Ballad VIII: Willow, Willow, Willow
"My mother had a maid call'd Barbara:She was in love; and he, she lov'd, prov'd mad,Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garlànd!And did forsake her.She had a Song of--Willow.An old thing 'twas, but it express'd her fortune,And she died singing it."
"All a grene wyllow; wyllow, wyllow, wyllow,All a grene wyllow is my garland."
"Willow, willow, willow, sing all of green willow,Sing all of green willow, shall be my garland."
"A poore soule sat sighing near a ginger-bread stall,O ginger-bread O, ginger-bread O!With his hands in his pockets, his head on the wall,O ginger-bread O, ginger-bread O!You pye-wifes of Smithfield, what would ye be at!Who talks of plum-pudding? here's better than that,
A poore soule sat sighing under a sicamore tree;O willow, willow, willow!With his hand on his bosom, his head on his knee:O willow, willow, willow!O willow, willow, willow!Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garlànd.
He sigh'd in his singing, and after each grone,Come willow, &c.I am dead to all pleasure, my true-love is gone;O willow, &c.Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garlànd.
My love she is turned; untrue she doth prove:O willow, &c.She renders me nothing but hate for my love.O willow, &c.Sing, O the greene willow, &c.
O pitty me, (cried he) ye lovers, each one;O willow, &c.Her heart's hard as marble; she rues not my mone.O willow, &c.Sing, O the greene willow, &c.
The cold streams ran by him, his eyes wept apace;O willow, &c.The salt tears fell from him, which drowned his face:O willow, &c.Sing, O the greene willow, &c.
The mute birds sate by him, made tame by his mones:O willow, &c.The salt tears fell from him, which softened the stones.O willow, &c.Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garlànd!
Let nobody blame me, her scornes I do prove;O willow, &c.She was borne to be faire; I, to die for her love.O willow, &c.Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garlànd.
O that beauty should harbour a heart that's so hard!Sing willow, &c.My true love rejecting without all regard.O willow, &c.Sing, O the greene willow, &c.
Let love no more boast him in palace, or bower;O willow, &c.For women are trothles, and flote in an houre.O willow, &c.Sing, O the greene willow, &c.
But what helps complaining? In vaine I complaine:O willow, &c.I must patiently suffer her scorne and disdaine.O willow, &c.Sing, O the greene willow, &c.
Come, all you forsaken, and sit down by me,O willow, &c.He that 'plaines of his false love, mine's falser than she.O willow, &c.Sing, O the greene willow, &c.
The willow wreath weare I, since my love did fleet;O willow, &c.A Garland for lovers forsaken most meete.O willow, &c.Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garlànd!
Words in this poem
- barbara n.
- The first word in certain mnemonic lines which represent the various forms of the syllogism. It indicates a syllogism whose three propositions are universal affirmatives. Whately. [Coined by logicians.]
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
- apace adv.
- With a quick pace; quick; fast; speedily. [Pref. a- + pace. OE. a pas at a walk, in which a is the article. See Pace.]
- sate v. t.
- To satisfy the desire or appetite of; to satiate; to glut; to surfeit. [Probably shortened fr. satiate: cf. L. satus full. See Satiate.]
- nobody n.
- No person; no one; not anybody. [No, a. + body.]
- harbour n.
- A station for rest and entertainment; a place of security and comfort; a refuge; a shelter. [OE herbor, herberwe, herberge, Icel. herbergi (cf. OHG. heriberga), orig., a shelter for soldiers; herr army + bjarga to save, help, defend; akin to AS. here ar]
- flote v. t.
- To fleet; to skim. Tusser.
- patiently adv.
- In a patient manner.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Ballad VIII: Willow, Willow, Willow is in the public domain. This text is taken from Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, Volume 1 (of 3) Consisting of Old Heroic Ballads, Songs and Other Pieces of Our Earlier Poets Together With Some Few of Later Date, Project Gutenberg ebook #45939; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Thomas Percy, Ballad VIII: Willow, Willow, Willow, in Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, Volume I (1765), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #45939, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/percy-reliques/ballad-viii-willow-willow-willow.html, id L08532.
