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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' My father,' she sayes, ' is a right guod earle As any remaines in his owne countrye;
Gif ever he doe your bodye take, You are sure to flower a gallow-tree.
' And I have seven brethren,' she sayes, ' And they are all hardy men and bold;
Gif ever they doe your bodye take
You'll never again gang quicke over molde.'—
xxi ' If your father be a right good earle
As any remaines in his owne countrye, Tush ! he shall never my bodye take,
I'll gang soe fast and over the sea.
If you have seven brethren,' he sayes,
' If they be never soe hardy and bold, Tush ! they shall never my bodye take, I'll gang soe fast over Scottish molde.'
This ladye is gone to her father's hall, Where every body their rest did take ;
For but the Earle which was her father Lay wakin' for his deere daughter's sake.
' But who is that,' her father can say—
i Who is 't soe privily knows the pinn ?'
'  It's Helen, your owne deere daughter, father,
I pray you rise and lett me in!
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