Subject: RE: Bawdy Matty Groves?
From:
MMario
Date: 07 Feb 06 - 11:04 AM
Here's what I have from Child's:
Child 81_A
AS it fell one holy-day,
[Hay downe]
As many be in the yeare,
When young men and maids together did goe,
Their mattins and masse to heare,
Little Musgrave came to the church-dore;
The preist was at private masse;
But he had more minde of the faire women
Then he had of our lady's grace.
The one of them was clad in green,
Another was clad in pall,
And then came in my lord Bernard's wife,
The fairest amonst them all.
She cast an eye on Little Musgrave,
As bright as the summer sun;
And then bethought this Little Musgrave,
This lady's heart have I woonn.
Quoth she, I have loved thee, Little Musgrave,
Full long and many a day;
`So have I loved you, fair lady,
Yet never word durst I say.'
`I have a bower at Buckelsfordbery,
Full daintyly it is deight;
If thou wilt wend thither, thou Little Musgrave,
Thou's lig in mine armes all night.'
Quoth he, I thank yee, faire lady,
This kindnes thou showest to me;
But whether it be to my weal or woe,
This night I will lig with thee.
With that he heard, a little tyne: page,
By this ladye's coach as he ran:
`All though I am my ladye's foot-page,
Yet I am Lord Barnard's man.
`My lord Barnard shall knowe of this,
Whether I sink or swim;'
And ever where the bridges were broake
He laid him downe to swimme.
`A sleepe or wake, thou Lord Barnard,
As thou art a man of life,
For Little Musgrave is at Bucklesfordbery,
A bed with thy own wedded wife.'
`If this be true, thou little tinny page,
This thing thou tellest to me,
Then all the land in Bucklesfordbery
I freely will give to thee.
`But if it be a ly, thou little tinny page,
This thing thou tellest to me,
On the hyest tree in Bucklesfordbery
Then hanged shalt thou be.'
He called up his merry men all:
`Come saddle me my steed;
This night must I to Buckellsfordbery,
For I never had greater need.'
And some of them whistld, and some of them sung,
And some these words did say,
And ever when my lord Barnard's horn blew,
`Away, Musgrave, away!'
`Methinks I hear the thresel-cock,
Methinks I hear the jaye;
Methinks I hear my lord Barnard,
And I would I were away.'
`Lye still, lye still, thou Little Musgrave,
And huggell me from the cold;
'Tis nothing but a shephard's boy,
A driving his sheep to the fold.
`Is not thy hawke upon a perch?
Thy steed eats oats and hay;
And thou a fair lady in thine armes,
And wouldst thou bee away?'
With that my lord Barnard came to the dore,
And lit a stone upon;
He plucked out three silver keys,
And he opend the dores each one.
He lifted up the coverlett,
He lifted up the sheet:
`How now, how now, thou Littell Musgrave,
Doest thou find my lady sweet?'
`I find her sweet,' quoth Little Musgrave,
`The more 'tis to my paine;
I would gladly give three hundred pounds
That I were on yonder plaine.'
`Arise, arise, thou Littell Musgrave,
And put thy clothe:s on;
It shall nere be said in my country
I have killed a naked man.
`I have two swords in one scabberd,
Full deere they cost my purse;
And thou shalt have the best of them,
And I will have the worse.'
The first stroke that Little Musgrave stroke,
He hurt Lord Barnard sore;
The next stroke that Lord Barnard stroke,
Little Musgrave nere struck more.
With that bespake this faire lady,
In bed whereas she lay:
`Although thou'rt dead, thou Little Musgrave,
Yet I for thee will pray.
`And wish well to thy soule will I,
So long as I have life;
So will I not for thee, Barnard,
Although I am thy wedded wife.'
He cut her paps from off her brest;
Great pitty it was to see
That some drops of this ladie's heart's blood
Ran trickling downe her knee.
`Woe worth you, woe worth, my mery men all
You were nere borne for my good;
Why did you not offer to stay my hand,
When you see me wax so wood?
`For I have slaine the bravest sir knight
That ever rode on steed;
So have I done the fairest lady
That ever did woman's deed.
`A grave, a grave,' Lord Barnard cryd,
`To put these lovers in;
But lay my lady on the upper hand,
For she came of the better kin.'
Child 81_B
. . . . .
. . . . .
`Ffor this same night att Bucklesfeildberry
Litle Musgreue is in bed wiirth thy wife.'
`If it be trew, thou litle foote-page,
This tale thou hast told to mee,
Then all my lands in Bucklesfeildberry
I'le freely giue to thee.
`But if this be a lye, thou little foot-page,
This tale thou hast told to mee,
Then on the highest tree in Bucklesfeildberry
All hanged that thou shalt bee.'
Saies, Vpp and rise, my merrymen all,
And saddle me my good steede,
For I must ride to Bucklesfeildberry;
God wott I had neuer more need!
But some they whistled, and some th'z sunge,
And some they thus cold say,
When euer as Loirdr Barnetts horne blowes,
`Away, Musgreue, away!'
`Mie thinkes I heare the throstlecocke,
Me thinkes I heare the iay,
Me thinkes I heare Liordr Barnetts horne,
Away, Musgreue, away!'
`But lie still, lie still, Litle Musgreue,
And huddle me from the cold,
For it is but some sheaperds boy,
Is whistling sheepe ore the mold.