Form and metre
Ballad VIII: Willow, Willow, Willow is 77 lines in 16 stanzas. The commonest rhyme scheme is ABABB, in 5 of the 16 stanzas; the rest vary or could not be confirmed. 96% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 8.4 syllables. 4 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 4 ABABCC stallA · oB · wallA · oB · atC · thatC
- 5 ABABB- treeA · willowB · kneeA · willowB · willowB · garlànd
- 6 -A-A- grone · — · gone · — · garlànd
- 7 ABABB proveA · — · loveA · — · —
- 8 -A-AA one · — · mone · — · —
- 9 ABABB apaceA · — · faceA · — · —
- 10 ABAB- monesA · — · stonesA · — · garlànd
- 11 ABAB- proveA · — · loveA · — · garlànd
- 12 ABABB hardA · — · regardA · — · —
- 13 -A-AA bower · — · houre · — · —
- 14 ABABB complaineA · — · disdaineA · — · —
- 15 ABABB meA · — · sheA · — · —
- 16 ABAB- fleetA · — · meeteA · — · garlànd
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| "My mother had a maid call'd Barbara: | 9 | ·/˘····/˘ |
| She was in love; and he, she lov'd, prov'd mad, | 10 | ·········· |
| Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garlànd!And did forsake her. | 16 | ····/········˘/· |
| She had a Song of--Willow. | 7 | ·····/· |
| An old thing 'twas, but it express'd her fortune, | 11 | ······˘/·/˘ |
| And she died singing it." | 6 | ···/˘· |
| "All a grene wyllow; wyllow, wyllow, wyllow, | 11 | ··········· |
| All a grene wyllow is my garland." | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| "Willow, willow, willow, sing all of green willow, | 12 | /·/·/·····/· |
| Sing all of green willow, shall be my garland." | 11 | ····/····/˘ |
| "A poore soule sat sighing near a ginger-bread stall, | 12 | ····/˘··/˘·· |
| O ginger-bread O, ginger-bread O! | 9 | ·/˘··/˘·· |
| With his hands in his pockets, his head on the wall, | 12 | ·····/˘····· |
| O ginger-bread O, ginger-bread O! | 9 | ·/˘··/˘·· |
| You pye-wifes of Smithfield, what would ye be at! | 11 | ····/˘····· |
| Who talks of plum-pudding? here's better than that, | 11 | ····/˘·/˘·· |
| A poore soule sat sighing under a sicamore tree; | 13 | ····/˘···/˘˘· |
| O willow, willow, willow! | 7 | ·/·/·/· |
| With his hand on his bosom, his head on his knee: | 12 | ·····/˘····· |
| O willow, willow, willow! | 7 | ·/·/·/· |
| O willow, willow, willow! | 7 | ·/·/·/· |
| Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garlànd. | 11 | ····/······ |
| He sigh'd in his singing, and after each grone, | 11 | ····/˘····· |
| Come willow, &c. | 4 | ·/·· |
| I am dead to all pleasure, my true-love is gone; | 12 | ·····/˘····· |
| O willow, &c. | 4 | ·/·· |
| Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garlànd. | 11 | ····/······ |
| My love she is turned; untrue she doth prove: | 10 | ·····˘/··· |
| O willow, &c. | 4 | ·/·· |
| She renders me nothing but hate for my love. | 11 | ·/˘·/˘····· |
| O willow, &c. | 4 | ·/·· |
| Sing, O the greene willow, &c. | 7 | ····/·· |
| O pitty me, (cried he) ye lovers, each one; | 11 | ·······/˘·· |
| O willow, &c. | 4 | ·/·· |
| Her heart's hard as marble; she rues not my mone. | 11 | ····/˘····· |
| O willow, &c. | 4 | ·/·· |
| Sing, O the greene willow, &c. | 7 | ····/·· |
| The cold streams ran by him, his eyes wept apace; | 11 | ·········˘/ |
| O willow, &c. | 4 | ·/·· |
| The salt tears fell from him, which drowned his face: | 10 | ·········· |
| O willow, &c. | 4 | ·/·· |
| Sing, O the greene willow, &c. | 7 | ····/·· |
| The mute birds sate by him, made tame by his mones: | 11 | ··········· |
| O willow, &c. | 4 | ·/·· |
| The salt tears fell from him, which softened the stones. | 11 | ·······/˘·· |
| O willow, &c. | 4 | ·/·· |
| Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garlànd! | 11 | ····/······ |
| Let nobody blame me, her scornes I do prove; | 11 | ·/········· |
| O willow, &c. | 4 | ·/·· |
| She was borne to be faire; I, to die for her love. | 12 | ············ |
| O willow, &c. | 4 | ·/·· |
| Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garlànd. | 11 | ····/······ |
| O that beauty should harbour a heart that's so hard! | 12 | ··/˘·/˘····· |
| Sing willow, &c. | 4 | ·/·· |
| My true love rejecting without all regard. | 11 | ···˘/˘···˘/ |
| O willow, &c. | 4 | ·/·· |
| Sing, O the greene willow, &c. | 7 | ····/·· |
| Let love no more boast him in palace, or bower; | 11 | ·······/˘·/ |
| O willow, &c. | 4 | ·/·· |
| For women are trothles, and flote in an houre. | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| O willow, &c. | 4 | ·/·· |
| Sing, O the greene willow, &c. | 7 | ····/·· |
| But what helps complaining? In vaine I complaine: | 11 | ···˘/˘····· |
| O willow, &c. | 4 | ·/·· |
| I must patiently suffer her scorne and disdaine. | 11 | ··/˘/˘····· |
| O willow, &c. | 4 | ·/·· |
| Sing, O the greene willow, &c. | 7 | ····/·· |
| Come, all you forsaken, and sit down by me, | 11 | ···˘/˘····· |
| O willow, &c. | 4 | ·/·· |
| He that 'plaines of his false love, mine's falser than she. | 12 | ········/˘·· |
| O willow, &c. | 4 | ·/·· |
| Sing, O the greene willow, &c. | 7 | ····/·· |
| The willow wreath weare I, since my love did fleet; | 11 | ·/········· |
| O willow, &c. | 4 | ·/·· |
| A Garland for lovers forsaken most meete. | 11 | ·/˘·/˘˘/˘·· |
| O willow, &c. | 4 | ·/·· |
| Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garlànd! | 11 | ····/······ |
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