The Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, by Walter Scott

The Original Ballad of the Broom of Cowdenknows.

The beautiful air of Cowdenknows is well known and popular. In Ettrick Forest the following words are uniformly adapted to the tune, and seem to be the original ballad. An edition of this pastoral tale, differing considerably from the present copy, was published by Mr HERD, in 1772. Cowdenknows is situated upon the river Leader, about four miles from Melrose, and is now the property of Dr HUME.

O the broom, and the bonny bonny broom,

And the broom of the Cowdenknows!

And aye sae sweet as the lassie sang,

I’ the bought, milking the ewes.

The hills were high on ilka side,

An’ the bought i’ the lirk o’ the hill,

And aye, as she sang, her voice it rang

Out o’er the head o’ yon hill.

There was a troop o’ gentlemen

Came riding merrilie by,

And one of them has rode out o’ the way,

To the bought to the bonny may.

“Weel may ye save an’ see, bonny lass,

“An’ weel may ye save an’ see.”

“An’ sae wi’ you, ye weel-bred knight,”

“And what’s your will wi’ me?”

“The night is misty and mirk, fair may,

“And I have ridden astray,

“And will ye be so kind, fair may,

“As come out and point my way?”

“Ride out, ride out, ye ramp rider!

“Your steed’s baith stout and strang;

“For out of the bought I dare na come,

“For fear ‘at ye do me wrang.”

“O winna ye pity me, bonny lass,

“O winna ye pity me?

“An’ winna ye pity my poor steed,

“Stands trembling at yon tree?”

“I wadna pity your poor steed,

“Tho’ it were tied to a thorn;

“For if ye wad gain my love the night,

“Ye wad slight me ere the morn.

“For I ken you by your weel-busked hat,

“And your merrie twinkling e’e,

“That ye’re the laird o’ the Oakland hills,

“An’ ye may weel seem for to be.”

“But I am not the laird o’ the Oakland hills,

“Ye’re far mista’en o’ me;

“But I’m are o’ the men about his house,

“An’ right aft in his companie.”

He’s ta’en her by the middle jimp,

And by the grass-green sleeve;

He’s lifted her over the fauld dyke,

And speer’d at her sma’ leave.

O he’s ta’en out a purse o’ gowd,

And streek’d her yellow hair,

“Now, take ye that, my bonnie may,

“Of me till you hear mair.”

O he’s leapt on his berry-brown steed,

An’ soon he’s o’erta’en his men;

And ane and a’ cried out to him,

“O master, ye’ve tarry’d lang!”

“O I hae been east, and I hae been west,

“An’ I hae been far o’er the know,

“But the bonniest lass that ever I saw

“Is i’the bought milking the ewes.”

She set the cog284 upon her head,

An’ she’s gane singing hame —

“O where hae ye been, my ae daughter?

“Ye hae na been your lane.”

“O nae body was wi’ me, father,

“O nae body has been wi’ me;

“The night is misty and mirk, father,

“Ye may gang to the door and see.

“But wae be to your ewe-herd, father,

“And an ill deed may he die;

“He bug the bought at the back o’ the know,

“And a tod285 has frighted me.

“There came a tod to the bought-door,

“The like I never saw;

“And ere he had tane the lamb he did,

“I had lourd he had ta’en them a’.”

O whan fifteen weeks was come and gane,

Fifteen weeks and three.

That lassie began to look thin and pale,

An’ to long for his merry twinkling e’e.

It fell on a day, on a het simmer day,

She was ca’ing out her father’s kye,

By came a troop o’ gentlemen,

A’ merrilie riding bye.

“Weel may ye save an’ see, bonny may,

“Weel may ye save and see!

“Weel I wat, ye be a very bonny may,

“But whae’s aught that babe ye are wi’?”

Never a word could that lassie say,

For never a ane could she blame,

An’ never a word could the lassie say,

But “I have a good man at hame.”

“Ye lied, ye lied, my very bonny may,

“Sae loud as I hear you lie;

“For dinna ye mind that misty night

“I was i’ the bought wi’ thee?

“I ken you by your middle sae jimp,

“An’ your merry twinkling e’e,

“That ye’re the bonny lass i’the Cowdenknow,

“An’ ye may weel seem for to be.”

Than he’s leap’d off his berry-brown steed,

An’ he’s set that fair may on —

“Caw out your kye, gude father, yoursell,

“For she’s never caw them out again.

“I am the laird of the Oakland hills,

“I hae thirty plows and three;

“Ah’ I hae gotten the bonniest lass

“That’s in a’ the south country.

284 Cog— Milking-pail.]

285 Tod— Fox.]

Last updated Sunday, March 27, 2016 at 12:00