Volume 8 / Book 8 — BOOK VIII. (continued 2)

There was a battle in the north, And nobles there was many, And they hae kill'd Sir Charlie Hay, And they laid the wyte on Geordie. O he has written a lang letter, 5 He sent it to his lady; "Ye maun cum up to Enbrugh town, To see what word's o' Geordie." When first she look'd the letter on She was baith red and rosy, 10 But she had na read a word but twa, Till she wallow't like a lily. "Gar get to me my gude grey steed, My menzie a' gae wi' me, For I shall neither eat nor drink, 15 Till Enbrugh town shall see me." And she has mountit her gude grey steed Her menzie a' gaed wi' her; And she did neither eat nor drink, Till Enbrugh town did see her. 20 And first appear'd the fatal block, And syne the aix to head him, And Geordie cumin down the stair, And bands o' airn upon him. But tho' he was chain'd in fetters strang, 25 O' airn and steel sae heavy, There was na ane in a' the court, Sae bra' a man as Geordie. O she's down on her bended knee, I wat she's pale and weary,— 30 "O pardon, pardon, noble king, And gie me back my dearie. "I hae born seven sons to my Geordie dear, The seventh ne'er saw his daddie; O pardon, pardon, noble king, 35 Pity a waefu' lady!" "Gar bid the headin-man mak haste," Our king reply'd fu' lordly;— "O noble king, tak a' that's mine, But gie me back my Geordie." 40 The Gordons cam, and the Gordons ran, And they were stark and steady; And ay the word amang them a', Was, "Gordons, keep you ready." An aged lord at the king's right hand, 45 Says, "Noble king, but hear me; Gar her tell down five thousand pound, And gie her back her dearie." Some gae her marks, some gae her crowns, Some gae her dollars many; 50 And she's tell'd down five thousand pound, And she's gotten again her dearie. She blinkit blythe in her Geordie's face, Says, "Dear I've bought thee, Geordie; But there sud been bluidy bouks on the green, 55 Or I had tint my laddie." He claspit her by the middle sma', And he kist her lips sae rosy; "The fairest flower o' woman-kind, Is my sweet, bonnie lady!" 60

And soon she came to the water broad, Nor boat nor barge was ready; She turned her horse's head to the flood, And swam through at Queensferry.

There was a battle in the North, And rebels there were monie; And monie ane got broken heads, And taken was my Geordie. My Geordie O, my Geordie O, 5 O the love I bear to Geordie; For the very grund I walk upon, Bears witness I loe Geordie. As she gaed up the tolbooth stair, The cripples there stood monie; 10 And she dealt the red gowd them among, To pray for her love Geordie. And whan she cam into the hall, The nobles there stood monie; And ilka ane stood hat on head, 15 But hat in hand stood Geordie. Up bespak a Norlan lord, I wat he spak na bonnie,— "If ye'll stay here a little while, Ye'll see Geordie hangit shortly." 20 Then up bespak a baron bold, And O but he spak bonnie,— "If ye'll pay doun five hundred crowns, Ye'se get your true-love Geordie." Some lent her guineas, some lent her crowns, 25 Some lent her shillings monie; And she's paid doun five hundred crowns, And she's gotten her bonnie love Geordie. When she was mounted on her hie steed, And on ahint her Geordie, 30 Nae bird on the brier e'er sang sae clear, As the young knight and his ladie. "My Geordie O, my Geordie O, O the love I bear to Geordie; The very stars in the firmament 35 Bear tokens I loe Geordie."

