Young Margaret sat in a tower high
And she`s as pale as a milk white swan
When she saw a shadow on the plain
Come betwixt her and the sun.
`Oh, mother, is it a thundercloud
Or a flight of ravens in the air,
Or a black army with a silver flag
And a ragged man amongst them there?`
`Oh, daughter, go run in your little yard
And bid adieu to your flowers so gay.
For yonder comes Prince Heathen`s men
And I fear they`re coming to take you away.`
In there come Prince Heathen then, saying
`Good day mother-in-law to you.
And where will l find that sweet little bride
With her hands as soft as morning dew?`
Young Margaret locked her bower door
But his men soon made the hinges spring
And in there come Prince Heathen then
And give to her a gay gold ring.
Back at him the ring she flung
She cries `Of you I have no fear.
I`ll call you wolf-hound seven times
Rather then call you husband dear.`
He swore then, by her yellow hair,
He`d make her weep and call him dear.
He`s taken her in his two dark arms,
And laid her on the cold stone floor.
And when he set her free again,
Her maidenhead from her he`s ta`en:
`Ha ha, bonny maid, will you weep now?`
`You heathenish dog, nor yet for you.`
He`s cast her down in a cabin of stone
Where forty locks did hang thereto.
`Ha ha, bonny maid, will you weep now?`
`You heathenish dog, nor yet for you.`
`Come, give my lady of the salt, salt meat,
And bitter vinegar for her brew,
`Ha ha, bonny maid, will you weep now?`
`You heathenish dog, nor yet for you.`
Prince Heathen down from the mountains came
Where he`d been hunting with his armoured men.
He came unto this fair young maid
All in the prison where she is laid.
`A drink, a drink, Prince Heathen` she said.
`Even if it`s from the muddy well pool.`
`Never a drink! Will you weep now?`
`You heathenish dog, nor yet for thee.`
He`s taken her by her yellow hair,
And tied it to his horse`s tail.
He`s dragged her through the bushes and briars
That grow so thick all on the plain
`Ride slower, slower, Prince Heathen` she says
`Already the blood has filled me shoe`.
`Ha ha, bonny maid, will you weep now?`
`You heathenish dog, nor yet for you.`
He shortened stirrups and on he flew,
And with her body he`s harrowed the road.
Her silken skirt in tatters tore,
Her silken blouse was spattered with blood.
`Ride slower, slower, Prince Heathen,` she says
`For the road it sorely hurts my knee`.
`Ha ha, bonny maid, will you weep now?`
`You heathenish dog, nor yet for thee.`
He shortened stirrups and on he flew.
He`s dragged her through the briar and thorns.
Young Margaret gave a pitiful cry,
And there she`s had her little babe born.
`Oh how can I wrap me sweet little babe
Seeing as I`ve nothing to roll him in?`
He give to her his saddle blanket
`That`ll roll him from cheek to chin`.
As she took the blanket from his hand
Tears down her cheeks they trickling run.
`Ha ha, bonny maid, will you weep now?`.
`You heathenish dog, nor yet for you.`
`I`m weeping for me own little son;
Your blanket`s too rough to roll him in,
Ever and alas, the day I rue
That ever I met such rogues as you!`
He says `Go wash my baby in the milk,
And dress my lady in the silk;
When hearts are breaking, hands must bow,
And well I love my lady now`.
She says `When violets bloom on the window-pane
And roses grow on the kitchen floor,
It`s then that I`ll return again
And be your bride forevermore`.
Child #104
A. L. Lloyd refurbished this ancient Child ballad. The
chilling tension of the song stems from the juxtaposition be-
tween stark physical brutality and psychological complexity.
@marriage
Recorded by Frankie Armstrong
filename[ PRINHEAT
SF
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