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Thy faith and troth thou’se nevir get,

• Of me shalt nevir win,' Till that thou come within my bower,

And kiss my cheek and chin.

20

If I should come within thy bower,

I am no earthly man :
And should I kiss thy rosy lipp,

Thy days will not be lang.

25

O sweet Margret, О dear Margret,
I

pray thee speak to mee :
Give me my faith and troth, Margret,

As I gave it to thee.

30

Thy faith and troth thou'se nevir get,

Of me shalt nevir win,'
Till thou take me to yon kirk yard,

And wed me with a ring.

My bones are buried in a kirk yard

Afar beyond the sea,
And it is but my sprite, Margret,

That's speaking now to thee.

35

She stretched out her lilly-white hand,

As for to do her best :
Hae there your faith and troth, Willie,

God send your soul good rest.

Now

Now she has kilted her robes of green,

A piece below her knee :
And a' the live-lang winter night

The dead corps followed shee.

45

Is there any room at your head; Willie ?

Or any room at your feet?
Or any room at your side, Willie,

Wherein that I may creep?

50

There's nae room at my head, Margret,

There's nae room at my feet, There's no room at my side, Margret,

My coffin is made so meet.

Then

up

and crew the red red cock, And up then crew the

gray: Tis time, tis time, my dear Margret,

That 'I' were gane away.

55

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1

O stay, my only true love, stay,

The constant Margret cried : Wan grew

her cheeks, she clos'd her een, Stretch'd her saft limbs, and died.

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VII.

SIR JOHN GREHME AND BARBARA ALLAN.

A SCOTTISH BALLAD.

Printed, with a few conjectural emendations, from

a written copy.

L
T. was in and about the Martinmas time,

When the greene leaves wer a fallan ;
That Sir John Grehme o' the west countrye,

Fell in luve wi' Barbara Allan.

5

He sent his man down throw the towne,

To the plaice wher she was dwellan:
O haste and cum to my maister deare,
Gin
ye

bin Barbara Allan.

10

O hooly, hooly raise she up,

To the plaice wher he was lyan;
And whan she drew the curtain by,

Young man, I think ye're dyan *.

* An ingenious friend thinks the rhymes Dyand and Lyand ought to be transposed; as the taunt Young man, I think ye're lyand, would be very characteristical.

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O its I'm sick, and very very sick,

And its a' for Barbara Allan.
O the better for me ye’se never be,

Though your harts blude wer spillan.

15

Remember

ye

nat in the tavern, sir,
Whan

ye
the

cups wer fillan; How

ye
made the healths

gae

round and round, And slighted Barbara Allan?

20

He turn'd his face unto the wa',

And death was with him dealan; Adiew! adiew! my dear friends a',

Be kind to Barbara Allan.

25

Then hooly, hooly raise she up,

And hooly, hooly left him;
And sighan said, she could not stay,

Since death of life had reft him.

30

She had not gane a mile but twa,

Whan she heard the deid-bell knellan; And everye jow the deid-bell geid,

Cried, Wae to Barbara Allan!

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VIII.

THE BAILIFF'S DAUGHTER OF ISLINGTON.

From an ancient black-letter copy in the Pepys-Collection, with some improvements communicated by a lady as she had heard the same recited in her youth. The full title is, “True love requited: Or, the Bailiff's daughter of Islington."

ISLINGTON in Norfolk is probably the place here meant.

There was a youthe, and a well-beloved youthe,

And he was a squires son:
He loved the bayliffes daughter deare,

That lived in Islington.

5

Yet she was coye, and would not believe

That he did love her soe,
Noe nor at any time would she

Any countenance to him showe.

10

But when his friendes did understand

His fond and foolish minde,
They sent him up to faire London

An apprentice for to binde,

And

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