Editorial note — Chapter VII · NORTH TIROL—UNTERINNTHAL (RIGHT INN-BANK). EXCURSIONS FROM SCHWATZ.

A’ the boys of merry Lincoln,

Were playing at the ba’,

And up it stands him, sweet Sir Hugh,

The flower among them a’.

He kicked the ba’ there wi’ his feet,

And keppit it wi’ his knee,

Till even in at the Jew’s window,

He gart the bonny ba’ flee.

‘Cast out the ba’ to me, fair maid,

Cast out the ba’ to me;’

‘Never a bit,’ says the Jew’s daughter,

’Till ye come up to me.’

‘Come up, sweet Hugh! come up, dear Hugh!

Come up and get the ba’;’

‘I winna come, I minna come,

Without my bonny boys a’.’

She’s ta’en her to the Jew’s garden,

Where the grass grew long and green;

She’s pu’d an apple red and white,

To wyle the bonny boy in.

When bells were rung and mass was sung,

And every bairn went home;

Then ilka lady had her young son,

But Lady Helen had none.

She row’d her mantle her about,

And sair, sair, ’gan to weep:

And she ran into the Jew’s house

When they were all asleep.

‘The lead is wondrous heavy, mither,

The well is wondrous deep;

A keen penknife sticks in my heart,

’Tis hard for me to speak.’

‘Gae hame, gae hame, my mither dear,

Fetch me my winding-sheet;

And at the back of merry Lincoln,

’Tis there we twa shall meet.’

Now Lady Helen she’s gane hame,

Made him a winding-sheet;

And at the back o’ merry Lincoln,

The dead corpse did her meet.

And a’ the bells o’ merry Lincoln

Without men’s hands were rung;

And a’ the books o’ merry Lincoln,

Were read without men’s tongue;

Never was such a burial

Since Adam’s days begun.