The Tower: Ballads
These ballads were written around the 1600's, 1700's, or even 1800's by anonymous people.
The Cruel Sister
There were two sisters sat in a bour,
Binnorie, O Binnorie;
There came a knight to be their wooer,
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie.
He courted the eldest with glove and ring
But he lo'ed the youngest aboon a' thing.
He courted the eldest with broach and knife,
But he lo'ed the youngest abune his life.
The eldest she was vexed sair,
And sore envied her sister fair.
The eldest said to the youngest ane,
Will ye go and see our father's ships come in?
She's ta'en her by the lilly hand
And led her down to the river strand.
The youngest stude upon a stane,
The eldest came and pushed her in.
She took her by the middle sma',
And dashed her bonnie back to the jaw.
O sister, sister reach your hand,
And I'll be heir of half my land.
O sister, I'll not reach my hand,
And I'll be heir of all your land.
Shame fa' the hand that should take,
It's twid'd me and my word's make.
O sister, reach me but your glove,
And sweet William shall be your love.
Sink on, nor hope for hand or glove,
And sweet William shall better be my love.
Your cherry cheeks and your yellow hair
Garr'd me gang maiden evermair.
Sometimes she sunk and sometimes she swam,
Until she came to the miller's dam.
O father, father, draw your dam,
There's either a mermaid or a milk-white swan.
The miller hasten and drew his dam,
And there he found a drown'd woman.
You could not see her yellow hair,
For gowd and pearls that were sae rare.
You could na see her middle sma'
Her gowden girdle was sae bra'
A famous harper passing by,
The sweet pale face he chanced to spy.
And when he looked that ladye on,
He sighed and made a heavy moan.
He made a harp of her breast bone,
Whose sounds would melt a heart of stone.
The strings he framed of her yellow hair,
Whose notes made sad the listening ear.
He brought it to her father's hall,
And there was the court assembled all.
He laid this harp upon a stone,
And straight it began to play alone.
O yonder sits my father the king,
And yonder sits my mother the queen.
And yonder stands my brother Hugh,
And by him my William sweet and true.
But the last tune that the harp play'd then,
Binnorie, O Binnorie
Was, Woe to my sister, false Helen,
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie.
La Belle Dame Sans Merci (A Ballad)
John Keats
Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge is withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.
Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,
So haggard and so woe-begone
The squirrel's granary is full,
And the harvest's done.
I see a lily on thy brow
With anguish moist and fever dew,
And on thy cheek a fading rose
Fast withereth too.
I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful, a faery's child:
Her hair was long, her foot was ligh,
And her eyes were wild.
I set her on my pacing steed,
And nothing else saw all day long;
For sideways would she lean, and sing
A faery's song.
I made a garland for her head,
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She looked at me as she did love,
And made sweet moan.
She found me roots of relish sweet,
And honey wild, and manna dew,
And sure in language strange she said,
"I love thee true!"
She took me to her elfin grot,
And there she gazed and sighed deep,
And there I shut her wild, sad eyes---
So kissed to sleep.
And there we slumbered on the moss,
And there I dreamed, ah! woe betide,
The latest dream I ever dreamed
On the cold hill side.
I saw pale kings, and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
Who cried---"La belle Dame sans merci
Hath thee in thrall!"
I saw their starved lips in the gloam,
With horrid warning gaped wide,
And I awoke and found me here,
On the cold hill side.
And that is why I sojourn here,
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.
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