“O hold your tongue, my pretty parrot, Lay not the blame upon me; Your cup shall be of the flowered gold, Your cage of the root of the tree.” Up then spake the king himself, In the bed-chamber where he lay: “What ails the pretty parrot, That prattles so long or day?” “There came a cat to my cage door, It almost a worried me, And I was calling on May Colven To take the cat from me.” JOHNIE FAA (_Child_, vol. iv. Early Edition.) THE gypsies came to our good lord’s gate And wow but they sang sweetly! They sang sae sweet and sae very complete That down came the fair lady. And she came tripping doun the stair, And a’ her maids before her; As soon as they saw her weel-far’d face, They coost the glamer o’er her. “O come with me,” says Johnie Faw, “O come with me, my dearie; For I vow and I swear by the hilt of my sword, That your lord shall nae mair come near ye.” Then she gied them the beer and the wine, And they gied her the ginger; But she gied them a far better thing, The goud ring aff her finger. “Gae take frae me this yay mantle, And bring to me a plaidie; For if kith and kin, and a’ had sworn, I’ll follow the gypsy laddie. “Yestreen I lay in a weel-made bed, Wi’ my good lord beside me; But this night I’ll lye in a tenant’s barn, Whatever shall betide me!” “Come to your bed,” says Johnie Faw, “Oh, come to your bed, my dearie: For I vow and swear by the hilt of my sword, Your lord shall nae mair come near ye.” “I’ll go to bed to my Johnie Faw, I’ll go to bed to my dearie; For I vow and I swear by the fan in my hand, My lord shall nae mair come near me. “I’ll mak a hap to my Johnie Faw, I’ll mak a hap to my dearie; And he’s get a’ the coat gaes round, And my lord shall nae mair come near me.” And when our lord came hame at e’en, And spier’d for his fair lady, The tane she cry’d, and the other reply’d, “She’s awa’ wi’ the gypsy laddie!” “Gae saddle to me the black black steed, Gae saddle and make him ready; Before that I either eat or sleep, I’ll gae seek my fair lady.” And we were fifteen weel-made men, Altho’ we were na bonny; And we were a’ put down but ane, For a fair young wanton lady. HOBBIE NOBLE (_Child_, vi. Early Edition.) FOUL fa’ the breast first treason bred in! That Liddesdale may safely say: For in it there was baith meat and drink, And corn unto our geldings gay. We were stout-hearted men and true, As England it did often say; But now we may turn our backs and fly, Since brave Noble is seld away. Now Hobie he was an English man, And born into Bewcastle dale; But his misdeeds they were sae great, They banish’d him to Liddisdale.