Then to her owne country shee back did returne,
Still holding the foes of rare England in scorne!
Therfore English captaines of every degree
Sing forth the brave valours of Mary Ambree.
ALISON GROSS
O Alison Gross, that lives in yon tow’r,
The ugliest witch in the north countrie,
She trysted me ae day up till her bow’r,
And mony fair speeches she made to me.
She straik’d my head, and she kaim’d my hair,
And she set me down saftly on her knee;
Says—“If ye will be my leman sae true,
Sae mony braw things as I will you gi’e.”
She shaw’d me a mantle of red scarlet,
With gowden flowers and fringes fine;
Says—“If ye will be my leman sae true,
This goodly gift it shall be thine.”
“Awa, awa, ye ugly witch,
Hand far awa, and let me be;
I never will be your leman sae true,
And I wish I were out of your company.”
She neist brocht a sark of the saftest silk,
Weel wrought with pearls about the band;
Says—“If ye will be my ain true love,
This goodly gift ye shall command.”
She show’d me a cup of the good red gowd,
Weel set with jewels sae fair to see;
Says—“If ye will be my leman sae true,
This goodly gift I will you gi’e.”
“Awa, awa, ye ugly witch,
Haud far awa, and let me be;
For I wadna ance kiss your ugly mouth,
For all the gifts that ye cou’d gi’e.”
She’s turn’d her richt and round about,
And thrice she blew on a grass-green horn;
And she sware by the moon and the stars aboon,
That she’d gar me rue the day I was born.