities are gently undertake and serve your highness night and day with diligence and love that sweet content and quietness discomforts may remove in doing so you glad my soul the agent king replied but what says thou my youngest girl how is thy love allied my love court young cordelia then which to your grace i own shall be the duty of a child and that is all i'll show and wilt thou show no more korthy than doth thy duty bind i will perceive thy love is small when as no more i find henceforth i banish thee my court thou art no child of mine nor any part this my realm by favor shall be thine thy elder sisters loves are more than where i can demand to whom i equally bestow my kingdom and my land my pumple state and all my goods that lovingly i may with those thy sisters be maintained until my dying day thus flattering speeches one renowned by these two sisters here the third had causeless banishment yet was her love more dear for poor cordelia patiently went wandering up and down unhelped unpitted gentle maid through many an english town until at last in famous france she gentler fortunes found the poor and bear yet she was deemed the fairest on the ground where when the king her virtues heard and this fair lady seen with full consent of all his court he made his wife and queen her father old king lear this while with his two daughters stayed forgetful of their promised love for soon the same decade and living in queen reagan's court the eldest of the twain she took from him his chiefest means and most of all his train for whereas 20 men were want to wait with bended knee she gave allowance but to 10 and after sketched three they want she thought too much for him so took she all away in hope that in her court good king he would no longer stay am i rewarded thus court he in giving all i have unto my children and to beg for what i lately gave i'll go on to my gonorrheal my second child i know will be more kind and pitiful and will relieve my woe for fast he hies them to her court where when she heard his moan returned him answer that she grieved that all his means were gone but no way could relief his wants yet if that he would stay within her kitchen he should have what scullions gave away when he had heard with bitter tears he made his answer that in what i did let me be made example to all men i will return again court he unto my regins court she will not use me thus i hope but in a kinder sort where when he came she gave command to drive him thence away when he was well within her court she said he would not stay then back again to gonorrheal the woeful king did high that in her kitchen he might have what scullion boys set by but there of that he was denied which she had promised late for once refusing he should not come after to her gate thus twist his daughters for relief he wandered up and down being glad to feed on beggars food that lately wore a crown and calling to remembrance then his youngest daughters words that said the duty of a child was all that love affords but doubting to repair to her whom he had banished so grew frantic mad for in his mind he bore the wounds of woe which made him rend his milk white locks and tresses from his head and all with blood bestain his cheeks with age and honor spread to hills and woods and watery fonts he made his hour limo till hills and woods and senseless things did seem to sigh and groan even thus possessed with discontent he passed over to france in hopes from fair cordelia there to find some gentler chance most virtuous dame which when she heard of this her father's grief as duty bound she quickly sent him comfort and relief and by a train of noble peers in brave and gallant sort she gave in charge he should be brought to agnabra's court whose royal king with noble minds so freely gave consent to muster up his knights at arms to fame and courage bent and so to england came with speed to repossess king lear and drive his daughters from their thrones by his cordelia dear where she true hearted noble queen was in the battle stain yet he could king in his old days possessed his crown again but when he heard cordelia's death who died indeed for love of her dear father in whose cause she did this battle move he swooning fell upon her breast from once he never parted but on her bosom left his life that was so truly hearted the lords and nobles when they saw the end of these events the other sisters unto death they doomed by consents and being dead their crowns they left unto the next of kin thus have you seen the fall of pride and disobedient sin end of ballot this recording is in the public domain section four of book of english ballads by george edwards read for LibriVox.org by Bridget Talon fair Rosamond when as king henry ruled this land the second of that name besides the queen he dearly loved a fair and comely dame most peerless was her beauty found her favor and her face a sweeter creature in this world could never prince embrace her crispered locks like threads of gold appeared to each man's sight her sparkling eyes like orient pearls did cast a heavenly light the blood within her crystal cheeks did such a color drive as though the lily and the rose for master ship did strive yay rosamond fair rosamond her name was called so to whom our queen dame elinor was known a deadly foe the king therefore for her defense against the furious queen at woodstock builded such a bower the like was never seen most curiously that bower was built of stone and