Child's, The English And Scottish Ballads

Volume 1 of 8 from 1860 edition

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And ae she pu'd the tither berrie,
Na thinking o' the skaith; And said, " To wrang ye, Hynde Etin,
I wad be unco laith."
But he has tane her by the yellow locks,
And tied her till a tree, • And said, " For slichting my commands,
An ill death shall ye dree."
He pu'd a tree out o' the wud,
The biggest that was there; And he howkit a cave monie fathoms deep,
And put May Marg'ret there.
" Now rest ye there, ye saucie may ; My wuds are free for thee; And gif I tak ye to mysell, The better ye' 11 like me."
Na rest, na rest May Marg'ret took,
Sleep she got never nane; Her back lay on the cauld, cauld floor,
Her head upon a stane.
" O tak me out," May Marg'ret cried, O tak me hame to thee; • And I sail be your bounden page Until the day I dee."
He took her out o' the dungeon deep,
And awa wi' him she's gane ; But sad was the day an earl's dochter
Gaed hame wi' Hynde Etin.