`Is not thy hauke vpon a pearch,
Thy horsse eating corne and hay?
And thou, a gay lady in thine armes,
And yett thou wold goe away!'
By this time Liordr Barnett was come to the dore,
And light vpon a stone,
And he pulled out three silver kayes,
And opened the dores euery one.
And first he puld the couering downe,
And then puld downe the sheete;
Saies, How now? How now, Litle Musgreue?
Dost find my gay lady sweet?
`I find her sweete,' saies Litle Musgreue,
`The more is my greefe and paine;'
. . . . . .
. . . . .
. . . .
. . . . .
`Soe haue I done the fairest lady
iThart euer wore womans weede.
`Soe haue I done a heathen child,
Wihirch full sore greiueth mee,
For wihirch Ile repent all the dayes of my life,
And god be with them all three!'
Child 81_C
AS it fell on a light holyday,
As many more does in the yeere,
Little Mousgrove would to the church and pray,
To see the faire ladyes there.
Gallants there were of good degree,
For beauty exceeding faire,
Most wonderous lovely to the eie,
That did to that church repaire.
Some came downe in red velvet,
And others came downe in pall,
But next came downe my Lady Barnet,
The fairest amongst them all.
She cast a looke upon Little Mousgrove,
As bright as the summer's sunne;
Full well perceived then Little Mousgrove
Lady Barnet's love he had wonne.
Then Lady Barnet most meeke and mild
Saluted this Little Mousgrove,
Who did repay her kinde courtesie
With favour and gentle love.
`I have a bower in merry Barnet,
Bestrowed with cowslips sweet;
If that it please you, Little Mousgrove,
In love me there to meete,
`Within mine armes one night to sleepe,
For you my heart have wonne,
You need not feare my suspicious lord,
For he from home is gone.'
`Betide me life, betide me death,
This night I will sleepe with thee,
And for thy sake I'le hazzard my breath,
So deare is thy love to me.'
`What shall wee doe with our little foot-page,
Our counsell for to keepe,
And watch for feare Lord Barnet comes,
Whilest wee together doe sleepe?'
`Red gold shall be his hier,' quoth he,
`And silver shall be his fee,
If he our counsell safely doe keepe,
That I may sleepe with thee.'
`I will have non of your gold,' said he,
`Nor none of your silver fee;
If I should keepe your counsell, sir,
'Twere great disloyaltie.
`I will not be false unto my lord,
For house nor yet for land;
But if my lady doe prove untrue,
Lord Barnet shall understand.'
Then swiftly runnes the little foot-page,
Unto his lord with speed,
Who then was feasting with his deare friends,
Not dreaming of this ill deede.
Most speedily the page did haste,
Most swiftly did he runne,
And when he came to the broken bridge
He lay on his brest and swumme.
The page did make no stay at all,
But went to his lord with speed,
That he the truth might say to him
Concerning this wicked deed.
He found his lord at supper then,
Great merriment there they did keepe:
`My lord,' quoth he, 'This night, on my word,
Mousgrove with your lady does sleepe.'
`If this be true, my little foot-page,
And true as thou tellest to me,
My eldest daughter I'le give to thee,
And wedded thou shalt be.'
`If this be a lye, my little foot-page,
And a lye as thou tellest to mee,
A new paire of gallowes shall straight be set,
And hanged shalt thou be.'
`If this be a lye, my lord,' said he,
`A lye that you heare from me,
Then never stay a gallowes to make,
But hang me up on the next tree.'
Lord Barnet then cald up his merry men,
Away with speed he would goe;
His heart was so perplext with griefe,
The truth of this he must know.
`Saddle your horses with speed,' quoth he,
`And saddle me my white steed;
If this be true as the page hath said,
Mousgrove shall repent this deed.'
He charg'd his men no noise to make,
As they rode all along on the way;
`Nor winde no hornes,' quoth he,'on your life,
Lest our comming it should betray.'
But one of the men, that Mousgrove did love,
And respected his friendship most deare,
To give him knowledge Lord Barnet was neere,
Did winde his bugle most cleere.
And evermore as he did blow,
`Away, Mousgrove, and away;
For if I take thee with my lady,
Then slaine thou shalt be this day.'
`O harke, fair lady, your lord is neere,
I heare his little horne blow;
And if he finde me in your armes thus,
Then slaine I shall be, I know.'
`O lye still, lye still, Little Mousgrove,
And keepe my backe from the cold;
I know it is my father's shepheard,
Driving sheepe to the pinfold.'
Mousgrove did turne him round about,
Sweete slumber his eyes did greet;
When he did wake, he then espied
Lord Barnet at his bed's feete.
`O rise up, rise up, Little Mousgrove,
And put thy clothe:s on;
It shall never be said in faire England
I slew a naked man.
`Here's two good swords,' Lord Barnet said,
`Thy choice, Mousgrove, thou shalt make;
The best of them thy selfe shalt have,
And I the worst will take.'
The first good blow that Mousgrove did strike,
He wounded Lord Barnet sore;
The second blow that Lord Barnet gave,
Mousgrove could strike no more.
He tooke his lady by the white hand,
All love to rage did convert,
That with his sword, in most furious sort,
He pierst her tender heart.
`A grave, a grave,' Lord Barnet cryde,
`Prepare to lay us in;
My lady shall lie on the upper side,
Cause she's of the better kin.'
