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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FAUSE FOODRAGE
XXX
' And gin ye suld kill him, Fause Foodrage, There is no man durst you blame;
For he keeps your mother a prisoner, And she darna take ye hame.'—
XXXI
The boy stared wild like a gray goss-hawk;
Says—' What may a' this mean ?'— ' My boy, ye are King Honour's son,
And your mother's our lawful Queen.'—
XXXII
' O gin I be King Honour's son,
By Our Ladye I swear, This night I will that traitor slay,
And relieve my mother dear ! '—
XXXIII
He has set his bent bow to his breast,
And leaped the castell wa'; And soon he has seized on Fause Foodrage,
Wha loud for help 'gan ca'.
XXXIV
'1O haud your tongue, now, Fause Foodrage,
Frae me ye shanna flee ! '— Syne pierced him through the fause, fause heart,
And set his mother free.
XXXV
And he has rewarded Wise William
Wi' the best half of his land ; And sae has he the turtle dow,
Wi' the truth o' his right hand.
3'3
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