D

1 As it fell on a light holyday,
As many more does in the yeere,
Little Mousgrove would to the church and pray,
To see the faire ladyes there.

2 Gallants there were of good degree,
For beauty exceeding faire,
Most wonderous lovely to the eie,
That did to that church repaire.

3 Some came downe in red velvet,
And others came downe in pall,
But next came downe my Lady Barnet,
The fairest amongst them all.

4 She cast a looke upon Little Mousgrove,
As bright as the summer's sunne;
Full well perceived then Little Mousgrove
Lady Barnet's love he had wonne.

5 Then Lady Barnet most meeke and mild
Saluted this Little Mousgrove,
Who did repay her kinde courtesie
With favour and gentle love.

6 'I have a bower in merry Barnet,
Bestrowed with cowslips sweet;
If that it please you, Little Mousgrove,
In love me there to meete,

7 'Within mine armes one night to sleepe,
For you my heart have wonne,
You need not feare my suspicious lord,
For he from home is gone.'

8 'Betide me life, betide me death,
This night I will sleepe with thee,
And for thy sake I'le hazzard my breath,
So deare is thy love to me.'

9 'What shall wee doe with our little foot-page,
Our counsell for to keepe,
And watch for feare Lord Barnet comes,
Whilest wee together doe sleepe?'

10 'Red gold shall be his hier,' quoth he,
'And silver shall be his fee,
If he our counsell safely doe keepe,
That I may sleepe with thee.'

11 'I will have none of your gold,' said he,
'Nor none of your silver fee;
If I should keepe your counsell, sir,
'Twere great disloyaltie.

12 'I will not be false unto my lord,
For house nor yet for land;
But if my lady doe prove untrue,
Lord Barnet shall understand.'

13 Then swiftly runnes the little foot-page,
Unto his lord with speed,
Who then was feasting with his deare friends,
Not dreaming of this ill deede.

14 Most speedily the page did haste,
Most swiftly did he runne,
And when he came to the broken bridge
He lay on his brest and swumme.

15 The page did make no stay at all,
But went to his lord with speed,
That he the truth might say to him
Concerning this wicked deed.

16 He found his lord at supper then,
Great merriment there they did keepe:
'My lord,' quoth he, 'this night, on my word,
Mousgrove with your lady does sleepe.'

17 'If this be true, my little foot-page,
And true as thou tellest to me,
My eldest daughter I'le give to thee,
And wedded thou shalt be.

18 'If this be a lye, my little foot-page,
And a lye as thou tellest to mee,
A new paire of gallowes shall straight be set,
And hanged shalt thou be.'

19 'If this be a lye, my lord,' said he,
'A lye that you heare from me,
Then never stay a gallowes to make,
But hang me up on the next tree.'

20 Lord Barnet then cald up his merry men,
Away with speed he would goe;
His heart was so perplext with griefe,
The truth of this he must know.

21 'Saddle your horses with speed,' quoth he,
'And saddle me my white steed;
If this be true as the page hath said,
Mousgrove shall repent this deed.'

22 He charg'd his men no noise to make,
As they rode all along on the way;
'Nor winde no hornes,' quoth he, 'on your life,
Lest our comming it should betray.'

23 But one of the men, that Mousgrove did love,
And respected his friendship most deare,
To give him knowledge Lord Barnet was neere,
Did winde his bugle most cleere.

24 And evermore as he did blow,
'Away, Mousgrove, and away;
For if I take thee with my lady,
Then slaine thou shalt be this day.'

25 'O harke, fair lady, your lord is neere,
I heare his little horne blow;
And if he finde me in your armes thus,
Then slaine I shall be, I know.'

26 'O lye still, lye still, Little Mousgrove,
And keepe my backe from the cold;
I know it is my father's shepheard,
Driving sheepe to the pinfold.'

27 Mousgrove did turne him round about,
Sweete slumber his eyes did greet;
When he did wake, he then espied
Lord Barnet at his bed's feete.

