| |
| IN London city was Bicham born, | |
| He longd strange countries for to see, | |
| But he was taen by a savage Moor, | |
| Who handld him right cruely. | |
| |
| For thro his shoulder he put a bore, 1 | 5 |
| An thro the bore has pitten 2 a tree, 3 | |
| An he’s gard 4 him draw the carts o wine, | |
| Where horse and oxen had wont to be. | |
| |
| He’s casten [him] in a dungeon deep, | |
| Where he coud neither hear nor see; | 10 |
| He’s shut him up in a prison strong, | |
| And he’s handld him right cruely. | |
| |
| O this Moor he had but ae daughter, | |
| I wot her name was Shusy Pye; | |
| She’s doen her to the prison-house, | 15 |
| And she’s calld Young Bicham one word by. | |
| |
| “O hae ye ony lands or rents, | |
| Or citys in your ain country, | |
| Coud free you out of prison strong, | |
| An coud mantain a lady free?” | 20 |
| |
| “O London city is my own, | |
| An other citys twa or three | |
| Coud loose me out o prison strong, | |
| An coud mantain a lady free.” | |
| |
| O she has bribed her father’s men | 25 |
| Wi meikle goud and white money, | |
| She’s gotten the key o the prison doors, | |
| An she has set Young Bicham free. | |
| |
| She’s gi’n him a loaf o good white bread, | |
| But an a flask o Spanish wine, | 30 |
| And she bad him mind on 5 the ladie’s love | |
| That sae kindly freed him out o pine. 6 | |
| |
| “Go set your foot on good ship-board, | |
| An haste you back to your ain country, | |
| An before that seven years has an end, | 35 |
| Come back again, love, and marry me.” | |
| |
| It was lang or seven years had an end | |
| She longd fu sair her love to see; | |
| She’s set her foot on good ship-board, | |
| An turnd her back on her ain country. | 40 |
| |
| She’s saild up, so has she doun, | |
| Till she came to the other side; | |
| She’s landed at Young Bicham’s gates, | |
| An I hop this day she sal be his bride. | |
| |
| “Is this Young Bicham’s gates?” says she, | 45 |
| “Or is that noble prince within?” | |
| “He’s up the stairs wi his bonny bride, | |
| An monny a lord and lady wi him.” | |
| |
| “O has he taen a bonny bride, | |
| An has he clean forgotten me!” | 50 |
| An sighing said that gay lady, | |
| “I wish I were in my ain country!” | |
| |
| But she’s pitten 7 her han in her pocket, | |
| An gin the porter guineas three; | |
| Says, “Take ye that, ye proud porter, | 55 |
| An bid the bridegroom speak to me.” | |
| |
| O whan the porter came up the stair, | |
| He’s fa’n 8 low down upon his knee: | |
| “Won 9 up, won up, ye proud porter, | |
| An what makes a’ this courtesy?” | 60 |
| |
| “O l’ve been porter at your gates | |
| This mair nor seven years an three, | |
| But there is a lady at them now | |
| The like of whom I never did see. | |
| |
| “For on every finger she has a ring, | 65 |
| An on the mid-finger she has three, | |
| An there’s as meikle goud aboon her brow | |
| As woud buy an earldome o lan to me.” | |
| |
| Then up it started Young Bicham, | |
| An sware so loud by Our Lady, | 70 |
| “It can be nane but Shusy Pye, | |
| That has come oer the sea to me.” | |
| |
| O quickly ran he down the stair, | |
| O fifteen steps he has made but three; | |
| He’s tane 10 his bonny love in his arms, | 75 |
| An a wot 11 he kissed her tenderly. | |
| |
| “O hae 12 you taen a bonny bride? | |
| An hae you quite forsaken me? | |
| An hae ye quite forgotten her | |
| That gae 13 you life an liberty?” | 80 |
| |
| She’s lookit oer her left shoulder | |
| To hide the tears stood in her ee; | |
| “Now fare thee well, Young Bicham” she says, | |
| “I’ll strive to think nae mair on thee.” | |
| |
| “Take back your daughter, madam,” he says, | 85 |
| “An a double dowry I’ll gi her wi; | |
| For I maun 14 marry my first true love, | |
| That’s done and suffered so much for me.” | |
| |
| He’s take his bonny love by the han, | |
| And led her to yon fountain stane; | 90 |
| He’s changd her name frae Shusy Pye, | |
| An he’s cald her his bonny love, Lady Jane. | |
