We Were Sisters- peasant woman (Kirk) 1810 Cromek
[From Cromek's 1810 book, "Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song," p. 207 arranged from "a peasant woman of Galloway, upwards of ninety-years of age" by Alan Cunningham. The question is how much of the ballad was recreated by Cunningham who reworked significantly most of the ballads in this book. Child edited out most of the spurious recreations. The text Cromek published is at the bottom of this page.
Cromek/Cunningham were critical of Scott's composite. Their notes follow and then a rebuttal by Scoot and Jamieson in 1814.
R. Matteson 2018]
WE WERE SISTERS, WE WERE SEVEN. [notes by Cromek/ Cunningham]
This curious legend is one among a considerable number which were copied from the recital of a peasant woman of Galloway, upwards of ninety years of age. They were all evidently productions of a very remote date, and, whatever might be their poetical beauties, were so involved in obscurity as to render any attempt at illustration useless. This tale was preserved as a specimen of the rest, being not only the clearest in point of style, but possessing a character of originality which cannot fail to interest the reader. Though not strictly what may be called a fairy tale, it is narrated in a similar way. The transitions are abrupt, yet artfully managed, so as to omit no circumstance of the story which the imagination of the reader may not naturally supply. The singular character of Billie Blin' (the Scotch Brownie, and the lubbar fiend of Milton) gives the whole an air of the marvellous, independently of the mystic chair, on which the principal catastrophe of the story turns.
In the third volume of Mr. Scott's Border Minstrelsy there is a ballad called " Cospatrick," founded on three more imperfect readings of this ancient fragment, interspersed with some patches of modern imitation. The entire piece is not so long as the present copy, and the supplementary part but ill accords with the rude simplicity of the original. It is like the introduction of modern masonry to supply the dilapidations of a Gothic ruin; the style of architecture is uniform, but the freshness and polish of the materials destroy the effect of the ancient structure, and it can no longer be contemplated as a genuine relique of past ages.
There are many incongruities in Mr. Scott's copy, which it is strange that so able an antiquary could have let pass. For example :—
"When bells were rung, and mass was said,
And a' men unto bed were gane."
In the Romish service we never heard of mass being said in the evening, but vespers, as in the original here given. Mr. Scott also omits that interesting personage the "Billie Blin," and awkwardly supplies the loss by making the bed, blanket, and sheets speak, which is an outrage on the consistency even of a fairy tale.
* * * *
Four years later when "Illustrations of Northern Antiquities" was published Robert Jamieson, Sir Walter Scott responded to Cromek and Cunningham in the notes to Jamieson's translation of Ingefred and Gudrune, an analogue of Gil Breanton:
"In a publication (of no credit) which has just reached us, entitled " Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song," by R. H. Cromek, (which is executed in such a manner as, were it of sufficient importance, to bring the authenticity of all popular poetry in question,) there is a very poor and mutilated copy of "Gil Brenton," in a note upon which is the following passage: " There are many incongruities in Mr Scott's copy, which it is strange that so able an antiquary could have let pass. For example, we never hear of mass being said in the evening, but vespers, as in the original here given. Mr Scott also omits that interesting personage, the "Billie Blin," and awkwardly supplies the loss by making the bed, blankets, and sheets, speak, which is an outrage on the consistency even of a fairy tale."
Now, in Mr Scott's copies, and the present writer's, where the hero is called Gil Brenton, the blankets and sheets are just as in the Minstrelsy; there is no word of "Billie Blin," and we doubt if ever any reciter of the ballad mentioned him; and as to vespers, neither the thing itself, nor the name, is known among the peasantry of Scotland; whereas the mass, having been the war-cry of the Reformers, and afterwards of the Covenanters, during the struggles between presbytery and episcopacy, is still familiar to every one."
"We Were Sisters, We Were Seven," arranged from "a peasant woman of Galloway, upwards of ninety-years of age" by Alan Cunningham. Text edited by Child.
1 We were sisters, we were seven,
We were the fairest under heaven.
2 And it was a' our seven years wark
To sew our father's seven sarks.
3 And whan our seven years wark was done,
We laid it out upo the green.
4 We coost the lotties us amang,
Wha wad to the greenwood gang.
5 To pu the lily but and the rose,
To strew witha' our sisters' bowers.
6 . . . . . I was youngest,
. . . . . my weer was hardest.
7 And to the greenwood I bud gae,
. . . . .
8 There I met a handsome childe,
. . . . .
9 High-coled stockings and laigh-coled shoon,
He bore him like a king's son.
10 An was I weel, or was I wae,
He keepit me a' the simmer day.
11 An though I for my hame-gaun sich[t],
He keepit me a' the simmer night.
