At first glance, this ballad appears to be a reworked version of "The Lass of Roch Royal" (Child 76) with the lovers' roles reversed. The surrogate lover motif, a feature of both pieces, tends to emphasise the similarity: the conversation through closed doors between a lover and an imposter, the rejection of the importunate love and his/her subsequent death by drowning, are all there.
The mother's curse upon her son, however, is what gives "Clyde's Water" its unique character, that and the triumphant cry of Maggie as she drowns at her lover's side.
Child cites ballads with similar themes from Italy and Czechoslovakia,
lyrics
O Willie stands at his ha' door,
And aye he straiked his milk-white steed;
And then oot over his white fingers,
His nose began to bleed.
O mither, gie my horse its corn,
Gie some meat to my servant man;
For I'm awe' to Maggie's bower,
I'll in ere she lies doon.
O, Willie, bide this nicht at hame,
Bide this nicht at hame wi' me;
And the bestan sheep in a' the fauld
For your supper ye shall hae.
Ye can keep your sheep and a' your flocks,
For them I wouldna gie a pan;
For I'm awa' to Maggie's bower,
And this nicht I'll win in.
Gin ye should gang to Maggie's bower
It will be sair against my will;
The deepest hole in Clyde's water
My malison ye'll fill.
Then he rode up yon high, high hill,
And he rode doon yon dowie glen;
The rush that was in Clyde's water
Vas white before his e'en.
O Clyde, sae loud and wild ye roar,
Your waters they rin wide and deep;
Gin ye permit me to gang over,
A tryst wi' you I'll keep.
Then he rode on tae Maggie's bower,
And he has tirled low at the pin;
Sleep ye or wake ye, my dear Maggie,
O rise, and let me in.
O, wha's it stands at my ha' door,
And wha is it kens me by my name?
It is your ain true love, your Willie
That's newly tome frae hame.
Open the door, O Maggie, dear,
Open the door and let me in;
For my shoon are fu' o' Clyde's water
And I'm shivering to the chin.
My barns are fu' o' corn, Willie,
And a' my byres they are fu' o' hay;
My bower is fu' o' gentlemen,
And they'll bide here till day.
Then fare ye weel, my fause true love,
Fare ye weel and a Ling adieu;
I got my mither's malison
This nicht when I cam' to you.
Then he's gane up yon high, high hill,
And he rode doon yon dowie glen;
The rush that was in Clyde's water
Took the whip frae Willie's hand.
The rush that was in Clyde's water
Took his hat from him by force;
The rush that was in Clyde's water
Took Willie frae his horse.
Just at the hour young Willie fell
Into the hole sae wide and deep,
Then awoke his ain dear Maggie,
Oot o' her drowsy sleep.
Come here, come here, O mither dear,
Mither, come here and read my dream:
I dreamed my love stood at our ha' door,
And nane would let him in.
Lie doon, lie doon, my Maggie dear,
Maggie, lie doon and tak' your rest;
Your ain true love was at our ha' door,
No' twa quarters past.
Then nimbly, nimbly she rose up;
"Willie!" she cried, "O turn again!"
But the higher that the lady cried,
The louder blew the wind.
The firstan step the lady took
She steppit in untae the quoit;
The nextan step the lady cried,
"Your water's' wondrous deep!"
The nextan step the lady took
She steppit in unto the chin;
The deepest hole in Clyde's water
She found young Willie in.
Willie, ye'd a cruel mither,
And a cruel ane had I;
But we will cheat them baith, my Willie,
In Clyde's waters we will lie.
This site is maintained by the MacColl family, aiming to make Ewan's catalogue available to download.
Ewan MacColl is
known to most as a songwriter and singer, but he was also of significant influence in the worlds of theatre and radio broadcasting. His art reached huge numbers through the folk clubs, greater numbers through his recordings and untold millions through the radio....more
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