H

Motherwell's MS., p. 643, from the recitation of Mrs McConechie, Kilmarnock.

1Lord Barnard's awa to the green wood,To hunt the fallow deer;His vassals a' are gane wi him,His companie to bear.2His lady wrate a braid letter,And seald it wi her hand,And sent it aff to Wee Messgrove,To come at her command.3When Messgrove lookt the letter on,A waefu man was he;Sayin, Gin I'm gript wi Lord Barnard's wife,Sure hanged I will be.4When he came to Lord Barnard's castelHe tinklit at the ring,And nane was so ready as the lady hersellTo let Wee Messgrove in.5'Welcome, welcome, Messgrove,' she said,'You're welcome here to me;Lang hae I loed your bonnie face,And lang hae ye loed me.6'Lord Barnard is a hunting gane,I hope he'll neer return,And ye sall sleep into his bed,And keep his lady warm.'7'It cannot be,' Messgrove he said,'I ween it cannot be;Gin Lord Barnard suld come hame this nicht,What wuld he do to me?'8'Ye naething hae to fear, Messgrove,Ye naething hae to fear;I'll set my page without the gate,To watch till morning clear.'9But wae be to the wee fut-page,And an ill death mat he die!For he's awa to the green wood,As hard as he can flee.10And whan he to the green wood cam,'Twas dark as dark could bee,And he fand his maister and his menAsleep aneth a tree.11'Rise up, rise up, maister,' he said,'Rise up, and speak to me;Your wife's in bed wi Wee Messgrove,Rise up richt speedilie.'12'Gin that be true ye tell to me,A lord I will mak thee;But gin it chance to be a lie,Sure hanged ye sall be.'13'It is as true, my lord,' he said,'As ever ye were born;Messgrove's asleep in your lady's bed,All for to keep her warm.'14He mounted on his milk-white steed,He was ane angry man;And he reachd his stately castell gateJust as the day did dawn.15He put his horn unto his mouth,And he blew strong blasts three;Sayin, He that's in bed with anither man's wife,He suld be gaun awa.16Syne out and spak the Wee Messgrove,A frichtit man was he;'I hear Lord Barnard's horn,' he said,'It blaws baith loud and hie.'17'Lye still, lye still, my Wee Messgrove,And keep me frae the cauld;'Tis but my father's shepherd's horn,A sounding in the fauld.'18He put his horn unto his mouth,And he blew loud blasts three;Saying, He that's in bed wi anither man's wife,'Tis time he was awa.19Syne out and spak the Wee Messgrove,A frichtit man was he:'Yon surely is Lord Barnard's horn,And I maun een gae flee.'20Lye still, lye still, Messgrove,' she said,'And keep me frae the cauld;'Tis but my father's shepherd's horn,A sounding in the fauld.'21And ay Lord Barnard blew and blew,Till he was quite wearie;Syne he threw down his bugle horn,And up the stair ran he.22'How do you like my blankets, Sir?How do you like my sheets?How do ye like my gay ladie,That lies in your arms asleep?'23'Oh weel I like your blankets, Sir,And weel I like your sheet;But wae be to your gay ladie,That lyes in my arms asleep!'24'I'll gie you ae sword, Messgrove,And I will take anither;What fairer can I do, Messgrove,Altho ye war my brither?'25The firsten wound that Messgrove gat,It woundit him richt sair;And the second wound that Messgrove gat,A word he neer spak mair.26'Oh how do ye like his cheeks, ladie?Or how do ye like his chin?Or how do ye like his fair bodie,That there's nae life within?'27'Oh weel I like his cheeks,' she said,'And weel I like his chin;And weel I like his fair bodie,That there's nae life within.'28'Repeat these words, my fair ladie,Repeat them ower agane,And into a basin of pure silverI'll gar your heart's bluid rin.'29'Oh weel I like his cheeks,' she said,'And weel I like his chin;And better I like his fair bodieThan a' your kith and kin.'30Syne he took up his gude braid sword,That was baith sharp and fine,And into a basin of pure silverHer heart's bluid he gart rin.31'O wae be to my merrie men,And wae be to my page,That they didna hald my cursed handsWhen I was in a rage!'32He leand the halbert on the ground,The point o 't to his breast,Saying, Here are three sauls gaun to heaven,I hope they'll a' get rest.

1Lord Barnard's awa to the green wood,To hunt the fallow deer;His vassals a' are gane wi him,His companie to bear.

2His lady wrate a braid letter,And seald it wi her hand,And sent it aff to Wee Messgrove,To come at her command.

3When Messgrove lookt the letter on,A waefu man was he;Sayin, Gin I'm gript wi Lord Barnard's wife,Sure hanged I will be.

4When he came to Lord Barnard's castelHe tinklit at the ring,And nane was so ready as the lady hersellTo let Wee Messgrove in.

5'Welcome, welcome, Messgrove,' she said,'You're welcome here to me;Lang hae I loed your bonnie face,And lang hae ye loed me.

6'Lord Barnard is a hunting gane,I hope he'll neer return,And ye sall sleep into his bed,And keep his lady warm.'

7'It cannot be,' Messgrove he said,'I ween it cannot be;Gin Lord Barnard suld come hame this nicht,What wuld he do to me?'

8'Ye naething hae to fear, Messgrove,Ye naething hae to fear;I'll set my page without the gate,To watch till morning clear.'

9But wae be to the wee fut-page,And an ill death mat he die!For he's awa to the green wood,As hard as he can flee.

