Jamie Douglas

No: 204; variant: 204E

  1. I LAY sick, and very sick, And I was bad, and like to dee; . . . . A friend o mine cam to visit me, And Blackwood whisperd in my lord’s ear That he was oure lang in chamber wi me.
  2. ‘O what need I dress up my head, Nor what need I caim doun my hair, Whan my gude lord has forsaken me, And says he will na love me mair!
  3. ‘But oh, an my young babe was born, And set upon some nourice knee, And I mysel war dead and gane! For a maid again I’ll never be.’
  4. ‘Na mair o this, my dochter dear, And of your mourning let abee; For a bill of divorce I’ll gar write for him, A mair better lord I’ll get for thee.’
  5. ‘Na mair o this, my father dear, And of your folly let abee; For I wad ne gie ae look o my lord’s face For aw the lords in the haill cuntree.
  6. ‘But I’ll cast aff my robes o red, And I’ll put on my robes o blue, And I will travel to some other land, To see gin my love will on me rue.
  7. ‘There shall na wash come on my face, There shall na kaim come on my hair; There shall neither coal nor candle-licht Be seen intil my bouer na mair.
  8. ‘O wae be to thee, Blackwood, And an ill death may ye dee! Foe ye’ve been the haill occasion Of parting my lord and me.’