Peggy Seeger Chylde Owlet
CHYLDE OWLET Lady Erskine sits in her bower A sewing her silken seam A bonnie sark for Chylde Owlet As he gangs oot and in His face was fair, lang was his hair She's ca'd him to come nigh Oh ye maun cuckold Lord Ronald For a' his lands and kye Oh lady, hold your tongue for shame That such a thing e'er be done How could I cuckold Lord Ronald And me his sister's son Then she's ta'en oot a wee penknife That lay beside her bed And pricked hersel below her breist Which made her body bleed Lord Ronald's come into her bower Whaur she did mak' her mane Oh, wha's is a' this blood, he says That sparks on your hearth stane? Young Chylde Owlet, your sister's son Is new gane frae my bower Gin I hadnae been a good woman I'd hae been Chylde Owlet's whore Then he has ta'en young Chylde Owlet Cast him in prison strang And a his men a council held To work Chylde Owlet wrang Some said Chylde Owlet should be hung Some said that he should burn Some said they would hae Chylde Owlet Between wild horses torn There are horses in my stable stand Can rin richt speedily It's ye maun tae my stable gang And wile oot four far me They've put a horse to ilka foot and ain tae ilka hand And sent them oot ower Elkin Moor As fast as they could gang There wasnae grass nor heather knowe Nor broom nor bonnie whin But drappit wi' Chylde Owlet's blood And pieces o' his skin There wasnae stane on Elkin Moor Nor yet a piece o' rush But drappit wi' Chylde Owlet's blood And pieces o' his flesh Child #291 recorded by Peggy Seeger and Ewan MacColl on Blood & Roses filename[ CHDOWLET SF ===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
