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Of the border ballads, one of the best is “Jamie Telfer.” 
Along the border in the olden time there was a class of impartial 
folk who :— 
This ballad goes back to one Martinmas night when the Captain 
of the Bewcastle drove off Jamie Telfer’s kye. 
JOURNAL AND PROCEEDINGS. 
O Waly, Waly, but love be bonnie, 
A little time when it is new! 
But when its auld it waxeth cold 
And fadeth awa’ like the morning dew. 
O wherefore should I busk my heid, 
And wherefore should I kame my hair ? 
For my true love has me forsook, 
And says he’ll never lo’e me mair— 
Noo Arthur’s seat shall be my bed 
The sheets sall ne’er be press’d by me; 
Saint Anton’s well sall be my drink ; 
Since my true love’s forsaken me — 
Martinmas wind, when wilt thou blaw, 
And shake the green leaves off the tree ? 
O gentle death, when wilt thou come ? 
For of my life Iam weary. 
Tis not the frost that freezes fell, 
Nor blowing snow’s inclemencie, 
’Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry ; 
But my love’s heart grown cauld to me. 
When we cam’ in by Glasgow toun, 
We were a comely sight to see: 
My love was clad in the black velvet, 
An’ I mysel’ in cramasie. 
But had I wist before I kiss’d 
That love had been so ill to win, 
I’d lock’d my heart in a case o’ goud, 
. And pinn’ed it wi’ a siller pin— 
And oh ! if my young babe were born, 
And set upon the nurse’s knee ; 
And I mysel’ were dead and gane, 
And the green grass growing over me!” 
‘* Drove the beeves that made their broth, 
From England, and from Scotland both.” 
“‘And when they cam to the fair Dodhead 
Right hastily they climbed the heel ; 
They loosed the kye out, ane and a’ 
And ranshackled the house right weel. 
Now Jamie Telfer’s heart was sair, 
The tear aye rowing in his ee ; 
He pled wi’ the captain to hae his gear, 
Or else revenged he would be. 
The captain turned him round and leugh ; 
Said-—‘‘ Man, there’s naething in thy house 
But ae auld sword without a sheath, 
That hardly now wad fell a mouse !” 
The story runs : 
4 . 
