Prince Young Margaret sat in a tower And as pale as a milk white swan she saw a shadow on the plain Come her and the sun. "Oh, mother, is it a Or a of ravens in the air, Or a black army with a flag And a ragged man them there?" "Oh, daughter, go run in little yard And bid to your flowers so gay. For comes Prince Heathen's men And I fear coming to take you away." In there come Heathen then, saying "Good day to you. And where l find that sweet little bride With her as soft as morning dew?" Young Margaret locked her bower But his men made the hinges spring And in there Prince Heathen then And give to her a gay ring. Back at him the ring she She "Of you I have no fear. I'll call you wolf-hound times Rather call you husband dear." He swore then, by her hair, He'd make her weep and him dear. He's taken her in his two arms, And her on the cold stone floor. And he set her free again, Her from her he's ta'en: "Ha ha, bonny maid, you weep now?" "You dog, nor yet for you." He's cast her down in a of stone Where forty did hang thereto. "Ha ha, maid, will you weep now?" "You dog, nor yet for you." "Come, give my of the salt, salt meat, And bitter for her brew, "Ha ha, bonny maid, will you now?" "You dog, nor yet for you." Prince down from the mountains came Where he'd been hunting with his men. He came unto this fair young All in the prison she is laid. "A drink, a drink, Heathen" she said. "Even if it's the muddy well pool." "Never a drink! Will you now?" "You dog, nor yet for thee." He's her by her yellow hair, And it to his horse's tail. He's her through the bushes and briars That grow so all on the plain "Ride slower, slower, Prince Heathen" she "Already the has filled me shoe". "Ha ha, bonny maid, you weep now?" "You dog, nor yet for you." He shortened and on he flew, And with her body harrowed the road. Her silken in tatters tore, Her blouse was spattered with blood. "Ride slower, slower, Heathen," she says "For the road it sorely my knee". "Ha ha, bonny maid, you weep now?" "You dog, nor yet for thee." He stirrups and on he flew. dragged her through the briar and thorns. Young gave a pitiful cry, And there she's had her babe born. "Oh how can I wrap me sweet little as I've nothing to roll him in?" He to her his saddle blanket "That'll him from cheek to chin". As she took the from his hand Tears down her they trickling run. "Ha ha, bonny maid, you weep now?". "You dog, nor yet for you." "I'm weeping for me own son; Your blanket's too rough to him in, and alas, the day I rue That ever I met rogues as you!" He "Go wash my baby in the milk, And dress my in the silk; When hearts are breaking, must bow, And well I love my now". She says "When violets bloom on the And grow on the kitchen floor, It's then that return again And be your forevermore". #104 A. L. Lloyd refurbished this ancient ballad. The chilling tension of the song from the juxtaposition be- tween physical brutality and psychological complexity. Recorded by Frankie filename[ SF BOUNDARY===