12 He gae to me a gay gold ring,
And bade me keep it aboon a' thing.
13 He gae to me a cuttie knife,
And bade me keep it as my life:
14 Three lauchters o his yellow hair,
For fear we wad neer meet mair.
* * * * *
15 Next there came shippes three,
To carry a' my bridal fee.
16 Gowd were the beaks, the sails were silk,
Wrought wi maids' hands like milk.
17 They came toom and light to me,
But heavie went they waie frae me.
18 y were fu o baken bread,
They were fu of wine sae red.
19 My dowry went a' by the sea,
But I gaed by the grenewode tree.
20 An I sighed and made great mane,
As thro the grenewode we rade our lane.
21 An I ay siched an wiped my ee,
That eer the grenewode I did see.
22 'Is there water in your glove,
Or win into your shoe?
O[r] am I oer low a foot-page
To rin by you, ladie?'
23 'O there's nae water in my glove,
Nor win into my shoe;
But I am maning for my mither
Wha's far awa frae me.'
* * * * *
24 'Gin ye be a maiden fair,
Meikle gude ye will get there.
25 'If ye be a maiden but,
Meikle sorrow will ye get.
26 'For seven king's daughters he hath wedded,
But never wi ane o them has bedded.
27 'He cuts the breasts frae their breast-bane,
An sends them back unto their dame.
28 'He sets their backs unto the saddle,
An sends them back unto their father.
29 'But be ye maiden or be ye nane,
To the gowden chair ye draw right soon.
30 'But be ye leman or be ye maiden,
Sit nae down till ye be bidden.'
31 Was she maiden or was she nane,
To the gowden chair she drew right soon.
32 she leman or was she maiden,
She sat down ere she was bidden.
33 Out then spake the lord's mother;
Says, 'This is not a maiden fair.
34 'In that chair nae leal maiden
Eer sits down till they be bidden.'
35 The Billie Blin then outspake he,
As he stood by the fair ladie.
36 'The bonnie may is tired wi riding,
Gaurd her sit down ere she was bidden.'
* * * * *
37 But on her waiting-maid she ca'd:
'Fair ladie, what's your will wi me?'
'O ye maun gie yere maidenheid
This night to an unco lord for me.'
38 'I hae been east, I hae been west,
I hae been far beyond the sea,
But ay, by grenewode or by bower,
I hae keepit my virginitie.
39 'But will it for my ladie plead,
I'll gie't this night to an unco lord.'
* * * * *
40 When bells were rung an vespers sung,
An men in sleep were locked soun,
41 Childe Branton and the waiting-maid
Into the bridal bed were laid.
42 'O lie thee down, my fair ladie,
Here are a' things meet for thee;
43 'Here's a bolster for yere head,
Here is sheets an comelie weids.'
* * * * *
44 'Now tell to me, ye Billie Blin,
If this fair dame be a leal maiden.'
45 'I wat she is as leal a wight
As the moon shines on in a simmer night.
46 'I wat she is as leal a may
As the sun shines on in a simmer day.
47 'But your bonnie bride's in her bower,
Dreeing the mither's trying hour.'
48 Then out o his bridal bed he sprang,
An into his mither's bower he ran.
49 'O mither kind, O mither dear,
This is nae a maiden fair.
50 'The maiden I took to my bride
Has a bairn atween her sides.
51 'The maiden I took to my bower
Is dreeing the mither's trying hour.'
52 Then to the chamber his mother flew,
And to the wa the door she threw.
53 She stapt at neither bolt nor ban,
Till to that ladie's bed she wan.
54 Says, 'Ladie fair, sae meek an mild,
Wha is the father o yere child?'
55 'O mither dear,' said that ladie,
'I canna tell gif I sud die.
56 'We were sisters, we were seven,
We were the fairest under heaven.
57 'And it was a' our seven years wark
To sew our father's seven sarks.
58 'And whan our seven years wark was done,
We laid it out upon the green.
59 'We coost the lotties us amang,
Wha wad to the greenwode gang;
60 'To pu the lily but an the rose,
To strew witha' our sisters' bowers.
61 . . . . . 'I was youngest,
. . . . . my weer was hardest.
62 'And to the greenwode I bu[d] gae.
. . . .
63 'There I met a handsome childe,
. . . .
64 'Wi laigh-coled stockings and high-coled shoon,
He seemed to be some king's son.
65 'And was I weel or was I wae,
He keepit me a' the simmer day.
66 'Though for my hame-gaun I oft sicht,
He keepit me a' the simmer night.
67 'He gae to me a gay gold ring,
An bade me keep it aboon a' thing;
68 'Three lauchters o he yellow hair,
For fear that we suld neer meet mair.
