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And one unto the other 'gan say,
Where shall we go and dine to-day?

Shall we go dine by the wild salt sea?

Shall we go dine 'neath the greenwood tree?

As I sat on the deep sea sand,

I saw a fair ship nigh at land,

I waved my wings, I bent my beak,

The ship sunk, and I heard a shriek;
There they lie, one, two, and three,
I shall dine by the wild salt sea.

Come, I will show ye a sweeter sight,
A lonesome glen, and a new-slain knight;
His blood yet on the grass is hot,

His sword half-drawn, his shafts unshot;
And no one kens that he lies there,

But his hawk, his hound, and his lady fair.

His hound is to the hunting gane,

His hawk to fetch the wild fowl hame,
His lady's away with another mate,
So we shall make our dinner sweet;
Our dinner's sure, our feasting free,
Come, and dine by the greenwood tree.

Ye shall sit on his white hause-bane,
I will pike out his bonnie blue een;
Ye'll take a tress of his yellow hair,
To theak your nest when it grows bare;
The gowden down on his young chin,
Will do to sewe my young ones in.

Oh! cauld and bare will his bed be,
When winter storms sing in the tree;
At his head a turf, at his feet a stone,
He will sleep, nor hear the maiden's moan;
O'er his white bones the birds shall fly,
The wild deer bound, and foxes cry.


The late Mr. John Findlay, author of Wallace, or the Vale of Ellerslie, &c. seems also to have borne Ravenscroft's "Three Ravens" in mind, when he composed his Dirge of the Slain Knight, beginning,

"A knight there came from the field of slain,
His steed was drench'd with the falling rain."



It was the froggie in the well,
Humble dum, humble dum;
And the merry mouse in the mill,
Tweedle, tweedle, twino.

The froggie would a-wooing ride,
Sword and buckler by his side.

When he was upon his high horse set,
His boots they shone as black as jet.

When he came to the merry mill-pin,
Ho! mistress mouse, be ye within.

She cries, out o'er the seedy mill-dam,
yes, kind Sir, and that I am.


And then came out the dusty mouse,
Saying, 'I am lady of this house.'

Hast thou any mind of me?
I have e'en great mind of thee.

Then he pull'd out a farthing fine,
Away, and fetch us bread and wine.

The table where they both did dine,
Was all clad o'er with bread and wine.

And who shall this marriage make?
Who but our lord, which is the rat.

What shall we have to our supper?
Three beans in a pound of butter.

And now when supper they were at,
The frog, the mouse, and even the rat.

Then came in sly Gib, our cat,
And catch'd the mouse even by the back.

This made them all to separate;
And the frog leap'd on the floor so flat.

Then came in gobble Dick, our drake,
And drew the frog even to the lake.

Our lord the rat ran up the wall,
A goodly company, the devil go with all!

The above Ballad is collated with another copy noted down from recitation. This may have been a satire of the olden times, but against what or whom, it is now immaterial to know, or perhaps a nursery chant. The modern Ballad, "Rowley would a wooing go," is a happy imitation of the foregoing.




I have house and land in Kent,

And if you'll love me, love me now;
Twopence-halfpenny is my rent,
I cannot come every day to woo.
Twopence-halfpenny is his rent,
He cannot come every day to woo.

I am my father's eldest son,

My mother eke doth love me well;
For I can bravely clout my shoon,
And I full well can ring a bell.
For he can bravely, &c.

My father he gave me a hog,

My mother she gave me a sow;
I have a god-father dwells thereby,
And he on me bestow'd a plough.
He has a god-father, &c.

gave thee a paper of pins,

One time, I

Another time, a tawdry lace;

And if thou wilt not grant me love,
In truth I'll die before thy face.
And if thou wilt not, &c.


I have been twice our Whitsun lord,
I have had ladies many fair,
And eke thou hast my heart in hold,
And in my mind seems passing rare.
And eke thou hast, &c.

I will put on my best white slope,
And I will wear my yellow hose,
And on my head a good gray hat,
And in it I'll stick a lovely rose.
And on his head, &c.

Wherefore, cease off, make no delay,

And if you'll love me, love me now;
Or else I'll seek some other where,

For I cannot come every day to woo.

Or else he'll seek some other where,
For he cannot come every day to woo.

We are inclined to hazard a conjecture, that the above "Wooing Song" is the parent stem of our goodly Scottish piece, "I hae laid a herring in saut;" and that the air of the latter has been altered a little by some skilful hand from that of the Wooing Song, and now is by every one called a standard Scottish tune, when in reality it is an English one, as any amateur may satisfy himself, by running over the bars of the one after the other, in Song 22, of the "Melismata;" even the Songs, in some points, bearing a resemblance, independent of the terminal lines of the first and concluding stanzas of the English set of words. We never have seen that old Scottish Ballad alluded to by Lord Hales, in notes to his Selections from the Bannatyne M.S. which seems to be the primary Scottish version of the same; but those who have, may compare the twain, and see how far they resemble each other. One stanza quoted by his Lordship is the following:

"I ha a wie lairdschip down in the Merse,
[Lass an ye loe me, tell me now,]
The nynetenth pairt of a gusse's gerse,
And I wo' na cum every day to wow."

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