6 O he lookit ower his left shoulder, And saw ane of the stable-grooms: ‘Go take the sillie poor harper’s mear, And stable her by my Wanton Brown.’ 7 And aye he harpit, and aye he carpit, Till a’ the nobles fell on the floor, And aye he harpit, and aye he carpit, Till they forgot the key of the stable-door. 8 And aye he harpit, and aye he carpit, Till a’ the nobles fell fast asleep; He has taen his harp upon his back, And doon the stair did softly creep. 9 He has taen a halter frae his hose, And o his purpose did not fail; He coost a wap on Wanton’s nose, And tyed her to his ain mear’s tail. 10 He ca’d her through at the bye-yett, Through mony a syre and mony a hole; She never loot Wanton licht till she Was at Lochmaben, at her foal. 11 And she came oer Lochmaben heights, Wi mony a nicker and mony a sneeze, And waukend the silly poor harper’s wife, As she was a sleeping at her ease. 12 ‘Rise up, rise up, ye servant-lass, Let in the maister and the mear;’ ‘By my sooth,’ quoth the servant-lass, ‘I think my maister be na here.’ 13 Up then rose the servant-lass, And lookit through a wee, wee hole; ‘By my sooth,’ quoth the servant-lass, ‘Our mear has gotten a waly foal.’ 14 ‘Ye clatter, ye clatter, ye servant-lass, It is the moon shines in your ee;’ ‘By my sooth,’ quoth the servant-lass, ‘It’s mair than ever her ain will be.’ 16 It’s whan the stable-groom awoke, Put a’ the nobles in a fear; King Henerie’s Wanton Brown was stown, And Oh! the silly poor harper’s mear. 16 Out then spak the silly poor harper, Says, Oh, this loss I douna thole! In England fair a guid grey mear, In fair Scotland a guid cout-foal. 17 ‘Haud your tongue, ye sillie poor harper, And wi your carping let me be; Here’s ten pounds for your auld gray mear, And a weel paid foal it’s be to thee!’ 18 And O the silly poor harper’s wife, She’s aye first up in Lochmaben toun; She’s stealing the corn and stealing the hay, And wappin it oer to Wanton Broun. * * * * * E Buchan’s MSS, I, 35; Dixon, Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads, p. 37, Percy Society, vol. xvii. 1 There was a jolly harper-man, That harped aye frae toun to toun; A wager he made, with two knights he laid To steal King Henry’s Wanton Brown. 2 Sir Roger he wagered five ploughs o land, Sir Charles wagered five thousand pound, And John he’s taen the deed in hand, To steal King Henry’s Wanton Brown. 3 He’s taen his harp into his hand, And he gaed harping thro the toun, And as the king in his palace sat, His ear was touched wi the soun. 4 ‘Come in, come in, ye harper-man, Some o your harping let me hear;’ ‘Indeed, my liege, and by your grace, I’d rather hae stabling to my mare.’