Four and twenty bonny boys War playing at the ba'; Then up and started sweet Sir Hugh, The flower amang them a'. He hit the ba' a kick wi's fit, And kept it wi' his knee, That up into the Jew's window He gart the bonny ba' flee. 'Cast doun the ba' to me, fair maid, Cast doun the ba' to me'; 'O ne'er a bit o' the ba' ye get Till ye cum up to me.' 'Cum up, sweet Hugh, cum up, dear Hugh, Cum up and get the ba''; 'I canna cum, I darna cum, Without my playferes twa.' 'Cum up, sweet Hugh, cum up, dear Hugh, Cum up and play wi' me'; 'I canna cum, I darna cum, Without my playferes three.' She's gane into the Jew's garden, Where the grass grew lang and green; She pow'd an apple red and white, To wyle the young thing in. She wyl'd him into ae chamber, She wyl'd him into twa; She wyl'd him to her ain chamber, The fairest o' them a'. She laid him on a dressing-board Where she did sometimes dine; She put a penknife in his heart And dressed him like a swine. Then out and cam the thick, thick blude, Then out and cam the thin; Then out and cam the bonny heart's blude, Where a' the life lay in. She row'd him in a cake of lead, Bad him lie still and sleep; She cast him into the Jew's draw-well, Was fifty fadom deep. She's tane her mantle about her head, Her pike-staff in her hand; And prayed Heaven to be her guide Unto some uncouth land. His mither she cam to the Jew's castle, And there ran thryse about: 'O sweet Sir Hugh, gif ye be here, I pray ye to me speak.' She cam into the Jew's garden, And there ran thryse about: 'O sweet Sir Hugh, gif ye be here, I pray ye to me speak.' She cam unto the Jew's draw-well, And there ran thryse about: 'O sweet Sir Hugh, gif ye be here, I pray ye to me speak.' 'How can I speak, how dare I speak, How can I speak to thee? The Jew's penknife sticks in my heart, I canna speak to thee. 'Gang hame, gang hame, O mither dear, And shape my winding-sheet, And at the birks of Mirryland town There you and I shall meet.' When bells war rung and Mass was sung, And a' men bound for bed, Every mither had her son, But sweet Sir Hugh was dead. THE GYPSY COUNTESS There come seven gypsies on a day, Oh, but they sang bonny, O! And they sang so sweet, and they sang so clear, Down cam the earl's ladie, O. They gave to her the nutmeg, And they gave to her the ginger; But she gave to them a far better thing, The seven gold rings off her fingers. When the earl he did come home, Enquiring for his ladie, One of the servants made this reply, 'She's awa with the gypsie laddie.' 'Come saddle for me the brown,' he said, 'For the black was ne'er so speedy, And I will travel night and day Till I find out my ladie.'