49
THE TWA BROTHERS
A. SharpeÕs Ballad Book, p. 56, No 19.
B. ÔThe Cruel Brother,Õ MotherwellÕs MS., p. 259. From the recitation of Mrs McCormick.
C. ÔThe Twa Brithers,Õ MotherwellÕs MS., p. 649. From the recitation of Mrs Cunningham.
D. ÔThe Twa Brothers, or, The Wood o Warslin,Õ JamiesonÕs Popular Ballads, I, 59. From the recitation of Mrs Arrott.
E. ÔThe Twa Brothers,Õ MotherwellÕs Minstrelsy, p. 60.
F. ÔThe Two Brothers,Õ BuchanÕs MSS, I, 57; MotherwellÕs MS., p. 662.
G. a. ÔJohn and William,Õ taken down from the singing of little girls in South Boston. b. From a child in New York. Both communicated by Mr W. W. Newell.
H. ÔPerthshire Tredgey.Õ From a copy formerly in the possession of Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe.
I. Communicated by Mr J. K. Hudson of Manchester.

All the Scottish versions were obtained within the first third of this century, and since then no others have been heard of. It is interesting to find the ballad still in the mouths of children in American cities, in the mouths of the poorest, whose heritage these old things are.* The American versions, though greatly damaged, preserve the names John and William, which all the other copies have. B and C are considerably corrupted. It need hardly be mentioned that the age of the boys in the first two stanzas of B does not suit the story. According to C 8, 15, the mother had cursed John, before he left home, with a wish that he might never return; and in C 9, John sends word to his true-love that he is in his grave for her dear sake alone. These points seem to have been taken from some copy of ÔWillie and May Margaret,Õ or ÔThe Drowned Lovers.Õ The conclusion of both B and C belongs to ÔSweet WilliamÕs Ghost.Õ C 18 may be corrected by B 10, though there is an absurd jumble of pipes and harp in the latter. The harp, in a deft hand, effects like wonders in many a ballad: e.g., ÔHarpens Kraft,Õ Grundtvig, II, 65, No 40; even a pipe in C 14Ð16 of the same. D, E, F, G supplement the story with more or less of the ballad of ÔEdward:Õ see p. 235. There is a copy in Nimmo, Songs and Ballads of Clydesdale, p. 131, made from D, E, with half a dozen lines for connection. Jamieson inquires for this ballad in the Scots Magazine for October, 1803, p. 701, at which time he had only the first stanza and the first half of the third. He fills out the imperfect stanza nearly as in the copy which he afterwards printed:
But out an WillieÕs taen his knife,
And did his brother slay.

Of the five other Scottish versions, all except B make the deadly wound to be the result of accident, and this is, in MotherwellÕs view, a point essential. The other reading, he says, is at variance with the rest of the story, and Òsweeps away the deep impression this simple ballad would otherwise have made upon the feelings: for it is almost unnecessary to mention that its touching interest is made to centre in the boundless sorrow and cureless remorse of him who had been the unintentional cause of

A
SharpeÕs Ballad Book, p. 56, No 19.

1 There were twa brethren in the north,
They went to the school thegither;
The one unto the other said,
Will you try a warsle afore?

2 They warsled up, they warsled down,
Till Sir John fell to the ground,
And there was a knife in Sir WillieÕs pouch,
Gied him a deadlie wound.

3 ÔOh brither dear, take me on your back,
Carry me to yon burn clear,
And wash the blood from off my wound,
And it will bleed nae mair.Õ

4 He took him up upon his back,
Carried him to yon burn clear,
And washd the blood from off his wound,
But aye it bled the mair.

5 ÔOh brither dear, take me on your back,
Carry me to yon kirk-yard,
And dig a grave baith wide and deep,
And lay my body there.Õ

6 HeÕs taen him up upon his back,
Carried him to yon kirk-yard,
And dug a grave baith deep and wide,
And laid his body there.

