| |
| WHAN bells war rung, an mass was sung, | |
| A wat a’ man to bed were gone, | |
| Clark Sanders came to Margret’s window, | |
| With mony a sad sigh and groan. | |
| |
| “Are ye sleeping, Margret,” he says, | 5 |
| “Or are ye waking, presentlie? | |
| Give me my faith and trouthe again, | |
| A wat, 1 trew-love, I gied 2 to thee.” | |
| |
| “Your faith and trouth ye’s 3 never get, | |
| Nor our trew love shall never twain, 4 | 10 |
| Till ye come with me in my bower, | |
| And kiss me both cheek and chin.” | |
| |
| “My mouth it is full cold, Margret, | |
| It has the smell now of the ground; | |
| And if I kiss thy comely mouth, | 15 |
| Thy life-days will not be long. | |
| |
| “Cocks are crowing a merry mid-larf, 5 | |
| I wat the wild fule 6 boded day; | |
| Gie me my faith and trouthe again, | |
| And let me fare me on my way.” | 20 |
| |
| “Thy faith and trouth thou shall na get, | |
| Nor our trew love shall never twin, 7 | |
| Till ye tell me what comes of women | |
| A wat 8 that dy’s in strong travelling.” | |
| |
| “Their beds are made in the heavens high, | 25 |
| Down at the foot of our good Lord’s knee, | |
| Well set about wi gilly-flowers, | |
| A wat sweet company for to see. | |
| |
| “O cocks are crowing a merry midd-larf, | |
| A wat the wilde foule boded day; | 30 |
| The salms of Heaven will be sung, | |
| And ere now I’le be misst away.” | |
| |
| Up she has tain a bright long wand, | |
| And she has straked 9 her trouth thereon; | |
| She has given (it) him out at the shot-window, 10 | 35 |
| Wi many a sad sigh and heavy groan. | |
| |
| “I thank you, Margret, I thank you, Margret, | |
| And I thank you hartilie; | |
| Gine 11 ever the dead come for the quick, | |
| Be sure, Margret, I’ll come again for thee.” | 40 |
| |
| It’s hose an shoon and gound 12 alane | |
| She clame the wall and followed him, | |
| Until she came to a green forest, | |
| On this she lost the sight of him. | |
| |
| “Is there any room at your head, Sanders? | 45 |
| Is there any room at your feet? | |
| Or any room at your twa sides? | |
| Whare fain, fain woud I sleep.” | |
| |
| “Their is na room at my head, Margret, | |
| Their is na room at my feet; | 50 |
| There is room at my twa sides, | |
| For ladys for to sleep. | |
| |
| “Cold meal 13 is my covering owre, | |
| But an my winding sheet; | |
| My bed it is full low, I say, | 55 |
| Down among the hongerey worms I sleep. | |
| |
| “Cold meal is my covering owre, | |
| But an my winding sheet; | |
| The dew it falls na sooner down | |
| Then ay it is full weet.” | 60 |