timber strong and underwood and fifty doors did to this bow belong and they so cunningly contrived with turnings round about that none but with a clue of thread could enter in or out and for his love and lady's sake that was so fair and bright the keeping of this bow he gave unto a valiant night but fortune that doth often frown where she before did smile the king's delight and ladies joy for soon she did beguile for why the king's ungracious son whom he did high advance against his father razored wars within the realm of france but yet before our comely king the english land for sook of rosamond his lady fair his farewells thus he took my rosamond my only rose that pleases best mine eye the fairest flower in all the world to feed my fantasy the flower of mine affected heart whose sweetness doth excel my royal rose a thousand times i bid thee now farewell for i must leave my fairest flower my sweetest rose a space and cross the seas to famous france proud rebelors to a base but yet my rose be sure thou shalt my coming shortly see and in my heart when hence i am i'll bear my rose with me when rosamond that lady bright did hear the king say so the sorrow of her grieved heart her outward looks did show and from her clear and crystal eyes the tears gushed out a pace which like the silver pearl adieu ran down her comely face her lips like the coral red did wax both warn and pale and for the sorrow she conceived her vital spirits fail and falling down all in a swoon before king henry's face full of tea in his princely arms her body did embrace and twenty times with watery eyes he kissed her tender cheek until he had revived again her senses mild and meek why grease my rose my sweetest rose the king did often say because quasi to bloody wars my lord must part away but since your grace on foreign coasts amongst your foes unkind must go to hazard life and limb why should i stay behind nay rather let me like a page your sword and target bear that on my breast the blows may light which would offend you there or let me in your royal tent prepare your bed at night and with sweet bars refresh your grace at your return from fight so i your presence may enjoy no toil i will refuse but wanting you my life is death nay death i'd rather choose content by self my dearest love they rest at home shall be in england sweet and pleasant isle for travel fits not thee fair ladies brook not bloody wars soft peace their sex delights not rugged camps but courtly boughs gay feasts not cruel fights my rose shall safely here abide with music past the day whilst i among the piercing pikes my foes seek far away my rose shall shine in pearl and gold whilst i'm in armadite gay galliards hear my love shall dance whilst i my foes go fight and you sir thomas whom i trust to be my love's defense be careful of my gallant rose when i am parted hence and at their parting well they might in heart be grieved sore after that day fair rosamond the king did see no more for when his grace had passed the seas and into france was gone with envious heart queen elinor to woodstock came and on and fourth she calls this trusty night in an unhappy hour who with his clue of twided thread came from this famous bower and when they had wounded him the queen this thread did get and went where lady rosamond was like an angel set but when the queen with steadfast eye beheld her beautyous face she was amazed in her mind at her exceeding grace cast off from thee those robes she said that rich and costly be and drink thou up this deadly draft which i have brought to thee then presently upon her knees sweet rosamond did fall and pardon of the queen she craved for her offences all take pity on my youthful years fair rosamond did cry and let me not with poison strong and force it be to die i will renounce my sinful life and in some close to bide or else be banished if you please to range the world so wide and for the fault which i have done though i was forced there to preserve my life and punish me as you think me to do and with these words her lily hands she rung full often there and down along her lovely face did trickle many a tear but nothing could this furious queen there with appeasant be the cup of deadly poison strong as she knelt on her knee she gave this comely dame to drink who took it in her hand and from her bended knee arose and on her feet did stand and casting up her eyes to heaven she did for mercy call and drinking up the poison strong her life she lost with all and when that death through every limb had showed its greatest spite her chief exposed did plain confess she was a glorious white her body then they did in tomb when life was fled away at godstone near to oxford town as may be seen this day end of ballad this recording is in the public domain section five of book of english ballads by george edwards read for liberbox.org by patty cunningham philida and coradon in the merry month of may in a mourn by break of day with a troop of damsels playing fourth iyod for sooth a maying when a non by a wood side where that may was in his pride i aspired all alone philida and coradon much ado there was god walt he would love and she would not she said never man was true he says none was false to you he said he had loved her long she says love should have no wrong coradon would kiss her then she says maids must kiss no men till they do for good and all when she made the shepherds call all the heavens to witness truth never loved a truer youth then with many a pretty oath yay and nay and faith and truth such as sealy shepherds use when they will not love abuse love that had been long deluded was with kisses sweet concluded and philida with garlands gay was made the lady of the may end of ballad this recording is in the public domain section six of book of english ballads by george edwards read for liberbox.org by steven reid fair margaret and sweet william as it fell out on a long summer's day to lovers they sat on a hill they sat together that long summer's day and could not talk their phil i see no harm by you margaret and you see none by me before tomorrow at eight o'clock a rich wedding you shall see fair margaret sat in her bower wind combing her yellow hair there she spied sweet william and his bride as they were riding near then down she laid her ivory comb and braided her hair in twain she went alive out of her bower but nair came alive in it again when day was gone and night was come and all men fast asleep then came the spirit of fair margaret and stood at william's feet are you awake sweet william she said or sweet william are you asleep god give you joy of your gay bride bed and me of my winding sheet when day was come and night was gone and all men waked from sleep sweet william to his lady said my dear i have cause to weep i dreamt a dream my dear lady such dreams are never good i dreamt my bower was full of red wine and my bride bed full of blood such dreams such dreams my honoured sir they never do prove good to dream thy bower was full of red wine and thy bride bed full of blood he called up his merry men all by one by two and by three saying all away to fair margaret's bower by the leave of my lady and when he came to fair margaret's bower he knocked at the ring and who so ready as her seven brethren to let sweet william in then he turned up the covering sheet pray let me see the dead me think she looks all pale and wan she hath lost her cherry red i'll do more for thee margaret than any of thy kin for i will kiss thy pale wan lips thou a smile i cannot win with that bespake the seven brethren making most piteous moan you may go kiss your jolly brown bride and let our sister alone if i do kiss my jolly brown bride i do but what is right i near made a vow to yonder poor corpse by day nor yet by night deal on deal on my merry men all deal on your cake and your wine for whatever is dealt at her funeral today shall be dealt tomorrow at mine fair margaret died today sweet william died tomorrow fair margaret died for pure true love sweet william died for sorrow margaret was buried in the lower chancel and william in the higher out of her breast there sprang a rose and out of his a briar they grew till they grew unto the church top and then they could grow no higher and there they tied in a true lovers knot which made all the people admire then came the clerk of the parish and you the truth shall hear and by misfortune cut them down or they had now been there section six of book of english ballads by george edwards read for libra vox.org by steven reid end of ballad this recording is in the public domain section seven of book of english ballads by george edwards read for libra vox.org by patty cunning ham annan water annan waters wading deep and my love annies wondrous bonnie i will keep my tris tonight and win the heart oh lovely annie he's looping on his bonnie gray he raid the right gate and the ready for all the storm he wouldn't stay for seeking oh his bonnie lady and he has ridden or field and fell through muran moss and stones and mire his spurs of steel were stare to bide and fray her four feet flew the fire my bonnie gray no play your part can you be the steed that wins my dearie we corn and hay ye's be fed for eye and never spurs sail make you weary the gray was a mare and a right good mare but when she won the annan water she couldn't have found the ford that night had a thousand mercs been wadded at her oh boatman boatman put off your boat put off your boat for good and money but for all the good and fair scotland he dared not take him through to annie oh i was sworn say late yesterine not by a single eighth but many i'll cross the drumly stream tonight or never could i face my honey the site was stay in the bottom deep fray bank to bray the water pouring the bonnie gray mare she swat for fear for she heard the water kelp be roaring he spurred her forth into the flood i watch she swam both strong and steady but the stream was broad her strength did fail and he never saw his bonnie lady oh woe be tied the fresh sing wand and woe be tied the bush of briar that bent and break into his hand when strength of man and horse did tire and woe be tied ye annan water this night he are a drumly river but over thee will build a bridge that ye neymar true love may sever this recording is in the public domain section eight of book of english ballads by george edwards read for LibriVox.org by Ruth Golding the bailiff's daughter of islington there was a youth and a well-beloved youth and he was a squire's son he loved the bailiff's daughter dear that lived in islington yet she was coy and would not believe that he did love her so no nor at any time would she any countenance to him show but when his friends did understand his fond and foolish mind they sent him up to Fair London an apprentice for to bind and when he had been seven long years and never his love could see many a tear have I shed for her sake when she little thought of me then all the maids of islington went forth to sport and play all but the bailiff's daughter dear she secretly stole away she pulled off her gown of green and put on ragged attire and to fair london she would go her true love to inquire and as she went along the high road the weather being hot and dry she sat her down upon a green bank and her true love came riding by she started up with a color so red catching hold of his bridal rain one penny one penny kind sir she said will ease me of much pain before I give you one penny sweetheart pray tell me where you were born at islington kind sir said she where I have had many a scorn I pretty sweetheart then tell to me oh tell me whether you know the bailiff's daughter of islington she is dead sir long ago if she be dead then take my horse my saddle and bridal also for I will into some far country where no man shall me know oh stay oh stay thou goodly youth she standeth by thy side she is here alive she is not dead and ready to be thy bride oh farewell grief and welcome joy ten thousand times therefore for now I have found mine own true love whom I thought I should never see more end of ballad this recording is in the public domain section nine of book of English ballads by George Edwards read from LibriVox.org by Robin Notatio Barbara Allen's cruelty all in the merry month of May when green buds they were swelling young jemmy grove on his deathbed lay for love of Barbara Allen he sent his man unto her then to the town where she was dwelling oh haste and come to my master dear if your name be Barbara Allen slowly slowly raise she up and she came where he was lying and when she drew the curtain by says young man I think you're dying oh it's I am sick and very very sick and it's all for Barbara Allen oh the better for me he's never be though your heart's blood were spilling oh didn't you mind young man she says when the red wine you were filling that she made the hells go round and round and he slighted Barbara Allen he turned his face unto the wall and death was within dealing adieu adieu my dear friends of be kind to Barbara Allen as she was walking over the fields she heard the dead bell milling and every jow the dead bell gave it cried whoa to Barbara Allen oh mother mother make my bed to lay me down in sorrow my love has died for me today I'll die for him tomorrow end of ballad this recording is in the public domain section 10 of book of English ballads by George Edwards read for LibriVox.org by Leonard Wilson of Springfield, Ohio The Douglas Tragedy raise up raise up no Lord Douglas she says and put on your armor so bright sweet William will hail Lady Margaret away before that it be light raise up raise up my seven bold sons and put on your armor so bright and take better care of your younger sister for your eldest away the last night he smothered her on a milk white steed and himself on a dapple gray with a buglet horn hung down by his side and lightly they rode away Lord William looked for his left shoulder to see what he could see and there he spied her seven brethren bold come riding over the Lee light down light down Lady Margaret he said and hold my steed in your hand until that against your seven brethren bold and your father I make a stand she held his steed in her milk white hand and never shed one tear until that she saw her seven brethren four and her father hard fighting who loved her so dear oh hold your hand Lord William she said for your storks they are wondrous sir through lovers I can get Maria in but a father I can never get there oh she's tearing out her handkerchief it was the holland say fine and as she dieted her father's bloody wounds that were redder than the wine oh choose oh choose Lady Margaret he said oh whether will you gang or abide I'll gang I'll gang Lord William she said for you have left me nay over guide he lifted her on a milk white steed and himself on a dapple gray with a buglet horn hung down by his side and slowly they bathed right away oh they rate on and on they rate and ah by the light of the moon until they came to yarn one water and there they later do they'd like to do to take a drink to that spring that ran say clear and down the stream ran his good heart's blood and say she can't to fear hold up hold up Lord William she says for a fear that you are staying here's nothing but the shadow of a scarlet cloak that shines in the water say plain oh they rate on and on they rate and ah by the light of the moon until they came through his mother's hard door and there they'd like to do get up get up lady mother he says get up and let me in get up get up lady mother he says for this night to me for your lady I've won oh make me bed lady mother he says oh make it red and deep and lay lady Margaret close at my back and the sounder I will sleep Lord William was dead lang air in midnight lady Margaret Lang a day and all through lovers that go together may they have their look the day Lord William was buried in St. Mary's Kirk lady Margaret in Mary's choir out of the ladies grave drew a bonny red rose and out of the Knights of Ryan and they twa met and they twa flat and feigned they would be near and all the world might can rest wheel they were twa lovers dear but by and away the black dogless and wow but he was rough for he pulled up the bonny briar and flunged in St. Mary's Loch end of ballad this recording is in the public domain section 11 of book of English ballads by George Edwards read for LibriVox.org by Leonard Wilson of Springfield Ohio young waters about you when the wind blew cool and around tables began are there is come to our king's court Marnia well-favored man the queen looked war the castle war beheld Beth dail and doon and then she saw young waters come riding to the tone his footmen they did when before his horsemen laid behind in mantel of the burning goud did keep him for the wind Gordon graced his horse before in silver shard behind the horse young waters the raid upon was flitter than the wind out then speak to Wiley lord unto the queen city oh tell me was the fairest face right in the company I've seen lord and I've seen lad at knights of high degree but a fair face then young waters mine iron did never see out then speck the jealous king and an angry man was he oh if he had been twice as fair he might have accepted me a you're neither there nor lord she says but the king that was the crown there is not a knight in fair squadron but to them on bow down for all that she could do or say appeased he one may be but for the words which she had said young waters he monty they hate him young waters and put feathers to his feet they had hang young waters and thrown him in dungeon deep after I have ridden through sterling town in the wind but under wheat but I near aid through sterling town with feathers at my feet after I ridden through sterling town in the wind but under rain but I near aid through sterling town near to return again they hate him to the heading hill his young son in his cradle and they hate him to the heading hill his horse but and his saddle they hate him to the heading hill his lady fair to see and for the words the queen had spoke young waters he did de and of ballad this recording is in the public domain section 12 of book of english ballads by George Edwards read for libra vox.org by michael helgens of the watson files dot com on may 3rd 2010 from cedar rapids Iowa flawed in field king jimmy hath made a vow keep it well if he may that he will be at lovely london upon st james his day upon st james his day at noon at fair london will I be and all the lords in merry scotland they shall dine there with me march out march out my merry men of high or low degree I wear the crown in london town and that you soon shall be then bespeak good queen margaret the tears fell from her eye leave off these walls most noble king keep your fidelity the water runs swift and wondrous deep from bottom onto brine my brother henry hath men good enough england is hard to whine away quoth he with this silly fool imprisoned fast let her lie for she has come of the english blood and for these words she shall die with that bespeak lord thomas howard the queen's chamberlain that day if that you put queen margaret to death scotland shall rule it alway then in a raid king jimmy did say away with this foolish mom he shall be hanged and the other be burned so soon as I come home at floddenfield the scots came in which made our english men fain at bramstone green this battel was seen there was king jimmy slain his body never could be found when he was overthrown and he that wore fair scotland's crown that day could not be known then presently the scot did flee their cannons they left behind their engines gay were won all away our soldiers did bait them blind to tell you plain twelve thousand were slain that to the fight did stand and many prisoners took that day the best in all scotland that day made many a fatherless child and many a widow poor and many a scottish gay lad said weeping in his bore jack with a feather was lapped all in leather his boastings were all in vain he had such a chance with a new morris dance he never went home again this was written to adapt to the ballad to the 17th century now haven't we laud that nevermore such bidding shall come to hand our king by oath is king of both england and fair scotland end of ballad this recording is in the public domain section 13 of book of english ballads by george edwards read for libravox.org by bridget tallan helen of kirk connell i would i were where helen lies night and day on me she cries oh that i were where helen lies unfair kirk connell lee cursed be the heart that thought the thought and cursed the hand that fired the shot when in my arms bird helen dropped and died to suck on me oh think now but my heart was sear when my love dropped and speck no mere i laid her down with mightly care unfair kirk connell lee as i went down the water side none but my foe to be my guide none but my foe to be my guide on fair kirk connell lee i lighted down my sword to draw i hacked him in pieces small i hacked him in pieces small for her sake that died for me oh helen fair beyond compare i'll make a garland of thy hair shall bind my heart forever mere until the day i do oh that i were where helen lies night and day on me she cries out of my bed she bids me rise says haste and come to me oh helen fair oh helen chaste if i were with thee i were blessed where thou lies low and takes thy rest unfair kirk connell lee i would my grave were growing green a winding sheet drawn oh my name and i in helen's arms lying unfair kirk connell lee i would i were where helen lies night and day on me she cries and i am weary of the skies since my love died for me end of ballad this recording is in the public domain section 14 book of english ballads by george edwards read for libervox.org by elizabeth syrenka robin hood and alana dale come listen to me you gallant so free i'll you that love mirth for to hear and i will tell you of a bold outlaw that lived in knottingham shire as robin hood in the forest stood all under the greenwood tree there he was aware of a brave young man as fine as fine might be the youngster was clad in scarlet red and scarlet fine and gay and he did frisk it over the plane and chanted round delay as robin hood next morning stood amongst the leaves so gay there did he spy the same young man come drooping along the way the scarlet he wore the day before it was clean cast away and at every step he fetched a sigh alas and well a day then stepped forth brave little john and midge the miller's son which made the young man bend his bow when as he see them come stand off stand off the young man said what is your will with me you must come before our master straight under young greenwood tree and when he came bold robin before robin asked him courteously oh has though any money to spare for my merry men and me i have no money the young man said but five shillings and a ring and that i have kept the seven long years to have at my wedding yesterday i should have married a maid but she was from me tame and chosen to be an old knight's delight whereby my poor heart is slain what is thy name then said robin hood come tell me without any fail by the faith of my body then said the young man my name it is alana dale what wilt thou give me said robin hood in ready gold or fee to help thee to thy true love again and deliver her unto thee i have no money then quote the young man no ready gold nor fee but i swear upon a book thy true servant for to be how many miles is it to thy true love come tell me without guile by the faith of my body then said the young man it is but five little mile then robin he hasted over the plane he did neither stint nor lin until he came unto the church where alan should keep his wedding what has thou here the bishop then said i'd prithee now tell unto me i am a bold harper quote robin hood and the best in the north country oh welcome oh welcome the bishop he said that music best pleases me you shall have no music quote robin hood till the bride and bridegroom i see with that came in a wealthy night which was both grave and old and after him a finnican lass did shine like the glistering gold this is not a fit match quote robin hood that you do seem to make here for since we are come into the church the bride shall choose her own dear then robin hood put his horn to his mouth and blew blasts two and three when four and twenty bowman bold came leaping over the lee and when they came into the church yard marching all in a row the first man was alna dale to give bold robin his bow this is thy true love robin he said young alan as i hear say and you shall be married the same time before we depart away that shall not be the bishop he cried for thy word shall not stand they shall be three times asked in the church as the law is of our land robin hood pulled off the bishop's coat and put it upon little john by the face of my body then robin said this cloth duff make thee a man when little john went into the choir then people began to laugh he asked them seven times into church less three times should not be enough who gives me this maid said little john with robin hood that do I and he that takes her from alan adale full dearly he shall her by and then having ended this merry wedding the bride looked like a queen and so they returned to the merry green wood amongst the leaf so green end of ballad this recording is in the public domain section 15 of book of english ballads by george edwards read for the berbaks dot org by patty cunning ham june 13th 2010 robin hood and gi of gizburn when shawls been sheen and shreds full fair and leaves both large and long it is merry walking in the fair forest to hear the small bird song the wood wheels sang and would not cease sitting upon the spray so loud he wakened robin hood in the green wood where he lay now by my face said jolly robin as we even i had this night i dreamt me of two weighty yeoman that fast with me can fight me thought they did me beat and bind and took my bow me fro if i be robin alive in this land i'll be rokin on them too sweetens our swift master quoth john as the wind that blows or the hill for if it be never so loud this night tomorrow it may be still busky bogey my merry men all and john shall go with me for i'll go seek yond white yeoman in green wood where they be did they cast on their gowns of green and took their bows each one and they away to the green forest a shooting forth are gone until they came to the merry green wood where they had gladdus to be there were they where of a white yeoman his body leaned to a tree a sword and a dagger he wore by his side of many a man the bane and he was clad in his capill hide top and tail in main stand ye still master quoth little john under this tree so green and i will go to yond white yeoman to know what he doth mean ah john by me thou set us no store and that i fairly find how oft send i my men before and tarry myself behind it is no cunning a nave to ken and a man to but hear him speak and it were not for bursting of my bow john i the head would break as often words they breed in bale so they parted robin and john and john has gone to barnesdale the gates he knoweth each one but when he came to barnesdale great heaviness there he hid for he found two of his own fell ways were slain both in a slade and scarlet he was flying a foot fast over stock and stone for the sheriff with seven score men fast after him is gone one shoot now i will shoot quoth john with christ his might and main i'll make yond fellow that flies so fast to stop he shall be feign then john bent up his long bend bow and fettled him to shoot the bow was made of tender bow and fell down to his foot well worth well worth the wicked wood that ere thou grew on a tree for now this day thou art my bale my boot when thou should be his shoot it was but loosely shot yet flew not the arrow in vain for it met one of the sheriff's men good william atrent was slain it had been better of william atrent to have been a bed with sorrow than to be that day in the green wood slade to meet with little john's arrow but as it is said when men be met five can do more than three the sheriff hath taken little john and bound him fast to a tree thou shalt be drawn by dale and down and hanged high on a hill but thou mayst fail of thy purpose quoth john if it be christ his will let us leave talking of little john and think of robin hood how he is gone to the white yeoman were under the leaves he stood good morrow good fellow said robin so fair good morrow good fellow quote he me thinks by this bow thou bears in thy hand a good archer thou should be i am willful of my way quote the yeoman and of my morning tide i'll lead thee through the wood said robin good fellow i'll be thy guide i seek an outlaw the stranger said men call him robin hood rather i'd meet with that proud outlaw than forty pounds so good now come with me thou white yeoman and robin thou soon shalt see but first let us some pastime find under the green wood tree first let us some mastery make among the wood so even we may chance to meet with robin hood here at some unset steven they cut them down two summer shrogs that grew both under a and set them three scorth rude entrain to shoot the pricks if here lead on good fellow quote robin hood lead on i do bid thee nay by my faith good fellow he said my leader thou shalt be the first time robin shot at the prick he missed but an inch at fro the yeoman he was an archer good but he could never shoot so the second chute had the way to yeoman he shot within the garland but robin he shot far better than he for he claved the good prick wand a blessing upon thy heart he said good fellow thy shooting is good or and thy heart be as good as thy hand thou worked better than robin hood now tell me thy name good fellow said he under the leaves of line nay by my faith quote bold robin till thou have told me thine i dwell by dale and down quote he and robin to take i'm sworn and when i am called by my right name i am gie of good gizborn my dwelling is in this wood says robin by thee i set right not i am robin hood of barnsdale whom thou so long hast sought he that had neither been kith nor kin might have seen a full fair sight to see how together these yeoman went with blades both brown and bright to see how these yeoman together they fought two hours of a summer's day yet neither robin hood nor sir gie them fettled to fly away robin was reachless on a root and stumbled at that tide and gie was quick and nimble with all and hit him or the left side ah dear lady said robin hood though thou art but mother in may i think it was never a man's destiny to die before his day robin thought on our lady dear and soon leapt up again and straight he came with a backward stroke and he sir gie hath slain he took sir gie's head by the hair and stuck it upon his bow's end thou has been a traitor all thy life which thing must have an end robin pulled forth an irish knife and nicked sir gie in the face that he was never on woman born could tell whose head it was says lie there lie there now sir gie and with me be not roth if thou have had the worst strokes at my hand thou shalt have the better clothes robin did off his gown of green and on sir gie did throw and he put on that capul hide that clad him top to toe the bow the arrows and little horn now with me i will bear for i will away to barnsdale to see how my men do fare robin hood said gie's horn to his mouth and a loud blast in it did blow that be heard the sheriff of nottingham as he leaned under a low harkin harkin said the sheriff i hear now tidings good for yonder i hear sir gie's horn blow and he hath slain robin hood yonder i hear sir gie's horn blow it blows so well in tide and yonder comes that way to yeoman clad in his capul hide come hither come hither thou good sir gie ask what thou wilt of me oh i will none of thy gold said robin nor i will none of thy fee but now i have slain the master he says let me go strike the nave for this is all the reward i ask nor no other will i have thou art a madman said the sheriff thou shouldst have had a knight's fee but seeing thy asking hath been so bad well granted it shall be when little john heard his master speak well knew he it was his steven now shall i be loosed quotes little john with christ his might in heaven fast robin he hide him to little john he thought to loose him believe the sheriff and all his company fast after him can drive stand aback stand aback said robin why draw you me so near it was never the use in our country one's drift another should hear but robin pulled forth an irish knife and loosed john hand and foot and gave him sir gie's bow into his hand and bade it be his boot then john he took gie's bow in his hand his bolts and arrows h1 when the sheriff