10And whan he to the green wood cam,'Twas dark as dark could bee,And he fand his maister and his menAsleep aneth a tree.

11'Rise up, rise up, maister,' he said,'Rise up, and speak to me;Your wife's in bed wi Wee Messgrove,Rise up richt speedilie.'

12'Gin that be true ye tell to me,A lord I will mak thee;But gin it chance to be a lie,Sure hanged ye sall be.'

13'It is as true, my lord,' he said,'As ever ye were born;Messgrove's asleep in your lady's bed,All for to keep her warm.'

14He mounted on his milk-white steed,He was ane angry man;And he reachd his stately castell gateJust as the day did dawn.

15He put his horn unto his mouth,And he blew strong blasts three;Sayin, He that's in bed with anither man's wife,He suld be gaun awa.

16Syne out and spak the Wee Messgrove,A frichtit man was he;'I hear Lord Barnard's horn,' he said,'It blaws baith loud and hie.'

17'Lye still, lye still, my Wee Messgrove,And keep me frae the cauld;'Tis but my father's shepherd's horn,A sounding in the fauld.'

18He put his horn unto his mouth,And he blew loud blasts three;Saying, He that's in bed wi anither man's wife,'Tis time he was awa.

19Syne out and spak the Wee Messgrove,A frichtit man was he:'Yon surely is Lord Barnard's horn,And I maun een gae flee.'

20Lye still, lye still, Messgrove,' she said,'And keep me frae the cauld;'Tis but my father's shepherd's horn,A sounding in the fauld.'

21And ay Lord Barnard blew and blew,Till he was quite wearie;Syne he threw down his bugle horn,And up the stair ran he.

22'How do you like my blankets, Sir?How do you like my sheets?How do ye like my gay ladie,That lies in your arms asleep?'

23'Oh weel I like your blankets, Sir,And weel I like your sheet;But wae be to your gay ladie,That lyes in my arms asleep!'

24'I'll gie you ae sword, Messgrove,And I will take anither;What fairer can I do, Messgrove,Altho ye war my brither?'

25The firsten wound that Messgrove gat,It woundit him richt sair;And the second wound that Messgrove gat,A word he neer spak mair.

26'Oh how do ye like his cheeks, ladie?Or how do ye like his chin?Or how do ye like his fair bodie,That there's nae life within?'

27'Oh weel I like his cheeks,' she said,'And weel I like his chin;And weel I like his fair bodie,That there's nae life within.'

28'Repeat these words, my fair ladie,Repeat them ower agane,And into a basin of pure silverI'll gar your heart's bluid rin.'

29'Oh weel I like his cheeks,' she said,'And weel I like his chin;And better I like his fair bodieThan a' your kith and kin.'

30Syne he took up his gude braid sword,That was baith sharp and fine,And into a basin of pure silverHer heart's bluid he gart rin.

31'O wae be to my merrie men,And wae be to my page,That they didna hald my cursed handsWhen I was in a rage!'

32He leand the halbert on the ground,The point o 't to his breast,Saying, Here are three sauls gaun to heaven,I hope they'll a' get rest.

Motherwell's MS., p. 120.

1Little Musgrove is to the church gone,Some ladies for to sply;Doun came one drest in black,And one came drest in brown,And down and came Lord Barlibas' lady,The fairest in a' the town.* * * * *2'I know by the ring that's on your fingerThat you'r my Lord Barlibas' lady:''Indeed I am the Lord Barlibas' lady,And what altho I bee?'* * * * *3'Money shall be your hire, foot-page,And gold shall be your fee;You must not tell the secretsThat's between Musgrove and me.'4'Money shall not be hire,' he said,'Nor gold shall be my fee;But I'll awa to my own liege lord,With the tidings you've told to me.'5When he cam to the broken brig,He coost aff his clothes and he swimd,And when he cam to Lord Barlibas' yett,He tirled at the pin.6'What news, what news, my little foot-page?What news have ye brocht to me?Is my castle burnt?' he said,'Or is my tower tane?Or is my lady lighter yet,Of a daughter or son?'7'Your castle is not burnt,' he says,'Nor yet is your tower tane,Nor yet is your lady brocht to bed,Of a daughter or a son;But Little Musgrove is lying wi her,Till he thinks it is time to be gane.'8'O if the news be a lie,' he says,'That you do tell unto me,I'll ca up a gallows to my yard-yett,And hangd on it thou shallt be.9'But if the news be true,' he says,'That you do tell unto me,I have a young fair dochter at hame,Weel wedded on her you shall be.'10He called upon his merry men,By thirties and by three:'Put aff the warst, put on the best,And come along with me.'11He put a horn to his mouth,And this he gard it say:'The man that's in bed wi Lord Barlibas' lady,It's time he were up and away.'12'What does yon trumpet mean?' he sayd,'Or what does yon trumpet say?I think it says, the man that's in bed wi Lord Barlibas' lady,It's time he were up and away.'13'O lie you still, my Little Musgrove,And cover me from the cold,For it is but my father's sheepherd,That's driving his sheep to the fold.'14. . . . . . .In a little while after that,Up started good Lord Barlibas,At Little Musgrove his feet.15'How do you like my blankets?' he says,'Or how do you like my sheets?Or how do you like mine own fair lady,That lies in your arms and sleeps?'16'I like your blankets very well,And far better your sheets;But woe be to this wicked woman,That lies in my arms and sleeps!'17'Rise up, rise up, my Little Musgrove,Rise up, and put your clothes on;It's neer be said on no other dayThat I killed a naked man.18'There is two swords in my chamber,I wot they cost me dear;Take you the best, give me the warst,We'll red the question here.'19The first stroke that Lord Barlibas struck,He dang Little Musgrove to the ground;The second stroke that Lord Barlibas gaveDang his lady in a deadly swound.20'Gar mak, gar mak a coffin,' he says,'Gar mak it wide and long,And lay my lady at the right hand,For she's come of the noblest kin.'

