eggie will not admit Willie,
and he rides away. Meggie awakes, and learns that she has dismissed her
true-love in her sleep. Our ballad is deficient here, but it is obvious
from st. 19 that both lovers are drowned. We must understand, therefore,
that Meggie follows Willie across Clyde. A variant of the ballad
explains that she found him 'in the deepest pot' in all Clyde's water,
and drowned herself.

Child notes that there is a very popular Italian ballad of much the same
story, except that the mother's curse is on the girl and not the man.

There is a curious change in the style of spelling from stanza 15 to the
end.

CLYDE'S WATER

1.
'Ye gie corn unto my horse,
An' meat unto my man,
For I will gae to my true-love's gates
This night, gin that I can.'

2.
'O stay at hame this ae night, Willie,
This ae bare night wi' me;
The best bed in a' my house
Sall be well made to thee.'

3.
'I carena for your beds, mither,
I carena ae pin,
For I'll gae to my love's gates
This night, gin I can win.'

4.
'O stay, my son Willie, this night,
This ae night wi' me;
The best hen in a' my roost
Sall be well made ready for thee.'

5.
'I carena for your hens, mither,
I carena ae pin;
I sall gae to my love's gates
This night, gin I can win.'

6.
'Gin ye winna stay, my son Willie,
This ae bare night wi' me,
Gin Clyde's water be deep and fu' o' flood,
My malisen drown ye!'

7.
He rode up yon high hill,
An' down yon dowie glen;
The roaring o' Clyde's water
Wad hae fleyt ten thousand men.

8.
'O spare me, Clyde's water,
O spare me as I gae!
Mak me your wrack as I come back,
But spare me as I gae!'

9.
He rade in, and farther in,
Till he came to the chin;
And he rade in, and farther in,
Till he came to dry lan'.

10.
And whan he came to his love's gates,
He tirled at the pin.
'Open your gates, Meggie,
Open your gates to me,
For my beets are fu' o' Clyde's water,
And the rain rains oure my chin.'

11.
'I hae nae lovers therout,' she says,
'I hae nae love within;
My true-love is in my arms twa,
An' nane will I lat in.'

12.
'Open your gates, Meggie, this ae night,
Open your gates to me;
For Clyde's water is fu' o' flood,
An' my mither's malison'll drown me.'

13.
'Ane o' my chamers is fu' o' corn,' she says,
'An'