Clerk Colvill and his gay ladie
As they walked in the garden green,
The belt about her middle jimp
Cost Clerk Colvill of crowns fifteen.

'O promise me now, Clerk Colvill,
Or it will cost ye muckle strife,
Ride never by the wells of Slane,
If ye wad live and brook your life.'

'Now speak nae mair, my gay ladie,
Now speak nae mair of that to me;
For I ne'er saw a fair woman
I like so well as thee.'

He's ta'en leave o'his gay lady,
Nought minding what his lady said,
And he's rode by the wells of Slane,
Where washing was a bonny maid.

'Wash on, wash on, my bonny maid,
That wash sae clean your sark of silk.'
'And weel fa'you, fair gentleman,
Your body whiter than the milk.'

He's ta'en her by the milk-white hand,
He's ta'en her by the sleeve sae green,
And he's forgotten his gay ladie,
And he's awa'with the fair maiden.

Then loud, loud cry'd the Clerk Colvill,
'O my head it pains me sair.'
'Then take, then take,'the maiden said,
'And frae my sark you'11 cut a gare.'

Then she's gied him a little bane-knife,
And frae her sark he cut a share;
She's ty'd it round his whey-white face,
But ay his head it aked mair.

Then louder cry'd the Clerk Colvill,
'O sairer, sairer akes my head.'
'And sairer, sairer ever will,'
The maiden crys,'till you be dead.'

Out then he drew his shining blade,
And thought wi'it to be her dead,
But she has vanished to a fish,
And merrily sprang into the fleed.

He's mounted on his berry-broun steed,
And dowie, dowie rade he hame,
And heavily, heavily lighted doun
W~en to his ladie's bower he came.

'O mother, mother, lay me doun,
My gentle lady, make my bed,
O brother, take my sword and spear,
For I have seen the false mermaid.'

From "Some British Ballads", collected by Francis James Child.