1Little Musgrove is to the church gone,Some ladies for to sply;Doun came one drest in black,And one came drest in brown,And down and came Lord Barlibas' lady,The fairest in a' the town.

* * * * *

2'I know by the ring that's on your fingerThat you'r my Lord Barlibas' lady:''Indeed I am the Lord Barlibas' lady,And what altho I bee?'

* * * * *

3'Money shall be your hire, foot-page,And gold shall be your fee;You must not tell the secretsThat's between Musgrove and me.'

4'Money shall not be hire,' he said,'Nor gold shall be my fee;But I'll awa to my own liege lord,With the tidings you've told to me.'

5When he cam to the broken brig,He coost aff his clothes and he swimd,And when he cam to Lord Barlibas' yett,He tirled at the pin.

6'What news, what news, my little foot-page?What news have ye brocht to me?Is my castle burnt?' he said,'Or is my tower tane?Or is my lady lighter yet,Of a daughter or son?'

7'Your castle is not burnt,' he says,'Nor yet is your tower tane,Nor yet is your lady brocht to bed,Of a daughter or a son;But Little Musgrove is lying wi her,Till he thinks it is time to be gane.'

8'O if the news be a lie,' he says,'That you do tell unto me,I'll ca up a gallows to my yard-yett,And hangd on it thou shallt be.

9'But if the news be true,' he says,'That you do tell unto me,I have a young fair dochter at hame,Weel wedded on her you shall be.'

10He called upon his merry men,By thirties and by three:'Put aff the warst, put on the best,And come along with me.'

11He put a horn to his mouth,And this he gard it say:'The man that's in bed wi Lord Barlibas' lady,It's time he were up and away.'

12'What does yon trumpet mean?' he sayd,'Or what does yon trumpet say?I think it says, the man that's in bed wi Lord Barlibas' lady,It's time he were up and away.'

13'O lie you still, my Little Musgrove,And cover me from the cold,For it is but my father's sheepherd,That's driving his sheep to the fold.'

14. . . . . . .In a little while after that,Up started good Lord Barlibas,At Little Musgrove his feet.

15'How do you like my blankets?' he says,'Or how do you like my sheets?Or how do you like mine own fair lady,That lies in your arms and sleeps?'

16'I like your blankets very well,And far better your sheets;But woe be to this wicked woman,That lies in my arms and sleeps!'

17'Rise up, rise up, my Little Musgrove,Rise up, and put your clothes on;It's neer be said on no other dayThat I killed a naked man.

18'There is two swords in my chamber,I wot they cost me dear;Take you the best, give me the warst,We'll red the question here.'

19The first stroke that Lord Barlibas struck,He dang Little Musgrove to the ground;The second stroke that Lord Barlibas gaveDang his lady in a deadly swound.

20'Gar mak, gar mak a coffin,' he says,'Gar mak it wide and long,And lay my lady at the right hand,For she's come of the noblest kin.'

Motherwell's MS., p. 305, from the recitation of Rebecca Dunse, 4th May, 1825: one of her mother's songs, an old woman.

* * * * *1'It's gold shall be your hire,' she says,'And silver shall be your fee,If you will keep the secretsBetween Little Sir Grove and me.'2'Tho gold should be my hire,' he says,'And silver should be my fee,It's I'll not keep the secretBetwixt Little Sir Grove and thee.'3Up he rose, and away he goes,And along the plain he ran,And when he came to Lord Bengwill's castle,He tinkled at the pin;And who was sae ready as Lord Bengwill himsellTo let this little page in.4'Is any of my towers burnt?' he said,'Or any of my castles taen?Or is Lady Bengwill brought to bed,Of a daughter or a son?'5'It's nane of your towers are burnt,' he said,'Nor nane of your castles taen;But Lady Bengwill and Little Sir GroveTo merry bed they are gane.'6'If this be true that you tell me,Rewarded you shall be;And if it's a lie that you tell me,You shall be hanged before your ladie's ee.7'Get saddled to me the black,' he says,'Get saddled to me the brown;Get saddled to me the swiftest steedThat ever man rode on.'8The firsten town that he came to,He blew baith loud and schill,And aye the owre-word o the tuneWas, 'Sir Grove, I wish you well.'9The nexten town that he came to,He blew baith loud and long,And aye the owre-word of the tuneWas 'Sir Grove, it is time to be gone.'10'Is yon the sound of the hounds?' he says,'Or is yon the sound of the deer?But I think it's the sound of my brother's horn,That sounds sae schill in my ear.'11'Lye still, lye still, Sir Grove,' she says,'And keep a fair lady from cold;It's but the sound of my father's herd-boys,As they're driving the sheep to the fold.'12They lay down in each other's arms,And they fell fast asleep,And neer a one of them did wakeTill Lord Bengwill stood at their feet.13'How do you love my soft pillow?Or how do you love my sheets?Or how do you love my fair lady,That lies in your arms and sleeps?'14'Full well I love your soft pillow,Far better I love your sheets;But woe be to your fair lady,That lies in my arms and sleeps!'15'Rise up, rise up, Sir Grove,' he says,'Some clothes there put you upon;Let it never be said in fair EnglandI fought with a naked man.'16'Oh where shall I go, or where shall I fly,Or where shall I run for my life?For you've got two broadswords into your hand,And I have never a knife.'17'You shall take the one sword,' he says,'And I shall take the other,And that is as fair I'm sure to dayAs that you are my born brother.'18'Hold your hand, hold your hand, my brother dear,You've wounded me full sore;You may get a mistress in every town,But a brother you'll never get more.'19The very first stroke that Lord Bengwill gave him,He wounded him full sore;The very next stroke that Lord Bengwill gave him,A word he never spoke more.20He's lifted up Lady Bengwill,And set her on his knee,Saying, Whether do you love Little Sir GroveBetter than you do me?21'Full well I love your cherry cheeks,Full well I love your chin,But better I love Little Sir Grove, where he lies,Than you and all your kin.'* * * * *22'A grave, a grave,' Lord Bengwill cried,'To put these lovers in,And put Lady Bengwill uppermost,For she's come of the noblest kin.'

