Motherwell's Manuscript, p. 275;
the first siz lines in Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 189.
From Margery Johnson.
| 1 |
Lady Margaret sits in her bow-window,
Sewing her silken seam;
. . . . . .
. . . . . |
| 2 |
She's drapt the thimble at her tae,
And her scissars at her heel,
And she's awa to the merry green-wood,
To see the leaves grow green. |
| 3 |
She had scarsely bowed a branch,
Or plucked a nut frae the tree,
Till up and starts a fair young man,
And a fair young man was he. |
| 4 |
'How dare ye shake the leaves?' he said,
'How dare ye break the tree?
How dare ye pluck the nuts,' he said,
'Without the leave of me?' |
| 5 |
. . . . . .
. . . . .
'Oh I know the merry green wood's my ain,
And I'll ask the leave of nane.' |
| 6 |
He gript her by the middle sae sma,
He gently sat her down,
While the grass grew up on every side,
And the apple trees hang down. |
| 7 |
She says, Young man, what is your name?
For ye've brought me to meikle shame;
For I am the king's youngest daughter,
And how shall I gae hame? |
| 8 |
'If you're the king's youngest daughter,
It's I'm his auldest son,
And heavy heavy is the deed, sister,
That you and I have done.' |
| 9 |
He had a penknife in his hand,
Hang low down by his gair,
And between the long rib and the short one
He woundit her deep and sair. |
| 10 |
. . . . . .
. . . . .
And fast and fast her ruddy bright blood
Fell drapping on the ground. |
| 11 |
She took the glove off her right hand,
And slowly slipt it in the wound,
And slowly has she risen up,
And slowly slipped home.
* * * * * |
| 12 |
'O sister dear, when thou gaes hame
Unto thy father's ha,
It's make my bed baith braid and lang,
Wi the sheets as white as snaw.'
* * * * * |
| 13 |
'When I came by the high church-yard
Heavy was the stain that bruised my heel,
. . . . . . . that bruised my heart,
I'm afraid it shall neer heal.'
* * * * * |
