THE GAY GOSS-HAWK

[Original]

O weel's me, my gay goss-hawk,

That he can speak and flee;

Hell carry a letter to my love,

Bring back another to me."

"O how can I your true love ken,

Or how can I her know?

When frae her mouth I ne er heard couth,

Nor wi' my eyes her saw."

"O weel sail ye my true love ken,

As soon as ye her see;

For, of a the flowers of fair England,

The fairest flower is she.

(heard, couth, could hear.)

"And even at my love's bower-door

There grows a bowing birk;

And sit ye doun and sing thereon

As she gangs to the kirk.

"And four-and-twenty ladies fair

Will wash and to the kirk,

But well shall ye my true-love ken,

For she wears goud on her skirt.

"And four-and-twenty gay ladies

Will to the mass repair;

But weel shall ye my true love ken,

For she wears goud on her hair."

And even at the lady's bower-door

There grows a bowing birk;

And [he] sat down and sang thereon

As she gaed to the kirk.

"O eat and drink, my Maries a',

The wine flows you among,

Till I gang to my shot-window,

And hear yon bonny bird's song.

"Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird,

The song ye sang [yestreen];

For I ken, by your sweet singing,

Ye're frae my true love sen."

(birk, birch. shot-windoiv, projecting window. sen, sent.)

O first he sang a merry song,

And then he sang a grave;

And then he pick'd his feathers gray,

To her the letter gave.

"Ha, there's a letter frae your love,

He says he sent you three;

He canna wait your love langer,

But for your sake he'll die.

"He bids you write a letter to him;

He says he's sent ye five;

He canna wait your love langer,

Tho' you're the fairest woman alive."

"Ye bid him bake his bridal bread,

And brew his bridal ale;

And I'll meet him in fair Scotland,

Lang, lang ere it be stale."

She's doen to her father dear,

Fa'en low down on her knee:

"A boon, a boon, my father dear,

I pray you, grant it me."

"Ask on, ask on, my daughter,

An granted it shall be;

Except ae squire in fair Scotland,

An him you shall never see."

"The only boon, my father dear,

That I do crave of thee,—

Is, gin I die in Southern lands,

In Scotland to bury me.

"And the first in kirk that ye come till,

Ye gar the bells be rung;

And the nextin kirk that ye come to,

Ye gar the mass be sung.

"And the thirdin kirk that ye come till,

You deal gold for my sake.

And the fourthin kirk that ye come till,

You tarry there till night."

She has doen her to her bigly bower

As fast as she could fare;

And she has ta'en a sleepy draught,

That she had mix'd wi' care.

(gar, make. bigly, big.)

The Gay Goss-Hawk ss' 63

She's laid her down upon her bed,

An soon she fa en asleep,

And soon o'er every tender limb

Cold death began to creep.

When night was flown, and day was come,

Nae ane that did her see

But thought she was a surely dead,

As ony lady could be.

Her father and her brothers dear

Gar'd make to her a bier;

The tae half was o' gude red gold,

The tither o' silver clear.

Her mither and her sisters fair

Gar'd work for her a sark;

The tae half was o' cambric fine

The tither o' needle wark.

An the first in kirk that they came till,

They gar'd the bells be rung;

The nextin kirk that they came till,

They gar'd the mass be sung.

The thirdin kirk that they came till,

They dealt gold for her sake,

An' the fourthin kirk that they came till,

Lo, there they met her make.

(make, mate.)

"Lay down, lay down the bigly bier,"

"Let me the dead look on:"

Wi' cherry cheeks and ruby lips

She lay and smiled on him.

"O ae shave of your bread, true love,

An' ae glass of your wine;

For I hae fasted for your sake

These fully days is nine.

"Gang hame, gang hame, my seven bold

brithers,

Gang hame and sound your horn!

And ye may boast in southern lands

Your sister's played you scorn."

[Original]