* * * * *

1'It's gold shall be your hire,' she says,'And silver shall be your fee,If you will keep the secretsBetween Little Sir Grove and me.'

2'Tho gold should be my hire,' he says,'And silver should be my fee,It's I'll not keep the secretBetwixt Little Sir Grove and thee.'

3Up he rose, and away he goes,And along the plain he ran,And when he came to Lord Bengwill's castle,He tinkled at the pin;And who was sae ready as Lord Bengwill himsellTo let this little page in.

4'Is any of my towers burnt?' he said,'Or any of my castles taen?Or is Lady Bengwill brought to bed,Of a daughter or a son?'

5'It's nane of your towers are burnt,' he said,'Nor nane of your castles taen;But Lady Bengwill and Little Sir GroveTo merry bed they are gane.'

6'If this be true that you tell me,Rewarded you shall be;And if it's a lie that you tell me,You shall be hanged before your ladie's ee.

7'Get saddled to me the black,' he says,'Get saddled to me the brown;Get saddled to me the swiftest steedThat ever man rode on.'

8The firsten town that he came to,He blew baith loud and schill,And aye the owre-word o the tuneWas, 'Sir Grove, I wish you well.'

9The nexten town that he came to,He blew baith loud and long,And aye the owre-word of the tuneWas 'Sir Grove, it is time to be gone.'

10'Is yon the sound of the hounds?' he says,'Or is yon the sound of the deer?But I think it's the sound of my brother's horn,That sounds sae schill in my ear.'

11'Lye still, lye still, Sir Grove,' she says,'And keep a fair lady from cold;It's but the sound of my father's herd-boys,As they're driving the sheep to the fold.'

12They lay down in each other's arms,And they fell fast asleep,And neer a one of them did wakeTill Lord Bengwill stood at their feet.

13'How do you love my soft pillow?Or how do you love my sheets?Or how do you love my fair lady,That lies in your arms and sleeps?'

14'Full well I love your soft pillow,Far better I love your sheets;But woe be to your fair lady,That lies in my arms and sleeps!'

15'Rise up, rise up, Sir Grove,' he says,'Some clothes there put you upon;Let it never be said in fair EnglandI fought with a naked man.'

16'Oh where shall I go, or where shall I fly,Or where shall I run for my life?For you've got two broadswords into your hand,And I have never a knife.'

17'You shall take the one sword,' he says,'And I shall take the other,And that is as fair I'm sure to dayAs that you are my born brother.'

18'Hold your hand, hold your hand, my brother dear,You've wounded me full sore;You may get a mistress in every town,But a brother you'll never get more.'

19The very first stroke that Lord Bengwill gave him,He wounded him full sore;The very next stroke that Lord Bengwill gave him,A word he never spoke more.

20He's lifted up Lady Bengwill,And set her on his knee,Saying, Whether do you love Little Sir GroveBetter than you do me?

21'Full well I love your cherry cheeks,Full well I love your chin,But better I love Little Sir Grove, where he lies,Than you and all your kin.'

* * * * *

22'A grave, a grave,' Lord Bengwill cried,'To put these lovers in,And put Lady Bengwill uppermost,For she's come of the noblest kin.'

Motherwell's MS., p. 371, from the recitation of Agnes Lyle, Kilbarchan.

