6
Amongst the savage Indians, alas, here he fell,
But how he was murdered we cannot well tell:
For on the next morning they found him there dead,
And an Indian lay by him wanting his head.
Cut off with his broad sword as they understood,
As there all around him was nothing but blood:
Five wounds in his body, his hair scalp away,
His clothes, sword, and pistols, of all they made a prey.
And one of his fingers from his hand they had cut,
On which the gold ring from his lover he got:
On that very moment, tho' in Scotland we hear,
A dreadful spectre to his love did appear.
As she was a weeping under the green oak,
He quiekly past by her and not a word spoke;
Yet shaking his left hand where the ring he did wear,
Which wanted a finger, and blood dropping there.
Whereat the young lady was struck with amaze,
And rose to run after, and on him to gaze,
As she knew it was Gregor, but how in that place,
It made her to wonder and dread the sad ease.
With terror and grief home she did retire,
And spent the whole night in weeping and prayer,
So early next morning she rose with the sun,
Went back to the green oak to weep all alone.
For always she esteem'd that place, as we hear,
As on it she got the last sight of her dear,
And as she sat weeping and tearing her hair,
Again the pale speetre to her did appear.
And with a wild aspect it star'd in her face,
Then said, O dear Katy, do not me embrace,
For I am but spirit, tho' shining in blood,
My body lies murder'd in a far foreign wood.
There's two wounds in my body, and three in my side,
With hatchets and arrows they're both deep and wide,
My scalp and fine hair, for a premium is sold,
And also my finger with the ring of pure gold.