69 'O mither, if ye'll believe nae me,
Break up the coffer, an there ye'll see.'
70 An ay she coost, an ay she flang,
Till her ain gowd ring came in her hand.
71 And scarce aught i the coffer she left,
Till she gat the knife wi the siller heft,
72 Three lauchters o his yellow hair,
Knotted wi ribbons dink and rare.
73 She cried to her son, 'Where is the ring
Your father gave me at our wooing,
An I gae you at your hunting?
74 'What did ye wi the cuttie knife,
I bade ye keep it as yere life?'
75 'O haud yere tongue, my mither dear;
I gae them to a lady fair.
76 'I wad gie a' my lands and rents,
I had that ladie within my brents.
77 'I wad gie a' my lands an towers,
I had that ladie within my bowers.'
78 'Keep still yere lands, keep still yere rents;
Ye hae that ladie within yere brents.
79 'Keep still yere lands, keep still yere towers;
Ye hae that lady within your bowers.'
80 Then to his ladie fast ran he,
An low he kneeled on his knee.
81 'O tauk ye up my son,' said he,
'An, mither, tent my fair ladie.
82 'O wash him purely i the milk,
And lay him saftly in the silk.
83 'An ye maun bed her very soft,
For I maun kiss her wondrous oft.'
84 It was weel written on his breast-bane
Childe Branton was the father's name.
85 It was weel written on his right hand
He was the heir o his daddie's land.
____________________________________
"We Were Sisters, We Were Seven," arranged from "a peasant woman of Galloway, upwards of ninety-years of age" by Alan Cunningham.
1. We were sisters, we were seven,
We were the fairest under heaven,
2. And it was a' our seven-years' wark
To sew our father's seven sarks;
3. And whan our seven years' wark was done
We laid it out upo' the green:
4. We coost the lotties[lots] us amang
Wha wad to the greenwood gang,
5. To pu' the lily but and the rose
To strew witha' our sisters' bowers.
6. I was youngest,
my weer was hardest,
7. And to the green-wood I budt gae,
8. There I met a handsome childe,
9. High-coled stockings and laigh-coled shoon,
He bore him like a king's son;
An' was I weel or was I wae,
He keepit me a' the simmer-day,
An' though I for my hame gaun sich,
He keepit me a' the simmer-night;
He gae to me a gay gold ring,
And bade me keep it aboon a' thing.
He gae to me a cuttie knife,
And bade me keep it as my life.
Three lauchters o' his yellow hair,
For fear we wad ne'er meet main
First blew the sweet, the simmer-wind,
Then autumn wi' her breath sae kind,
Before that e'er the guid knight came
The tokens of his luve to claim.
Then fell the brown an' yellow leaf
Afore the knight o' luve shawed prief;
Three morns the winter's rime did fa',
When loud at our yett my luve did ca'—
"Ye hae daughters, ye hae seven,
Ye hae the fairest under heaven;
I am the lord o' lands wide,
Ane o' them maun be my bride—
I am lord of a' baronie,
Ane o' them maun lie wi' me—
O cherry lips are sweet to pree,
A rosie cheek's meet for the ee;
Lang brown locks a heart can bind,
Bonny black een in luve are kind;
Sma' white arms for clasping's meet,
Whan laid atween the bridal-sheets;
A kindlie heart is best of a',
An' debonnairest in the ha'.
Ane by ane thae things are sweet,
Ane by ane in luve they're meet—
But when they a' in ae maid bide,
She is fittest for a bride—
Sae be it weel or be it wae,
The youngest maun be my ladie;
Sae be it gude, sae be it meet,
She maun warm my bridal-sheet.
Little ken'd he, whan aff he rode,
I was his token'd luve in the wood;
Or when he gied me the wedding-token,
He was sealing the vows he thought were broken.
First came a page on a milk-white steed,
Wi' golden trappings on his head,
A' gowden was the saddle lap,
And gowden was the page's cap;
Next there came shippes three,
To carry a' my bridal-fee—
Gowd were the beaks, the sails were silk,
Wrought wi' maids' hands like milk;
They came toom and light to me,
But heavie went they waie frae me.
They were fu' o' baken bread,
They were fu' of wine sae red—
My dowry went a' by the sea,
But I gaed by the greenwode tree;
An' I sighed and made great mane,
As thro' the greenwode we rade our lane;
An' I ay siched an' wiped my ee,
That e'er the greenwode I did see— "Is there water in your glove,
Or win' into your shoe?
O am I o'er low a foot-page,
To rin by you ladie!" "O there's nae water in my glove,
Nor win' into my shoes,
But I am maning for my mither,
Wha's far awa frae me."