Then suddenly he slue himselfe,
Which grieves his friends full sore;
The deaths of these thra worthy wights
With teares they did deplore.
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.
Child 81_D
THERE were four and twenty gentlemen
A playing at the ba,
And lusty Lady Livingstone
Cuist her ee out oure them a'.
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.
. . . . . .
. . . . .
`What'll I gie ye, my Little Musgrave,
Ae nicht wi me to sleep?'
`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.'
`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.'
Up startit then the wylie foot-page,
. . . . .
`What will ye gie to me,' he said,
`Your council for to keep?'
`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.'
But the wylie foot-page to the stable went,
Took out a milk-white steed,
And away, away, and away he rade,
Away wi meikle speed.
It's whan he cam to the water-side,
He smoothd his breist and swam,
And whan he cam to gerss growing,
He set down his feet and ran.
`Whan he cam to Lord Barnard's towr
Lord Barnard was at meat;
He said, `If ye kend as meikle as me,
It's little wad ye eat.'
`Are onie o my castles brunt?' he says,
`Or onie my towrs won?
Or is my gay ladie broucht to bed,
Of a dochter or a son?'
`There is nane o your castles brunt,
Nor nane o your towrs won;
Nor is your gay ladie broucht to bed,
Of a dochter or a son.
`But Little Musgrave, that gay young man,
Is in bed wi your ladie,
. . . . .
. . . . .
`If this be true ye tell to me,
It's goud sall be your fee;
But if it be fause ye tell to me,
I'se hang ye on a tree.'
Whan they cam to yon water-side,
They smoothd their breists and swam;
And whan they cam to gerss growing,
They sat doun their feet and ran.
`How do ye like my sheets?' he said,
`How do ye like my bed?
And how do ye like my gay ladie,
Wha's lying at your side?'
`O I do like your sheets,' he said,
`Sae do I like your bed;
But mair do I like your gay ladie,
Wha's lying at my side.'
`Get up, get up, young man,' he said,
`Get up as swith's ye can;
Let it never be said that Lord Barnard
Slew in bed a nakit man.'
`How do ye like his bluidy cheeks?
Or how do ye like me?'
`It's weill do I like his bluidy cheeks,
Mair than your haill bodie.'
Then she has kissd his bluidy cheeks,
It's oure and oure again,'
. . . . . .
. . . . .
Child 81_E
FOUR and twenty gay ladies
Were playing at the ba,
And [out] came Lord Barnaby's lady,
The fairest o them a'.
She coost her eyes on Little Musgrave,
And he on her again;
She coost her eyes on Little Musgrave,
As they twa lovers had been.
`I have a hall in Mulberry,
It stands baith strong and tight;
If you will go to there with me,
I'll lye with you all night.'
`To lye with you, madam,' he says,
`Will breed both sturt and strife;
I see by the rings on your fingers
You are Lord Barnaby's wife.'
`Lord Barnaby's to the hunting gone,
And far out oer the hill,
And he will not return again
Till the evening tide untill.'
They were not well lain down,
Nor yet well fallen asleep,
Till up started Lord Barnaby's boy,
Just up at their bed-feet.
She took out a little penknife,
Which hung down low by her gair:
`If you do not my secret keep,
A word ye's neer speak mair.'
The laddie gae a blythe leer look,
A blythe leer look gave he,
And he's away to Lord Barnaby,
As fast as he can hie.
`If these tidings binna true,
These tidings ye tell to me,
A gallows-tree I'll gar be made
And hanged ye shall be.
`But if these tidings are true,
These tidings ye tell me,
The fairest lady in a' my court
I'll gar her marry thee.'
He's taen out a little horn,
He blew baith loue and sma,
And aye the turning o the tune
`Away, Musgrave, awa!'
They were not well lain down,
Nor yet well fallen asleep,
Till up started Lord Barnaby,
Just up at their bed-feet.
`O how like ye my blankets, Musgrave?
And how like ye my sheets?
And how like ye my gay lady,
So sound in your arms that sleeps?'
`Weel I like your blankets, Sir,
And far better yere sheets;
And better far yere gay lady,
So sound in my arms that sleeps.'
`Get up, get up, now, Little Musgrave,
And draw to hose and sheen;
It's neer be said in my country
I'd fight a naked man.
`There is two swords into my house,
And they cost me right dear;
Take you the best, and I the worst,
I'll fight the battle here.'
The first stroke that Lord Barnaby gave,
It was baith deep and sore;
The next stroke that Lord Barnaby gave,
A word he never spoke more.
He's taen out a rappier then,
He's struck it in the straw,
And thro and thro his lady's sides
He gard the cauld steel gae.
`I am not sae wae for Little Musgrave,
As he lys cauld and dead;
But I'm right wae for his lady,
For she'll gae witless wud.
`I'm not sae wae for my lady,
For she lies cauld and dead;
But I'm right wae for my young son,
Lies sprawling in her blood.'
First crew the black cock,
And next crew the sparrow;
And what the better was Lord Barnaby?
He was hanged on the morrow.
Child 81_F
`I HAVE a tower in Dalisberry,
Which now is dearly dight,
And I will gie it to Young Musgrave,
To lodge wi me a' night.'
`To lodge wi thee a' night, fair lady,
Wad breed baith sorrow and strife;
For I see by the rings on your fingers
You're good Lord Barnaby's wife.'
`Lord Barnaby's wife although I be,
Yet what is that to thee?