1Four and twenty ladies fairWas playing at the ba,And out cam the lady, Barnabas' lady,The flower amang them a'.2She coost an ee on Little Mossgrey,As brisk as any sun,And he coost anither on her again,And they thocht the play was won.3'What would you think, Little Mossgrey,To lye wi me this nicht?Good beds I hae in Barnabey,If they were ordered richt.'4'Hold thy tongue, fair lady,' he says,'For that would cause much strife;For I see by the rings on your fingersThat you're Lord Barnabas' wife.'5'Lord Barnabas' lady indeed I am,And that I'll let you ken,But he's awa to the king's court,And I hope he'll neer come hame.'6Wi wrapped arms in bed they layTill they fell both asleep,When up and starts Barnabas' boy,And stood at their bed-feet.7'How likes thou the bed, Mossgrey?Or how likes thou the sheets?Or how likes thou my master's lady,Lyes in thy arms and sleeps?'8'Weel I love the bed,' he said,'And far better the sheets;But foul may fa your master's lady,Lies in my arms and sleeps!'9She pulled out a rusty sword,Was sticking by the stroe;Says, Tell no tidings of me, my boy,Or thou'll neer tell no moe.10He's awa to the king's court,As fast as he can dree;He's awa to the king's court,For to tell Barnaby.11'Are there any of my biggins brunt?Or any of my young men slain?Or is my lady brocht to bed,Of a dochter or a son?'12'There is none of your biggings brunt,There's none of your young men slain;But Little Mossgrey and your ladyThey are both in a bed within.'13'If that be true, my bonnie boy,Thou tellest unto me,I have not a dochter but only one,And married ye shall be.14'But if it be a lie, my bonnie boy,You're telling unto me,On the highest tree of Bailsberry,Thereon I'll gar hang thee.'15There was a man in the king's courtHad a love to Little Mossgrey;He took a horn out of his pocket,And blew both loud and hie:'He that's in bed wi Barnabas' lady,It's time he were away!'16'Oh am I not the maddest manEre lay in a woman's bed!I think I hear his bridle ring,But and his horse feet tread.'17'Lye still, lye still, Little Mossgrey,And keep me from the cold;It's but my father's small sheep-herd,Calling his sheep to the fold.'18With wrapped arms in bed they layTill they fell both asleep,Till up and darts Barnabas himsell,And stood at their bed-fit.19'How likest thou the bed, Mossgrey?And how loves thou the sheets?And how loves thou my lady fair,Lyes in your arms and sleeps?'20'Well I love your bed,' he says,'And far better your sheets;But foul may fa your lady fair,Lyes in my arms and sleeps!'21'Rise, O rise, Little Mossgrey,Put on your hose and shoon;I'll neer hae't said in a far countrieI killed a naked man.'22Slowly, slowly rose he up,And slowly put he on,And slowly down the stairs he goes,And thinking to be slain.23'Here's two swords,' Barnabas said,'I wad they cost me dear;Tak thou the best, I'll tak the warst,We'll try the battle here.'24The first stroke that Mossgrey got,It was baith sharp and sore;And the next stroke his lady got,One word she neer spak more.25'Ye'll mak a coffin large and wide,And lay this couple in;And lay her head on his right hand,She's come o the highest kin.'

1Four and twenty ladies fairWas playing at the ba,And out cam the lady, Barnabas' lady,The flower amang them a'.

2She coost an ee on Little Mossgrey,As brisk as any sun,And he coost anither on her again,And they thocht the play was won.

3'What would you think, Little Mossgrey,To lye wi me this nicht?Good beds I hae in Barnabey,If they were ordered richt.'

4'Hold thy tongue, fair lady,' he says,'For that would cause much strife;For I see by the rings on your fingersThat you're Lord Barnabas' wife.'

5'Lord Barnabas' lady indeed I am,And that I'll let you ken,But he's awa to the king's court,And I hope he'll neer come hame.'

6Wi wrapped arms in bed they layTill they fell both asleep,When up and starts Barnabas' boy,And stood at their bed-feet.

7'How likes thou the bed, Mossgrey?Or how likes thou the sheets?Or how likes thou my master's lady,Lyes in thy arms and sleeps?'

8'Weel I love the bed,' he said,'And far better the sheets;But foul may fa your master's lady,Lies in my arms and sleeps!'

9She pulled out a rusty sword,Was sticking by the stroe;Says, Tell no tidings of me, my boy,Or thou'll neer tell no moe.

10He's awa to the king's court,As fast as he can dree;He's awa to the king's court,For to tell Barnaby.

11'Are there any of my biggins brunt?Or any of my young men slain?Or is my lady brocht to bed,Of a dochter or a son?'

12'There is none of your biggings brunt,There's none of your young men slain;But Little Mossgrey and your ladyThey are both in a bed within.'

13'If that be true, my bonnie boy,Thou tellest unto me,I have not a dochter but only one,And married ye shall be.

14'But if it be a lie, my bonnie boy,You're telling unto me,On the highest tree of Bailsberry,Thereon I'll gar hang thee.'

15There was a man in the king's courtHad a love to Little Mossgrey;He took a horn out of his pocket,And blew both loud and hie:'He that's in bed wi Barnabas' lady,It's time he were away!'

16'Oh am I not the maddest manEre lay in a woman's bed!I think I hear his bridle ring,But and his horse feet tread.'

17'Lye still, lye still, Little Mossgrey,And keep me from the cold;It's but my father's small sheep-herd,Calling his sheep to the fold.'

18With wrapped arms in bed they layTill they fell both asleep,Till up and darts Barnabas himsell,And stood at their bed-fit.

19'How likest thou the bed, Mossgrey?And how loves thou the sheets?And how loves thou my lady fair,Lyes in your arms and sleeps?'

20'Well I love your bed,' he says,'And far better your sheets;But foul may fa your lady fair,Lyes in my arms and sleeps!'

21'Rise, O rise, Little Mossgrey,Put on your hose and shoon;I'll neer hae't said in a far countrieI killed a naked man.'

22Slowly, slowly rose he up,And slowly put he on,And slowly down the stairs he goes,And thinking to be slain.

23'Here's two swords,' Barnabas said,'I wad they cost me dear;Tak thou the best, I'll tak the warst,We'll try the battle here.'

24The first stroke that Mossgrey got,It was baith sharp and sore;And the next stroke his lady got,One word she neer spak more.

