The Oxford Book of Ballads - online book

A Selection Of The Best English Lyric Ballads Chosen & Edited by Arthur Quiller-Couch

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And she 's minded her on a little pen-knife
That hang'd below her gare, And she has gi'cn Young Hunting
A deep wound and a sair. VI Then up and spake the popinjay
That flew abune her head : ' Lady, keep well your green cleiding
Frae good Young Hunting's bleid !'—
'  O better I'll keep my green cleiding
Frae good Young Hunting's bleid Than thou canst keep thy clattering tongue That trattles in thy head.'
' O lang, lang is the winter's night,
And slowly daws the day! There lies a dead man in my bower, And I wish he were awav.'
She has call'd upon her bower-maidens,
She has call'd them ane by ane: ' There lies a dead man in my bower,
I wish that he were gane.' x They have booted and spurr'd Young Hunting
As he was wont to ride— A hunting-hom about his neck,
And a sharp sword by his side; And they've had him to the wan water,
Where a' men ca's it Clyde.
gare] gore, in the skirt.          cleiding] clothing.          daws]
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