7 ÔBut what will I say to my father dear,
Gin he chance to say, Willie, wharÕs John?Õ
ÔOh say that heÕs to England gone,
To buy him a cask of wine.Õ

8 ÔAnd what will I say to my mother dear,
Gin she chance to say, Willie, wharÕs John?Õ
ÔOh say that heÕs to England gone,
To buy her a new silk gown.Õ

9 ÔAnd what will I say to my sister dear,
Gin she chance to say, Willie, wharÕs John?Õ
ÔOh say that heÕs to England gone,
To buy her a wedding ring.Õ

10 ÔBut what will I say to her you loe dear,
Gin she cry, Why tarries my John?Õ
ÔOh tell her I lie in Kirk-land fair,
And home again will never come.Õ

B
MotherwellÕs MS., p. 259. From Widow McCormick, January 19, 1825.

1 There was two little boys going to the school,
And twa little boys they be,
They met three brothers playing at the ba,
And ladies dansing hey.

2 ÔItÕs whether will ye play at the ba, brither,
Or else throw at the stone?Õ
ÔI am too little, I am too young,
O brother let me alone.Õ

3 He pulled out a little penknife,
That was baith sharp and sma,
He gave his brother a deadly wound
That was deep, long and sair.

4 He took the holland sark off his back,
He tore it frae breast to gare,
He laid it to the bloody wound,
That still bled mair and mair.

5 ÔItÕs take me on your back, brother,Õ he says,
ÔAnd carry me to yon kirk-yard,
And make me there a very fine grave,
That will be long and large.

6 ÔLay my bible at my head,Õ he says,
ÔMy chaunter at my feet,
My bow and arrows by my side,
And soundly I will sleep.

7 ÔWhen you go home, brother,Õ he says,
ÔMy father will ask for me;
You may tell him I am in Saussif town,
Learning my lesson free.

8 ÔWhen you go home, brother,Õ he says,
ÔMy mother will ask for me;
You may tell her I am in Sausaf town,
And IÕll come home merrily.

9 ÔWhen you go home, brother,Õ he says,
ÔLady Margaret will ask for me;
You may tell her IÕm dead and in grave laid,
And buried in Sausaff toun.Õ

10 She put the small pipes to her mouth,
And she harped both far and near,
Till she harped the small birds off the briers,
And her true love out of the grave.

11 ÔWhatÕs this? whatÕs this, lady Margaret?Õ he says,
ÔWhatÕs this you want of me?Õ
ÔOne sweet kiss of your ruby lips,
ThatÕs all I want of thee.Õ

12 ÔMy lips they are so bitter,Õ he says,
ÔMy breath it is so strong,
If you get one kiss of my ruby lips,
Your days will not be long.Õ

C
MotherwellÕs MS., p. 649. From the recitation of Mrs Cunningham, Ayr.

1 There were twa brithers at ae scule
As they were coming hame,
Then said the ane until the other
ÔJohn, will ye throw the stane?Õ

2 ÔI will not throw the stane, brither,
I will not play at the ba;
But gin ye come to yonder wood
IÕll warsle you a fa.Õ

3 The firsten fa young Johnie got,
It brought him to the ground;
The wee pen-knife in WillieÕs pocket
Gied him a deadly wound.

4 ÔTak aff, tak aff my holland sark,
And rive it frae gore to gore,
And stap it in my bleeding wounds,
TheyÕll aiblins bleed noe more.Õ

5 He pouit aff his holland sark,
And rave it frae gore to gore,
And stapt it in his bleeding wounds,
But ay they bled the more.

