English and Scottish Ballads, Volume VIII

Ballads, English -- England -- Texts; Ballads, Scots -- Scotland -- Texts

Sich another clothyng have I not sene ofte,[L73]
    When alle the gret cumpany come ridand to the crofte;
    Tibbe on a gray mare was sett up on lofte;                        75
    Upon a secke full of senvye, for she shuld sitt softe,
        And ledde tille the gappe:
      Fforther wold she not than,[L78-81]
      For the luf of no man,
      Tille Coppull, hir brode hen,                                   80
        Were brozt in to hir lappe.

    A gay gyrdull Tibbe hade [on], borowed for the nones,[L82]
    And a garland on hir hed, full of ruell bones,
    And a broch on hir brest, full of saphre stones,
    The holy rode tokynyng was writon for the nones:[L85]             85
        For no spendyng they [had] spare[d].[L86]
      When joly Jeynken wist hir thare,
      He gurde so fast his gray mare,
      That she lete a fowkyn fare
        At the rerewarde.                                             90

    "I make a vow," quod Tibbe, "Coppull is comyn of kynde;[L91-99]
    I shalle falle fyve in the felde, and I my flayle fynde."
    "I make a vow," quod Hudde, "I shalle not leve behynde;
    May I mete with Lyarde, or Bayarde the blynde,
        I wot I schalle theym greve."                                 95
      "I make a vow," quod Haukyn,
      "May I mete with Daukyn,
      Ffor alle his rich kyn,
        His flayle I shalle hym reve."

    "I make a vow," quod Gregge, "Tib, [son] thu shal se             100
    Which of alle the bachelery grauntid is the gre.
    I shalle skomfet hem alle, for the luf of thé,
    In what place that I come, thei shall have dout of me.
        Ffor I am armyd at the fole;[L104-108]
      In myn armys I ber well                                        105
      A doz troz and a pele,
      A sadull withowt panele,
        With a flece of wole."

    "Now go down," quod Dudman, "and bere me bet abowte:[L109-117]
    I make a vow thei shall abye that I fynde owte.                  110
    Have I twyse or thrise riden thruz the rowte,
    In what place that I come, of me thei shall ha[ve] doute.
        Myn armys bene so clere:
      I bar a ridell and a rake,
      Poudurt with the brenyng drake,                                115
      And thre cantels of a cake
        In ilke a cornere."

    "I make a vow," quod Tirry, "and swere be my crede,
    Saw thu never yong boy forther his body bede:
    Ffor when thei fyzt fastest, and most er in drede,               120
    I shalle take Tib be the hond and away hir lede.
        Then byn myn armys best:[L122-126]
      I ber a pilch of ermyn,
      Poudert with a catt skyn;
      The chefe is of pechmyn,                                       125
        That stondis on the creste."

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

English and Scottish Ballads, Volume VIII

No reviews yet