Who Is This Under My Window?- Martha Crosbie (Nith) 1834 (pre1810) Cunningham.
[Two versions; the traditional version is from Alan Cunningham's Works of Robert Burns: With His Life, Volume 4 (1834). Cunningham notes follow. Although Nithsdale was near where Cunningham grew up (Allan's father John Cunningham (1743-1800) was a neighbor of Burns when Robert leased a farm in Ellisland from 1788-1791), he was living in London in 1834. The full ballad, rewritten by Cunningham was reprinted in "Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song" by Robert Hartley Cromek, Allan Cunningham, William Gillespie, 1880 (first printed by Cromek in 1810) where it is "much sung by the young girls of Nithsdale." See the ballad titled, "O, Who is this Under my window?" at the bottom of this page. Unfortunately the ballad was heavily reworked by Cunningham in 1809 then sent to Cromek in London, who published it in 1810. The 1834 version seems authentic.
M. Douglas: Presumably Cunningham was speaking of the use of images in the final verse rather than suggesting any relationship between the melodies used. John Ord (Bothy Songs and Ballads, 1930, pp. 318-19, prints a long set, without music, which he calls I Will Set My Ship in Order; this seems to have been the usual title of Aberdeenshire versions, of which several appear in the Greig-Duncan collection.
R. Matteson 2016]
'An old Nithsdale song seems to have been in the Poet's thoughts when he wrote this exquisite lyric. Martha Crosbie, a carder and spinner of wool, sometimes desiring to be more than commonly acceptable to the children of my father's house, made her way to their hearts by singing the following ancient strain:-
"Who is this under my window?
Who is this that troubles me?"
"O, it is I, love, and none but I, love,
I wish to speak one word with thee.
Go to your mother, and ask her, jewel,
If she'll consent you my bride to be;
And, if she does na, come back and tell me,
This is the last time I'll visit thee."
"My mother's in her chamber, jewel,
And of lover's talking will not hear;
Therefore you may go and court another,
And whisper softly in her ear."
The song proceeds to relate how mother and father were averse to the lover's suit, and that, exasperated by their scorn, and the coldness of the maiden, he ran off in despair: on relenting, she finds he is gone, and breaks out in these fine lines:-
"O, where's he gone that I love best,
And has left me here to sigh and moan?
O I will search the wide world over,
Till my true love I find again.
The seas shall dry, and the fishes fly,
And the rocks shall melt down wi' the sun;
The labouring man shall forget his labour,
The blackbird shall not sing, but mourn,
If ever I prove false to my love,
Till once I see if he return." '
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From "Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song" by Robert Hartley Cromek, Allan Cunningham, William Gillespie, 1880:
O WHO IS THIS UNDER MY WINDOW?
This old song is taken down from the singing of Martha Crosbie, from whose recitation Burns wrote down the song of "The Waukrife Minnie."
It has a fine affecting tune, and is much sung by the young girls of Nithsdale. Burns has certainly imitated the last verse of it in his "Red, red Rose."
O Who is this under my window?
O who is this that troubles me?"
"O it is ane wha is broken-hearted,
Complaining to his God o' thee."
"O ask your heart, my bonnie Mary,
O ask your heart gif it minds o' me!"
"Ye were a drap o' the dearest bluid in't,
Sae lang as ye were true to me."
"If e'er the moon saw ye in my arms, love,
If e'er the light dawned in my ee,
I hae been doubly fause to heaven,
But ne'er ae moment fause to thee.
"My father ca'd me to his chamber,
Wi' lowin' anger in his ee;
Gae put that traitor frae thy bosom,
Or never mair set thy ee on me.
"I hae wooed lang love—I hae loved kin' love,
An' monie a peril I've braved for thee;
I've traitor been to monie a ane love,
But ne'er a traitor nor fause to thee.
"My mither sits hie in her chamber,
Wi' saute tears happin' frae her ee;
O he wha turns his back on heaven,
O he maun ay be fause to thee!"
"Gang up, sweet May, to thy ladie mother,
An' dight the saute tears frae her ee;
Tell her I've turned my face to heaven,
Ye hae been heaven owre lang to me!"
O up she rose, and away she goes,
Into her true love's arms to fa';
But ere the bolts and the bars she loosed,
Her true love was fled awa.
"O whare's he gane whom I lo'e best,
And has left me here for to sigh an' mane;
O I will search the hale world over,
'Till my true love I find again.
"The seas shall grow wi' harvests yellow,
The mountains melt down wi' the sun;
The labouring man shall forget his labour,
The blackbird shall not sing but mourn,
If ever I prove fause to my love,
Till once I see if he return."