6 ÔO brither, tak me on your back,
And bear me hence away,
And carry me to Chester kirk,
And lay me in the clay.Õ

7 ÔWhat will I say to your father,
This night when I return?Õ
ÔTell him IÕm gane to Chester scule,
And tell him no to murn.Õ

8 ÔWhat will I say to your mother,
This nicht whan I gae hame?Õ
ÔShe wishd afore I cam awa
That I might neer gae hame.Õ

9 ÔWhat will I say to your true-love,
This nicht when I gae hame?Õ
ÔTell her IÕm dead and in my grave,
For her dear sake alane.Õ

10 He took him upon his back
And bore him hence away,
And carried him to Chester kirk,
And laid him in the clay.

11 He laid him in the cauld cauld clay,
And he cuirt him wi a stane,
And heÕs awa to his fathers ha,
Sae dowilie alane.

12 ÔYouÕre welcome, dear son,Õ he said,
ÔYouÕre welcome hame to me;
But whatÕs come o your brither John,
That gade awa wi thee?Õ

13 ÔOh heÕs awa to Chester scule,
A scholar heÕll return;
He bade me tell his father dear
About him no to murn.Õ

14 ÔYouÕre welcome hame, dear son,Õ she said,
ÔYouÕre welcome hame to me;
But whatÕs come o your brither John,
That gade awa wi thee?Õ

15 ÔHe bade me tell his mother dear,
This nicht when I cam hame,
Ye wisht before he gade awa,
That he might neer return.Õ

16 Then next came up his true-love dear,
And heavy was her moan;
ÔYouÕre welcome hame, dear Will,Õ she said,
ÔBut whareÕs your brither John?Õ

17 ÔO lady, cease your trouble now,
O cease your heavy moan;
HeÕs dead and in the cauld cauld clay,
For your dear sake alone.Õ

18 She ran distraught, she wept, she sicht,
She wept the sma brids frae the tree,
She wept the starns adoun frae the lift,
She wept the fish out o the sea.

19 ÔO cease your weeping, my ain true-love,
Ye but disturb my rest;Õ
ÔIs that my ain true lover John,
The man that I loe best?Õ

20 ÔÕT is naething but my ghaist,Õ he said,
ÔThatÕs sent to comfort thee;
O cease your weeping, my true-love,
And Õt will gie peace to me.Õ

D
JamiesonÕs Popular Ballads, I, 59. From the recitation of Mrs W. Arrott, of Aberbrothick.

1 ÔO will ye gae to the school, brother?
Or will ye gae to the ba?
Or will ye gae to the wood a-warslin,
To see whilk oÕs maun fa?Õ

2 ÔItÕs I winna gae to the school, brother,
Nor will I gae to the ba;
But I will gae to the wood a-warslin,
And it is you maun fa.Õ

3 They warstled up, they warstled down,
The lee-lang simmerÕs day;
. . . . .
. . . . .

4 ÔO lift me up upon your back,
Tak me to yon wall fair;
YouÕll wash my bluidy wounds oer and oer,
And syne theyÕll bleed nae mair.Õ

5 ÔAnd yeÕll tak aff my hollin sark,
And riv Õt frae gair to gair;
YeÕll stap it in my bluidy wounds,
And syne theyÕll bleed nae mair.Õ

6 HeÕs liftit his brother upon his back,
Taen him to yon wall fair;
HeÕs washed his bluidy wounds oer and oer,
But ay they bled mair and mair.

7 And heÕs taen aff his hollin sark,
And riven Õt frae gair to gair;
HeÕs stappit it in his bluidy wounds,
But ay they bled mair and mair.

8 ÔYeÕll lift me up upon your back,
Tak me to Kirkland fair;
YeÕll mak my greaf baith braid and lang,
And lay my body there.

9 ÔYeÕll lay my arrows at my head,
My bent bow at my feet,
My sword and buckler at my side,
As I was wont to sleep.

10 ÔWhan ye gae hame to your father,
HeÕll speer for his son John:
Say, ye left him into Kirkland fair,
Learning the school alone.

11 ÔWhen ye gae hame to my sister,
SheÕll speer for her brother John:
YeÕll say, ye left him in Kirkland fair,
The green grass growin aboon.

