The book of British ballads . E Corbould del. T. Armstrong sc 390. E. Corbould del. T. Armstrong sc. Sometimes she sunk, and sometimes she swamUntil she cam to the millers dam ; Oh father, father, draw your dam! Theres either a mermaid, or a milk-white swan. The miller hasted and drew his dam,And there he found a drownd woman ; You could not see her yellow hair,For gowd and pearls that were so rare ; You could not see her middle sma,Her gowden girdle was sae bra; A famous harper passing by, The sweet pale face he chanced to spy ; And when he lookd that lady on,He sighd and made a heavy moan; H
The book of British ballads . E Corbould del. T. Armstrong sc 390. E. Corbould del. T. Armstrong sc. Sometimes she sunk, and sometimes she swamUntil she cam to the millers dam ; Oh father, father, draw your dam! Theres either a mermaid, or a milk-white swan. The miller hasted and drew his dam,And there he found a drownd woman ; You could not see her yellow hair,For gowd and pearls that were so rare ; You could not see her middle sma,Her gowden girdle was sae bra; A famous harper passing by, The sweet pale face he chanced to spy ; And when he lookd that lady on,He sighd and made a heavy moan; He made a harp of her breast-bone,Whose sounds would melt a heart of stone; The strings he framd of her yellow hair,Whose notes made sad the listning ear ; He brought it to her fathers hall,And there was the court assembled all; He laid his harp upon a stone, And straight it began to play alone ; Oh yonder sits my father, the king,And yonder sits my mother, the queen ; And yonder stands my brother Hugh,And by him my William, sweet and true. — 391
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