1
The Ballad of Fair Helen of Kirkconnell
Burns Original
1.
O, that I were where Helen lies!
Night and day on me she cries;
O, that I were where Helen lies!
In fair Kirkconnel lee.
2.
O Helen fair! beyond compare,
A ringlet of thy flowing hair,
I'll wear it still for evermair
Until the day I die.
3.
Curs'd be the hand that shot the shot,
And curs'd the gun that gave the crack,
Into my arms bird Helen lap,
And died for sake o' me.
4.
O think na ye but my heart was sair,
My love fell down and spake nae mair,
There did she swoon wi' meikle care
On fair Kirkconnel lee.
5.
I lighted down, my sword did draw,
I cutted him in pieces sma';
I cutted him in pieces sma'
On fair Kirkconnel lee.
6.
O Helen chaste, thou wert modest
If I were with thee I were blest,
Where thou lies low, and takes thy rest
On fair Kirkconnel lee.
7.
I wish my grave was growing green,
A winding sheet put o'er my een,
And I in Helen's arms lying
On fair Kirkconnel lee!
8.
I wish I were where Helen lies!
Night and day on me she cries;
O, that I were where Helen lies!
In fair Kirkconnel lee.
Songs of Scotland Prior to Burns
Standard English Translation
I wish I were where Helen lies
Night and day on me she cries
O that I were where Helen lies
On fair Kirkconnell lee
O, that I were where Helen lies!
Night and day on me she cries;
O, that I were where Helen lies!
In fair Kirkconnel hill sides.
O think ye na my heart was sair
When my love dropt down and spake nae mair
There did she swoon wi' meikle care
On fair Kirkconnell lee
O Helen fair! beyond compare,
A ringlet of your flowing hair,
I will wear it still for evermore
Until the day I die.
Curst be the heart that thought the thought
And curst the hand that fired the shot
When in my arms burd Helen dropt
And died to succour me
Cursed be the hand that shot the shot,
And cursed the gun that gave the crack,
Into my arms bird Helen leaped,
And died for sake of me.
O that I were where Helen lies
Night and day on me she cries
Out of my bed she bids me rise
Says, "Haste, and come to me."
O think not you but my heart was sore,
My love fell down and spoke no more,
There did she swoon with much care
On fair Kirkconnel hill sides.
O Helen fair, beyond compare
I’ll weave a garland of thy hair
Shall bind my heart for evermair
Until the day I dee
I rested down, my sword did draw,
I cut him in pieces small;
I cut him in pieces small
On fair Kirkconnel hill sides.
I wish my grave were growing green
A winding-sheet drawn o’er my een
And I in Helen’s arms lying
On fair Kirkconnel lee
O Helen chaste, you were modest
If I were with you I were blessed,
Where you lies low, and takes your rest
On fair Kirkconnel hill sides.
O Helen fair! O Helen chaste!
Were I with thee I would be blest
Where thou lies low and takes thy rest
On fair Kirkconnell lee
I wish my grave was growing green,
A winding sheet put over my eyes,
And I in Helen's arms lying
On fair Kirkconnel hill sides!
I wish I were where Helen lies
Night and day on me she cries
And I am weary of the skies
For her sake that died for me
I wish I were where Helen lies!
Night and day on me she cries;
O, that I were where Helen lies!
In fair Kirkconnel hill sides.
From book by John Groat ("Sailor John") called Songs of Scotland Prior to Burns, from W & R Chambers, 1890.
The book tells the sad story of the song:
"In the burial ground of Kirkconnell, near the Border, is the grave of Helen Irving, recognised by tradition as Fair
Helen of Kirkconnell, and who is supposed to have lived in the sixteenth century. It is also the grave of her lover,
Adam Fleming – a name that once predominated the district. Helen, according to the narration of Pennant
(Pennant’s Tour in Scotland, 1772), ‘was beloved by two gentlemen at the same time. The one vowed to sacrifice
the successful rival to his resentment, and watched an opportunity while the happy pair were sitting on the banks
of the Kirtle, that washes these grounds. Helen perceived the desperate lover on the opposite side, and fondly
thinking to save her favourite, interposed; and, receiving the wound intended for her beloved, fell and expired in
his arms. He instantly revenged her death; then fled into Spain, and served for some time against the Infidels: on
his return, he visited the grave of his unfortunate mistress, stretched himself on it, and expiring on the spot, was
interred by her side. A cross and a sword are engraven on the tombstone, with "HIC JACET ADAMUS
FLEMING"; the only memorial of this unhappy gentleman, except an ancient ballad which records the tragical
event.’ "
2
The Ballad of Fair Helen – Cyril Scott
I WISH I were where Helen lies,
Night and day on me she cries;
O that I were where Helen lies,
On fair Kirconnell lea!
Curst be the heart that thought the thought,
And curst the hand that fired the shot,
When in my arms burd Helen dropt,
And died to succour me!
As I went down the water side,
None but my foe to be my guide,
None but my foe to be my guide,
On fair Kirconnell lea;
I lighted down, my sword did draw,
I hacked him in pieces sma',
I hacked him in pieces sma',
For her sake that died for me.
O Helen fair, beyond compare!
I'll make a garland for thy hair,
Shall bind my heart for evermair,
Until the day I die!
O that I were where Helen lies!
Night and day on me she cries;
Out of my bed she bids me rise,
Says, 'Haste, and come to me!'
The Ballad of Fair Helen of Kirkconnell
Dit is een bekende Schotse volksballade. Cyril Scott droeg het op aan de beroemde Britse bariton
Frederic Austin. De georkestreerde versie werd in 1904 gedirigeerd door Sir Thomas Beecham.
Het waargebeurde 17e eeuwse Schotse verhaal speelt zich af in Kirkconnell, in de Schotse Borders. Het
gaat over de mooie Helen Irving, die 2 minnaars had uit rivaliserende clans.
Terwijl Helen op het kerkhof bij de rivier een geheime ontmoeting had met haar geliefde Adam
Fleming, wilde diens rivaal hem neerschieten. Helen wierp zich op het laatste moment voor Adam en
werd dodelijk geraakt.
Adam Fleming achtervolgde de moordenaar en hakte hem aan stukken. Hij keerde terug naar
Kirkconnell en stierf van verdriet op het graf van Fair Helen, naast wie hij nog steeds begraven ligt.