Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1918.djvu/468

 ANONYMOUS

'My mouth it is full cold, Marg'ret;

It has the smell, now, of the ground; And if I kiss thy comely mouth,

Thy days of life will not be lang.

'O cocks are crowing a merry midnight, I wot the wild fowls are boding day;

Give me my faith and troth again, And let me fare me on my way.'

'Thy faith and troth thou sallna get, And our true love sail never twin,

Until ye tell what comes o' women, I wot, who die in strong traivelling? '

'Their beds are made in the heavens high, Down at the foot of our good Lord's knee,

Weel set about wi' gillyflowers, I wot, sweet company for to see.

'O cocks are crowing a merry midnight;

I wot the wild fowls are boding day; The psalms of heaven will soon be sung,

And I, ere now, will be miss'd away.'

Then she has taken a crystal wand,

And she has stroken her troth thereon;

She has given it him at the shot-window, Wi' mony a sad sigh and heavy groan.

'I thank ye, Marg'ret; I thank ye, Marg'ret;

And ay I thank ye heartilie; Gin ever the dead come for the quick,

Be sure, Marg'ret, I'll come for thee.'

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