“What needs you care for your bonny hyn?
For it you needna care;
Take you the best, gi me the warst,
Since plenty is to spare.”
“I care na for your hyns, my lord,
I care na for your fee;
But O and O for my bonny hyn,
Beneath the hollin tree!”
“O were ye at your sister’s bower,
Your sister fair to see,
Ye’ll think na mair o your bonny hyn
Beneath the hollin tree.”
YOUNG BICHAM
(Child, vol. ii.)
In London city was Bicham born,
He longd strange countries for to see,
But he was taen by a savage Moor,
Who handld him right cruely.
For thro his shoulder he put a bore,
An thro the bore has pitten a tree,
And he’s gard him draw the carts o wine,
Where horse and oxen had wont to be.
He’s casten [him] in a dungeon deep,
Where he coud neither hear nor see;
He’s shut him up in a prison strong,
An he’s handld him right cruely.
O this Moor he had but ae daughter,
I wot her name was Shusy Pye;
She’s doen her to the prison-house,
And she’s calld young Bicham one word by.
“O hae ye ony lands or rents,
Or citys in your ain country,
Coud free you out of prison strong,
An coud maintain a lady free?”