Verse > Anthologies > Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. > The Oxford Book of Ballads
CONTENTS · BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD
Quiller-Couch, Arthur, ed. (1863–1944).  The Oxford Book of Ballads.  1910.
 
Index of First Lines
 
About Yule, when the wind blew cule
Adieu, madame, my mother dear
A fair maid sat in her bower-door
All the trees they are so high
All under the leaves and the leaves of life
An ancient story I’ll tell you anon
An earthly nourrice sits and sings
Annan water’s wading deep
A ship I have got in the North Country
As I pass’d by a river side
As I sat under a sycamore tree
As it befel in midsummer-time
As it fell on a holy-day
As it fell out on a long summer’s day
As it fell out one May morning
As it fell out upon a day
As I was a-walking mine alane
As I was cast in my first sleepe
As I was walking all alane
As I was walking mine alane
A’ the boys of merry Lincoln
A wonder stranger ne’er was known
 
Be it right or wrong, these men among
But how many months be in the year?
By Arthur’s Dale as late I went
 
Can I not sing but ‘Hoy
Childe Maurice hunted the Silver Wood
Childe Waters in his stable stood
Clerk Colven, and his gay ladie
Clerk Saunders and may Margaret
Come, all you brave gallants, and listen a while
Come, gentlemen all, and listen a while
Come listen to me, you gallants so free
Cospatrick has sent o’er the faem
 
Der lived a king inta da aste
 
Erlinton had a fair daughter
Ettrick Forest is a fair forest
 
Fair Margret was a proud ladye
False Sir John a-wooing came
Foul fa’ the breast first treason bred in!
Four-and-twenty nobles rade to the King’s ha
 
Glasgerion was a King’s own son
God! let never soe old a man
God send the land deliverance
Gude Lord Scroope ’s to the hunting gane
 
Hearken to me, gentlemen
Her mother died when she was young
Hie upon Hielands
Hit wes upon a Scere-thorsday
Hynd Horn’s bound, love, and Hynd Horn’s free
 
I am as brown as brown can be
I have heard talk of bold Robin Hood
I heard a cow low, a bonnie cow low
I herde a carpyng of a clerk
In Cawsand Bay lying, with the Blue Peter flying
In London was Young Beichan born
In Scarlet town, where I was born
In seventeen hundred and ninety-four
In somer, when the shawes be sheyne
In summer time, when leaves grow green
In the third day of May
Inverey cam’ doun Deeside, whistlin’ and playin
It fell about the Lammas tide
It fell about the Martinmas
It fell about the Martinmas time
It fell about the Martinmas tyde
It fell on a day, and a bonnie simmer day
It fell upon a Wadensday
It’s Lamkin was a mason good
It’s narrow, narrow, mak your bed
It was a blind beggar, had long lost his sight
It was a knight in Scotland born
It was intill a pleasant time
It was the worthy Lord of Lorn
I was a lady of high renown
I was but seven year auld
I wish I were where Helen lies
 
Jesus, Lord mickle of might
Johnnie rose up in a May morning
Joseph was an old man
 
Kinge Arthur lives in merry Carleile
King Easter has courted her for her lands
 
Lady Alice was sitting in her bower-window
Late at een, drinkin’ the wine
Let never a man a wooing wend
Lithe and listen, Gentlemen
Lord Bateman was a noble lord
Lord Ingram and Childe Vyet
Lordings, listen, and hold you still
Lord Lovel he stood at his castle-gate
Lord Thomas and Fair Annet
Lully, lulley! lully, lulley!
 
Marie Hamilton’s to the kirk gane
Mark this song, for it is true
May Margaret sits in her bower door
Mery it was in the grene foreste
My love has built a bonny ship, and set her on the sea
My love he built me a bonny bower
My plaid awa’, my plaid awa
 
Now is Christëmas y-come
Now Liddesdale has lain lang in
Now Liddesdale has ridden a raid
Now list and lithe, you gentlemen
Now ponder well, you parents dear
 
O Alison Gross, that lives in yon tow’r
O Bessie Bell and Mary Gray
O bonny Baby Livingston
O brent’s your brow, my Lady Elspat
O did ye ever hear o’ brave Earl Brand?
Of a’ the maids o’ fair Scotland
O have ye na heard o’ the fause Sakelde?
O heard ye na o’ the silly blind Harper
O I forbid you, maidens a
O Jellon Grame sat in Silverwood
O lady, rock never your young son young
O rose the Red and White, Lilly
O the Ploughboy was a-ploughing
Our King he kept a false steward
O Well’s me o’ my gay goss-hawk
O wha will shoe my bonny foot?
O wha would wish the wind to blau
O where hae ye been, Lord Randal, my son
O where hae ye been, my long, long love
O willie’s large o’ limb and lith
O wow for day!
 
Prince Robert has wedded a gay ladye
 
Rise up, rise up, now Lord Douglas,’ she says
 
Saies, Come here, cuzen Gawaine so gay
Saint Stephen was a clerk
She lean’d her back unto a thorn
Sum speiks of lords, sum speiks of lairds
Sweet Willy’s ta’en him o’er the faem
 
The Angel Gabriel from God
The bonny heir, and the well-faur’d heir
The Duke of Gordon had three daughters
The eighteenth of October
The first good joy our Mary had
The gardener stands in his bower-door
The George-Aloe, and the Sweepstake, too
The king sits in Dunfermline town
The maid she went to the well to washe
The Percy out of Northumberland
There are twelve months in all the year
There cam’ seven Egyptians on a day
There is a feast in your father’s house
There lived a wife at Usher’s well
There was a knight and a lady bright
There was a may, and a weel-far’d may
There was a rich lord, and he lived in Forfar
There was a youth, and a well-belovèd youth
There were three ladies play’d at the ba
There were three ravens sat on a tree
There were three sisters fair and bright
There were twa brethren in the North
There were twa sisters sat in a bour
There where three ladies live in a bower
The wind doth blow today, my love
The young lords o’ the north country
This ae nighte, this ae nighte
This winter’s weather it waxeth cold
Tom Pearse, Tom Pearse, lend me your grey mare
True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank
Turn, Willie Macintosh
 
When captains couragious, whom death could not daunte
When Robin Hood and Little John
When shaws beene sheene, and shradds full fayre
When we were silly sisters seven
Why does your brand sae drop wi’ blude
Willie stands in his stable door
Willie, Willie, what makes you sae sad?
Will you hear a Spanish lady
Willy’s rare, and Willy’s fair
 
Ye Highlands and ye Lawlands
Ye maun gang to your father, Janet
You beauteous ladies great and small
Young bekie was as brave a knight


CONTENTS · BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

 
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