'What bear ye, what bear ye, ye six men tall? What bear ye on your shoulders?' 'We bear the corpse of Giles Collins, An old and true lover of yours.' 'Oh, lay him down gently, ye six men tall, All on the grass so green, And to-morrow when the sun goes down, 'And bury me in Saint Mary's church, And make me a garland of marjoram, Giles Collins was buried all in the east, Lady Alice all in the west; And the roses that grew on Giles Collins's grave, They reached Lady Alice's breast. The priest of the parish he chanced to pass, Sure never were seen such true lovers before, Old Ballad CX THE OUTLANDISH KNIGHT An outlandish knight came from the North lands, And he came a wooing to me; And he told me he'd take me unto the North lands, And there he would marry me. 'Come, fetch me some of your father's gold, And some of your mother's fee; And two of the best nags out of the stable, Where they stand thirty and three.' She fetched him some of her father's gold And some of her mother's fee; And two of the best nags out of the stable, Where they stood thirty and three. She mounted her on her milk-white steed, He on the dapple grey; They rode till they came unto the sea-side, Three hours before it was day. 'Light off, light off thy milk-white steed, Six pretty maids have I drowned here, 'Pull off, pull off thy silken gown, And deliver it unto me, 'Pull off, pull off thy silken stays, • Pull off, pull off thy Holland smock, Methinks it looks too rich and gay 'If I must pull off my Holland smock, For it is not fitting that such a ruffian He turned his back towards her, He dropped high, and he dropped low, 'Catch hold of my hand, my pretty maiden, ‘Lie there, lie there, you false-hearted man, Six pretty maidens have you drowned here, She mounted on her milk-white steed, She rode till she came to her father's hall, Old Ballad CXI SPRING Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king; Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring; Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing, Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! The palm and the may make country houses gay, The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet, T. Nash CXII SWEET WILLIAM'S GHOST There came a ghost to Margaret's door, And aye he tirled at the pin, 'Is that my father Philip, Or is't my brother John? Or is't my true love Willy, From Scotland new come home?' "Tis not thy father Philip, Nor yet thy brother John; But 'tis thy true love Willy, From Scotland new come home. 'O sweet Margaret, O dear Margaret, Give me my faith and troth, Margaret, As I gave it to thee.' "Thy faith and troth thou'lt never get, Nor yet wilt thou me win, Till that thou come within my bower 'If I should come within thy bower, Thy days would not be lang. 'O sweet Margaret, O dear Margaret, I pray thee speak to me: Give me my faith and troth, Margaret, As I gave it to thee.' "Thy faith and troth thou'lt never get, Nor yet wilt thou me win, Till you take me to yon kirk-yard, 'My bones are buried in yon kirk-yard Afar beyond the sea, And it is but my spirit, Margaret, She stretched out her lily-white hand, And for to do her best: 'Have there your faith and troth, Willy, God send your soul good rest.' Q |