34 This sad mischance by lust was wrought;
Then let us call for grace,
That we may shun this wicked vice,
And mend our lives apace.
D
Kinloch MSS, I, 287.
1 There were four and twenty gentlemen
A playing at the ba,
And lusty Lady Livingstone
Cuist her ee out oure them a'.
2 She cuist her ee on Lord Barnard,
He was baith black and broun;
She cuist her ee on Little Musgrave,
As bricht as the morning sun.
3 . . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
'What'll I gie ye, my Little Musgrave,
Ae nicht wi me to sleep?'
4 'Ae nicht wi you to sleep,' he says,
'O that wad breed meikle strife;
For the ring on your white finger
Shows you Lord Barnard's wife.'
5 'O Lord Barnard he is gane frae hame,
He'll na return the day;
He has tane wi him a purse o goud,
For he's gane hind away.'
6 Up startit then the wylie foot-page,
. . . . . . .
'What will ye gie to me,' he said,
'Your council for to keep?'
7 'O goud sall be my little boy's fee,
And silver sall be his hire;
But an I hear a word mair o this,
He sall burn in charcoal fire.'