The pawky auld carle came o'er the lee, Wi' many goode'ens and days to me, Saying, "Goodwife, for your courtesie, "Will you lodge a silly poor man?" The night was cauld, the carle was wat, 5 And down ayont the ingle he sat; My daughters shoulders he gan to clap, And cadgily ranted and sang. "O wow!" quo' he, "were I as free, As first when I saw this country, 10 How blyth and merry wad I be, And I wad never think lang." He grew canty, and she grew fain, But little did her auld minny ken, What thir slee twa togither were say'ng, 15 When wooing they were sae thrang. "And O!" quo' he, "ann ye were as black, As e'er the crown of my dady's hat, 'Tis I wad lay thee by my back, And awa' wi' me thou shou'd gang." 20 "And O!" quo' she, "ann I were as white, As e'er the snaw lay on the dyke, I'd clead me braw, and lady-like, And awa with thee I'd gang." Between the twa was made a plot; 25 They raise a wee before the cock, And wilily they shot the lock, And fast to the bent are they gane. Up the morn the auld wife raise, And at her leisure pat on her claise; 30 Syne to the servant's bed she gaes, To speer for the silly poor man. She gaed to the bed where the beggar lay, The strae was cauld, he was away; She clapt her hands, cry'd "Waladay! 35 For some of our gear will be gane." Some ran to coffers, and some to kists, But nought was stown that cou'd be mist: She danc'd her lane, cry'd, "Praise be blest! I have lodg'd a leal poor man. 40 "Since nathing's awa', as we can learn, The kirn's to kirn, and milk to earn; Gae butt the house, lass, and waken my bairn, And bid her come quickly ben." The servant gade where the daughter lay, 45 The sheets was cauld, she was away; And fast to her goodwife can say, "She's aff with the gaberlunzie-man." "O fy gar ride, and fy gar rin, And haste ye, find these traytors again; 50 For she's be burnt, and he's be slain, The wearifu' gaberlunzie-man." Some rade upo' horse, some ran a-fit, The wife was wood, and out o' her wit; She cou'd na gang, nor yet cou'd she sit, 55 But ay she curs'd and she ban'd. Mean time far hind out o'er the lee, Fu' snug in a glen, where nane cou'd see, The twa, with kindly sport and glee, Cut frae a new cheese a whang. 60 The priving was good, it pleas'd them baith; To lo'e her for aye he gae her his aith; Quo' she, "To leave thee, I will be laith, My winsome gaberlunzie-man. "O kend my minny I were wi' you, 65 Illfardly wad she crook her mou; Sic a poor man she'd never trow, After the gaberlunzie-man." "My dear," quo' he, "ye're yet o'er young, And ha' na lear'd the beggars tongue, 70 To follow me frae town to town, And carry the gaberlunzie on. "Wi' cauk and keel, I'll win your bread, And spindles and whorles for them wha need, Whilk is a gentil trade indeed, 75 To carry the gaberlunzie, O. I'll bow my leg, and crook my knee, And draw a black clout o'er my eye; A cripple or blind they will ca' me, While we shall be merry and sing."

