Page:Tragedy of Gill Morice.pdf/6

 there he aw brave Gill Morice, kaiming his yellow hair Nae wonder, nae wonder. Gill Mor my lady lady lo’ed the well, The fairet part of my body, is blacker than thy heel: Yet ne’ertheles now Gill Morice, for a’ thy great beauty, Ye’s rue the day that e’er ye was born, that head hall gae with me. Now he has drawn his truty word, and lait on a traw, And through Gill Morrice fair body, he's gar'd cauld iron gae And he has ta’en Gill Morice’s head, and et it on a pear. The meanet man in a’ the train has got that head to bear. And he has lifted Gill Morice up, and laid him acros a teed, And brought him to his painted bower, and laid him on a bed. The lady at on catle wa' beheld baith dale and down, And there he aw Gill Morice’s head, came trailing to the town, Far better I lo’e that bloody head, but and that bloody hair, Than Lord Barnard and a’ his lands