"Why did you leave your houses and lands, Or why did you leave your money O, Or why did you leave your own wedded lord, To follow the Gipsy laddie O?" 80 "O what care I for houses and lands, Or what care I for money O? So as I have brew'd, so I will drink, So fare you well, my honey O." They marched them to the gallows tree, 85 Whilst the Earl stood at the window O; And aye the smile was on his lip, As he thocht on the Gipsy laddie O. There were seven Gipsies in a gang, They were so brisk and bonny O, 90 And they're to be hang'd all in a row, For the Earl o' Castle's leddy O. 37. "Yetholm, on the borders of Northumberland, situated among the recesses of the Cheviots, has ever been the headquarters of the Gipsy tribes. The Faas, (a corruption of Fall, their original designation,) the Youngs, Armstrongs, and Gordons still look up to this straggling village as their city of refuge." SHELDON. JAMIE DOUGLAS. See p. 135. From Finlay's _Scottish Ballads_, ii. 4. When I fell sick, an' very sick, An' very sick, just like to die, A gentleman of good account He cam on purpose to visit me; But his blackie whispered in my lord's ear, 5 He was owre lang in the room wi' me. "Gae little page, an' tell your lord, Gin he will come and dine wi' me, I'll set him on a chair of gold, And serve him on my bended knee." 10 The little page gaed up the stair,-- "Lord Douglass, dine wi' your ladie: She'll set ye on a chair of gold, And serve you on her bended knee." "When cockle shells turn silver bells, 15 When wine drieps red frae ilka tree, When frost and snaw will warm us a', Then I'll cum down an' dine wi' thee." But whan my father gat word o' this, O what an angry man was he! 20 He sent fourscore o' his archers bauld To bring me safe to his countrie. When I rose up then in the morn, My goodly palace for to lea', I knocked at my lord's chamber door, 25 But ne'er a word wad he speak to me. But slowly, slowly, rose he up, And slowly, slowly, cam he down, And when he saw me set on my horse, He caused his drums and trumpets soun. 30 "Now fare ye weel my goodly palace, And fare ye weel, my children three; God grant your father grace to love you, Far more than ever he loved me." He thocht that I was like himsel, 35 That had a woman in every hall; But I could swear by the heavens clear, I never loved man but himsel.