For we'll beguile him for this ae night,
He's on to fair Dundee.
`Come here, come here, my little foot-page,
This gold I will give thee,
If ye will keep thir secrets close
'Tween Young Musgrave and me.
`But here I hae a little pen-knife,
Hings low down by my gare;
Gin ye winna keep thir secrets close,
Ye'll find it wonder sair.'
Then she's taen him to her chamber,
And down in her arms lay he;
The boy coost aff his hose and shoon,
And ran to fair Dundee.
When he cam to the wan water,
He slackd his bow and swam,
And when he cam to growin grass,
Set down his feet and ran.
And when he cam to fair Dundee,
Wad neither chap nor ca,
But set his braid bow to his breast,
And merrily jumpd the wa.
`O waken ye, waken ye, my good lord,
Waken, and come away!'
`What ails, what ails my wee foot-page,
He cries sae lang ere day?
`O is my bowers brent, my boy?
Or is my castle won?
Or has the lady that I loe best
Brought me a daughter or son?'
`Your ha's are safe, your bowers are safe,
And free frae all alarms,
But, oh! the lady that ye loe best
Lies sound in Musgrave's arms.'
`Gae saddle to me the black,' he cried,
`Gae saddle to me the gray;
Gae saddle to me the swiftest steed,
To hie me on my way.'
`O lady, I heard a wee horn toot,
And it blew wonder clear;
And ay the turning o the note,
Was, Barnaby will be here!
`I thought I heard a wee horn blaw,
And it blew loud and high;
And ay at ilka turn it said,
Away, Musgrave, away!'
`Lie still, my dear, lie still, my dear,
Ye keep me frae the cold;
For it is but my father's shepherds,
Driving their flocks to the fold.'
Up they lookit, and down they lay,
And they're fa'en sound asleep;
Till up stood good Lord Barnaby,
Just close at their bed-feet.
`How do you like my bed, Musgrave?
And how like ye my sheets?
And how like ye my fair lady,
Lies in your arms and sleeps?'
`Weel like I your bed, my lord,
And weel like I your sheets,
But ill like I your fair lady,
Lies in my arms and sleeps.
`You got your wale o se'en sisters,
And I got mine o five;
Sae tak ye mine, and I's tak thine,
And we nae mair sall strive.'
`O my woman's the best woman
That ever brak world's bread,
And your woman's the worst woman
That ever drew coat oer head.
`I hae twa swords in ae scabbert,
They are baith sharp and clear;
Tak ye the best, and I the warst,
And we'll end the matter here.
`But up, and arm thee, Young Musgrave,
We'll try it han to han;
It's neer be said o Lord Barnaby,
He strack at a naked man.'
The first straik that Young Musgrave got,
It was baith deep and sair,
And down he fell at Barnaby's feet,
And word spak never mair.
`A grave, a grave,' Lord Barnaby cried,
`A grave to lay them in;
My lady shall lie on the sunny side,
Because of her noble kin.'
But oh, how sorry was that good lord,
For a' his angry mood,
Whan he beheld his ain young son
All weltring in his blood!
Child 81_G
LORD BARNARDR'rS awa to the green wood,
To hunt the fallow deer;
His vassals a' are gane wi him,
His companies to bear.
His lady wrate a braid letter,
And seald it wi her hand,
And sent if aff to Wee Messgrove,
To come at her command.
When Messgrove lookt the letter on,
A waefu man was he;
Sayin, Gin I'm gript wi Lord Barnard's wife,
Sure hanged I will be.
When he came to Lord Barnard's castel
He tinklit at the ring,
And nane was so ready as the lady hersell
To let Wee Messgrove in.
`Welcome, welcome, Messgrove,' she said,
`You're welcome here to me;
Lang hae I loed your bonnie face,
And lang hae ye loed me.
`Lord Barnard is a hunting gane,
I hope he'll neer return,
And ye sall sleep into his bed,
And keep his lady warm.'
`It cannot be,' Messgrove he said,
`I ween it cannot be;
Gin Lord Barnard suld come hame this nicht,
What would he do to me?'
`Ye naething hae to fear, Messgrove,
Ye naething hae to fear;
I'll set my page without the gate,
To watch till morning clear.'
But wae be to the wee fut-page,
And an ill death mat he die!
For he's awa to the green wood,
As hard as he can flee.
And whan he to the green wood cam,
'Twas dark as dark could bee,
And he fand his maister and his men
Asleep aneth a tree.
`Rise up, rise up, maister,' he said,
`Rise up, and speak to me;
Your wife's in bed wi Wee Messgrove,
Rise up richt speedilie.'
`Gin that be true ye tell to me,
A lord I will mak thee;
But gin it chance to be a lie,
Sure hanged ye sall be.'
`It is as true, my lord,' he said,
`As ever ye were born;
Messgrove's asleep in your lady's bed,
All for to keep her warm.'
He mounted on his milk-white steed,
He was ane angry man;
And he reachd his stately castell gate
Just as the day did dawn.
He put his horn unto his mouth,
And he blew strong blasts three;
Sayin, He that's in bed with anither man's wife,
He suld be gaun awa.
Syne out and spak the Wee Messgrove,
A frichtit man was he;
`I hear Lord Barnard's horn,' he said,
`It blaws baith loud and hie.'