Of alle these kene conqueroures to carpe is oure kynde; Off fel feghtyng folke ferly we fynde; The turnament of Totenham have I in mynde; Hit were harme sich hardynesse were holdyn behynde, In story as we rede 5 Off Hawkyn, of Harry, Off Tymkyn, of Tyrry, Off thaym that were duzty And hardy in dede. Hit befel in Totenham on a dere day, 10 Ther was made a shurtyng be the hye way; Thider come alle the men of that contray, Off Hisselton, of Hygate, and of Hakenay, And alle the swete swynkers: Ther hoppyd Hawkyn, 15 Ther dawnsid Dawkyn, Ther trumpyd Tymkyn, And [all] were true drynkers. Tille the day was gon and evesong paste, That thai shulde reckyn thaire skot and thaire counts caste: 20 Perkyn the potter in to the prees paste, And seid, "Rondill the refe, a dozter thu haste, Tibbe thi dere. Therfor fayne wete wolde I, Whether these felows or I, 25 Or which of alle this bachelery, Were the best worthy to wed hir to his fere." Upsterte the gadlyngs with thaire lang staves, And seid, "Rondyll the refe, lo, this lad raves; How prudly among us thy dozter he craves; 30 And we ar richer men then he, and more gode haves, Off catell and of corne." Then seid Perkyn, "To Tibbe I have hyzt, That I will be alle wey redy in my rizt, With a fleyle for to fyght, this day seven nyzt, 35 And thouz hit were to morne." Then seid Rondill the refe, "Ever be he waryd That aboute this carpyng lenger wolde be taryd: I wolde not my dozter that she were myskaryd, But at hir moost worship I wolde she were maryd. 40 [Ther]ffor the turnament shalle begynne This day seven nyzt, With a flayle for to fyzt: And he that is moste of myzt Shalle brok hir with wynne. 45 "He that berys hym best in the turnament, Him shal be grauntid the gre be the comyn assent, Ffor to wynne my dozter with duztynesse of dent, And Coppull, my brode hen, that was brozt out of Kent, And my donned cow. 50 Ffor no spence will I spare, Ffor no catell wille I care; He shalle have my gray mare, And my spottyd sowe." Ther was mony a bolde lad theire bodys to bede: 55 Than thei toke theire leve and hamwarde thei zede, And alle the weke afterward thei graythed her wede, Tille hit come to the day that thei shulde do thaire dede. Thei armyd theym in mattes, Thei sett on theire nolles 60 Gode blake bolles, Ffor to kepe theire pollis Ffor batteryng of battes. Thei sewed hem in schepe skynnes, for thei shuld not brest, And everilkon of hem a blac hatte in stidde of a crest, 65 A baskett or a panyer before on thaire brest, And a flayle in theire honde; for to fyzt prest, Forth con thei fare. Ther was kid mycull fors, Who shulde best fend his cors; 70 He that hade no gode hors, Borowyd hym a mare. Sich another clothyng have I not sene ofte, When alle the gret cumpany come ridand to the crofte; Tibbe on a gray mare was sett up on lofte; 75 Upon a secke full of senvye, for she shuld sitt softe, And ledde tille the gappe: Fforther wold she not than, For the luf of no man, Tille Coppull, hir brode hen, 80 Were brozt in to hir lappe. A gay gyrdull Tibbe hade [on], borowed for the nones, And a garland on hir hed, full of ruell bones, And a broch on hir brest, full of saphre stones, The holy rode tokynyng was writon for the nones: 85 For no spendyng they [had] spare[d]. When joly Jeynken wist hir thare, He gurde so fast his gray mare, That she lete a fowkyn fare At the rerewarde. 90 "I make a vow," quod Tibbe, "Coppull is comyn of kynde; I shalle falle fyve in the felde, and I my flayle fynde." "I make a vow," quod Hudde, "I shalle not leve behynde; May I mete with Lyarde, or Bayarde the blynde, I wot I schalle theym greve." 95 "I make a vow," quod Haukyn, "May I mete with Daukyn, Ffor alle his rich kyn, His flayle I shalle hym reve." "I make a vow," quod Gregge, "Tib, [son] thu shal se 100 Which of alle the bachelery grauntid is the gre. I shalle skomfet hem alle, for the luf of thé, In what place that I come, thei shall have dout of me. Ffor I am armyd at the fole; In myn armys I ber well 105 A doz troz and a pele, A sadull withowt panele, With a flece of wole." "Now go down," quod Dudman, "and bere me bet abowte: I make a vow thei shall abye that I fynde owte.110 Have I twyse or thrise riden thruz the rowte, In what place that I come, of me thei shall ha[ve] doute. Myn armys bene so clere: I bar a ridell and a rake, Poudurt with the brenyng drake, 115 And thre cantels of a cake In ilke a cornere." "I