269A: Lady Diamond

269A.1	 THERE was a king, and a very great king,
	 And a king of meikle fame;
	 He had not a child in the world but ane,
	 Lady Daisy was her name.
269A.2	 He had a very bonnie kitchen-boy,
	 And William was his name;
	 He never lay out o Lady Daisy’s bower,
	 Till he brought her body to shame.
269A.3	 When een-birds sung, and een-bells rung,
	 And a’ men were boune to rest,
	 The king went on to Lady Daisy’s bower,
	 Just like a wandering ghaist.
269A.4	 He has drawn the curtains round and round,
	 And there he has sat him down;
	 ‘To whom is this, Lady Daisy,’ he says,
	 ‘That now you gae so round?
269A.5	 ‘Is it to a laird? or is it to a lord?
	 Or a baron of high degree?
	 Or is it William, my bonnie kitchen-boy?
	 Tell now the truth to me.’
269A.6	 ‘It’s no to a laird, and it’s no to a lord,
	 Nor a baron of high degree;
	 But it’s to William, your bonnie kitchen-boy:
	 What cause hae I to lee?’
269A.7	 ‘O where is all my merry, merry men,
	 That I pay meat and fee,
	 That they will not take out this kitchen-boy,
	 And kill him presentlie?’
269A.8	 They hae taen out this bonnie kitchen-boy,
	 And killd him on the plain;
	 His hair was like the threads o gold,
	 His een like crystal stane;
	 His hair was like the threads o gold,
	 His teeth like ivory bane.
269A.9	 They hae taen out this bonnie boy’s heart,
	 Put it in a cup o gold;
	 ‘Take that to Lady Daisy,’ he said,
	 ‘For she’s impudent and bold;
	 And she washd it with the tears that ran from her eye
	 Into the cup of gold.
269A.10	 ‘Now fare ye weel, my father the king!
	 You hae taen my earthly joy;
	 Since he’s died for me, I’ll die for him,
	 My bonnie kitchen-boy.’
269A.11	 ‘O where is all my merry, merry men,
	 That I pay meat and wage,
	 That they could not withold my cruel hand,
	 When I was mad with rage?
269A.12	 ‘I think nae wonder, Lady Daisy,’ he said,
	 ‘That he brought your body to shame;
	 For there never was man of woman born
	 Sae fair as him that is slain.’

269B: Lady Diamond

269B.1	 THER was a king, an a worthy king,
	 [an a king] of birth an fame;
	 He had an only dear daughter,
	 An Dayesie was her name.
269B.2	 Ther was a boy about the house,
	 Bod Roben was his name;
	 He would not stay out of Dayese’s bour,
	 Till he brought her body [to] shame.
269B.3	 When bells was rung, . . . .
	 An a’ man bon to rest,
	 The king went up to Lady Dayese’s bour,
	 He was an unwelcom gast.
269B.4	 ‘O Lady Dayes, dear, d[ea]r Dayisie,
	 What gars ye gae sae round?
	 We yer tua sides high an yer bellie bige,
	 Fra yer face the couller is gane.’
269B.5	 ‘O have ye loved? or have he lang-sought?
	 Or die ye goo we barn?’
	 ‘It’s all for you, fair father,
	 That ye stayed so long in Spain.’
269B.6	 ‘It’s aff ye take yer berry-broun goon,
	 An ye lay it on a ston,
	 An I will tell you in a very short time
	 If ye loued any man or no[n].’
269B.7	 It’s aff she has tane her berry-broun goon,
	 An laid it on a ston;
	 We her tua sides high, her belley turned bigg,
	 Fra her face the couller was gane.
269B.8	 ‘O is it to lord? or is to lard?
	 Or till a man of mean?
	 Or is it to Bold Roben, the kittchen-boy?
	 Nou, Dayisie, dinne lea[n].’
269B.9	 ‘It’s no to leard, nor [to] lord,
	 Nor to a man of mean,
	 But it’s to Bold Robien, our kittchen-boy;
	 Fatt neads me for to lea[n]?’
269B.10	 . . . . . . .
	 . . . . . . .
	 It’s the morn befor I eat or drink
	 His heart-blude I sall see.’
269B.11	 He’s tean Bold Robien by the hand
	 Lead him across the green;
	 His hear was leak the very threeds of goud,
	 His face shone leak the moon.
269B.12	 He’s tane out this bonny boy’s hear[t]
	 Into a cupe of gold,
	 Had it to Lady Dayese’s bour,
	 Says, No[u], Dayes, behold!
269B.13	 ‘O welcom to me my heart’s delight!
	 Nou welcom to me my joy!
	 Ye have dayed for me, an I’ll day for ye,
	 Tho ye be but the kittchen-boy.’
269B.14	 She has taen out the coup of gold,
	 Lead it belou her head,
	 An she wish it we the tears ran doun fra her eays,
	 An or midnight she was dead.
269B.15	 She has tean out the coup of gold,
	 Laid it belou her hear,
	 An she wish it we the tears ran don fra her eays,
	 An alass! spak never mare.