25'Ye'll mak a coffin large and wide,And lay this couple in;And lay her head on his right hand,She's come o the highest kin.'

Dr Joseph Robertson's Journal of Excursions, No 5, taken down from a man in the parish of Leochel, Aberdeenshire, February 12, 1829.

1It's four and twenty bonny boysWere playin at the ba,And out it cums Lord Barnet's ladie,And playit out ower them a'.2And aye she shot it's Little Mousgray,As clear as any sun:'O what wad ye gie, it's Little Mousgray,It's in o my arms to won?'3'For no, for no, my gay ladie,For no, that maunna be;For well ken I by the rings on your fingers,Lord Barnet's ladie are ye.'4When supper was over, and mass was sung,And a' man boun for bed,It's Little Mousgray and that ladyIn ae chamber was laid.5It's up and starts her little foot-page,Just up at her bed-feet:'Hail weel, hail weel, my little foot-page,Hail well this deed on me,An ever I lee my life to brook,I 'se pay you well your fee.'6Out it spaks it's Little Mousgray:'I think I hear a horn blaw;She blaws baith loud and shill at ilka turning of the tune,Mousgray, gae ye your wa!'7'Lie still, lie still, it's Little Mousgray,Had the caul win frae my back;It's bat my father's proud shepherds,The're huntin their hogs to the fauld.'8O up it starts the bold Barnet:. . . . . . .. . . . . . .. . . . . . .9'Win up, win up, it's Little Mousgray,Draw ti your stockins and sheen;I winna have it for to be saidI killed a naked man.10'There is two swords in my scabbart,They cost me many a pun;Tak ye the best, and I the warst,And we sall to the green.'11The firsten strok Lord Barnet strak,He wound Mousgray very sore;The nexten stroke Lord Barnet strak,Mousgray spak never more.12O he's taen out a lang, lang brand,And stripped it athwart the straw,And throch and throu his ain ladieAnd he's gart it cum and ga.13There was nae main made for that ladie,In bower whar she lay dead!But a' was for her bonny young son,Lay blobberin amang the bluid.

1It's four and twenty bonny boysWere playin at the ba,And out it cums Lord Barnet's ladie,And playit out ower them a'.

2And aye she shot it's Little Mousgray,As clear as any sun:'O what wad ye gie, it's Little Mousgray,It's in o my arms to won?'

3'For no, for no, my gay ladie,For no, that maunna be;For well ken I by the rings on your fingers,Lord Barnet's ladie are ye.'

4When supper was over, and mass was sung,And a' man boun for bed,It's Little Mousgray and that ladyIn ae chamber was laid.

5It's up and starts her little foot-page,Just up at her bed-feet:'Hail weel, hail weel, my little foot-page,Hail well this deed on me,An ever I lee my life to brook,I 'se pay you well your fee.'

6Out it spaks it's Little Mousgray:'I think I hear a horn blaw;She blaws baith loud and shill at ilka turning of the tune,Mousgray, gae ye your wa!'

7'Lie still, lie still, it's Little Mousgray,Had the caul win frae my back;It's bat my father's proud shepherds,The're huntin their hogs to the fauld.'

8O up it starts the bold Barnet:. . . . . . .. . . . . . .. . . . . . .

9'Win up, win up, it's Little Mousgray,Draw ti your stockins and sheen;I winna have it for to be saidI killed a naked man.

10'There is two swords in my scabbart,They cost me many a pun;Tak ye the best, and I the warst,And we sall to the green.'

11The firsten strok Lord Barnet strak,He wound Mousgray very sore;The nexten stroke Lord Barnet strak,Mousgray spak never more.

12O he's taen out a lang, lang brand,And stripped it athwart the straw,And throch and throu his ain ladieAnd he's gart it cum and ga.

13There was nae main made for that ladie,In bower whar she lay dead!But a' was for her bonny young son,Lay blobberin amang the bluid.

Buchan's MSS, I, 27; Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads, Percy Society, XVII, 21.

