Glen Collection of printed music > Printed music > Scotish minstrel > Volumes 1-3

106
GIL MORICE.
Old Ballad.
il Morice was an carls son, His name it waxed wide; It was nac for his
w
^t-rn
r^OTrr
i
£
m
i
a
w
« — »
*~T
Bui it -was for a la_dy g"ay, That
great rich_es, Nor yet his mcikle pride;
ff^Ur ii '-ij L ^
H
Hill
m
I
livd on Carron side; But it was for a la_dy gay That liv'd on Car_ron side
J-
\-$x\ r \\ cji^f m f c-j-ur
"Where will I get a bonny hoy,
That will win hose and shoon;
That will "gae to Lord Barnard's ha',
And hid his lady com.'
Ye maun rin this, errand, Willie;
Antl ye maun rin wi' speed;'
When other hoys gae on their feet.
On horsehaek ye sail ride. 1 '
'Oh no! Oh n«! my master dear!
I dare nae for my life;
I 11 nae gae to the bauld haron's,
For to tryst furth his wife?
"My bird,Willic, my boy,Willie;
My dear Willie}' he said,
"How can ye strive against the stream?
For I sail he obcy'd."
'But, Oh my master dear!' he cry'd,
'In greenwood yeVe your lain;
Gie o?er sic thoughts, I wou'd ye red,
For fear ye shou'd he ta'en'.
"■Haste, haste, I say, gae to the ha',
Bid her come here wi' speed:
II ye refuse my high command,
I'll gar thy body bleed.
"Gae hid her tak this gay mantel,
'Tis a' goud but the hem;
Bid her cum to the good green wood,
And bring' nane but her lain :
And there it is, a silken sark ,
Her ain hand scwd the sleeve;
/And bid her cum to Gil Morice,
Speer nac bauld barons leave'.
c
'Yes; I will gae your black errand,
Tho' it be to thy cost;
Sen ye by me will nae be warnd,
In it ye sail find frost .
The baron he's a man of might.
He ne'er could 'bide a taunt,
As ye will see before it's nighty .
How sma' ye'll hac to vaunt.
'Now, sen I maun your errand rin,
Sae sair against my will,
Is inak a vow, and keep it trucj
It sal be done for ill'.
And when he came to broken brigg,
He bent his bow and swam;
And when he came to grass growing-,
Set down his feet and ran.
And when he came to Bernard's ha 1 ,
Wau'd neither chap nor ca';
Bot set his bent bow 'to his breast,
And lightly lap the wa'.
He wau'd tell nae man his errand,
Tho' twa stood at the gate;
Bot straight into the ha' he cam,
Whair. grit folks sat at meat.
'Hail! hail! my gentle sire and dame.
My message winna wait;
Dame, ye maun to the green wood gang,
Before that it be late;
Ye're bidden tak this gay mantel,
'Tis a' groud but the hem;
Y.>u maun gae to the gudc green wood
Ev'n by your sell alane.