17 'Lye still, lye still, Little Mossgrey,
And keep me from the cold;
It's but my father's small sheep-herd,
Calling his sheep to the fold.'
18 With wrapped arms in bed they lay
Till they fell both asleep,
Till up and darts Barnabas himsell,
And stood at their bed-fit.
19 'How likest thou the bed, Mossgrey?
And how loves thou the sheets?
And how loves thou my lady fair,
Lyes in your arms and sleeps?'
20 'Well I love your bed,' he says,
'And far better your sheets;
But foul may fa your lady fair,
Lyes in my arms and sleeps!'
21 'Rise, O rise, Little Mossgrey,
Put on your hose and shoon;
I'll neer hae't said in a far countrie
I killed a naked man.'
22 Slowly, slowly rose he up,
And slowly put he on,
And slowly down the stairs he goes,
And thinking to be slain.
23 'Here's two swords,' Barnabas said,
'I wad they cost me dear;
Tak thou the best, I'll tak the warst,
We'll try the battle here.'
24 The first stroke that Mossgrey got,
It was baith sharp and sore;
And the next stroke his lady got,
One word she neer spak more.
25 'Ye'll mak a coffin large and wide,
And lay this couple in;
And lay her head on his right hand,
She's come o the highest kin.'