28 'O rise up, rise up, Little Mousgrove,
And put thy clothës on;
It shall never be said in faire England
I slew a naked man.

29 'Here's two good swords,' Lord Barnet said,
'Thy choice, Mousgrove, thou shalt make;
The best of them thy selfe shalt have,
And I the worst will take.'

30 The first good blow that Mousgrove did strike,
He wounded Lord Barnet sore;
The second blow that Lord Barnet gave,
Mousgrove could strike no more.

31 He tooke his lady by the white hand,
All love to rage did convert,
That with his sword, in most furious sort,
He pierst her tender heart.

32 'A grave, a grave,' Lord Barnet cryde,
'Prepare to lay us in;
My lady shall lie on the upper side,
Cause she's of the better kin.'

33 Then suddenly he slue himselfe,
Which grieves his friends full sore;
The deaths of these thra worthy wights
With teares they did deplore.

34 This sad mischance by lust was wrought;
Then let us call for grace,
That we may shun this wicked vice,
And mend our lives apace.

1 There were four and twenty gentlemen
A playing at the ba,
And lusty Lady Livingstone
Cuist her ee out oure them a'.

2 She cuist her ee on Lord Barnard,
He was baith black and broun;
She cuist her ee on Little Musgrave,
As bricht as the morning sun.

3 . . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
'What'll I gie ye, my Little Musgrave,
Ae nicht wi me to sleep?'

4 'Ae nicht wi you to sleep,' he says,
'O that wad breed meikle strife;
For the ring on your white finger
Shows you Lord Barnard's wife.'

5 'O Lord Barnard he is gane frae hame,
He'll na return the day;
He has tane wi him a purse o goud,
For he's gane hind away.'

6 Up startit then the wylie foot-page,
. . . . . . .
'What will ye gie to me,' he said,
'Your council for to keep?'

7 'O goud sall be my little boy's fee,
And silver sall be his hire;
But an I hear a word mair o this,
He sall burn in charcoal fire.'

8 But the wylie foot-page to the stable went,
Took out a milk-white steed,
And away, away, and away he rade,
Away wi meikle speed.

9 It's whan he cam to the water-side,
He smoothd his breist and swam,
And whan he cam to gerss growing,
He set down his feet and ran.

10 'Whan he cam to Lord Barnard's towr
Lord Barnard was at meat;
He said, 'If ye kend as meikle as me,
It's little wad ye eat.'

11 'Are onie o my castles brunt?' he says,
'Or onie my towrs won?
Or is my gay ladie broucht to bed,
Of a dochter or a son?'

12 'There is nane o your castles brunt,
Nor nane o your towrs won;
Nor is your gay ladie broucht to bed,
Of a dochter or a son.

13 'But Little Musgrave, that gay young man,
Is in bed wi your ladie,
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .

14 'If this be true ye tell to me,
It's goud sall be your fee;
But if it be fause ye tell to me,
I'se hang ye on a tree.'

* * * * *

15 Whan they cam to yon water-side,
They smoothd their breists and swam;
And whan they cam to gerss growing,
They set doun their feet and ran.

* * * * *

16 'How do ye like my sheets?' he said,
'How do ye like my bed?
And how do ye like my gay ladie,
Wha's lying at your side?'

17 'O I do like your sheets,' he said,
'Sae do I like your bed;
But mair do I like your gay ladie,
Wha's lying at my side.'

18 'Get up, get up, young man,' he said,
'Get up as swith 's ye can;
Let it never be said that Lord Barnard
Slew in bed a nakit man.'

* * * * *

19 'How do ye like his bluidy cheeks?
Or how do ye like me?'
'It's weill do I like his bluidy cheeks,
Mair than your haill bodie.'

20 Then she has kissd his bluidy cheeks,
It's oure and oure again.'
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .

1 Four and twenty gay ladies
Were playing at the ba,
And [out] came Lord Barnaby's lady,
The fairest o them a'.

2 She coost her eyes on Little Musgrave,
And he on her again;
She coost her eyes on Little Musgrave,
As they twa lovers had been.