`Lye still, lye still, my Wee Messgrove,
And keep me frae the cauld;
'Tis but my father's shepherd's horn,
A sounding in the fauld.'
He put his horn unto his mouth,
And he blew loud blasts three;
Saying, He that's in bed wi anither man's wife,
'Tis time he was awa.
Syne out and spak the Wee Messgrove,
A frichtit man was he:
`Yon surely is Lord Barnard's horn,
And I maun een gae flee.'
`Lye still, lye still, Messgrove,' she said,
`And keep me frae the cauld;
'Tis but my father's shepherd's horn,
A sounding in the fauld.'
And ay Lord Barnard blew and blew,
Till he was quite wearie;
Syne he threw down his bugle horn,
And up the stair ran he.
`How do you like my blankets, Sir?
How do you like my sheets?
How do ye like my gay ladie,
That lies in your arms asleep?'
`Oh weel I like your blankets, Sir,
And weel I like your sheet;
But wae be to your gay ladie,
That lyes in my arms asleep!'
`I'll gie you ae sword, Messgrove,
And I will take anither;
What fairer can I do, Messgrove,
Altho ye war my brither?'
The firsten wound that Messgrove gat,
It woundit him richt sair;
And the second wound that Messgrove gat,
A word he neer spak mair.
`Oh how do ye like his cheeks, ladie?
Or how do ye like his chin?
Or how do ye like his fair bodie,
That there's nae life within?'
`Oh weel I like his cheeks,' she said,
`And weel I like his chin;
And weel I like his fair bodie,
That there's nae life within.'
`Repeat these words, my fair ladie,
Repeat them ower agane,
And into a basin of pure silver
I'll gar your heart's bluid rin.'
`Oh weel I like his cheeks,' she said,
`And weel I like his chin;
And better I like his fair bodie
Than a' your kith and kin.'
Syne he took up his gude braid sword,
That was baith sharp and fine,
And into a basin of pure silver
Her heart's bluid he gart rin.
`O wae be to my merrie men,
And wae be to my page,
That they didna hald my cursed hands
When I was in a rage!'
He leand the halbert on the ground,
The point o't to his breast,
Saying, Here are three sauls gaun to heaven,
I hope they'll a' get rest.
Child 81_H
LITTLE MUSGROVE is to the church gone,
Some ladies for to sply;
Doun came one drest in black,
And one came drest in brown,
And down and came Lord Barlibas' lady,
The fairest in a' the town.
`I know by the ring that's on your finger
That you'r my Lord Barlibas' lady:'
`Indeed I am the Lord Barlibas' lady,
And what altho I bee?'
`Money shall be your hire, foot-page,
And gold shall be your fee;
You must not tell the secrets
That's between Musgrove and me.'
`Money shall not be hire,' he said,
`Nor gold shall be my fee;
But I'll awa to my own liege lord,
With the tidings you've told to me.'
When he cam to the broken brig,
He coost aff his clothes and he swimd,
And when he cam to Lord Barlibas' yett,
He tirled at the pin.
`What news, what news, my little foot-page?
What news have ye brocht to me?
Is my castle burnt?' he said,
`Or is my tower tane?
Or is my lady lighter yet,
Of a daughter or son?'
`Your castle is not burnt,' he says,
`Nor yet is your tower tane,
Nor yet is your lady brocht to bed,
Of a daughter or a son;
But Little Musgrove is lying wi her,
Till he thinks it is time to be gane.'
`O if the news be a lie,' he says,
`That you do tell unto me,
I'll ca up a gallows to my yard-yett,
And hangd on it thou shalt be.
`But if the news be true,' he says,
`That you do tell unto me,
I have a young fair dochter at hame,
Weel wedded on her you shall be.'
He called upon his merry men,
By thirties and by three:
`Put aff the warst, put on the best,
And come along with me.'
He put a horn to his mouth,
And this he gard it say:
`The man that's in bed wi Lord Barlibas' lady,
It's time he were up and away.'
`What does yon trumpet mean?' he sayd,
`Or what does yon trumpet say?
I think it says, the man that's in bed wi Lord Barlibas' lady,
It's time he were up and away.'
`O lie you still, my Little Musgrove,
And cover me from the cold,
For it is but my father's sheepherd,
That's driving his sheep to the fold.'
. . . . . .
In a little while after that,
Up started good Lord Barlibas,
At Little Musgrove his feet.
`How do you like my blankets?' he says,
`Or how do you like my sheets?
Or how do you like mine own fair lady,
That lies in your arms and sleeps?'
`I like your blankets very well,
And far better your sheets;
But woe be to this wicked woman,
That lies in my arms and sleeps!'
`Rise up, rise up, my Little Musgrove,
Rise up, and put your clothes on;
It's neer be said on no other day
That I killed a naked man.
`There is two swords in my chamber,
I wot they cost me dear;
Take you the best, give me the warst,
We'll red the question here.'
The first stroke that Lord Barlibas struck,
He dang Little Musgrove to the ground;
The second stroke that Lord Barlibas gave
Dang his lady in a deadly swound.
`Gar mak, gar mak a coffin,' he says,
`Gar mak it wide and long,
And lay my lady at the right hand,
For she's come of the noblest kin.'
Child 81_I
`ITR'rS gold shall be your hire,' she says,
`And silver shall be your fee,
If you will keep the secrets
Between Little Sir Grove and me.'