# * #
"Gin ye be a maiden fair, Meikle gude ye will get there, If ye be a maiden but,*
Meikle sorrow will ye get;—
For seven kings' daughters he hath wedded,
But never wi' ane o' them has bedded;
He cuts the breast frae their breast-bane,
An' sends them back unto their dame.
He sets their back unto the saddle,
An' sends them back unto their father:
But be ye maiden or be ye nane,
To the gowden chair ye draw right soon;
But be ye leman or be ye maiden,
Sit nae down till ye be bidden."
Was she maiden, or was she nane,
To the gowden chair she drew right soon,
Was she leman, or was she maiden,
She sat down ere she was bidden.
Out then spake the Lord's mother,
Says, "This is not a maiden fair;
In that chair nae leal maiden
E'er sits down till they be bidden."
The Billie Blin' then outspake he,
As he stood by the fair ladie;
"The bonnie May is tired wi' riding,
Gaur'd her sit down ere she was bidden."
* * *
But on her waiting-maid she ca'd,
"Fair ladie, what's your will wi' me?"
0 ye maun gie yere maidenheid, This night to an unco' lord for me.
"I hae been east, I hae been west,
1 hae been far beyond the sea,
But ay by greenwode, or by bower,
I hae keepit my virginitie.
But will it for my ladie plead,
I'll gie't this night to an unco lord."
* * #
When bells were rung, an' vespers sung, An' men in sleep were locked soun', Childe Branton and the waiting maid Into the bridal bed were laid.
0 lie thee down, my fair ladie, Here are a' things meet for thee; Here's a bolster for yere head,
Here is sheets an' comelie weids.
# * #
"Now tell to me, ye Billie Blin',
If this fair dame be a leal maiden?"
"I wat she is as leal a wight
As the moon shines on in a simmer-night
1 wat she is as leal a May,
As the sun shines on in a simmer-day.
But your bonnie bride's in her bower,
Dreeing the mither's trying hour."
Then out o' his bridal bed he sprang,
An' into his mither's bower he ran:
"O mither kind, O mither dear,
This is nae a maiden fair;
The maiden I took to my bride,
Has a bairn atween her sides.
The maiden I took to my bower,
Is dreeing the anther's trying hour."
Then to the chamber his mother flew,
And to the wa' the door she threw;
She stapt at neither bolt nor ban',
Till to that ladie's bed she wan.
Says, "Ladie fair, sae meek an' mild,
Wha is the father o' yere child?" "O mither dear," said that ladie, "I canna tell gif I sud die,
We were sisters, we were seven,
We were the fairest under heaven;
And it was a' our seven years' wark,
To sew our father's seven sarks.
And whan our seven years' wark was done
We laid it out upon the green.
We coost the lotties us amang,
Wha wad to the greenwode gang;
To pu' the lily but an' the rose,
To strew witha' our sisters' bowers.
I was youngest, my weer was hardest,
And to the greenwode I bu* gae.
There I met a' handsome childe
Wi' laigh-coled stockings and high-coled shoon,
He seemed to be some king's son;
And was I weel or was I wae,
He keepit me a' the simmer-day;
Though for my hame gaun I oft sicht,
He keepit me a' the simmer-night;
He gae to me a gay gold-ring,
An' bade me keep it aboon a' thing;
Three lauchters o' his yellow hair,
For fear that we suld ne'er meet mair.
0 mither, if ye'll believe nae me,
Break up the coffer an' there ye'll see."
An ay she coost an ay she flang,
Till her ain gowd-ring came in her hand;
And scarce aught i' the coffer she left,
Till she gat the knife wi' the siller-heft;
Three lauchters o' his yellow hair,
Knotted wi' ribbons dink and rare:
She cried to her son "whare is the ring
Your father gave me at our wooing,
An' I gae you at your hunting?
What did ye wi' the cuttie-knife,
1 bade ye keep it as yere life?"
"O haud yere tongue, my mither dear,
I gae them to a lady fair;
I wad gie a' my lands and rents,
I had that ladie within my brents;
I wad gie a' my lands an' towers,
I had that ladie within my bowers." "Keep still yere lands, keep still yere rents,
Ye hae that ladie within yere brents;
Keep still yere lands, keep still yere towers,
Ye hae that lady within your bowers."
Then to his ladie fast ran he,
An' low he kneeled on his knee;
"O tauk ye up my son," said he,
"An', mither, tent my fair ladie;
O wash him purely i' the milk,
And lay him saftly in the silk;
An' ye maun bed her very soft,
For I maun kiss her wondrous oft."
It was weel written on his breast bane,
Childe Branton was the father's name;
It was weel written on his right hand,
He was the heir o' his daddie's land