269C: Lady Diamond

269C.1	 THERE was a king, and a glorious king,
	 And a king of mickle fame,
	 And he had daughters only one,
	 Lady Dysmal was her name.
269C.2	 He had a boy, and a kitchen-boy,
	 A boy of mickle scorn,
	 And she lovd him lang, and she loved him aye,
	 Till the grass oergrew the corn.
269C.3	 When twenty weeks were gone and past,
	 O she began to greet!
	 Her petticoat grew short before,
	 And her stays they wadna meet.
269C.4	 It fell upon a winter’s night
	 The king could get nae rest;
	 He cam unto his daughter dear,
	 Just like a wandring ghaist.
269C.5	 He cam into her bed-chalmer,
	 And drew the curtains round:
	 ‘What aileth thee, my daughter dear?
	 I fear you’ve gotten wrong.’
269C.6	 ‘O if I have, despise me not,
	 For he is all my joy;
	 I will forsake baith dukes and earls,
	 And marry your kitchen-boy.’
269C.7	 ‘Go call to me my merry men all,
	 By thirty and by three;
	 Go call to me my kitchen-boy,
	 We’ll murder him secretlie.’
269C.8	 There was nae din that could be heard,
	 And neer a word was said,
	 Till they got him baith fast and sure
	 Between twa feather-beds.
269C.9	 ‘Go cut the heart out of his breast,
	 And put it in a cup of gold,
	 And present it to his Dysmal dear,
	 For she is baith stout and bold.’
269C.10	 They’ve cut the heart out of his breast,
	 And put it in a cup of gold,
	 And presented it to his Dysmal dear,
	 Who was baith stout and bold.
269C.11	 ‘O come to me, my hinney, my heart,
	 O come to me, my joy!
	 O come to me, my hinney, my heart
	 My father’s kitchen-boy!’
269C.12	 She’s taen the cup out of their hands,
	 And set it at her bed-head;
	 She washd it wi the tears that fell from her eyes,
	 And next morning she was dead.
269C.13	 ‘O where were ye, my merry men all,
	 Whom I paid meat and wage,
	 Ye didna hold my cruel hand
	 When I was in my rage?
269C.14	 ‘For gone is a’ my heart’s delight,
	 And gone is a’ my joy;
	 For my dear Dysmal she is dead,
	 And so is my kitchen-boy.’

269D: Lady Diamond

269D.1	 THERE was a king, and a curious king,
	 And a king of royal fame,
	 He had ae daughter, he had never mair,
	 Lady Diamond was her name.
269D.2	 She’s fa’en into shame, and lost her good name,
	 And wrought her parents ’noy;
	 And a’ for her layen her love so low,
	 On her father’s kitchn-boy.
269D.3	 One night as she lay on her  bed,
	 Just thinking to get rest,
	 Up it came her old father,
	 Just like a wandering ghaist.
269D.4	 ‘Rise up, rise up, Lady Diamond,’ he says,
	 ‘Rise up, put on your gown;
	 Rise up, rise up, Lady Diamond,’ he says,
	 ‘For I fear ye go too roun.’
269D.5	 ‘Too roun I go, ye blame me no,
	 Ye cause me not to shame;
	 For better love I that bonny boy
	 Than all your well-bred men.’
269D.6	 The king’s calld up his wall-wight men,
	 That he paid meat and fee:
	 ‘Bring here to me that bonny boy,
	 And we’ll smore him right quietlie.’
269D.7	 Up hae they taken that bonny boy,
	 Put him between twa feather-beds;
	 Naething was dane, naething was said,
	 Till that bonny boy was dead.
269D.8	 The king’s taen out a broad, broad sword,
	 And streakd it on a strow,
	 And thro and thro that bony boy’s heart
	 He’s gart cauld iron go.
269D.9	 Out he has taen his poor bloody heart,
	 Set it on a tasse of gold,
	 And set it before Lady Diamond’s face,
	 Said, Fair lady, behold!
269D.10	 Up she has taen this poor bloody heart,
	 And holden it in her hand:
	 ‘Better loved I that bonny, bonny boy
	 Than all my father’s land.’
269D.11	 Up she has taen his poor bloody heart
	 And laid it at her head;
	 The tears away frae her eyes did fly,
	 And ere midnight she was dead.

269E: Lady Diamond

269E.1	 IT was a king, and a verra greit king,
	 An a king o muckle fame,
	 An he had a luvelie dauchter fair,
	 An Dysie was her name.
269E.2	 She fell in love wi the kitchie-boy,
	 An a verra bonnie boy was he,
	 An word has gane till her father dear,
	 An an angry man was he.
269E.3	 ‘Is it the laird? or is it the lord?
	 Or a man o high degree?
	 Or is it to Robin, the kitchie-boy?
	 O Dysie mak nae lee.’
269E.4	 ‘It’s nae the laird, nor is it the lord,
	 Nor a man o high degree,
	 But it’s to Robin, the kitchie-boy;
	 What occasion hae I to lee?’
269E.5	 ‘If it be to Robin, the kitchie-boy,
	 As I trust weel it be,
	 The morn, afore ye eat meal or drink,
	 Ye’ll see him hanged hie.’
269E.6	 They have taen Robin out,
	 His hair was like threads o gold;
	 That verra day afore it was night,
	 Death made young Dysie cold.