`Tho gold should be my hire,' he says,
`And silver should be my fee,
It's I'll not keep the secret
Betwixt Little Sir Grove and thee.'
Up he rose, and away he goes,
And along the plain he ran,
And when he came to Lord Bengwill's castle,
He tinkled at the pin;
And who was sae ready as Lord Bengwill himsell
To let his little page in.
`Is any of my towers burnt?' he said,
`Or any of my castles taen?
Or is Lady Bengwill brought to bed,
Of a daughter or a son?'
`It's nane of your towers are burnt,' he said,
`Nor nane of your castles taen;
But Lady Bengwill and Little Sir Grove
To merry bed they are gane.'
`If this be true that you tell me,
Rewarded you shall be;
And if it's a lie that you tell me,
You shall be hanged before your ladie's een.
`Get saddled to me the black,' he says,
`Get saddled to me the brown;
Get saddled to me the swiftest steed
That ever man rode on.'
The firsten town that he cam to,
He blew baith loud and schill,
And aye the owre-word o the tune
Was, `Sir Grove, I wish you well.'
The nexten town that he came to,
He blew baith loud and long,
And aye the owre-word of the tune
Was `Sir Grove, it is time to be gone.'
`Is yon the sound of the hounds?' he says,
`Or is yon the sound of the deer?
But I think it's the sound of my brother's horn,
That sound sae schill in my ear.'
`Lye still, lye still, Sir Grove,' she says,
`And keep a fair lady from cold;
It's but the sound of my father's herd-boys,
As they're driving the sheep to the fold.'
They lay down in each other's arms,
And they fell fast asleep,
And neer a one of them did wake
Till Lord Bengwill stood at their feet.
`How do you love my soft pillow?
Or how do you love my sheets?
Or how do you love my fair lady,
That lies in your arms and sleeps?'
`Full well I love your soft pillow,
Far better I love your sheets;
But woe be to your fair lady,
That lies in my arms and sleeps!'
`Rise up, rise up, Sir Grove,' he says,
`Some clothes there put you upon;
Let it never be said in fair England
I fought with a naked man.'
`Oh where shall I go, or where shall I fly,
Or where shall I run for my life?
For you've got two broadswords into your hand,
And I have never a knife.'
`You shall take the one sword,' he says,
`And I shall take the other,
And that is as fair I'm sure to day
As that you are my born brother.'
`Hold your hand, hold your hand, my brother dear,
You've wounded me full sore;
You may get a mistress in every town,
But a brother you'll never get more.'
The very first stroke that Lord Bengwill gave him,
He wounded him full sore;
The very next stroke that Lord Bengwill gave him,
A word he never spoke more.
He's lifted up Lady Bengwill,
And set her on his knee,
Saying, Whether do you love Little Sir Grove
Better than you do me?
`Full well I love your cherry cheeks,
Full well I love your chin,
But better I love Little Sir Grove, where he lies,
Than you and all your kin.'
`A grave, a grave,' Lord Bengwill cried,
`To put these lovers in,
And put Lady Bengwill uppermost,
For she's come of the noblest kin.'
Child 81_J
FOUR and twenty ladies fair
Was playing at the ba,
And out cam the lady, Barnabas' lady,
The flower amang them a'.
She coost an ee on Little Mossgrey,
As brisk as any sun,
And he coost anither on her again,
And they thocht the play was won.
`What would you think, Little Mossgrey,
To lye wi me this nicht?
Good beds I hae in Barnabey,
If they were ordered richt.'
`Hold thy tongue, fair lady,' he says,
`For that would cause much strife;
For I see by the rings on your fingers
That you're Lord Barnabas' wife.'
`Lord Barnabas' lady indeed I am,
And that I'll let you ken,
But he's awa to the king's court,
And I hope he'll neer come hame.'
Wi wrapped arms in bed they lay
Till they fell both asleep,
When up and starts Barnabas' boy,
And stood at their bed-feet.
`How likes thou the bed, Mossgrey?
Or how likes thou the sheets?
Or how likes thou my master's lady,
Lyes in thy arms and sleeps?'
`Weel I love the bed,' he said,
`And far better the sheets;
But foul may fa your master's lady,
Lies in my arms and sleeps!'
She pulled out a rusty sword,
Was sticking by the stroe;
Says, Tell no tidings of me, my boy,
Or thou'll neer tell no moe.
He's awa to the king's court,
As fast as he can dree;
He's awa to the king's court,
For to tell Barnaby.
`Are there any of my biggins brunt?
Or any of my young men slain?
Or is my lady brocht to bed,
Of a dochter or a son?'
`There is none of your biggings brunt,
There's none of your young men slain;
But Little Mossgrey and your lady
They are both in a bed within.'
`If that be true, my bonnie boy,
Thou tellest unto me,
I have not a dochter but only one,
And married ye shall be.
`But if it be a lie, my bonnie boy,
You're telling unto me,
On the highest tree of Balisberry,
Thereon I'll gar hang thee.'
There was a man in the king's court
Had a love to Little Mossgrey;
He took a horn out of his pocket,
And blew both loud and hie:
`He that's in bed wi Barnabas' lady,
It's time he were away!'
`Oh am I not the maddest man
Ere lay in a woman's bed!
I think I hear his bridle ring,
But and his horse feet tread.'
`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.'
With wrapped arms in bed they lay
Till they fell both asleep,
Till up and darts Barnabas himsell,
And stood at their bed-fit.
