Glen Collection of printed music > Printed text > Scottish ballads

324
" I diued wi' my true love ; mother, mak my bed soon ;
For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wad lie doun."
" What gat ye to your dinner, Lord Randal, my son ?
What gat ye to your dinner, my handsome young man ?"
" I gat eels boiled in broe ; mother, mak my bed soon ;
For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wad lie doun."
" What became of your bloodhounds. Lord Randal, my
son?
What became of your bloodhounds, my handsome young
man ?"
" Oh, they swelled and they dee'd ; mother, mak my
bed soon ;
For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wad lie doun."
" Oh, I fear ye are poisoned. Lord Randal, my son I
Oh, I fear ye are poisoned, my handsome young man I"
" Oh, yes I am poisoned ; mother, mak my bed soon ;
For I'm sick at the heart, and fain wad lie doun ?" *
* From the Border Minstrelsy. This very affecting hallad, which is sung
to a fine air, seems to be one of those legends which appear in different
shapes, but with the same general frame-work, in f 11 the countries of Eu-
rope. The following is a nursery version, common in this country :
THE CROODLIN DOG. [COOING PIGEON.]
Oh, whaur hae ye been a' the day.
My little wee croodlin doo ?
Oh, I've been at my grandmother's,
Mak my bed, mammie, noo !
Oh, what gat ye at your grandmother's.
My little wee croodlin doo ?
I got a bonnie wee fishie,
Mak my bed, maramie, noo !
Oh, whaur did she catch the fishie,
My bonnie wee croodlin doo ?
She catch'd it in the gutter-hole,
Mak my bed, mammie, noo.
And what did she do wi' the fish.
My little wee croodhn doo ?
She boiled it in a brass pan ;
Oh, mak my bed, mammie, noo.