'Lord John,' Kinloch Manuscripts, I, 75. C. 1827; Child 2. F
[The informant Mary Barr of Lesmahago learned this about 50 years ago (she was 75 in 1827). The title is obviously a local title and makes little sense. From George R. Kinloch, the author of The Ballad Book and of Ancient Scottish Ballads, published in 1827. Child had access to the Kinloch manuscripts, and often consulted them.
R. Matteson 2011/2018]
'Lord John' Kinloch Manuscripts, I, 75. C. 1827 Kinloch Manuscripts, i, 75. From Mary Barr. Child, Version F
1 'Did ye ever travel twixt Berwick and Lyne?
Sober and grave grows merry in time
There ye'll meet wi a handsome young dame,
Ance she was a true love o mine.
2 'Tell her to sew me a holland sark,
Sober and grave grows merry in time
And sew it all without needle-wark:
And syne we'll be true lovers again.
3 'Tell her to wash it at yon spring-well,
Sober and grave grows merry in time
Where neer wind blew, nor yet rain fell.
And syne we'll be true lovers again.
4 'Tell her to dry it on yon hawthorn,
Sober and grave grows merry in time
That neer sprang up sin Adam was born.
And syne we'll be true lovers again.
5 'Tell her to iron it wi a hot iron,
Sober and grave grows merry in time
And plait it a' in ae plait round.'
And syne we'll be true lovers again.
6 'Did ye ever travel twixt Berwick and Lyne?
Sober and grave grows merry in time
There ye'll meet wi a handsome young man,
Ance he was a true lover o mine.
7 'Tell him to plough me an acre o land
Sober and grave grows merry in time
Betwixt the sea-side bot and the sea-sand,
And syne we'll be true lovers again.
8 'Tell him to saw it wi ae peck o corn,
Sober and grave grows merry in time
And harrow it a' wi ae harrow tine.
And syne we'll be true lovers again.
9 'Tell him to shear it wi ae hook-tooth,
Sober and grave grows merry in time
And carry it hame just into his loof.
And syne we'll be true lovers again.
10 'Tell him to stack it in yon mouse-hole,
Sober and grave grows merry in time
And thrash it a' just wi his shoe-sole.
And syne we'll be true lovers again.
11 'Tell him to dry it on yon ribless kiln,
Sober and grave grows merry in time
And grind it a' in yon waterless miln.
And syne we'll be true lovers again.
12 Tell this young man, whan he's finished his wark,
Sober and grave grows merry in time
He may come to me, and hese get his sark.'
And syne we'll be true lovers again.