The Cruel Sister (B)

There came a wooing suitors two,
And both the younger maid to woo.
Tis merry at summer tide.

To her alone their court they paid,
And much it vex'd the elder maid.

"Dear little sister, take my hand,
"And go with me to yonder strand."

"But why then go to the water-side,
"When all our clothes are wash'd and dried?"

"We'll wash ourselves as white as snow,
"And be more like two sisters so/'

With flowing hair the younger went,
On ill designs the elder bent.

The younger maid stepp'd on a stone,
And by the elder down was thrown.

"O dearest sister, let me live,
"And thee my gilded shrine I'll give."

"What profits me thy gilded shrine,
"Unless thy trulove too is mine?"

"Him give I not my life to save,
"Nay, rather sink beneath the wave."

"Float on then, float away to sea;
"Thy trulove safely falls to me."

A storm from th' east began to blow,
And drive the body to and fro.

The sea roll'd in, so hard it blew,
And on the coast the maiden threw.

It chanced two minstrels paced the strand,
And saw the body float to land.

They took her locks of yellow hair,
With them they strung their bows so fair.

They then cut off her fingers small,
And made their fiddle-screws withal.

So to the nearest town they went,
To share the feast and merriment.

A lively tune they fain would play,
The fiddle sang a piteous lay;

And ever, when they drew their bow,
Counted its wrongs, and told its woe.

It said "My sister sits as bride,
"And he is my trulove at her side/'