Part 17 (1/2)

He then bethought him of his bugle-horn, Which hung low down to his knee; He set his horn unto his mouth, And blew out weak blasts three.

Then Little John, when hearing him, As he sat under the tree, ”I fear my master is near dead, He blows so wearily.”

Then Little John to fair Kirkley is gone, As fast as he can dri'e; But when he came to Kirkley-hall, He broke locks two or three:

Untilt he came bold Robin to, Then he fell on his knee: ”A boon, a boon,” cries Little John, ”Master, I beg of thee.”

”What is that boon,” quoth Robin Hood, ”Little John, thou begs of me?”

”It is to burn fair Kirkley-hall, And all their nunnery.”

”Now nay, now nay,” quoth Robin Hood, ”That boon I'll not grant thee; I never hurt woman in all my life, Nor man in woman's company.

”I never hurt fair maid in all my time, Nor at my end shall it be; But give me my bent bow in my hand, And a broad arrow I'll let flee; And where this arrow is taken up, There shall my grave digg'd be.

”Lay me a green sod under my head, And another at my feet; And lay my bent bow by my side, Which was my music sweet; And make my grave of gravel and green, Which is most right and meet.

”Let me have length and breadth enough, With under my head a green sod; That they may say, when I am dead, Here lies bold Robin Hood.”

These words they readily promised him, Which did bold Robin please; And there they buried bold Robin Hood, Near to the fair Kirkleys.

ROMANTIC AND DOMESTIC BALLADS.

ANNIE OF LOCHROYAN.

”O wha will shoe my bonny feet?

Or wha will glove my hand?

Or wha will lace my middle jimp, Wi' a new-made London band?

”And wha will kame my yellow hair, Wi' a new-made siller kame?

And wha will be my bairn's father, Till love Gregory come haine?”

”Your father'll shoe your bonny feet, Your mother glove your hand; Your sister lace your middle jimp, Wi' a new-made London band;

”Mysel' will kame your yellow hair Wi' a new-made siller kame; And the Lord will be the bairn's father Till Gregory come hame.”

”O gin I had a bonny s.h.i.+p, And men to sail wi' me, It's I wad gang to my true lore, Sin' he winna come to me!”

Her father's gi'en her a bonny s.h.i.+p, And sent her to the strand; She's ta'en her young son in her arms, And turn'd her back to land.

She hadna been on the sea sailing, About a month or more, Till landed has she her bonny s.h.i.+p, Near to her true love's door.

The night was dark, an' the wind was cauld, And her love was fast asleep, And the bairn that was in her twa arms, Fu' sair began to greet.

Lang stood she at her true love's door And lang tirl'd at the pin; At length up gat his fause mother, Says, ”Wha's that wad be in?”

”O it is Annie of Lochroyan, Your love, come o'er the sea, But and your young son in her arms, Sae open the door to me.”

”Awa, awa, ye ill woman, Ye're nae come here for gude; Ye're but a witch, or a vile warlock, Or mermaiden o' the flood!”

”I'm nae a witch, nor vile warlock, Nor mermaiden,” said she; ”But I am Annie of Lochroyan; O open the door to me!”