12 ÔWhan ye gae hame to my true-love,
SheÕll speer for her lord John:
YeÕll say, ye left him in Kirkland fair,
But hame ye fear heÕll never come.Õ

13 HeÕs gane hame to his father;
He speered for his son John:
ÔItÕs I left him into Kirkland fair,
Learning the school alone.Õ

14 And whan he gaed hame to his sister,
She speered for her brother John:
ÔItÕs I left him into Kirkland fair,
The green grass growin aboon.Õ

15 And whan he gaed home to his true-love,
She speerd for her lord John:
ÔItÕs I left him into Kirkland fair,
And hame I fear heÕll never come.Õ

16 ÔBut whaten bluidÕs that on your sword, Willie?
Sweet Willie, tell to me;Õ
ÔO it is the bluid o my grey hounds,
They wadna rin for me.Õ

17 ÔItÕs nae the bluid o your hounds, Willie,
Their bluid was never so red;
But it is the bluid o my true-love,
That ye hae slain indeed.Õ

18 That fair may wept, that fair may mournd,
That fair may mournd and pinÕd:
ÔWhen every lady looks for her love,
I neer need look for mine.Õ

19 ÔO whaten a death will ye die, Willie?
Now, Willie, tell to me;Õ
ÔYeÕll put me in a bottomless boat,
And IÕll gae sail the sea.Õ

20 ÔWhan will ye come hame again, Willie?
Now, Willie, tell to me;Õ
ÔWhan the sun and moon dances on the green,
And that will never be.Õ

E
MotherwellÕs Minstrelsy, p. 60.

1 There were twa brothers at the scule,
And when they got awa,
ÔItÕs will ye play at the stane-chucking,
Or will ye play at the ba,
Or will ye gae up to yon hill head,
And there weÕll warsell a fa?Õ

2 ÔI winna play at the stane-chucking,
Nor will I play at the ba;
But IÕll gae up to yon bonnie green hill,
And there weÕll warsel a fa.Õ

3 They warsled up, they warsled down,
Till John fell to the ground;
A dirk fell out of WilliamÕs pouch,
And gave John a deadly wound.

4 ÔO lift me upon your back,
Take me to yon well fair,
And wash my bloody wounds oer and oer,
And theyÕll neer bleed nae mair.Õ

5 HeÕs lifted his brother upon his back,
Taen him to yon well fair;
HeÕs washÕd his bluidy wounds oer and oer,
But they bleed ay mair and mair.

6 ÔTak ye aff my holland sark,
And rive it gair by gair,
And row it in my bluidy wounds,
And theyÕll neer bleed nae mair.Õ

7 HeÕs taken aff his holland sark,
And torn it gair by gair;
HeÕs rowit it in his bluidy wounds,
But they bleed ay mair and mair.

8 ÔTak now aff my green cleiding,
And row me saftly in,
And tak me up to yon kirk-style,
Whare the grass grows fair and green.Õ

9 HeÕs taken aff the green cleiding,
And rowed him saftly in;
HeÕs laid him down by yon kirk-style,
Whare the grass grows fair and green.

10 ÔWhat will ye say to your father dear,
When ye gae hame at een?Õ
ÔIÕll say yeÕre lying at yon kirk-style,
Whare the grass grows fair and green.Õ

11 ÔO no, O no, my brother dear,
O you must not say so;
But say that IÕm gane to a foreign land,
Whare nae man does me know.Õ

12 When he sat in his fatherÕs chair,
He grew baith pale and wan:
ÔO what bludeÕs that upon your brow?
O dear son, tell to me;Õ
ÔIt is the blude o my gude gray steed,
He wadna ride wi me.Õ

13 ÔO thy steedÕs blude was neer sae red,
Nor eer sae dear to me:
O what bludeÕs this upon your cheek?
O dear son, tell to me;Õ
ÔIt is the blude of my greyhound,
He wadna hunt for me.Õ

14 ÔO thy houndÕs blude was neer sae red,
Nor eer sae dear to me:
O what bludeÕs this upon your hand?
O dear son, tell to me;Õ
ÔIt is the blude of my gay goss-hawk,
He wadna flee for me.Õ