1Four an twenty handsome youthsWere a' playing at the ba,When forth it came him Little Munsgrove,The flower out ower them a'.2At times he lost, at times he wan,Till the noon-tide o the day,And four an twenty gay ladiesWent out to view the play.3Some came down in white velvet,And other some in green;Lord Burnett's lady in red scarlet,And shin'd like ony queen.4Some came down in white velvet,And other some in pale;Lord Burnett's lady in red scarlet,Whose beauty did excell.5She gae a glance out ower them a',As beams dart frae the sun;She fixed her eyes on Little Munsgrove,For him her love lay on.6'Gude day, gude day, ye handsome youth,God make ye safe and free;What woud ye gie this day, Munsgrove,For ae night in bower wi me?'7'I darena for my lands, lady,I darena for my life;I ken by the rings on your fingersYe are Lord Burnett's wife.'8'It woud na touch my heart, Munsgrove,Nae mair than 't woud my tae,To see as much o his heart's bloodAs twa brands coud let gae.9'I hae a bower in fair Strathdon,And pictures round it sett,And I hae ordered thee, Munsgrove,In fair Strathdon to sleep.'10Her flattering words and fair speeches,They were for him too strong,And she's prevailed on Little MunsgroveWith her to gang along.11When mass was sung, and bells were rung,And a' man bound for bed,Little Munsgrove and that ladyIn ae chamber were laid.12'O what hire will ye gie your page,If he the watch will keep,In case that your gude lord come hameWhen we're fair fast asleep?'13'Siller, siller's be his wage,And gowd shall be his hire;But if he speak ae word o this,He'll die in a burning fire.'14'The promise that I make, Madam,I will stand to the same;I winna heal it an hour langerThan my master comes hame.'15She's taen a sharp brand in her hand,Being in the tidive hour;He ran between her and the door,She never saw him more.16Where he found the grass grow green,He slacked his shoes an ran,And where he found the brigs broken,He bent his bow an swam.17Lord Burnett ower a window lay,Beheld baith dale and down;And he beheld his ain foot-pageCome hastening to the town.18'What news, what news, my little wee boy,Ye bring sae hastilie?''Bad news, bad news, my master,' he says,'As ye will plainly see.'19'Are any of my biggins brunt, my boy?Or are my woods hewed down?Or is my dear lady lighter yet,O dear daughter or son?'20'There are nane o your biggins brunt, master,Nor are your woods hewn down;Nor is your lady lighter yet,O dear daughter nor son.21'But ye've a bower in fair Strathdon,And pictures round it sett,Where your lady and Little MunsgroveIn fair Strathdon do sleep.'22'O had your tongue! why talk you soAbout my gay ladye?She is a gude and chaste womanAs in the North Countrie.'23'A word I dinna lie, my lord,A word I dinna lie;And if ye winna believe my word,Your ain twa een shall see.'24'Gin this be a true tale ye tell,That ye have tauld to me,I'll wed you to my eldest daughter,And married you shall be.25'But if it be a fause storyThat ye hae tauld to me,A high gallows I'll gar be built,And hanged shall ye be.'26He's called upon his landlady,The reckoning for to pay,And pulled out twa hands fou o gowd;Says, We'll reckon anither day.27He called upon his stable-groom,To saddle for him his steed,And trampled ower yon rocky hillsTill his horse hoofs did bleed.28There was a man in Lord Burnett's trainWas ane o Munsgrove's kin,And aye as fast as the horsemen rade,Sae nimbly 's he did rin.29He set a horn to his mouth,And he blew loud and sma,And aye at every sounding's end,'Awa, Munsgrove, awa!'30Then up it raise him Little Munsgrove,And drew to him his sheen;'Lye still, lye still,' the lady she cried,'Why get ye up sae seen?'31'I think I hear a horn blaw,And it blaws loud and sma;And aye at every sounding's end,Awa, Munsgrove, awa!'32'Lye still, lye still, ye Little Munsgrove,Had my back frae the wind;It's but my father's proud shepherd,Caing his hogs to town.'33'I think I hear a horn blaw,And it blaws loud and shrill,And aye at every sounding's endBids Munsgrove take the hill.'34'Lye still, my boy, lye still, my sweet,Had my back frae the cauld;It's but the sugh o the westlin wind,Blawing ower the birks sae bauld.'35He turned him right and round about,And he fell fast asleep;When up it started Lord Burnett,And stood at their bed-feet.36'Is't for love o my blankets, Munsgrove?Or is't for love o my sheets?Or is't for love o my gay lady?Sae soun in your arms she sleeps!'37'It's nae for love o your blankets, my lord,Nor yet for love o your sheets;But wae be to your gay ladye,Sae soun in my arms she sleeps!'38'Win up, win up, ye Little Munsgrove,Put all your armour an;It's never be said anither dayI killed a naked man.39'I hae twa brands in ae scabbard,Cost me merks twenty-nine;Take ye the best, gie me the warst,For ye're the weakest man.'40The first an stroke that Munsgrove drewWounded Lord Burnett sair;The next an stroke Lord Burnett drew,Munsgrove he spake nae mair.41He turned him to his ladye then,And thus to her said he:'All the time we've led our lifeI neer thought this o thee.42'How like ye now this well-faird face,That stands straight by your side?Or will ye hate this ill-faird face,Lyes weltering in his blude?'43'O better love I this well-faird face,Lyes weltering in his blude,Then eer I'll do this ill-faird face,That stands straight by my side.'44Then he's taen out a sharp dagger,It was baith keen and smart,And he has wounded that gay ladyeA deep wound to the heart.45'A grave, a grave,' cried Lord Burnett,'To bury these two in,And lay my ladye in the highest flat,She's chiefest o the kin.46'A grave, a grave,' said Lord Burnett,'To bury these two in;Lay Munsgrove in the lowest flat,He's deepest in the sin.47'Ye'll darken my windows up secure,Wi staunchions round about,And there is not a living manShall eer see me walk out.48'Nae mair fine clothes my body deck,Nor kame gang in my hair,Nor burning coal nor candle lightShine in my bower mair.'

1Four an twenty handsome youthsWere a' playing at the ba,When forth it came him Little Munsgrove,The flower out ower them a'.

2At times he lost, at times he wan,Till the noon-tide o the day,And four an twenty gay ladiesWent out to view the play.

3Some came down in white velvet,And other some in green;Lord Burnett's lady in red scarlet,And shin'd like ony queen.

4Some came down in white velvet,And other some in pale;Lord Burnett's lady in red scarlet,Whose beauty did excell.

5She gae a glance out ower them a',As beams dart frae the sun;She fixed her eyes on Little Munsgrove,For him her love lay on.

6'Gude day, gude day, ye handsome youth,God make ye safe and free;What woud ye gie this day, Munsgrove,For ae night in bower wi me?'