make a vow," quod Tirry, "and swere be my crede, Saw thu never yong boy forther his body bede: Ffor when thei fyzt fastest, and most er in drede, 120 I shalle take Tib be the hond and away hir lede. Then byn myn armys best: I ber a pilch of ermyn, Poudert with a catt skyn; The chefe is of pechmyn, 125 That stondis on the creste." "I make a vow," quod Dudman, "and swere be the stra, Whils me ys left my mer, thu gets hir not swa. For she is wel shapyn, as lizt as a ra; Ther is no capull in this myle before her will ga. 130 She wil me not begyle; I dar sothely say, She will be[re me] on Monday Ffro Hissiltoun to Haknay, Nozt other halfe myle." 135 "I make a vow," quod Perkyn, "thu carpis of cold rost. I wil wyrke wiselier without any boost. Ffyve of the best capuls that ar in this host, I will hem lede away be another coost:" And then lowz Tibbe. 140 "Weloo, boyes, here is he That will fyzt and not fle: Ffor I am in my jolyté: I go forth, Tibbe." When thai had thaire othes made, forth can thei hie, 145 With flayles and harnys and trumpis made of tre. Ther were all the bachilers of that contre: Thei were dizt in aray, as thaim self wolde be. Theire baner was ful bryzt, Off an olde raton fell; 150 The chefe was of a ploo-mell, And the schadow of a bell, Quarterd with the mone lizt. I wot it was no childer gamme when thei to geder mett, When ilke a freke in the felde on his felow bette, 155 And leid on stifly—for no thyng wold thei lett— And fozt ferly fast, til theyre hors swett. And few wordis were spokyn. Ther were flayles al to-flaterde, Ther were scheldis al to-claterde, 160 Bolles and disshis al to-baterde, And mony hedis ther were brokyn. Ther was clenkyng of cart sadils, and clatering of cannes; Off fel frekis in the feeld brokyn were thaire fannes; Off sum were the hedis brokyn, of sum the brayn pannes, 165 And evel were they besene er they went thannes, With swippyng of swipylles. The laddis were so wery forfozt, That thai myzt fyzt no more on loft, But creppid aboute in the crofte, 170 As thei were crokid crypils. Perkyn was so wery that he began to lowte: "Helpe, Hudde, I am ded in this ilke rowte; An hors, for forty penys, a gode and a stoute, That I may liztly cum of my [noye] owte. 175 Ffor no cost wil I spare." He stert up as a snayle, And hent a capull be the tayle, And rauzt of Daukyn his flayle, And wan hym a mare. 180 "Perkyn wan fyve, and Hudde wan twa. Glad and blith thai were that thei had don sa; Thai wolde have thaim to Tibbe, and present hir with tha; The capuls were so wery that thei myzt not ga, But stille can thei stonde. 185 "Alas!" quod Hud, "my joye I lese: Me had lever then a ston of chese That dere Tibbe had alle these, And wist hit were my sonde." Perkyn turnyd hym aboute in that ilke throng; 190 He fouzt fresshly, for he had rest hym long. He was war of Tirry take Tib be the hond, And wold have lad hir away with a luf-song; And Perkyn after ran, And of his capull he hym drowe, 195 And gaf hym of his flayle inowe. Then "Te he," quod Tib, and lowe: "Ze ar a duzty man." Thus thai tuggat and thei ruggat, til hit was ny nyzt. Alle the wyves of Totenham come to se that sizt, 200 To fech home thaire husbondis that were thaym trouthe-plizt, With wispys and kexis, that was a rich lizt, Her husbondis home to fech. And sum they had in armys, That were febull wreches, 205 And sum on whelebarowes, And sum on criches. They gedurt Perkyn aboute on every side, And graunt hym ther the gre, the more was his pride. Tib and he with gret myrth hamward can ride, 210 And were al nyzt togedur til the morow tide. And to chirch thay went. So wel his nedis he hase spedde, That dere Tibbe he shall wedde; The chefe men that hir thider ledde 215 Were of the turnament. To that rich fest come mony for the nonys; Sum come hiphalt, and sum trippande thither on the stonys; Sum with a staffe in his honde, and sum too at onys; Of sum were the hedis brokyn, of sum the schulder bonys. 220 With sorow come they thidur. Woo was Hawkyn, wo was Harry, Woo was Tomkyn, woo was Tirry, And so was al the company, But zet thei come togeder. 225 At that fest were thei servyd in a rich aray: Every fyve and fyve had a cokeney. And so they sate in jolite al the long daye; Tibbe at nyzt, I trow, hade a sympull aray. Micull myrth was thaym among: 230 In every corner of the howse Was melodye deliciouse, Ffor to here preciouse, Off six mennys song.

