( 7 )
Far mair I lo'e that bloody head,
but an’ that Woody hair.
Than Lord Barnard, and a’ his lands,
as they ly here and there
And ſhe has ta'en her Gill Morice,
and kiſs'd baith mouth and chin,
I once was ſu’ o’ Gill Morice,
as hip is o’ the ſtane
I got thee in my Father's houſe,
wi' muckle ſin and ſhame
And brought thee up in good green wood,
under the heavy rain
Oft have I by thy cradle ſat,
and fondly ſeen thee ſleep.
But now I’ll gang about thy grave,
the ſa't tears for to weep.
And firſt ſhe kiſs'd his bloody cheek,
and ſyne his bloody chin;
Better l lo’e my Gill Morice,
than a’ my kith and kin!
Awa',awa' ye I'll woman!
an ill death may thou die,
Gin I had kend he’d been your ſon,
he’d ne’er been ſlain for me,
Upbraid me not, my Lord Barnard,
upbraid me not for ſhame
Wi'that ſhame ſpeir, Oh pierce my heart!
and put me out of pain.
