Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 228.
| 1 |
May Margret stood in her bouer door,
Kaiming doun her yellow hair;
She spied some nuts growin in the wud,
And wishd that she was there. |
| 2 |
She has plaited her yellow locks
A little abune her bree,
And she has kilted her petticoats
A little below her knee,
And she's aff to Mulberry wud,
As fast as she could gae. |
| 3 |
She had na pu'd a nut, a nut,
A nut but barely ane,
Till up started the Hynde Etin,
Says, Lady, let thae alane! |
| 4 |
'Mulberry wuds are a' my ain;
My father gied them me,
To sport and play when I thought lang;
And they sall na be tane by thee.' |
| 5 |
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. |
| 6 |
But he has tane her by the yellow locks,
And tied her till a tree,
And said, For slichting my commands,
An ill death sall ye dree. |
| 7 |
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 Margret there. |
| 8 |
'Now rest ye there, ye saucie may;
My wuds are free for thee;
And gif I tak ye to mysell,
The better ye'll like me.' |
| 9 |
Na rest, na rest May Margret took,
Sleep she got never nane;
Her back lay on the cauld, cauld floor,
Her head upon a stane. |
| 10 |
'O tak me out,' May Margret cried,
'O tak me hame to thee,
And I sall be your bounden page
Until the day I dee.' |
| 11 |
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.
* * * * * |
| 12 |
It fell out ance upon a day
Hynde Etin's to the hunting gane,
And he has tane wi him his eldest son,
For to carry his game. |
| 13 |
'O I wad ask ye something, father,
An ye wadna angry be;'
'Ask on, ask on, my eldest son,
Ask onie thing at me.' |
| 14 |
'My mother's cheeks are aft times weet,
Alas! they are seldom dry;'
'Na wonder, na wonder, my eldest son,
Tho she should brast and die. |
| 15 |
'For your mother was an earl's dochter,
Of noble birth and fame,
And now she's wife o Hynde Etin,
Wha neer got christendame. |
| 16 |
'But we'll shoot the laverock in the lift,
The buntlin on the tree,
And ye'll tak them hame to your mother,
And see if she'll comforted be.'
* * * * * |
| 17 |
'I wad ask ye something, mother,
An ye wadna angry be;'
'Ask on, ask on, my eldest son,
Ask onie thing at me.' |
| 18 |
'Your cheeks they are aft times weet,
Alas! they're seldom dry;'
'Na wonder, na wonder, my eldest son,
Tho I whould brast and die. |
| 19 |
'For I was ance an earl's dochter,
Of noble birth and fame,
And now I am the wife of Hynde Etin,
Wha neer got christendame.'
* * * * * |