Therfor faine wyt wold I, Whych of all thys bachelery Were best worthye To wed hur to hys fere.

If that it schuld be thys day sevenyzt, Or elles zet to morn.

For cryeng of the men, Forther wold not Tyb then, Tyl scho had hur brode hen, Set in hur lap.

"I wow to God," quoth Herry, "I schal not lefe behynde, May I mete wyth Bernard on Bayard the blynde. Ich man kepe hym out of my wynde, For whatsoever that he be before me I fynde, I wot I schall hym greve." "Wele sayd," quoth Hawkyn, "And I wow," quoth Dawkyn, "May I mete wyth Tomkyn, Hys flayle I schal hym reve."

"I vow to God," quoth Hawkyn, "Yf he have the gowt, Al that I fynde in the felde thrustand here aboute, Have I twyes or thryes redyn thrugh the route, In ych a stede ther thay me se, of me thay schal have doute. When I begyn to play, I make a vowe that I ne schall, But yf Tybbe wyl me call, Or I be thryes don fall, Ryzt onys com away.

Sche wyl me bere, I dar say, On a lang-somerys day.

Of an old rotten fell, The cheveron of a plow-mell.

Among those wery boyes he wrest and he wrang, He threw tham doun to the erth, and thrast them amang, When he saw Tyrry away wyth Tyb fang, And after hym ran.

Wyth wyspes, and kexis, and ryschys there lyzt, To fetch hom ther husbandes that were tham trouth-plyzt. And sum brozt gret harwos Ther husbandes hom to fetch, Sum on dores, and sum on hech, Sum on hyrdyllys, and sum on crech, And sum on whele-barows.

And so was all the bachelary, When thay met togedyr.

And at the last thay went to bed with ful gret deray.

