Mary Hamilton (Child No. 173) - Joan Baez

Word is to the kitchen gone, and word is to the Hall

And word is up to Madam the Queen, and that’s the worst of all

That Mary Hamilton has borne a babe

To the highest Stuart of all

Oh rise, arise Mary Hamilton

Arise and tell to me What thou hast done with thy wee babe

I saw and heard weep by thee

I put him in a tiny boat

And cast him out to sea

That he might sink or he might swim

But he’d never come back to me Oh rise arise Mary Hamilton

Arise and come with me There is a wedding in Glasgow town

This night we’ll go and see

She put not on her robes of black

Nor her robes of brown

But she put on her robes of white

To ride into Glasgow town

And as she rode into Glasgow town

The city for to see

The bailiff’s wife and the provost’s wife

Cried Alack and alas for thee

You need not weep for me she cried

You need not week for me For had I not slain my own wee babe

This death I would not dee

Oh little did my mother think

When first she cradled me The lands I was to travel in And the death I was to dee

Last night I washed the Queen’s feet

And put the gold in her hair

And the only reward I find for this

The gallows to be my share

Cast off cast off my gown she cried

But let my petticoat be And tie a napkin round my face

The gallows I would not see

Then by them come the king himself

Looked up with a pitiful eye

Come down come down Mary Hamillton

Tonight you will dine with me Oh hold your tongue my sovereign liege

And let your folly be For if you’d a mind to save my life

You’d never have shamed me here

Last night there were four marys

tonight there’ll be but three

It was Mary Beaton and Mary Seton

And Mary Carmichael and me.