15 ÔO thy hawkÕs blude was neer sae red,
Nor eer sae dear to me:
O what bludeÕs this upon your dirk?
Dear Willie, tell to me;Õ
ÔIt is the blude of my ae brother,
O dule and wae is me!Õ

16 ÔO what will ye say to your father?
Dear Willie, tell to me;Õ
ÔIÕll saddle my steed, and awa IÕll ride,
To dwell in some far countrie.Õ

17 ÔO when will ye come hame again?
Dear Willie, tell to me;Õ
ÔWhen sun and mune leap on yon hill,
And that will never be.Õ

18 She turnd hersel right round about,
And her heart burst into three:
ÔMy ae best son is deid and gane,
And my tother ane IÕll neer see.Õ

F
BuchanÕs MSS, I, 57; MotherwellÕs MS., p. 662.

1 There were twa brothers in the east,
Went to the school o Ayr;
The one unto the other did say,
Come let us wrestle here.

2 They wrestled up and wrestled down,
Till John fell to the ground;
There being a knife in WillieÕs pocket,
Gae John his deadly wound.

3 ÔO is it for my gold, brother?
Or for my white monie?
Or is it for my lands sae braid,
That ye hae killed me?Õ

4 ÔIt is not for your gold,Õ he said,
ÔNor for your white monie;
It is by the hand o accident
That I hae killed thee.Õ

5 ÔYeÕll take the shirt thatÕs on my back,
Rive it frae gair to gair,
And try to stop my bloody wounds,
For they bleed wonderous sair.Õ

6 HeÕs taen the shirt was on his back,
Reave it frae gare to gare,
And tried to stop his bleeding wounds,
But still they bled the mair.

7 ÔYeÕll take me up upon your back,
Carry me to yon water clear,
And try to stop my bloody wounds,
For they run wonderous sair.Õ

8 HeÕs taen him up upon his back,
Carried him to yon water clear,
And tried to stop his bleeding wounds,
But still they bled the mair.

9 ÔYeÕll take me up upon your back,
Carry me to yon church-yard;
YeÕll dig a grave baith wide and deep,
And then yeÕll lay me there.

10 ÔYeÕll put a head-stane at my head,
Another at my feet,
Likewise a sod on my breast-bane,
The souner I may sleep.

11 ÔWhenever my father asks of thee,
Saying, WhatÕs become of John?
YeÕll tell frae me, IÕm ower the sea,
For a cargo of good wine.

12 ÔAnd when my sweetheart asks of thee,
Saying, WhatÕs become of John?
YeÕll tell frae me, IÕm ower the sea,
To buy a wedding gown.

13 ÔAnd when my sister asks of thee,
Saying, William, where is John?
YeÕll tell frae me, IÕm ower the sea,
To learn some merry sang.

14 ÔAnd when my mother asks of thee,
Saying, William, where is John?
Tell her IÕm buried in green Fordland,
The grass growing ower my tomb.Õ

15 HeÕs taen him up upon his back,
Carried him to yon church-yard,
And dug a grave baith wide and deep,
And he was buried there.

16 He laid a head-stane at his head,
Another at his feet,
And laid a green sod on his breast,
The souner he might sleep.

17 His father asked when he came hame,
Saying, ÔWilliam, where is John?Õ
Then John said, ÔHe is ower the sea,
To bring you hame some wine.Õ

18 ÔWhat blood is this upon you, William,
And looks sae red on thee?Õ
ÔIt is the blood o my grey-hound,
He woudna run for me.Õ

19 ÔO thatÕs nae like your grey-houndÕs blude,
William, that I do see;
I fear it is your own brotherÕs blood
That looks sae red on thee.Õ

20 ÔThat is not my own brotherÕs blude,
Father, that ye do see;
It is the blood o my good grey steed,
He woudna carry me.Õ