3 'I have a hall in Mulberry,
It stands baith strong and tight;
If you will go to there with me,
I'll lye with you all night.'

4 'To lye with you, madam,' he says,
'Will breed both sturt and strife;
I see by the rings on your fingers
You are Lord Barnaby's wife.'

5 'Lord Barnaby's to the hunting gone,
And far out oer the hill,
And he will not return again
Till the evening tide untill.'

6 They were not well lain down,
Nor yet well fallen asleep,
Till up started Lord Barnaby's boy,
Just up at their bed-feet.

7 She took out a little penknife,
Which hung down low by her gair:
'If you do not my secret keep,
A word ye's neer speak mair.'

8 The laddie gae a blythe leer look,
A blythe leer look gave he,
And he's away to Lord Barnaby,
As fast as he can hie.

* * * * *

9 'If these tidings binna true,
These tidings ye tell to me,
A gallows-tree I'll gar be made
And hanged ye shall be.

10 'But if these tidings are true,
These tidings ye tell me,
The fairest lady in a' my court
I'll gar her marry thee.'

11 He's taen out a little horn,
He blew baith loud and sma,
And aye the turning o the tune
'Away, Musgrave, awa!'

12 They were not well lain down,
Nor yet well fallen asleep,
Till up started Lord Barnaby,
Just up at their bed-feet.

13 'O how like ye my blankets, Musgrave?
And how like ye my sheets?
And how like ye my gay lady,
So sound in your arms that sleeps?'

14 'Weel I like your blankets, Sir,
And far better yere sheets;
And better far yere gay lady,
So sound in my arms that sleeps.'

15 'Get up, get up, now, Little Musgrave,
And draw to hose and sheen;
It's neer be said in my country
I'd fight a naked man.

16 'There is two swords into my house,
And they cost me right dear;
Take you the best, and I the worst,
I'll fight the battle here.'

17 The first stroke that Lord Barnaby gave,
It was baith deep and sore;
The next stroke that Lord Barnaby gave,
A word he never spoke more.

18 He's taen out a rappier then,
He's struck it in the straw,
And thro and thro his lady's sides
He gard the cauld steel gae.

19 'I am not sae wae for Little Musgrave,
As he lys cauld and dead;
But I'm right wae for his lady,
For she'll gae witless wud.

20 'I'm not sae wae for my lady,
For she lies cauld and dead;
But I'm right wae for my young son,
Lies sprawling in her blood.'

21 First crew the black cock,
And next crew the sparrow;
And what the better was Lord Barnaby?
He was hanged on the morrow.

1 'I have a tower in Dalisberry,
Which now is dearly dight,
And I will gie it to Young Musgrave,
To lodge wi me a' night.'

2 'To lodge wi thee a' night, fair lady,
Wad breed baith sorrow and strife;
For I see by the rings on your fingers
You're good Lord Barnaby's wife.'

3 'Lord Barnaby's wife although I be,
Yet what is that to thee?
For we'll beguile him for this ae night,
He's on to fair Dundee.

4 'Come here, come here, my little foot-page,
This gold I will give thee,
If ye will keep thir secrets close
'Tween Young Musgrave and me.

5 'But here I hae a little pen-knife,
Hings low down by my gare;
Gin ye winna keep thir secrets close,
Ye'll find it wonder sair.'

6 Then she's taen him to her chamber,
And down in her arms lay he;
The boy coost aff his hose and shoon,
And ran to fair Dundee.

7 When he cam to the wan water,
He slackd his bow and swam,
And when he cam to growin grass,
Set down his feet and ran.

8 And when he cam to fair Dundee,
Wad neither chap nor ca,
But set his braid bow to his breast,
And merrily jumpd the wa.

9 'O waken ye, waken ye, my good lord,
Waken, and come away!'
'What ails, what ails my wee foot-page,
He cries sae lang ere day?

10 'O is my bowers brent, my boy?
Or is my castle won?
Or has the lady that I loe best
Brought me a daughter or son?'

11 'