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Then he's drawn out a trusty brand,

And stroak'd it o'er a stray;

And thro' and thro' sweet Willie's middle

He's gart cauld iron gae, my dear,

He's gart cauld iron gae.

Then up it waken'd Lady Maisry,
Out o' her drowsy sleep;

And when she saw her true love slain,
She straight began to weep, my dear,
She straight began to weep.

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"O gude forgie you now, father," she said,

"I wish ye be't for sin;

For I never lov'd a love but ane,

In my arms ye've him slain, my dear,
In my arms ye've him slain.”

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"This night he's slain my gude bold watch,

Thirty stout men and twa;

Likewise he's slain your ae brother,

To me was worth them a', my dear,

To me was worth them a"."

"If he has slain my ae brither, Himsell had a' the blame;

For mony a day he plots contriv'd,

To hae sweet Willie slain, my dear,
To hae sweet Willie slain.

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"And tho' he's slain your gude bold watch,

He might hae been forgien;

They came on him in armour bright,

When he was but alane, my dear,
When he was but alane."

Nae meen was made for this young knight, In bower where he lay slain;

But a' was for sweet Maisry bright,

In fields where she ran brain, my dear, In fields where she ran brain.

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THE CLERK'S TWA SONS O' OWSENFORD.

"THIS singularly wild and beautiful old ballad,” says Chambers, (Scottish Ballads, p. 345,) "is chiefly taken from the recitation of the editor's grandmother, who learned it, when a girl, nearly seventy years ago, from a Miss Anne Gray, resident at Neidpath Castle, Peeblesshire; some additional stanzas, and a few various readings, being adopted from a less perfect, and far less poetical copy, published in Mr. Buchan's [Ancient Ballads and Songs of the North of Scotland, i. 281,] and from a fragment in the Border Minstrelsy, entitled The Wife of Usher's Well, [vol. i. p. 332, of this collection,] but which is evidently the same narrative."

"The editor has been induced to divide this ballad into two parts, on account of the great superiority of what follows over what goes before, and because the latter portion is in a great measure independent of the other, so far as sense is concerned. The first part is composed of the Peeblesshire version, mingled with that of the northern editor: the second is formed of the Peeblesshire version, mingled with the fragment called The Wife of Usher's Well."”

The natural desire of men to hear more of characters in whom they have become strongly interested, has frequently stimulated the attempt to continue successful fictions, and such supplements are proverbially unfortunate. A ballad-singer would have powerful inducements to gratify this passion of his audience, and he could most economically effect the object by stringing two ballads together. When a tale ended tragically, the sequel must of necessity be a ghoststory, and we have already had, in Clerk Saunders, an instance of this combination. Mr. Chambers has furnished the best possible reasons for believing that the same process has taken place in the case of the present ballad, and that the two parts, (which occur separately,) having originally had no connection, were arbitrarily united, to suit the purposes of some unscrupulous rhapsodist.

PART FIRST.

OI will sing to you a sang,
Will grieve your heart full sair;
How the Clerk's twa sons o' Owsenford
Have to learn some unco lear.

They hadna been in fair Parish

A twelvemonth and a day,

Till the Clerk's twa sons fell deep in love
Wi' the Mayor's dauchters twae.

And aye as the twa clerks sat and wrote,
The ladies sewed and sang;

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10

There was mair mirth in that chamber,
Than in a' fair Ferrol's land.

But word's gane to the michty Mayor,

As he sailed on the sea,

That the Clerk's twa sons made licht lemans 15

O' his fair dauchters twae.

"If they hae wranged my twa dauchters,

Janet and Marjorie,

The morn, ere I taste meat or drink,

Hie hangit they shall be."

And word's gane to the clerk himsell,

As he was drinking wine,

That his twa sons at fair Parish

Were bound in prison strang.

Then up and spak the Clerk's ladye,

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And she spak tenderlie :

“O tak wi' ye a purse o' gowd,

Or even tak ye three;

And if ye canna get William,
Bring Henry hame to me."

O sweetly sang the nightingale,

As she sat on the wand;
But sair, sair mourned Owsenford,
As he gaed in the strand.
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VOL. II.

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