The book of British ballads . Yes! I will gae your black errand, Thoch it be to your cost:Sen ye by me will nae be warnd,In it ye sail find frost. The baron he is a man o micht, He neir cold bide to taunt:And ye will see, before its nicht,Sma cause ye ha to vaunt. And sen I maun your errand rin, Sae sair against my will,I se mak a vow, and keep it trow,It sail be done for ill! When he cam to the broken brig, He bent his bow and swam;And when he cam to grass growing,Set down his feet and ran. And when he cam to Barnards yeat, Wold neither chap nor ca,Bot set his bent bow to his breist,And licht
The book of British ballads . Yes! I will gae your black errand, Thoch it be to your cost:Sen ye by me will nae be warnd,In it ye sail find frost. The baron he is a man o micht, He neir cold bide to taunt:And ye will see, before its nicht,Sma cause ye ha to vaunt. And sen I maun your errand rin, Sae sair against my will,I se mak a vow, and keep it trow,It sail be done for ill! When he cam to the broken brig, He bent his bow and swam;And when he cam to grass growing,Set down his feet and ran. And when he cam to Barnards yeat, Wold neither chap nor ca,Bot set his bent bow to his breist,And lichtly lap the wa. He wold na tell the man his errand, Thoch he stude at the yeat;Bot streight into the ha he cam,Whar they were set at meat. Hail! hail! my gentle sire and dame ! My message winna wait,—Dame, ye maun to the grene wode gae,Afore that it be late. Ye re bidden tak this gay mantel, T is a gowd bot the hem;Ye maun haste to the gude grene wodeEin by yoursell alane. Adeaaows del
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1840, bookidg, bookpublisherlondonjhow
