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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' Ye'll take your arrow and your bow And ye will hunt the deer and roe.
' But be sure ye touch not the milk-white hynde, For she is o' the woman-kind.'
He took sic pleasure in deer and rae Till he forgot his ladye gay.
x Till by it came that milk-white hynde, And then he mind on his ladye syne.
He heard her gie a loud, loud cry, He shot his bow, and he let her lie.
When he saw she was lying still,
He threw down his bow and came running her till;
But he found his ladye lying dead, Likewise her young son at her head.
He 's houkit a grave, long, large and wide, He's buried his auld son doun by her side.
xv It was nae wonder his heart was sair When he shool'd the mools on her yellow hair.
His mother lay owre her castle wa';
There was music and minstrels and dancing and a'.
her till] to her.         houkit] dug.         auld] eldest, first-born,
shool'd] shovelled. mools] mould.
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