And Jammie’s turnd him round about, He’s done a manly feat: ‘Get up, get up, ye dirty slut, And gie to me my meat.’ * * * * * ‘Say’t oer again, say’t oer again, Ye thief, that I may hear ye; I’se gar ye dance upon a peat, Gin I sall cum but near ye.’ The story of the ballad was in all likelihood traditionally derived from the good old tale of the wife lapped in Morrel’s skin.[91] Here a husband, who has put up with a great deal from an excessively restive wife, flays his old horse Morrell and salts the hide, takes the shrew down cellar, and, after a sharp contest for mastery, beats her with birchen rods till she swoons, then wraps her in the salted hide: by which process the woman is perfectly reformed.[92] A Jamieson’s Popular Ballads, I, 319. “From the recitation of a friend of the editor’s in Morayshire.” 1 She wadna bake, she wadna brew, Hollin, green hollin For spoiling o her comely hue. Bend your bow, Robin 2 She wadna wash, she wadna wring, For spoiling o her gay goud ring. 3 Robin he’s gane to the fald And catched a weather by the spauld. 4 And he has killed his weather black And laid the skin upon her back. 5 ‘I darena pay you, for your kin, But I can pay my weather’s skin. 6 ‘I darena pay my lady’s back, But I can pay my weather black.’ 7 ‘O Robin, Robin, lat me be, And I’ll a good wife be to thee. 8 ‘It’s I will wash, and I will wring, And never mind my gay goud ring. 9 ‘It’s I will bake, and I will brew, And never mind my comely hue. 10 ‘And gin ye thinkna that eneugh, I’se tak the goad and I’se ca the pleugh. 11 ‘Gin ye ca for mair whan that is doon, I’ll sit i the neuk and I’ll dight your shoon.’ B Harris MS., fol. 26 b, No 25, from Miss Harris. 1 Robin he’s gane to the wast, Hollin, green hollin He’s waled a wife amang the warst. Bend your bows, Robin 2 She could neither bake nor brew, For spoilin o her bonnie hue. 3 She could neither spin nor caird, But fill the cup, an sair the laird. 4 She could neither wash nor wring, For spoilin o her gay goud ring. 5 Robin’s sworn by the rude That he wald mak an ill wife gude. 6 Robin he’s gaun to the fauld, An taen his blaik [wither] by the spauld. 7 He’s taen aff his wither’s skin An he has preened his ain wife in. 8 ‘I daurna beat my wife, for a’ her kin, But I may beat my wither’s skin.’ 9 ‘I can baith bake an brew; What care I for my bonnie hue? 10 ‘I can baith wash an wring; What care I for my gay gowd ring? 11 ‘I can baith spin an caird; Lat onybodie sair the laird.’ 12 Robin’s sworn by the rude That he has made an ill wife gude. C