7'I darena for my lands, lady,I darena for my life;I ken by the rings on your fingersYe are Lord Burnett's wife.'

8'It woud na touch my heart, Munsgrove,Nae mair than 't woud my tae,To see as much o his heart's bloodAs twa brands coud let gae.

9'I hae a bower in fair Strathdon,And pictures round it sett,And I hae ordered thee, Munsgrove,In fair Strathdon to sleep.'

10Her flattering words and fair speeches,They were for him too strong,And she's prevailed on Little MunsgroveWith her to gang along.

11When mass was sung, and bells were rung,And a' man bound for bed,Little Munsgrove and that ladyIn ae chamber were laid.

12'O what hire will ye gie your page,If he the watch will keep,In case that your gude lord come hameWhen we're fair fast asleep?'

13'Siller, siller's be his wage,And gowd shall be his hire;But if he speak ae word o this,He'll die in a burning fire.'

14'The promise that I make, Madam,I will stand to the same;I winna heal it an hour langerThan my master comes hame.'

15She's taen a sharp brand in her hand,Being in the tidive hour;He ran between her and the door,She never saw him more.

16Where he found the grass grow green,He slacked his shoes an ran,And where he found the brigs broken,He bent his bow an swam.

17Lord Burnett ower a window lay,Beheld baith dale and down;And he beheld his ain foot-pageCome hastening to the town.

18'What news, what news, my little wee boy,Ye bring sae hastilie?''Bad news, bad news, my master,' he says,'As ye will plainly see.'

19'Are any of my biggins brunt, my boy?Or are my woods hewed down?Or is my dear lady lighter yet,O dear daughter or son?'

20'There are nane o your biggins brunt, master,Nor are your woods hewn down;Nor is your lady lighter yet,O dear daughter nor son.

21'But ye've a bower in fair Strathdon,And pictures round it sett,Where your lady and Little MunsgroveIn fair Strathdon do sleep.'

22'O had your tongue! why talk you soAbout my gay ladye?She is a gude and chaste womanAs in the North Countrie.'

23'A word I dinna lie, my lord,A word I dinna lie;And if ye winna believe my word,Your ain twa een shall see.'

24'Gin this be a true tale ye tell,That ye have tauld to me,I'll wed you to my eldest daughter,And married you shall be.

25'But if it be a fause storyThat ye hae tauld to me,A high gallows I'll gar be built,And hanged shall ye be.'

26He's called upon his landlady,The reckoning for to pay,And pulled out twa hands fou o gowd;Says, We'll reckon anither day.

27He called upon his stable-groom,To saddle for him his steed,And trampled ower yon rocky hillsTill his horse hoofs did bleed.

28There was a man in Lord Burnett's trainWas ane o Munsgrove's kin,And aye as fast as the horsemen rade,Sae nimbly 's he did rin.

29He set a horn to his mouth,And he blew loud and sma,And aye at every sounding's end,'Awa, Munsgrove, awa!'

30Then up it raise him Little Munsgrove,And drew to him his sheen;'Lye still, lye still,' the lady she cried,'Why get ye up sae seen?'

31'I think I hear a horn blaw,And it blaws loud and sma;And aye at every sounding's end,Awa, Munsgrove, awa!'

32'Lye still, lye still, ye Little Munsgrove,Had my back frae the wind;It's but my father's proud shepherd,Caing his hogs to town.'

33'I think I hear a horn blaw,And it blaws loud and shrill,And aye at every sounding's endBids Munsgrove take the hill.'

34'Lye still, my boy, lye still, my sweet,Had my back frae the cauld;It's but the sugh o the westlin wind,Blawing ower the birks sae bauld.'

35He turned him right and round about,And he fell fast asleep;When up it started Lord Burnett,And stood at their bed-feet.

36'Is't for love o my blankets, Munsgrove?Or is't for love o my sheets?Or is't for love o my gay lady?Sae soun in your arms she sleeps!'

37'It's nae for love o your blankets, my lord,Nor yet for love o your sheets;But wae be to your gay ladye,Sae soun in my arms she sleeps!'

38'Win up, win up, ye Little Munsgrove,Put all your armour an;It's never be said anither dayI killed a naked man.

39'I hae twa brands in ae scabbard,Cost me merks twenty-nine;Take ye the best, gie me the warst,For ye're the weakest man.'

40The first an stroke that Munsgrove drewWounded Lord Burnett sair;The next an stroke Lord Burnett drew,Munsgrove he spake nae mair.

41He turned him to his ladye then,And thus to her said he:'All the time we've led our lifeI neer thought this o thee.

42'How like ye now this well-faird face,That stands straight by your side?Or will ye hate this ill-faird face,Lyes weltering in his blude?'

43'O better love I this well-faird face,Lyes weltering in his blude,Then eer I'll do this ill-faird face,That stands straight by my side.'

44Then he's taen out a sharp dagger,It was baith keen and smart,And he has wounded that gay ladyeA deep wound to the heart.

45'A grave, a grave,' cried Lord Burnett,'To bury these two in,And lay my ladye in the highest flat,She's chiefest o the kin.

46'A grave, a grave,' said Lord Burnett,'To bury these two in;Lay Munsgrove in the lowest flat,He's deepest in the sin.

47'Ye'll darken my windows up secure,Wi staunchions round about,And there is not a living manShall eer see me walk out.

48'Nae mair fine clothes my body deck,Nor kame gang in my hair,Nor burning coal nor candle lightShine in my bower mair.'

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