In Auchtirmuchty thair dwelt ane man, An husband, as I hard it tauld, Quha weill could tippill owt a can, And naithir luvit hungir nor cauld. Quhill anis it fell upoun a day, 5 He yokkit his pluch upoun the plane; Gif it be trew as I hard say, The day was foull for wind and rane. He lowsit the pluche at the landis end, And draif his oxin hame at evin; 10 Quhen he come in he lukit bend, And saw the wyf baith dry and clene, And sittand at ane fyre, beik and bauld, With ane fat soup, as I hard say; The man being verry weit and cauld, 15 Betwene thay twa it was na play. Quoth he, "Quhair is my horsis corne? My ox hes naithir hay nor stray; Dame, ye mon to the pluch to morne; I salbe hussy, gif I may." 20 "Husband," quoth scho, "content am I To tak the pluche my day about, Sa ye will reull baith kavis and ky, And all the house baith in and owt. "But sen that ye will husyskep ken, 25 First ye sall sift and syne sall kned; And ay as ye gang but and ben, Luk that the bairnis dryt not the bed. Yeis lay ane soft wisp to the kill; We haif ane deir ferme on o[u]r heid; 30 And ay as ye gang furth and in, Keip weill the gaislingis fra the gled." The wyf was up richt late at evin, I pray God gif her evill to fair! Scho kyrnd the kyrne, and skumd it clene, 35 And left the gudeman bot the bledoch bair. Than in the mornyng up scho gatt, And on hir hairt laid hir disjune; Scho put als mekle in hir lap, As micht haif ser[v]d them baith at nune. 40 Sayis, "Jok, will thou be maister of wark, And thou sall had, and I sall kall; Ise promise thé ane gude new sark, Athir of round claith or of small." Scho lousit oxin aucht or nyne, 45 And hynt ane gad-staff in hir hand; And the gudman raiss eftir syne, And saw the wyf had done command. And caud the gaislingis furth to feid; Thair was bot sevensum of thame all; 50 And by thair cumis the gredy gled, And likkit up five, left him bot twa. Than out he ran in all his mane, How sune he hard the gaislingis cry; Bot than or he come in agane, 55 The calfis brak louss and sowkit the ky. The calvis and ky being met in the lone, The man ran with ane rung to red; Than by thair cumis ane ill-willy cow, And brodit his buttok quhill that it bled. 60 Than hame he ran to an rok of tow, And he satt doun to say the spynning; I trow he lowtit our neir the low, Quoth he, "This wark hes ill begynning." Than to the kyrn that he did stoure, 65 And jumlit at it quhill he swatt: Quhen he had jumlit a full lang houre, The sorrow crap of butter he gatt. Albeit na butter he could gett, Yit he wes cummerit with the kyrne, 70 And syne he het the milk our hett, And sorrow a spark of it wald yirne. Than ben thair come ane gredy sow, I trow he cund hir littil thank; For in scho schot hir mekle mow, 75 And ay scho winkit and scho drank. He cleikit up ane crukit club, And thocht to hitt the sow ane rout; The twa gaislingis the gled had left, That straik dang baith thair harnis out. 80 [He gat his foot upon the spyre, To have gotten the flesche doune to the pat; He fell backward into the fyre, And brack his head on the keming stock. Yit he gat the mekle pat upon the fyre, 85 And gat twa cannes, and ran to the spout; Er he came in, quhat thought ye of that? The fyre brunt aw the pat-a... out.] Than he beur kendling to the kill, But scho start all up in ane low; 90 Quhat evir he hard, quhat evir he saw, That day he had na will to mow. Then he yeid to tak up the bairnis, Thocht to haif fund thame fair and clene; The first that he gat in his armis 95 Was all bedirtin to the ene. The first that he gat in his armis, It was all dirt up to the eine; "The devill cut of thair handes," quoth he, "That fild you all sa fow this strene." 100 He trailit foull scheitis doun the gait, Thought to haif wescht thame on ane stane; The burne wes rissin grit of spait, Away fra him the scheitis hes tane. Then up he gat on ane know heid, 105 On hir to cry, on hir to schout; Scho hard him, and scho hard him not, Bot stoutly steird the stottis about. Scho draif the day unto the night, Scho lousit the pluch, and syne come hame; 110 Scho fand all wrang that sould bene richt, I trow the man thought richt grit schame. Quoth he, "My office I forsaik, For all the dayis of my lyf, For I wald put ane house to wraik, 115 Had I bene twenty dayis gudwyf." Quoth scho, "Weill mote ye bruke your place, For trewlie I will never excep it:" Quoth he, "Feind fall the lyaris face, Bot yit ye may be blyth to get it." 120 Than up scho gat ane mekle rung, And the gudman maid to the doir; Quoth he, "Dame, I sall hald my tung, For and we fecht I'ill get the woir." Quoth he, "Quhen I forsuk my pluche, 125 I trow I but forsuk my seill; And I will to my pluch agane, Ffor I and this howse will nevir do weill."

