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28 Now stay for me, dear Annet,' he sed, "Now stay, my dear,' he cry'd; Then strake the dagger untill his heart, And fell deid by her side.

29 Lord Thomas was buried without kirkwa,

Fair Annet within the quiere,
And o the tane thair grew a birk,1
The other a bonny briere.

30 And ay they grew, and ay they threw,2
As they wad faine be neare;
And by this ye may ken right weil
They were twa luvers deare.

LOVE GREGOR

1 'O WHA will shoe my fu fair foot? And wha will glove my hand? And wha will lace my middle jimp,1 Wi the new made London band?

2 'And wha will kaim my yellow hair, Wi the new made silver kaim? And wha will father my young son, Till Love Gregor come hame?'

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3 'Your father will shoe your fu fair foot, Your mother will glove your hand; 10 Your sister will lace your middle jimp Wi the new made London band.

4 'Your brother will kaim your yellow hair,

Wi the new made silver kaim; And the king of heaven will father your bairn,

Till Love Gregor come haim.'

5 'But I will get a bonny boat,

And I will sail the sea,

For I maun gang to Love Gregor,
Since he canno come hame to me.' 20

16 Awa, awa, ye ill woman,

For here ye shanuo win in; Gae drown ye in the raging sea, Or hang on the gallows-pin.'

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17 When the cock had crawn, and day did dawn,

And the sun began to peep,

Then it raise him Love Gregor,
And sair, sair did he weep.

wizard.

24 The wind blew loud, the sea grew rough, And dashd the boat on shore;

Fair Annie floats on the raging sea,
But her young son raise no more.

25 Love Gregor tare his yellow hair,
And made a heavy moan;
Fair Annie's corpse lay at his feet,
But his bonny young son was gone.

26 O cherry, cherry was her cheek,
And gowden was her hair,
But clay cold were her rosey lips,
Nae spark of life was there.

27 And first he 's kissd her cherry cheek,
And neist he's kissed her chin;
And saftly pressed her rosey lips,
But there was nae breath within.

28 'O wae betide my cruel mother,

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SWEET WILLIAM'S GHOST

1 WHAN bells war rung, an mass was sung,

A wat a man 2 to bed were gone, Clark Sanders came to Margret's window,

With mony a sad sigh and groan.

2 Are ye sleeping, Margret,' he says, 'Or are ye waking, presentlie? Give me my faith and trouthe again, A wat, trew-love, I gied to thee.' 3 Your faith and trouth ye's never get, Nor our trew love shall never twain, Till ye come with me in my bower, And kiss me both cheek and chin.'

II

4

20

6 Thy faith and trouth thou shall na get,
Nor our trew love shall never twin,
Till ye tell me what comes of women
A wat that dy's in strong traveling.'

For Little Musgrave is at Bucklesford

bery,

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grave,

'The more 't is to my paine;

I would gladly give three hundred

pounds

That I were on yonder plaine.'

21 Arise, arise, thou Littell Musgrave, And put thy clothes on;

It shall nere be said in my country
I have killed a naked man.

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