CLERK COLVEN
1 Clerk Colven and his gay lady
As they walk'd to yon garden green,
A belt about her middle gimp, tidy, neat
Which cost Clerk Colven crowns fifteen.
2 'O harken well now, my good lord,
And harken well to what I say:
When ye gae to the walls o' Stream,
Be sure ye touch nae well fav'rd may.' handsome girl
3 'O haud your tongue, my gay lady,
And dinna deave me wi' your din; bother
I never saw a fair woman
But wi' her body I cou'd sin.'
4 He mounted on his berry-brown steed,
And merry merry rade he on,
Till he came til the walls o' Stream,
An' there he saw the mermaiden.
5 'Ye wash, ye wash, ye bonny may,
And ay's ye wash your sark o' silk.' shirt
'It's a' for you, ye gentle knight,
My skin is whiter than the milk.' ^
6 He's taen her by the milk white hand, n
And likewise by the grass-green sleeve,
And laid her down upon the green,
Nor of his lady speer'd he leave, asked
7 Ohon ! alas! cries Clerk Colven,
An' ay sae sair's I mean my head. sore
Merrily leugh the mermaiden : laughed
'O, even on, till ye be dead.
8 But out ye tak' your little pen-knife,
An' frae my sark ye shear a gare, cut a piece
An' row't about your lovely head, wrap
And the pain you'll never feel nae mair.'
9 Out has he taen his little pen-knife,
An' frae her sark he's shorn a gare,
He's row't about his bonny head;
But the pain increased mair and mair.
10 Ohon ! alas ! cries Clerk Colven,
An' ay sae sair's I mean my head.
Merrily leugh the mermaiden :
'Twill ay be waur till ye be dead.' still be worse
11 Then out he drew his trusty blade,
And thought wi' it to be her dead; kill her
But she became a fish again,
And merrily sprang into the fleed. flood
12 He's mounted on his berry-brown steed,
An' dowie dowie rade he hame, sadly
Until he came to his lady's bower door
An' heavily he lighted down.
13 'O, mither, mither, mak' my bed,
An', gentle lady, lay me down ;
O brither, brither, unbend my bow,
'Twill never be bent by me again.'
14 His mither she has made his bed,
The gentle lady laid him down,
His brither he has unbent his bow,
'Twas never bent by him again.
- from the singing of Mrs Brown, Falkland, Aber-
deenshire, Scotland. Printed in Ritson Tytler-Brown MS, pp.
6-9. It is Bronson's only text and tune, BIB 5, Vol. I, p. 334
@myth
filename[ GEOCLLN4
SOF
Feb07
mudcat.org
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