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Mary Hamilton

from 52 Folk Songs: Blue by Phil Edwards

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Child 173
'Skail': scatter, separate

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from 52 Folk Songs: Blue, released January 19, 2012
Mary Hamilton’s at the Queen’s court
Months but barely one,
When she was beloved by all the court,
And the King the only man.

Mary Hamilton’s to the church gone
With ribbons in her hair;
And the King thought more of Mary Hamilton
Than any that were there.

Mary Hamilton’s to the church gone
With ribbons on her breast;
And the King thought more of Mary Hamilton
Then he listened to the priest.

Mary Hamilton’s to the church gone,
With gloves upon her hands;
And the King thought more of Mary Hamilton,
Than the queen and all her lands.

The King is to the Abbey gone,
To pull the Abbey-tree,
To skail the babe from Mary’s heart,
But the thing it would not be.

She has rolled it in her apron,
And set it on the sea:
'Sink ye, or swim ye, bonny babe!
Ye’ll get no more of me.'

Word is to the kitchen gone,
And word is to the hall,
And word is to the noble room,
Amang the ladies all,
That Mary Hamilton’s brought to bed,
And the babe’s away and gone.

Scarcely had she gone to bed
And scarce lain down to sleep,
When up did speak our good Queen's voice
Just at her bed-feet,
Saying, 'Mary Hamilton, where’s your babe?
I think I heard it greet.'

‘O no,' cried Mary Hamilton,
'Think no such thing of me!
’Twas but a stitch into my side,
And sore it vexes me.’

‘Get up, get up, Mary Hamilton,
Get up and ride with me;
For I am going to Edinburgh town,
A rich wedding for to see.’

O slowly, slowly she got up,
And slowly she put on,
And slowly she came down the stairs
With many a weary moan.

‘Ride gently, gently, gentlemen,
Ride gently now with me!
For never was there a wearier woman
Rode in your company.’

But little did Mary Hamilton know,
As she rode upon the brown,
That she was going to Edinburgh town,
All to be cut down.

‘Why weep ye so, ye burgess-wives,
Why look ye so on me?
For I am going to Edinburgh town
A rich wedding for to see!’

When she came to the Netherbow gate,
She laughed loud laughters three;
But when she came to the gallows-foot,
The salt tears filled her eye.

‘Yest'reen the queen had four Marys,
Tonight she’ll have but three;
There was Mary Seaton, and Mary Beaton,
And Mary Carmichael, and me.

‘How often have I dressed my queen,
And put gold upon her hair;
And little have I got for my reward
But the gallows to be my share.

‘How often have I dressd my queen,
And often made her bed;
And little have I got for my reward
But the gallows-tree to tread.

‘I charge ye well, ye mariners all,
Who sail upon the foam,
Let neither my father nor mother get word
But that I’m coming home!

‘I charge ye well, ye mariners all,
That sail upon the sea,
Let neither my father nor mother get word
Of this dog’s death I’m to die!

'For if either my father or mother got word,
Or my good brethren three,
Much would be the good red blood
Shed today for me.

‘How little did my mother know
When first she cradled me,
The lands I was to travel in,
Or the death I was to die.

‘Yest'reen the queen had four Marys,
Tonight she’ll have but three;
There was Mary Seaton, and Mary Beaton,
And Mary Carmichael, and me.'

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