Who live as changelings ever since, At morning and at evening both, Witness those rings and roundelays And later, James came in, By which we note the fairies Their dances were procession: Or else they take their ease. A tell-tale in their company UNKNOWN. O, how the commonwealth doth need Such justices as you! UNKNOWN. [Before 1649]. ROBIN GOODFELLOW. FROM Oberon, in fairy-land, The king of ghosts and shadows there, Mad Robin I, at his command, Am sent to view the night-sports here. Is kept about, In every corner where I go, I will o'ersee, And merry be, And make good sport, with ho, ho, ho! 21 I mark their gloze, And it disclose UNKNOWN. [Before 1649.] EDOM O' GORDON. IT fell about the Martinmas, "We maun draw to a hauld. "And whatna hauld sall we draw to, My merry men and me? We will gae to the house of the Rodes, To see that fair ladye." The lady stood on her castle wa', Beheld baith dale and down; To them whom they have wronged so: There she was aware of a host of men When I have done I get me gone, And leave them scolding, ho, ho, ho! Came riding towards the town. "Gie owre your house, ye lady fair, UNKNOWN. "I winna gie owre, ye fause Gordon, "Now reach my pistol, Glaud, my man, She stood upon her castle wa', And let twa bullets flee: She missed that bluidy butcher's heart, And only razed his knee. "Set fire to the house!" quo' fause Gordon, Wud wi' dule and ire: "Fause ladye, ye sall rue that shot As ye burn in the fire!" But on the point o' Gordon's spear O bonnie, bonnie was her mouth, 23 Then wi' his spear he turned her owre; He cam' and lookit again at her; “Busk and boun, my merry men a', I cannot look on that bonnie face "Wha looks to freits, my master dear, Its freits will follow them; "Wae worth, wae worth ye, Jock, my man! | Let it ne'er be said that Edom o' Gordon I paid ye weel your fee; Why pu' ye out the grund-wa' stane, Lets in the reek to me? "And e'en wae worth ye, Jock, my man! "Ye paid me weel my hire, ladye, Ye paid me weel my fee: But now I'm Edom o' Gordon's man, Maun either do or dee." O then bespake her little son, Says, "O mither dear, gie owre this house, "I wad gie a' my goud, my bairn, Sae wad I a' my fee, For ae blast o' the western wind, To blaw the reek frae thee." O then bespake her daughter dear, They row'd her in a pair o' sheets, And tow'd her owre the wa'; Was daunted by a dame." And this way lookit her ain dear lord, He saw his castle a' in a lowe, "Put on, put on, my wighty men, For he that 's hindmost o' the thrang Then some they rade, and some they ran, Baith lady and babes were brent. And after the Gordon he is gane, UNKNOWN. TAKE THY AULD CLOAK ABOUT THEE. IN winter, when the rain rained cauld, And frost and snow were on the hill, And Boreas with his blasts sae bâuld Was threat'ning all our kye to kill; Then Bell, my wife, wha loves not strife, She said to me right hastilie, "Get up, gudeman, save Crummie's life, And take thy auld cloak about thee! "Cow Crummie is a useful cow, And she is come of a good kin'; Aft has she wet the bairnies' mou', And I am laith that she should pine: Get up, gudeman, it is fu' time! The sun shines frae the lift sae hie; Sloth never made a gracious end, Gae, take thy auld cloak about thee!" "My cloak was once a gude gray cloak, When it was fitting for my wear; But now it's scantly worth a groat, For I hae worn 't this thirty year: Let's spend the gear that we hae won, We little ken the day we 'll dee; Then I'll be proud, since I hae sworn To hae a new cloak about me." "In days when our King Robert reigned, His breeches cost but half a crown; He said they were a groat too dear, And ca'd the tailor thief and loun. He was the king that wore the crown, And thou the man of low degree: It's pride puts a' the country down, Sae take thy auld cloak about thee!" "O Bell, my wife, why dost thou flout? If thou wilt prove a good husband, Bell, my wife, she loves not strife, I'm forced to yield, though I'm gude man. It's not for a man with a woman to threape Unless he first give o'er the plea : As we began so will we leave, And I'll take my auld cloak about me. UNKNOWN. THE BARRING O' THE DOOR. IT fell about the Martinmas time, And she boiled them in the pan. The wind sae cauld blew east and north, "My hand is in my huswif's kap, Gudeman, as ye may see; An' it should nae be barred this hundred year, It's no be barred for me." They made a paction 'tween them twa, Then by there came twa gentlemen Nor coal nor candle light. And first they ate the white puddings, Yet ne'er a word she spak'. Then said the one unto the other, "Here, man, tak' ye my knife! |