Earl Richard's a name that pops up in a lot o the Child Ballads, but it's nae the same mannie.
In this sang, he's a bittie tactless fan he tells his girlfriend that he's awa hame tae see a quine that's ten times bonnier than her. It wid be an understatement tae sae that she wisna pleased, cos she killed him and flung him doon a well. But it disna finish there, cos he cam back as a bird and gaed her a richt tellin aff.
Note
This is a much shorter version o an English Ballad caed Young Hunting. It's fae William Motherwell's Manuscripts o 1825 and is version 'F' in Child.
Ballad: Earl Richard (Child 68) Singer: Tom Spiers Accompanists: Emma Spiers, Harmonium / Martin MacDonald, Guitar
Earl Richard is a-huntin gaen As fast as he could ride A huntin-horn hung roond his neck And a shairp sword by his side Fan he’s come tae my lady’s gate He’s tirled at the pin There wis nane sae ready as my lady Tae gae doon and let him in
Licht doon licht doon Earl Richard she says Licht doon and bide aa nicht We’ll hae cheer wi charcoal clear Aye and candles burnin bricht I canna bide I winna bide I canna bide ava For a fairer lady than ten o ye Is waiting at my haa
He’s bent doon fae his milk-white steed Tae kiss her rosy cheek She’s taen a pen-knife in her hand And wounded him richt deep Lie ye there Earl Richard she says Lie there until the morn And a fairer lady than ten o me Will think ye’r lang comin hame
Then she has ca’ed her servin maids Aye she’s ca’ed them twa by twa There is a deid man at my gate And I wish he wis awa Twa maids hae taen him by the hands And twa hae taen his feet And they’ve flung him in a deep draw-well Fu fifty fathoms deep
Then up there spake a bonny bird That sat upon a tree Gae hame gae hame ye fause lady And pey your maids their fee Come doon here my bonny bird And sit upon my hand I’ll gie ye a cage o the beaten gowd And nae the hazel wan
Gae hame gae hame ye fause lady And an ill death may ye dee For as ye’ve din tae Earl Richard Sae wid ye dae tae me Gin I had a bent bow in my hand An arrow on the string I’d shoot a dart at your prood hert Amang the leaves sae green