21 ÔO that is nae your grey steedÕs blude,
William, that I do see;
It is the blood o your brother John,
That looks sae red on thee.Õ

22 ÔItÕs nae the blood o my brother John,
Father, that ye do see;
It is the blude o my good grey hawk,
Because he woudna flee.Õ

23 ÔO that is nae your grey hawkÕs blood,
William, that I do see:Õ
ÔWell, itÕs the blude o my brother,
This country I maun flee.Õ

24 ÔO when will ye come back again,
My dear son, tell to me?Õ
ÔWhen sun and moon gae three times round,
And this will never be.Õ

25 ÔOhon, alas! now William, my son,
This is bad news to me;
Your brotherÕs death IÕll aye bewail,
And the absence o thee.Õ

G
a. Taken down lately from the singing of little girls in South Boston. b. Two stanzas, from a child in New York, 1880. Communicated by Mr W. W. Newell.

1 As John and William were coming home one day,
One Saturday afternoon,
Says John to William, Come and try a fight,
Or will you throw a stone?
Or will you come down to yonder, yonder town
Where the maids are all playing ball, ball, ball,
Where the maids are all playing ball?

2 Says William to John, I will not try a fight,
Nor will I throw a stone,
Nor will I come down to yonder town,
Where the maids are all playing ball.

3 So John took out of his pocket
A knife both long and sharp,
And stuck it through his brotherÕs heart,
And the blood came pouring down.

4 Says John to William, ÔTake off thy shirt,
And tear it from gore to gore,
And wrap it round your bleeding heart,
And the blood will pour no more.Õ

5 So John took off his shirt,
And tore it from gore to gore,
And wrapped it round his bleeding heart,
And the blood came pouring more.

6 ÔWhat shall I tell your dear father,
When I go home to-night?Õ
ÔYouÕll tell him IÕm dead and in my grave,
For the truth must be told.Õ

7 ÔWhat shall I tell your dear mother,
When I go home to-night?Õ
ÔYouÕll tell her IÕm dead and in my grave,
For the truth must be told.Õ

8 ÔHow came this blood upon your knife?
My son, come tell to me;Õ
ÔIt is the blood of a rabbit I have killed,
O mother, pardon me.Õ

9 ÔThe blood of a rabbit couldnt be so pure,
My son, come tell to me:Õ
ÔIt is the blood of a squirrel I have killed,
O mother, pardon me.Õ

10 ÔThe blood of a squirrel couldnt be so pure,
My son, come tell to me:Õ
ÔIt is the blood of a brother I have killed,
O mother, pardon me.Õ

H
ÔPerthshire Tredgey.Õ From a copy formerly in the possession of Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe. This fragment has some resemblances to F. ÒCopied 1823Ó is endorsed on the sheet (in the hand which made an insertion in st. 11) and crossed out.

1 Two pretty boys lived in the North,
The went to the school so rare;
The one unto the other said,
WeÕll try some battle of war.

2 The worselaid up, the worselaid down,
Till John lay on the ground;
A pen-knife out of WilliamÕs pocket
Gave John a deadly wound.

3 ÔO is it for my gold?Õ he said,
ÔOr for my rich monie?
Or is it for my land sa broad,
That you have killed me?Õ

4 ÔItÕs neither for your gold,Õ he said,
ÔOr for your rich monie,
But it is for your land sa broad
That I have killed thee.Õ

5 ÔYouÕll take [me] up upon your back,
Carry me to Wastlen kirk-yard;
You Õill houk a hole large and deep,
And lay my body there.

6 ÔYouÕll put a good stone on my head,
Another at me feet,
A good green turf upon my breast,
That the sounder I m[a]y sleep.

