Peter Robins, his website

HER mother died when she was young,
Which gave her cause to make great moan;
Her father married the warst woman
That ever lived in Christendom.

She served her with foot and hand,
In every thing that she could dee,
Till once, in an unlucky time,
She threw her in ower Craigy's sea.

Says, `Lie you there, dove Isabel,
And all my sorrows lie with thee;
Till Kemp Owyne come ower the sea,
And borrow you with kisses three,
Let all the warld do what they will,
Oh borrowed shall you never be!'

Her breath grew strang, her hair grew lang,
And twisted thrice about the tree,
And all the people, far and near,
Thought that a savage beast was she.

These news did come to Kemp Owyne,
Where he lived, far beyond the sea;
He hasted him to Craigy's sea,
And on the savage beast lookd he.

Her breath was strang, her hair was lang,
And twisted was about the tree,
And with a swing she came about:
`Come to Craigy's sea, and kiss with me.

`Here is a royal belt,' she cried,
`That I have found in the green sea;
And while your body it is on,
Drawn shall your blood never be;
But if you touch me, tail or fin,
I vow my belt your death shall be.'

He stepped in, gave her a kiss,
The royal belt he brought him wi;
Her breath was strang, her hair was lang,
And twisted twice about the tree,
And with a swing she came about:
`Come to Craigy's sea, and kiss with me.

`Here is a royal ring,' she said,
`That I have found in the green sea;
And while your finger it is on,
Drawn shall your blood never be;
But if you touch me, tail or fin,
I swear my ring your death shall be.'

He stepped in, gave her a kiss,
The royal ring he brought him wi;
Her breath was strang, her hair was lang,
And twisted ance about the tree,
And with a swing she came about:
`Come to Craigy's sea, and kiss with me.

`Here is a royal brand,' she said,
`That I have found in the green sea;
And while your body it is on,
Drawn shall your blood never be;
But if you touch me, tail or fin,
I swear my brand your death shall be.'

He stepped in, gave her a kiss,
The royal brand he brought him wi;
Her breath was sweet, her hair grew short,
And twisted nane about the tree,
And smilingly she came about,
As fair a woman as fair could be.

COME here, come here, you freely feed,
An lay your head low on my knee;
The hardest weird I will you read
That eer war read to a lady.

`O meikle dollour sall you dree,
An ay the sat seas oer ye['s] swim;
An far mair dollour sall ye dree
On Eastmuir craigs, or ye them clim.

`I wot ye's be a weary wight,
An releived sall ye never be
Till Kempion, the kingis son,
Come to the craig and thrice kiss thee.'

O meickle dollour did she dree,
An ay the sat seas oer she swam;
An far mair dollour did she dree
On Eastmuir craigs, or them she clam;
An ay she cried for Kempion,
Gin he would come till her han.

Now word has gane to Kempion
That sich a beast was in his lan,
An ay be sure she would gae mad
Gin she gat nae help frae his han.

`Now by my sooth,' says Kempion,
`This fiery beast I['ll] gang to see;'
`An by my sooth,' says Segramour,
`My ae brother, I'll gang you wi.'

O biggit ha they a bonny boat,
An they hae set her to the sea,
An Kempion an Segramour
The fiery beast he gane to see:
A mile afore they reachd the shore,
I wot she gard the red fire flee.

`O Segramour, keep my boat afloat,
An lat her no the lan so near;
For the wicked beast she'll sure gae mad,
An set fire to the land an mair.'

`O out o my stye I winna rise--
An it is na for the fear o thee--
Till Kempion, the kingis son,
Come to the craig an thrice kiss me.'

He's louted him oer the Eastmuir craig,
An he has gien her kisses ane;
Awa she gid, an again she came,
The fieryest beast that ever was seen.

`O out o my stye I winna rise--
An it is na for fear o thee--
Till Kempion, the kingis son,
Come to the craig an thrice kiss me.'

He louted him oer the Eastmuir craig,
An he has gien her kisses twa;
Awa she gid, an again she came,
The fieryest beast that ever you saw.

`O out o my stye I winna rise--
An it is na for fear o ye--
Till Kempion, the kingis son,
Come to the craig an thrice kiss me.'

He's louted him oer the Eastmuir craig,
An he has gien her kisses three;
Awa she gid, an again she came,
The fairest lady that ever coud be.

`An by my sooth,' say[s] Kempion,
`My ain true love--for this is she--
O was it wolf into the wood,
Or was it fish intill the sea,
Or was it man, or wile woman,
My true love, that misshapit thee?'

`It was na wolf into the wood,
Nor was it fish into the sea,
But it was my stepmother,
An wae an weary mot she be.

`O a heavier weird light her upon
Than ever fell on wile woman;
Her hair's grow rough, an her teeth's grow lang,
An on her four feet sal she gang.

`Nane sall tack pitty her upon,
But in Wormie's Wood she sall ay won,
An relieved sall she never be,
Till St Mungo come oer the sea.'