So thro’ every shoulder they’ve bored a bore, And thro’ every bore they’ve putten a tree, And they have made him trail the wine And spices on his fair bodie. IV They’ve casten him in a dungeon deep, Where he could neither hear nor see; And fed him on nought but bread and water Till he for hunger’s like to die. V This Moor he had but ae daughter, Her name was callèd Susie Pye, And every day as she took the air She heard Young Beichan sadly crie: VI ‘My hounds they all run masterless, My hawks they flie from tree to tree, My youngest brother will heir my lands; Fair England again I’ll never see! VII ‘O were I free as I hae been, And my ship swimming once more on sea, I’d turn my face to fair England And sail no more to a strange countrie!’ VIII Young Beichan’s song for thinking on All night she never closed her e’e; She’s stown[327] the keys from her father’s head Wi’ mickle gold and white monie. IX And she has open’d the prison doors: I wot she open’d twa or three Ere she could come Young Beichan at, He was lock’d up so curiouslie. X ‘O hae ye any lands or rents, Or cities in your own countrie, Cou’d free you out of prison strong And cou’d maintain a lady free?’-- XI ‘O London city is my own, And other cities twa or three; I’ll give them all to the lady fair That out of prison will set me free.’ XII O she has bribed her father’s men Wi’ mickle gold and white monie, She’s gotten the keys of the prison strong, And she has set Young Beichan free. XIII She’s fed him upon the good spice-cake, The Spanish wine and the malvoisie; She’s broken a ring from off her finger And to Beichan half of it gave she. XIV ‘Go set your foot on good shipboard, And haste you back to your own countrie, But before that seven years has an end, Come back again, love, and marry me.’ XV It was long or seven years had an end She long’d full sore her love to see; So she’s set her foot on good ship-board And turn’d her back on her own countrie. XVI She’s sailèd east, she’s sailèd west, She’s sailèd all across the sea, And when she came to fair England The bells were ringing merrilie. XVII ‘O whose are a’ yon flock o’ sheep? And whose are a’ yon flock o’ kye[328]? And whose are a’ yon pretty castles, That I so often do pass by?’ XVIII ‘O they are a’ Lord Beichan’s sheep, And they are a’ Lord Beichan’s kye, And they are a’ Lord Beichan’s castles That you so often do pass by. XIX ‘O there’s a wedding in yonder ha’, Has lasted thirty days and three; Lord Beichan will not bed wi’ his bride For love of one that’s ’yond the sea.’ XX