The Norse King's Bridal
Ballad 4
There lived a gentle maiden all by the water
wan;
She was the fairest maiden that e'er the sun
shone on.
(Oh, oh, ha! all by the water wan!
She was the fairest maiden that e'er the sun
shone on.)
To her there came a-wooing five princes fair
and tall;
Yet they were not so beauteous but she denied
'em all.
To her came a-wooing five counts so fair
and tall;
Yet they were not so beauteous but she denied
'em all.
To her there came a-wooing five franklins fair
and tall;
Yet they were not so beauteous but she denied
'em all.
There came a cunning gipsy a-roaming to the
town,
They gave him gold and guerdon to bring her
pride adown.
"Now lend to me a saddle, a mantle, and a
beast,
And I'll ride a-wooing, as proud as any
priest!"
He rode, the cunning gipsy, unto the castle
fair;
There she stood, the maiden, a-combing of her
hair.
"Good-morrow, my lady, so fair, and so fine!
Say, wilt thou come to be true-love o'
mine?"
"Away with thee, thou gipsy! I scorn thy
words so free!
Counts and mighty princes have come a-
wooing me!"
"Good sooth, I am no gipsy, tho' thou biddest
me begone;
I am the proudest king's son that e'er the
sun shone on.
"I have goodly acres, and fields so fair and
broad;
I have serving maidens, who shall spread thy
board.
"I have a goodly garden of herbs a-growing
green,
Where thou, my love, shalt wander, out and
in.
"I have three dappled palfrey's a-tossing of
their crest,
That thou and I, my sweetheart,may ride
among the best."
When the wedding now was over, and all the
feasting done,
Then asked the lovely maiden his lands to
look upon.
"Where are thy goodly acres, and where thy
lands so broad"
And where are all thy serving-maids, for us
shall spread the board?"
"I have no goodly acres, I have no lands so
broad;
And never have I eaten at an honest man his
board.
I have no goodly garden of herbs a-growing
green;
Thro' all men's courts I wander, out and in.
"I have no dappled palfrey's, a-tossing of their
crest;
But only my long hunting-knife, of all my
goods the best!"
And she may laugh, the lady, or she may
weep for woe,
But the gipsy she must follow, wherever he
may go.
The lady must turn up her silken sleeves so
gay,
And help that cunning gipsy the slaughtered
beasts to flay.
Now must she quit her kirtle and her silken
sark so fair,
For silken sark and kirtle she nevermore
shall wear.
(Oh, oh, ha! her silken sark so fair!
For silken sark and kirtle she nevermore
shall wear.)
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