14 Then out has he drawn his lang, lang bran,
And he's flashd it in her een:
'Now grant me love for love, lady,
Or thro you this sal gang!'
15 'O,' sighing said that gay lady,
'Brown Adam tarrys lang!'
Then up it starts Brown Adam,
Says, I'm just at your han.
16 He's gard him leave his bow, his bow,
He's gard him leave his bran;
He's gard him leave a better pledge,
Four fingers o his right han.
B
Harris MS., fol. 27 b, No 26.
1 . . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
For wha ere had a lealer luve
Than Broun Edom the smith?
2 His studie was o the beaten gowd,
His hammer o the pith;
His cords waur o the gude green silk,
That blew his bellows with.
3 It fell out ance upon a time
Broun Edom he thoucht lang,
That he wald gae to see his luve,
By the le licht o the mune.