7 ÔAnd if my father chance to ask
WhatÕs come of your brother John,
. . . . . .
. . . . .
* * * * *

8 ÔWhat blood is this upon your coat?
I pray come tell to me;Õ
ÔIt is the blood of my grey hound,
It would not run for me.Õ

9 ÔThe blood of your greyhound was near so red,
I pray come tell to me;Õ
ÔIt is the blood of my black horse,
It would not hunt for me.Õ

10 ÔThe blood of your black horse was near so red,
I pray come tell to me;Õ
ÔIt is the blood of my brother John,
Since better canna be.Õ
* * * * *

11 He put his foot upon a ship,
Saying, I am gane our the sea;
ÔO when will you come back again,
I pray come tell to me.Õ

12 ÔWhen the sun and the moon passes over the broom,
That[Õs] the day youÕll never see.Õ

I
Communicated by Mr J. K. Hudson of Manchester. Sung after a St George play regularly acted on All SoulsÕ Day at a village a few miles from Chester, and written down for Mr Hudson by one of the performers, a lad of sixteen. The play was introduced by a song called Souling (similar to a Stephening, see p. 322), and followed by two songs, of which this is the last, the whole dramatic company singing.

1 ÔAnd itÕs where hast thou been all this night long, my son?
Come tell it unto me.Õ
ÔI have been lying on yonder bull-rushes,
Which lies beneath yond tree.Õ

2 ÔAnd itÕs what are the spots on this thy coat, my son?
Come tell it unto me.Õ
ÔThey are the spots of my poor brotherÕs blood,
Which lies beneath yonder tree.Õ

3 ÔAnd itÕs what didst thou kill thy poor brother for, my son?
Come tell it unto me.Õ
ÔBecause he killed two pretty little birds,
Which flew from tree to tree.Õ

4 ÔAnd itÕs what will the father say when he comes, my son?
Come tell it unto me.Õ
ÔI will dress me up in sailorÕs clothes,
And my face he will never see.Õ

5 ÔAnd itÕs what wilt thou do with thy pretty little wife, my son?
Come tell it unto me.Õ
ÔI will dress her up in lad[d]ieÕs clothes,
And she will sail along with me.Õ

6 ÔAnd itÕs what wilt thou do with thy children three, my son?
Come tell it unto me.Õ
ÔI will leave them to my poor grandfather to rear,
And comfort [to] him [to be].Õ

7 ÔAnd itÕs when shall we see thy face again, my son?
Come tell it unto me.Õ
ÔWhen the sun and moon shines both at once,
And that shall never be.Õ
Ñ

APPENDIX
Additional Copies
A b. ÔThe Two Brothers,Õ Walks near Edinburgh, by Margaret Warrender, 1890, p. 60. Given to Lady John Scott many years ago by Campbell Riddell, brother of Sir James Riddell of Ardnamurchan.

1 There were two brothers in the north,
Lord William and Lord John,
And they would try a wrestling match,
So to the fields theyÕve gone, gone, gone,
So to the fields theyÕve gone.

2 They wrestled up, they wrestled down,
Till Lord John fell on the ground.
And a knife into Lord WilliamÕs pocket
Gave him a deadly wound.

3 ÔOh take me on your back, dear William,Õ he said,
ÔAnd carry me to the burnie clear,
And wash my wound sae deep and dark,
Maybe Õt will bleed nae mair.Õ

4 He took him up upon his back,
An carried him to the burnie clear,
But aye the mair he washed his wound
It aye did bleed the mair.

5 ÔOh take me on your back, dear William,Õ he said,
ÔAnd carry me to the kirkyard fair,
And dig a grave sae deep and dark,
And lay my body there.Õ

6 ÔBut what shall I say to my father dear
When he says, Willie, whatÕs become of John?Õ
ÔOh tell him I am gone to Greenock town,
To buy him a puncheon of rum.Õ

7 ÔAnd what shall I say to my sister dear
When she says, Willie, whatÕs become of John?Õ
ÔOh tell her IÕve gone to London town
To buy her a marriage-gown.Õ

8 ÔBut what shall I say to my grandmother dear
When she says, Willie, whatÕs become of John?Õ
ÔOh tell her IÕm in the kirkyard dark,
And that IÕm dead and gone.Õ