As I lay musing all alone, A merry tale I thought upon; Now listen a while, and I will you tell Of a fryer that loved a bonny lass well. He came to her when she was going to bed, 5 Desiring to have her maidenhead; But she denyed his desire, And said that she did fear hell-fire. "Tush, tush," quoth the fryer, "thou needst not doubt, If thou wert in hell, I could sing thee out:" 10 "Why then," quoth the maid, "thou shalt have thy request;" The fryer was as glad as a fox in his nest. "But one thing more I must require, More than to sing me out of hell-fire; That is, for doing of the thing, 15 An angel of money you must me bring." "Tush, tush," quoth the fryer, "we two shall agree; No money shall part thee, [my love,] and me; Before thy company I will lack, I'll pawn the grey gown off my back." 20 The maid bethought her on a wile, How she might this fryer beguile. When he was gone, the truth to tell, She hung a cloth before a well. The fryer came, as his bargain was, 25 With money unto his bonny lass; "Good morrow, fair maid;" "Good morrow," quoth she; "Here is the money I promis'd thee." She thank'd him, and she took the money: "Now lets go to't, my own dear honey:" 30 "Nay, stay awhile, some respite make; If my master should come, he would us take." "Alas!" quoth the maid, "my master doth come." "Alas!" quoth the fryer, "where shall I run?" "Behind yon cloth run thou," quoth she, 35 "For there my master cannot see." Behind the cloth the fryer went, And was in the well incontinent. "Alas!" quoth he, "I'm in the well;" "No matter," quoth she, "if thou wert in hell. 40 "Thou saidst thou could sing me out of hell: I prithee sing thyself out of the well. Sing out," quoth she, "with all thy might, Or else thou'rt like to sing there all night." The fryer sang out with a pitiful sound, 45 "O help me out, or I shall be drown'd." ["I trow," quoth she, "your courage is cool'd;" Quoth the fryer, "I never was so fool'd. "I never was served so before;" "Then take heed," quoth she, "thou com'st here no more." 50 Quoth he, "For sweet St. Francis sake, On his disciple some pity take:" Quoth she, "St. Francis never taught His scholars to tempt young maids to naught." The friar did entreat her still 55 That she would help him out of the well: She heard him make such piteous moan, She help'd him out, and bid him begone. Quoth he, "Shall I have my money again, Which from me thou hast before-hand ta'en?" 60 "Good sir," quoth she, "there's no such matter; I'll make you pay for fouling the water." The friar went along the street, Dropping wet, like a new-wash'd sheep; Both old and young commended the maid 65 That such a witty prank had play'd.]

It fell about the Martinmas time, And a gay time it was than, That our gudewife had puddings to mak, And she boil'd them in the pan. The wind blew cauld frae east and north, 5 And blew into the floor; Quoth our gudeman to our gudewife, "Get up and bar the door." "My hand is in my hussyskep, Goodman, as ye may see; 10 An' it shou'dna be barr'd this hunder year, It's ne'er be barr'd by me." They made a paction 'tween them twa, They made it firm and sure, That the first word whaever spak, 15 Should rise and bar the door. Than by there came twa gentlemen, At twelve o'clock at night, Whan they can see na ither house, And at the door they light. 20 "Now whether is this a rich man's house, Or whether is it a poor?" But ne'er a word wad ane o' them speak, For barring of the door. And first they ate the white puddings, 25 And syne they ate the black: Muckle thought the gudewife to hersell, Yet ne'er a word she spak. Then ane unto the ither said, "Here, man, tak ye my knife; 30 Do ye tak aff the auld man's beard, And I'll kiss the gudewife." "But there's na water in the house, And what shall we do than?" "What ails ye at the pudding bree 35 That boils into the pan?" O up then started our gudeman, An angry man was he; "Will ye kiss my wife before my een, And scald me wi' pudding bree?" O up then started our gudewife, 40 Gied three skips on the floor; "Gudeman, you have spak the first word; Get up and bar the door."

