17 Saies, Whether haue you left w_i_th me Yo_u_r braclett or yo_u_r gloue? Or are you returned backe againe To know more of my loue?' 18 Glasgerryon swore a full great othe, By oake and ashe and thorne, 'Lady, I was neuer in yo_u_r chamber Sith the time that I was borne.' 19 'O then it was yo_u_r litle foote-page Falsly hath beguiled me:' And then shee pulld forth a litle pen-kniffe, _Tha_t hanged by her knee, Says, There shall neuer noe churlës blood Spring w_i_thin my body. 20 But home then went Glasgerryon, A woe man, good [Lord], was hee; Sayes, Come hither, thou Iacke, my boy, Come thou hither to me. 21 Ffor if I had killed a man to-night, Iacke, I wold tell it thee; But if I haue not killed a man to-night, Iacke, thou hast killed three! 22 And he puld out his bright browne sword, And dryed it on his sleeue, And he smote off that lither ladds head, And asked noe man noe leaue. 23 He sett the swords poynt till his brest, The pumill till a stone; Thorrow _tha_t falsenese of _tha_t lither ladd These three liues werne all gone. B Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 93, taken from the recitation of an old woman by Professor Scott, of Aberdeen, and "somewhat improved" by a fragment communicated by the Rev. William Gray, of Lincoln. 1 Glenkindie was ance a harper gude, He harped to the king; And Glenkindie was ance the best harper That ever harpd on a string. 2 He'd harpit a fish out o saut water, Or water out o a stane, Or milk out o a maiden's breast, That bairn had never nane. 3 He's taen his harp intil his hand, He harpit and he sang, And ay as he harpit to the king, To haud him unthought lang. 4 'I'll gie you a robe, Glenkindie, A robe o the royal pa, Gin ye will harp i the winter's night Afore my nobles a'.' * * * * * * * 5 He's taen his harp intill his hand, He's harpit them a' asleep, Except it was the young countess, That love did waukin keep. 6 And first he has harpit a grave tune, And syne he has harpit a gay, And mony a sich atween hands I wat the lady gae. 7 Says, Whan day is dawen, and cocks hae crawen, And wappit their wings sae wide, It's ye may come to my bower-door, And streek you by my side. 8 But look that ye tell na Gib, your man, For naething that ye dee; For, an ye tell him Gib, your man, He'll beguile baith you and me. 9 He's taen his harp intill his hand, He harpit and he sang, And he is hame to Gib, his man, As fast as he could gang.