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Gil Morrice was an erlès son,

His name it waxed wide ;
It was nae for his great richès,

Nor zet his mickle pride;
Bot it was for a lady gay,

That livd on Carron side.



Quhair sall I get a bonny boy,

That will win hose and shoen ;
That will gae to lord Barnards ha',

And bid his lady cum ?
And ze maun rin my errand, Willie;

And ze may rin wi' pride;
Quhen other boys gae on their foot,

On horse-back ze sall ride.



O no! Oh no! my master dear !
I dare nae for

I'll no gae to the bauld bardns,

For to triest furth his wife.
My bird Willie, my boy Willie ;

My dear Willie, he sayd :
How can ze strive against the stream ?

For ) sall be obeyd.


Bot, O my master dear! he cryd,
In grene wod ze're zour lain ;

Ver, 11. something seems wanting here.


Gi owre sic thochts, I walde ze rede,

For fear ze should be tain.
Haste, haste, I say, gae to the ha',

Bid hir cum here wi speid :
If ze refuse my heigh command,

Il gar zour body bleid.


Gae bid hir take this

gay mantel, 'Tis a' gowd bot the hem; Bid hir cum to the gude grene wode,

And bring nane bot hir lain : And there it is, a silken sarke,

Hir ain hand sewd the sleive; And bid hir cum to Gill Morice,

Speir nae bauld barons leave,



Yes, I will gae zour black errand,

Though it be to zour cost ;
Sen ze by me will nae be warn’d,

In it ze sall find frost.
The baron he is a man of might,

He neir could bide to taunt,
As ze will see before its nicht,

How sma' ze hae to vaunt.

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And sen I maun zour errand rin

Sae sair against my will,

Ver. 32, and 68. perhaps, 'hout the hem.


I'se mak a vow and keip it trow,

It sall be done for ill.
And quhen he came to broken brigue,

He bent his bow and swam ;
And quhen he came to grass growing,

Set down his feet and ran.


And quhen he came to Barnards ha',

Would neither chap nor ca':
Bot set his bent bow to his breist,

And lichtly lap the wa'.
He wauld nae tell the man his errand,

Though he stude at the gait;
Bot straiht into the ha' he cam,

Quhair they were set at meit.



Hail! hail! my gentle sire and dame !

My message winna waite ;
Dame, ze maun to the gude grene

Before that it be late.
Ze're bidden tak this gay mantel,

Tis a' gowd bot the hem :
Zou maun gae to the gude grene wode,

Ev'n by your se) alane,


And there it is, a silken sarke,

Your ain hand sewd the sleive;

Ver. 58. Could this be the wall of the castle?


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Ze leid, ze leid, ze filthy nurse,

Sae loud I heird ze lee ;
I brocht it to lord Barnards lady ;

I trow ze be nae shee.
Then up and spack the bauld baròn,

An angry man was hee;
He's tain the table wi' his foot,

Sie has he wi his knce;
Till silier


and mazer*' dish In finders he gard Hee.


Ver. 88. Perhaps, loud say I heire. * i. e, a drinking cup of maple : other Edit. read ezar.

Gao 100

Gae bring a robe of zour cliding,

That hings upon the pin ;
And I'll gae to the gude grene wode,

And speik wi' zour lemmàn.
O bide at hame, now lord Barnard,

I warde ze bide at hame ;
Neir wyte a man for violence,

That neir wate ze wi' nane.


Gil Morice sate in gude grene wode,

He whistled and he sang :
O what mean a' the folk coming,

My mother tarries lang.
His hair was like the threeds of gold,

Drawne frae Minerva's loome :
His lipps like roses drapping dew,

His breath was a' perfume.



His brow was like the mountain snae

Gilt by the morning beam :
His cheeks like living roses glow :

His een like azure stream.
The boy was clad in robes of grene,

Sweete as the infant spring:
And like the mavis on the bush,

He gart the vallies ring.


The baron came to the grene wode,

Wi' mickle dule and care,


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