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

107
'And there it is, .< silken nark,
Your ain hanil sewTl (lie sleeve:
Ye maim gae. speak to Gil Morice
Spcir nae hauld baron's leavel
The lady stamped wi' licr foot,
And winked wi' her eye;
But a' that she coud say or do,
Forbidden he wad nac be.
"It's surely to my bowV— woman;
It ne'er could be to me?'
'I brought it to Lady Barnard,
I trow that ye b<- she'.
Then up and spake the- wylie imrsc,
Tiie bairn upon her knee,
"If it be come frae Gil Morice,
It's dear welcome to me''
*Yc Kid, ye lciel, ye filthy nurse,
Sac louds I hear ye lie;
I brought it to Lady Bernard:
1 trow ye be na she.'
Then up and spake the hauld baron,
An angry man was he ;
He's ta'cn the table wi' his foot,
In flinders gart a' flee.
'Gac bring a robe of yon eliding,
That hings upon the pin;
And III gae to the good green wood,
.And speak with \oiir lcnian.'
*'0,bide at hanvc now, lord Barnard.
, I warn ye bide at bamei
Ne'er wytc a man tor violence,
That ne'er wyte ye wi' nane.'
Gil Morice sits in good green wood,
He whistl'd and he sang;
\0" what means a' these folks coming.
My mother tarries langV
When Lord Barnar<l to greenwood came,
Wi meikle dule and care;
There first he saw youngGil Morice
Kerning bis yellow hair.
Nae wonder, sure, Oh Gil Morice,
My lady lo'edye weel,
The fairest part of my body
Is blacker than thy heel.
Yet nevertheless, now Gil Morice,
FVir a' thy great beauty,
Ye's rue the day ye e'er was born;
Thy head sail gae wi' me 1
Now he has drawn his trusty brand,
And slait it on the strac:
And thro' Gil Morice fair body
He's gard cairld iron g'ae.
And he has ta'cii Gil Morice' head,
And set it on a spear;
Thc-nrearicst man in a' his train
Has trot that head to bear.
And he has ta'en Gil Morice up,
Laid him across his steed,
And brought him to his painted bow'r,
And laid him on a bed.
The lady on the castle wa'
Beheld haith dale -on! down,
Anil there she saw Gil Morice' head
Come trailing to the town.
"Far tnair I loe that bloody head,
Bot and that vcllow hair*
Than Lord Barnard, and a' his. lands,
As they lie here and there.
Oft have I by th\ cradle s^t ,
And loudly seen.theesU t p;
But now- fil go about thy g'raVe,
The sa't- tears for to -weep."
Aiid-s\iic she kissd his bloody cheek, ■
Anel sync his hlnod-y ehi.o; '
"Better I lo'e, mv son Morice,
Than a' my kith and kin!''
'Away, away, ve ill woman I
An ill death mait ye ilie;
Gin I had ken'el he'd been your son,
He'd ne'er been slain lor me.?
"Upbraid me- not, my bi.nl Barnard,
Upbraid me not, for shame! .
Wi' that same- spear. *> pierce mv heart;
And put me qut o' pun.
Since naitliing but Git'Morice* head
Thy jealous rage cou 1*1 "quell.
Let tli.ii same hand now take her life,
That ne"ei to idee did ill .
"To me nae after elays~"nor nights'
Will e'er be salt or kind;
I'll lill the air \e itli heavy sighs,
And greet till I am blind."
'F.lioiigh o' blood byhic's been spilt;
Seek not your eleath frae me; .„
I rather it hael been myscll,
Than either him or thee".
'With waetu'wae I hear your plaint;
Sair, sair I rue the deed,
That e'er this cursed hanel of' mine
Did gar his body bleed.
Dry up your tears, my winseime elame ,
Ye neer <an hpal the wound;
You see his head upon my spear,
His heart's blood on the ground .
I curse the hanel that did the etccel ;
The heart that thought the ill;
The feet that bore me wi' sic speed
The comely youth te> kill;.
I'll aye lament for Gil Morice,
As gin he were my ain;
I'll ne'er forget the dreary elay -■
On which the youth was slain '