And he puld out his bright browne sword,
And dryed it on his sleeve,
And he smote off that lither ladds head,95
Who did his ladye grieve.
He sett the swords poynt till his brest,
The pummil untill a stone:
Throw the falsenesse of that lither ladd,
These three lives werne all gone.100
[13], him fall.
[77], MS. litle.
GLENKINDIE.
From Jamieson's Popular Ballads and Songs, i. 91. The copy in the Thistle of Scotland, p. 31, is the same.
Glenkindie was ance a harper gude,
He harped to the king;
And Glenkindie was ance the best harper
That ever harp'd on a string.
[He'd harpit a fish out o' saut water,]5
Or water out o' a stane;
Or milk out o' a maiden's breast,
That bairn had never nane.