`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?'
`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!'
`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.'
Slowly, slowly rose he up,
And slowly put he on,
And slowly down the stairs he goes,
And thinking to be slain.
`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.'
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.
One word she neer spak more.
`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.'
Child 81_K
ITR'rS four and twenty bonny boys
Were playin at the ba,
And out it cums Lord Barnet's ladie,
And playit out ower them a'.
And aye she shot it's Little Mousgray,
As clear as any sun:
`O what wad ye gie, it's Little Mousgray,
It's in O my arms to won?'
`For no, for no, my gay ladie,
For no, that maunna be;
For well ken I by the rings on your fingers,
Lord Barnet's ladie are ye.'
When supper was over, and mass was sung,
And a' man boun for bed,
It's Little Mousgray and that lady
In ae chamber was laid.
It's up and starts her little foot-page,
Just up at her bed-feet:
`Hail weel, hail weel, my little foot-page,
Hail well this deed on me,
An ever I lee my life to brook,
I'se pay you well your fee.'
Out it spaks it's Little Mousgray:
`I think I hear a horn blaw;
She blaws baith loud and shill at ilka turning of the tune,
Mousgray, gae ye your wa!'
`Lie still, lie still, it's Little Mousgray,
Had the caul win frae my back;
It's bat my father's proud shepherds,
The're huntin their hogs to the fauld.'
O up it starts the bold Barnet:
. . . . .
. . . . .
. . . . .
`Win up, win up, it's Little Mousgray,
Draw ti your stockins and sheen;
I winna have it for to be said
I killed a naked man.
`There is two swords in my scabbart,
They cost me many a pun;
Tak ye the best, and I the warst,
And we sall to the green.'
`The firsten strok Lord Barnet strak,
He wound Mousgray very sore;
The nexten stroke Lord Barnet strak,
Mousgray spak never more.
O he's taen out a lang, lang brand,
And stripped it athwart the straw,
And throch and throu his ain ladie
And he's gart it cum and ga.
There was nae main made for that ladie,
In bower whar she lay dead!
But a' was for her bonny young son,
Lay blobberin amang the bluid.
Child 81_L
FOUR and twenty handsome youths
Were a' playing at the ba,
When forth it came him Little Munsgrove,
The flower out ower them a'.
At times he lost, at times he wan,
Till the noon-tide o the day,
And four an twenty gay ladies
Went out to view the play.
Some came down in white velvet,
And other some in green;
Lord Burnett's lady in red scarlet,
And shin'd like ony queen.
Some came down in white velvet,
And other some in pale;
Lord Burnett's lady in red scarlet,
Whose beauty did excell.
She gae a glance out ower them a',
As beams dart frae the sun;
She fixed her eyes on Little Munsgrove,
For him her love lay on.
`Gude day, gude day, ye handsome youth,
God make ye safe and free;
What woud ye gie this day, Munsgrove,
For ae night in bower wi me?'
`I darena for my lands, lady,
I darena for my life;
I ken by the rings on your fingers
Ye are Lord Burnett's wife.'
`It woud na touch my heart, Munsgrove,
Nae mair than 'twoud my tae,
To see as much o his heart's blood
As twa brands coud let gae.
`I hae a bower in fair Strathdon,
And pictures round it sett,
And I hae ordered thee, Munsgrove,
In fair Strathdon to sleep.'
Her flattering words and fair speeches,
They were for him too strong,
And she's prevailed on Little Munsgrove
With her to gang along.
When mass was sung, and bells were rung,
And a' man bound for bed,
Little Munsgrove and that lady
In ae chamber were laid.
`O what hire will ye gie your page,
If he the watch will keep,
In case that your gude lord come hame
When we're fair fast asleep?'
`Siller, siller's be his wage,
And gowd shall be his hire;
But if he speak ae word o this,
He'll die in a burning fire.'
`The promise that I make, Madam,
I will stand to the same;
I winna heal it an hour langer
Than any master comes hame.'
She's taen a sharp brand in her hand,
Being in the tidive hour;
He ran between her and the door,
She never saw him more.
Where he found the grass grow green,
He slacked his shoes an ran,
And where he found the brigs broken,
He bent his bow an swam.
Lord Burnett ower a window lay,
Beheld baith dale and down;
And he beheld his ain foot-page
Come hastening to the town.
`What news, what news, my little wee boy,
Ye bring sae hastilie?'
`Bad news, bad news, my master,' he says,
`As ye will plainly see.'
`Are any of my biggins brunt, my boy?
Or are my woods hewed down?
Or is my dear lady lighter yet,
O dear daughter or son?'
`There are nane o your biggins brunt, master,
Nor are your woods hewn down;
Nor is your lady lighter yet,
O dear daughter nor son.
`But ye've a bower in fair Strathdon,
And pictures round it sett,
Where your lady and Little Munsgrove
In fair Strathdon do sleep.'
`O had your tongue! why talk you so
About my gay ladye?
She is a gude and chaste woman
As in the North Countrie.'
`A word I dinna lie, my lord,
A word I dinna lie;
And if ye winna believe my word,
Your ain twa een shall see.'
`Gin this be a true tale ye tell,
That ye have tauld to me,
I'll wed you to my eldest daughter,
And married you shall be.
`But if it be a fause story
That ye hae tauld to me,
A high gallows I'll gar be built,
And hanged shall ye be.'