Old stories tell how Hercules A dragon slew at Lerna, With seven heads, and fourteen eyes, To see and well discerne-a: But he had a club, this dragon to drub, 5 Or he had ne'er done it, I warrant ye: But More of More-Hall, with nothing at all, He slew the dragon of Wantley. This dragon had two furious wings, Each one upon each shoulder; 10 With a sting in his tayl, as long as a flayl, Which made him bolder and bolder. He had long claws, and in his jaws Four and forty teeth of iron; With a hide as tough as any buff, 15 Which did him round environ. Have you not heard how the Trojan horse Held seventy men in his belly? This dragon was not quite so big, But very near, I'll tell ye. 20 Devoured he poor children three, That could not with him grapple; And at one sup he eat them up, As one would eat an apple. All sorts of cattle this dragon did eat; 25 Some say he ate up trees, And that the forests sure he would Devour up by degrees; For houses and churches were to him geese and turkies; He ate all, and left none behind, 30 But some stones, dear Jack, that he could not crack, Which on the hills you will find. In Yorkshire, near fair Rotherham, The place I know it well, Some two or three miles, or thereabouts, 35 I vow I cannot tell; But there is a hedge, just on the hill edge, And Matthew's house hard by it; O there and then was this dragon's den, You could not chuse but spy it. 40 Some say, this dragon was a witch; Some say, he was a devil; For from his nose a smoke arose, And with it burning snivel; Which he cast off, when he did cough, 45 In a well that he did stand by, Which made it look just like a brook Running with burning brandy. Hard by a furious knight there dwelt, Of whom all towns did ring, 50 For he could wrestle, play at quarter-staff, kick, cuff and huff, Call son of a w...., do any kind of thing. By the tail and the main, with his hands twain, He swung a horse till he was dead; And that which is stranger, he for very anger 55 Eat him all up but his head. These children, as I told, being eat, Men, women, girls, and boys, Sighing and sobbing, came to his lodging, And made a hideous noise; 60 "O save us all, More of More-Hall, Thou peerless knight of these woods; Do but slay this dragon, who won't leave us a rag on, We'll give thee all our goods." "Tut, tut," quoth he, "no goods I want: 65 But I want, I want, in sooth, A fair maid of sixteen, that's brisk and keen, With smiles about the mouth, Hair black as sloe, skin white as snow, With blushes her cheeks adorning, 70 To anoynt me o'er night, ere I go to fight, And to dress me in the morning." This being done, he did engage To hew the dragon down; But first he went, new armour to 75 Bespeak at Sheffield town; With spikes all about, not within but without, Of steel so sharp and strong, Both behind and before, arms, legs, and all o'er, Some five or six inches long. 80 Had you but seen him in this dress, How fierce he look'd and how big, You would have thought him for to be Some Egyptian porcupig. He frighted all, cats, dogs, and all, 85 Each cow, each horse, and each hog: For fear they did flee, for they took him to be Some strange outlandish hedge-hog. To see this fight, all people then Got up on trees and houses; 90 On churches some, and chimneys too; But these put on their trowses, Not to spoil their hose. As soon as he rose, To make him strong and mighty, He drank by the tale, six pots of ale, 95 And a quart of aqua-vitæ. It is not strength that always wins, For wit doth strength excell; Which made our cunning champion Creep down into a well, 100 Where he did think, this dragon would drink, And so he did in truth; And as he stoop'd low, he rose up and cry'd, "Boh!" And hit him in the mouth. "Oh," quoth the dragon, "pox take thee, come out! 105 Thou disturb'st me in my drink:" And then he turn'd, and s... at him; Good lack how he did stink! "Beshrew thy soul, thy body's foul, Thy dung smells not like balsam; 110 Thou son of a w...., thou stink'st so sore, Sure thy diet is unwholesome." Our politick knight, on the other side, Crept out upon the brink, And gave the dragon such a douse, 115 He knew not what to think: "By cock," quoth he, "say you so, do you see?" And then at him he let fly With hand and with foot, and so they went to't; And the word it was, Hey boys, hey! 120 "Your words," quoth the dragon, "I don't understand"; Then to it they fell at all, Like two wild boars so fierce, if I may Compare great things with small. Two days and a night, with this dragon did fight 125 Our champion on the ground; Though their strength it was great, their skill it was neat, They never had one wound. At length the hard earth began to quake, The dragon gave him a knock, 130 Which made him to reel, and straitway he thought, To lift him as high as a rock, And thence let him fall. But More of More-Hall, Like a valiant son of Mars, As he came like a lout, so he turn'd him about,135 And hit him a kick on the a... "Oh," quoth the dragon, with a deep sigh, And turn'd six times together, Sobbing and tearing, cursing and swearing, Out of his throat of leather; 140 "More of More-Hall! O thou rascàl! Would I had seen thee never; With the thing at thy foot, thou hast prick'd my a... gut, And I am quite undone forever." "Murder, murder," the dragon cry'd, 145 "Alack, alack, for grief; Had you but mist that place, you could Have done me no mischief." Then his head he shaked, trembled and quaked, And down he laid and cry'd; 150 First on one knee, then on back tumbled he, So groan'd, kickt, s..., and dy'd.