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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' Weel met, weel met, now, Parcy Reed, Thou art the very man we sought i
Owre lang hae we been in your debt, Now will we pay you as we ought.
' We'll pay thee at the nearest tree,
Where we shall hang thee like a hound.'—
Brave Parcy rais'd his fankit sword, And fell'd the foremost to the ground.
Alake, and wae for Parcy Reed !
Alake, he was an unarmed man ! Four weapons pierced him all at once,
As they assail'd him there and than.
They fell upon him all at once,
They mangled him most cruellie ; The slightest wound might caused his deid,
And they hae gi'en him thirty-three; They hackit off his hands and feet,
And left him lying on the lee. xxxi ' Now, Parcy Reed, we've paid our debt,
Ye canna weel dispute the tale,' The Crosiers said, and off they rade;
They rade the airt o' Liddesdale.
It was the hour o' gloaming gray,
When herds come in frae fauld and pen;
A herd he saw a huntsman lie,
Says he, ' Can this be Laird Troughen' ?'—
fankit] entangled.           airtfj direction.
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