Sacred Texts Legends & Sagas England Index Previous Next
295A.1 ‘I am as brown as brown can be, My eyes as black as a sloe; I am as brisk as a nightingale, And as wilde as any doe. 295A.2 ‘My love has sent me a love-letter, Not far from yonder town, That he could not fancy me, Because I was so brown. 295A.3 ‘I sent him his letter back again, For his love I valu’d not, Whether that he could fancy me Or whether he could not. 295A.4 ‘He sent me his letter back again, That he lay dangerous sick, That I might then go speedily To give him up his faith.’ 295A.5 Now you shall hear what love she had Then for this love-sick man; She was a whole long summer’s day In a mile a going on. 295A.6 When she came to her love’s bed-side, Where he lay dangerous sick, She could not for laughing stand Upright upon her feet. 295A.7 She had a white wand all in her hand, And smoothd it all on his breast; ‘In faith and troth come pardon me, I hope your soul’s at rest. 295A.8 ‘I’ll do as much for my true-love As other maidens may; I’ll dance and sing on my love’s grave A whole twelvemonth and a day.’
295B.1 ‘I am as brown as brown can be, And my eyes as black as sloe; I am as brisk as brisk can be, And wild as forest doe. 295B.2 ‘My love he was so high and proud, His fortune too so high, He for another fair pretty maid Me left and passed me by. 295B.3 ‘Me did he send a love-letter, He sent it from the town, Saying no more he loved me, For that I was so brown. 295B.4 ‘I sent his letter back again, Saying his love I valued not, Whether that he would fancy me, Whether that he would not. 295B.5 ‘When that six months were overpassd, Were overpassd and gone, Then did my lover, once so bold, Lie on his bed and groan. 295B.6 ‘When that six months were overpassd, Were gone and overpassd, O then my lover, once so bold, With love was sick at last. 295B.7 ‘First sent he for the doctor-man: ‘You, doctor, me must cure; The pains that now do torture me I can not long endure.’ 295B.8 ‘Next did he send from out the town, O next did send for me; He sent for me, the brown, brown girl Who once his wife should be. 295B.9 ‘O neer a bit the doctor-man His sufferings could relieve; O never an one but the brown, brown girl Who could his life reprieve.’ 295B.10 Now you shall hear what love she had For this poor love-sick man, How all one day, a summer’s day, She walked and never ran. 295B.11 When that she came to his bedside, Where he lay sick and weak, O then for laughing she could not stand Upright upon her feet. 295B.12 ‘You flouted me, you scouted me, And many another one; Now the reward is come at last, For all that you have done.’ 295B.13 The rings she took from off her hands, The rings by two and three: ‘O take, O take these golden rings, By them remember me.’ 295B.14 She had a white wand in her hand, She strake him on the breast: ‘My faith and troth I give back to thee, So may thy soul have rest.’ 295B.15 ‘Prithee,’ said he, ’Forget, forget, Prithee forget, forgive; O grant me yet a little space, That I may be well and live.’ 295B.16 ‘O never will I forget, forgive, So long as I have breath; I’ll dance above your green, green grave Where you do lie beneath.’