saw little john bend his bow he fettled him to be gone towards his house in knottingham town he fled full fast away and so did all the company not one behind would stay but he could neither run so fast nor away so fast could ride but little john with an arrow so broad he shot him into the back side end of ballad this recording is in the public domain section 16 of book of english ballads by george edwards read fully bravox.org by peter yersley robin hoods death and burial when robin hood and little john down or down or down or down went to a yawn banker broom said robin hood to little john we have shot for many a pound hey down or down or down but i am not able to shoot one shot more my arrows will not flee but i have a cousin lives down below please god she will bleed me now robin is to fair kirkley gone as fast as he can win but before he came there as we do here he was taken very ill and when that he came to fair kirkley hall he knocked all at the ring but none was so ready as his cousin herself for to let bold robin in will you please to sit down cousin robin she said and drink some beer with me no i will neither eat nor drink till i am blooded by thee well i have a room cousin robin she said which you did never see and if you please to walk therein you blooded by me shall be she took him by the lily white hand and led him to a private room and there she blooded bold robin hood whilst one drop of blood would run she blooded him in the vein of the arm and locked him up in the room there did he bleed all the live long day until the next day at noon he then be thought him of a casement door thinking for to be gone he was so weak he could not leap nor he could not get down he then be thought him of his bugle horn which hung low down to his knee he set his horn under his mouth and blew out weak blasts three then little john when hearing him as he sat under the tree i fear my master is near dead he blows so wearily then little john to fair kirkley is gone as fast as he can three but when he came to kirkley hall he broke locks two or three until he came bold robin too then he fell on his knee a boon a boon cries little john master i beg of thee what is that boon quoth robin hood little john thou begst of me it is to burn fair kirkley hall and all their nunnery now nay now nay quoth robin hood that boon i'll not grant thee i never hurt woman in all my life nor man in woman's company i never hurt fair maid in all my time nor at my end shall it be but give me my bent bow in my hand and a broad arrow i'll let flee and where this arrow is taken up there shall my grave dig to be lay me a green sod under my head and another at my feet and lay my bent bow by my side which was my music sweet and make my grave of gravel and green which is most right and meat let me have length and breadth enough with a green sod under my head that they may say when i am dead here lies bold robin hood these words they readily promised him which did bold robin please and there they buried bold robin hood near to the fair kirkley's end of ballad this recording is in the public domain section 17 of book of english ballads by george edwards read for libra vox.org by lennard wilson of springfield ohio the tois corbis as i was walking all alone i heard tois corbis making the man the ten unto the dither did say where shall we gang and dine the day oh down beside you on old field hike i what there lies and you slain night and nobodykins that he lies there but his hawk his hound and his lady fair his hound is to the hunting gain his hawk to fetch the wild fowl him his lady's ten another mate say we'll be back our dinner sweet or we'll sit on his white house bane and i'll pike out his bunny blue wine where a lock of his golden hair will leak our nest when it blows bare monia ain for him mixed man but name shall ken where he is gained over his veins when they are bare the wind shall blow forever remember ballad this recording is in the public domain section 18 of a book of holding this ballads by george wilson edwards wally wally luffy bonnie a scottish song read for libra vox.org by jamie on first of june 2010 in monchester england oh wally wally of the bank and wally wally down the bray and wally wally yon burnside where i and my love were once again i let my back on two and i i thought it was a trusted tree but pushed it both and saying it back to my true love did like we mean oh wally wally but jim love be bonnie a little time while it is new but when it's old and wax are cold and fades are ill at my morning dew or wherefore shall i bust my head or wherefore shall i comb my hair my true love has me forsook and says he'll never love me man after seats i'll be my bed his sheets shall near be pressed by me it's an ounce as well so be my drink since my true love has forsaken me my timber's wind when willbar blow and shape the green leaves off the tree oh gentle death when willbar come for of my life i am wary this is not the frost that pleases fowl nor blowing snares incoming since not sick cold what makes me cry but my love's heart grown cold to me when me came in my glassboard town we were come inside to see my love was clad in black velvet and i myself in crema sea but had i always before i kissed that love had been certainly to win i had locked my heart in a case of gold and pinned it with a silver pin and all but my young babe were born and set upon the nurses knee and i myself were dead and gone and a green grass growing over me