Page:Mournful tragedy of Gill Morice.pdf/7

(7) Far mair I that bloody head,

but and that bloody hair,

Than Lord Barnard, and a' his lands,

as they lie here and there.

And ſhe has ta’en her Gill Morice,

and kiſs'd mouth and chin,

I once was fu' Gill Morice,

as hip is o' the ſtane.

I got thee in my father's houſe,

wi' meikie ſin and ſhame,

And brought thee up in good Green-wood,

under the heavy rain.

Oft have I by thy cradle ſat,

and ſoudly ſeen thee ſleep,

But now I'll go about thy grave,

the fa't tears for to weep.

And fyne ſhe kiſs'd his bloody cheek,

and fyne his bloody chin!

Better I  Gill Morice

than a' my kith and kin.

Away, away, ye ill woman!

an ill death may ye die;

Gin I had kend he'd been your ſon,

he'd ne'er been ſlain for me.

Upbraid me not, my Barnard,

upbraid me not for ſhame!

Wi' that ſame ſpear, Oh, pierce my heart!

and put me out of pain.