Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

English Poetry I: From Chaucer to Gray.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.

Traditional Ballads

8. Lord Thomas and Fair Annet

LORD THOMAS and Fair Annet

Sate a’ day on a hill;

Whan night was cum, and sun was sett,

They had not talkt their fill.

Lord Thomas said a word in jest,

Fair Annet took it ill:

“A, I will nevir wed a wife

Against my ain friends’ will.”

“Gif ye wull nevir wed a wife,

A wife wull neir wed yee:”

Sae he is hame to tell his mither,

And knelt upon his knee.

“O rede, O rede, mither,” he says,

“A gude rede gie to mee;

O sall I tak the nut-browne bride,

And let Faire Annet bee?”

“The nut-browne bride haes gowd and gear,

Fair Annet she has gat nane;

And the little beauty Fair Annet haes

O it wull soon be gane.”

And he has till his brother gane:

“Now, brother, rede ye mee;

A, sall I marrie the nut-browne bride,

And let Fair Annet bee?”

“The nut-browne bride has oxen, brother,

The nut-browne bride has kye;

I wad hae ye marrie the nut-browne bride,

And cast Fair Annet bye.”

“Her oxen may dye i the house, billie,

And her kye into the byre,

And I sall hae nothing to mysell

Bot a fat fadge by the fyre.”

And he has till his sister gane:

“Now, sister, rede ye mee;

O sall I marrie the nut-browne bride,

And set Fair Annet free?”

“Ise rede ye tak Fair Annet, Thomas,

And let the browne bride alane;

Lest ye sould sigh, and say, Alace,

What is this we brought hame!”

“No, I will tak my mither’s counsel,

And marrie me owt o hand;

And I will tak the nut-browne bride,

Fair Annet may leive the land.”

Up then rose Fair Annet’s father,

Twa hours or it wer day,

And he is gane into the bower

Wherein Fair Annet lay.

“Rise up, rise up, Fair Annet,” he says,

“Put on your silken sheene;

Let us gae to St. Marie’s kirke,

And see that rich weddeen.”

“My maides, gae to my dressing-roome,

And dress to me my hair;

Whaireir yee laid a plait before,

See yee lay ten times mair.

“My maids, gae to my dressing-room,

And dress to me my smock;

The one half is o the holland fine,

The other o needle-work.”

The horse Fair Annet rade upon,

He amblit like the wind;

Wi siller he was shod before,

Wi burning gowd behind.

Four and twanty siller bells

Wer a’ tyed till his mane,

And yae tift o the norland wind,

They tinkled ane by ane.

Four and twanty gay gude knichts

Rade by Fair Annet’s side,

And four and twanty fair ladies,

As gin she had bin a bride.

And whan she cam to Marie’s kirk,

She sat on Marie’s stean:

The cleading that Fair Annet had on

It skinkled in their een.

And whan she cam into the kirk,

She shimmerd like the sun;

The belt that was about her waist

Was a’ wi pearles bedone.

She sat her by the nut-browne bride,

And her een they wer sae clear,

Lord Thomas he clean forgat the bride,

Whan Fair Annet drew near.

He had a rose into his hand,

He gae it kisses three,

And reaching by the nut-browne bride,

Laid it on Fair Annet’s knee.

Up then spak the nut-browne bride,

She spak wi meikle spite:

“And whair gat ye that rose-water,

That does mak yee sae white?”

“O I did get the rose-water

Whair ye wull neir get nane,

For I did get that very rose-water

Into my mither’s wame.”

The bride she drew a long bodkin

Frae out her gay head-gear,

And strake Fair Annet unto the heart,

That word spak nevir mair.

Lord Thomas he saw Fair Annet wex pale,

And marvelit what mote bee;

But whan he saw her dear heart’s blude,

A’ wood-wroth wexed hee.

He drew his dagger, that was sae sharp,

That was sae sharp and meet,

And drave it into the nut-browne bride,

That fell deid at his feit.

“Now stay for me, dear Annet,” he sed,

“Now stay, my dear,” he cry’d;

Then strake the dagger untill his heart,

And fell deid by her side.

Lord Thomas was buried without kirkwa,

Fair Annet within the quiere,

And o the tane thair grew a birk,

The other a bonny briere.

And ay they grew, and ay they threw,

As they wad faine be neare;

And by this ye may ken right weil

They were twa luvers deare.