He's called upon his landlady,
The reckoning for to pay,
And pulled out twa hands fou o gowd;
Says, We'll reckon anither day.
He called upon his stable-groom,
To saddle for him his steed,
And trampled ower yon rocky hills
Till his horse hoofs did bleed.
There was a man in Lord Burnett's train
Was ane o Munsgrove's kin,
And aye as fast as the horsemen rade,
Sae nimbly's he did rin.
He set a horn to his mouth,
And he blew loud and sma,
And aye at every sounding's end,
`Awa, Munsgrove, awa!'
Then up it raise him Little Munsgrove,
And drew to him his sheen;
`Lye still, lye still,' the lady she cried,
`Why get ye up sae seen?'
`I think I hear a horn blaw,
And it blaws loud and sma;
And aye at every sounding's end,
Awa, Munsgrove, awa!'
`Lye still, lye still, ye Little Munsgrove,
Had my back frae the wind;
It's but my father's proud shepherd,
Caing his hogs to town.'
`I think I hear a horn blaw,
And it blaws loud and shrill,
And aye at every sounding's end
Bids Munsgrove take the hill.'
`Lye still, my boy, lye still, my sweet,
Had my back frae the cauld;
It's but the sugh o the westlin wind,
Blawing ower the birks sae bauld.'
He turned him right and round about,
And he fell fast asleep;
When up it started Lord Burnett,
And stood at their bed-feet.
`Is't for love o my blankets, Munsgrove?
Or is't for love o my sheets?
Or is't for love o my gay lady?
Sae soun in your arms she sleeps!'
`It's nae for love o your blankets, my lord,
Nor yet for love o your sheets;
But wae be to your gay ladye,
Sae soun in my arms she sleeps!'
`Win up, win up, ye Little Munsgrove,
Put all your armour an;
It's never be said anither day
I killed a naked man.
`I hae twa brands in ae scabbard,
Cost me merks twenty-nine;
Take ye the best, gie me the warst,
For ye're the weakest man.'
The firs an stroke that Munsgrove drew
Wounded Lord Burnett sair;
The next an stroke Lord Burnett drew,
Munsgrove he spake nae mair.
He turned him to his ladye then,
And thus to her said he:
`All the time we've led our life
I neer thought this o thee.
`How like ye now this well-faird face,
That stands straight by your side?
Or will ye hate this ill-faird face,
Lyes weltering in his blude?'
`O better love I this well-faird face,
Lyes weltering in his blude,
Then eer I'll do this ill-faird face,
That stands straight by my side.'
Then he's taen out a sharp dagger,
It was baith keen and smart,
And he has wounded that gay ladye
A deep wound to the heart.
`A grave, a grave,' cried Lord Burnett,
`To bury these two in;
And lay my ladye in the highest flat,
She's chiefest o the kin.
`A grave, a grave,' said Lord Burnett,
`To bury these two in;
Lay Munsgrove in the lowest flat,
He's deepest in the sin.
`Ye'll darken my windows up secure,
Wi staunchions round about,
And there is not a living man
Shall eer see me walk out.
`Nae mair fine clothes my body deck,
Nor kame gang in my hair,
Nor burning coal nor candle light
Shine in my bower mair.'
Child 81_M
IT fell upon a Martinmas time,
When the nobles were a' drinking wine,
That Little Mushiegrove to the kirk he did go,
For to see the ladies come in.
Child 81_N
`HOW do you like my rug?' he said,
`And how do you like my sheets?
And how do you like my false ladie,
That lies in your arms asleep?'
`Well I like your rug my lord,
And well I like your sheets;
But better than all your fair ladie,
That lies in my arms asleep.'
Child 81_O
There was four-and-twenty ladies
Assembled at a ball,
And who being there but the king's wife,
The fairest of them all.
She put her eye on the Moss Groves,
Moss Groves put his eye upon she:
`How would you like, my little Moss Groves,
One night to tarry with me?'
`To sleep one night with you, fair lady,
It would cause a wonderful sight;
For I know by the ring upon your hand
You are the king's wife.'
`If I am the king's wife,
I mean him to beguile;
For he has gone on a long distance,
And won't be back for a while.'
Up spoke his brother,
An angry man was he;
`Another night I'll not stop in the castle
Till my brother I'll go see.'
When he come to his brother,
He was in a hell of a fright:
`Get up, get up, brother dear!
There's a man in bed with your wife.'
`If it's true you tell unto me,
A man I'll make of thee;
If it's a lie you tell unto me,
It's slain thou shalt be.'
When he came to his hall,
The bells begun to ring,
And all the birds upon the bush
They begun to sing.
`How do you like my covering-cloths?
And how do you like my sheets?
How do you like my lady fair,
All night in her arms to sleep?'
`Your covering-cloths I like right well,
Far better than your sheets;
Far better than all your lady fair,
All night in her arms to sleep.'
`Get up, get up now, little Moss Groves,
Your clothing do put on;
It shall never be said in all England
That I drew on a naked man.
`There is two swords all in the castle
That cost me very dear;
You take the best, and I the worst,
And let's decide it here.'
The very first blow Moss Groves he gave,
He wounded the king most sore;
The very first blow the king gave him,
Moss Groves he struck no more.
She lifted up his dying head
And kissed his cheek and chin:
`I'd sooner have you now, little Moss Groves,
Than all their castles or kings.'
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