Francis James Child

“ Till at length they found her out in Abbey dale,
Drinking wi Gipsey Davy.
'Rise, oh rise, my bonnie Jeanie Faw,
Oh rise, and do not tarry!
Is this the thing ye promised to me
When at first I did thee marry?'
They drank her cloak, so did they her goun,
They drank her stockings and her shoon,
And they drank the coat that was nigh to her smock,
And they pawned her pearled apron.
They were sixteen clever men,
Suppose they were na bonny;
They are a' to be hangd on ae tree,
For the stealing o Earl Cassilis' lady.
'We are sixteen clever men,
One woman was a' our mother ”

“ Then come thee hame, my hinnie,
And I do swear, by the hilt of my sword,
The gypsies nae mair shall come near thee.'
Then we were seven weel-made men,
But lack! we were nae bonnie,
And we were a' put down for ane,
For the Earl o Cassilis' ladie.
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THERE was seven gypsies all in a gang,
They were brisk and bonny; O
They rode till they came to the Earl of Casstle's house,
And there they sang most sweetly. O
The Earl of Castle's lady came down,
With the waiting-maid beside her ”

“ Enquiring for his lady,
'She's gone, she's gone,' said his old servantman,
'She's gone with the gipsey Davy.'
'Go saddle me my best black mare;
The grey is neer so speedy;
For I'll ride all night, and I'll ride all day,
Till I overtake my lady.'
Riding by the river-side,
The grass was wet and dewy;
Seated with her gipsey lad,
It's there he spied his lady.
'Would you forsake your house and home?
Would you forsake your baby?
Would you forsake your own true love,
And go with the gipsey Davy?'
'Yes, I'll forsake my house and home,
Yes, I'll forsake my baby ”

“ And afterwards I'll burn Jockie Faw,
Wha fashed himself wi my fair lady.
Quoth the gypsies, We're fifteen weel-made men,
Tho the maist o us be ill bred ay,
Yet it wad be a pity we should a' hang for ane,
Wha fashed himself wi your fair lady. ”

“ And what care I for money?
What do I care for three pretty babes?
. . . . .
'The tother night you was on a feather bed,
Now you're on a straw one,'
. . . . .
. . . . .
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I
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THERE come seven gypsies on a day,
Oh, but they sang bonny! ”