Page:Tragedy of Gill Morice.pdf/3

 Gie o’er ic thoughts I would you red, for fear you hould be ta’en. Hat, hate, I ay, gae to the ha’, bid her her come here with peed; If ye refue my high command, I’ll gar your body bleed. Gae bid her tak this gay mantle, its a goud but the hem. Bid her come to the good green wood, and bring nane but her lane. And there it is a ilken ark, her ain hand sew’d the leeve, And bid her come to Gill Morice, peir nae bauld baron’s leave. Yes, I will gae your black erand, though it be to thy cot, Sin' ye by me will not be warn’d, in it ye will find frot. The baron he’s a man of might, he ne’er could bide a taunt, And yu will find before its night, how ma’ ye hae to vaunt Now fin’ I maun your erand rin, fae fair againt my my will, I’fe mak a vow and keep it true, it hall be done for ill. O when he came to brigs broken, he bent his bow and wam,