Francis James Child

“ I'll never crave my fee.'
'Hold thy tongue, thou little nurse,
Of thy prating let me bee;
For be it death or be it life,
Thou shall take share with me.
'I wald give a' my sheep,' she says,
'T [hat] . . yon . . ”

“ To London wheras her lord lay,
His castle and his hall was burned,
All and his lady gay.
Soe hath he done his children three,
More dearer vnto him
Then either the siluer or the gold,
That men soe faine wold win. ”

“ She got a deadly faa.
Cherry, cherry was her cheeks,
An bonny was her eyen;
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
He turned her about,
. . . . . . .
'I might haa spared that bonny face
To ha ben some man's delight. ”

“ The lady stood on her castle-wall,
She looked vpp and downe;
She was ware of an hoast of men,
Came rydinge towards the towne.
'See you not, my merry men all,
And see you not what I doe see?
Methinks I see a hoast of men ”

“ But far mair pity o Lady Ann Campbell,
That was brunt wi her bairns nine.
Three o them war married wives,
And three o them were bairns,
And three o them were leal maidens,
That neer lay in men's arms. ”

“ To leard nor yet to loun,
Nor will I gee our my bonny house
To fase Edom of Achendoun.
'Bat ye gett me Cluny, Gight, or Glack,
Or get him young Lesmore,
An I ell gee our my bonny house
To ony of a' the four.'
'Ye's nether gett Cluny, Gight, nor Glack,
Nor yet him young Lesmore,
An ye man gee our yer bonny house,
Winten ony of a' the four.'
The ladie shot out of a shot-windou,
It didne hurt his head,
It only grased his knee
. . . . . .
'Ye hast, my merry men a',
Gather hathorn an fune,
. . . . . . . ”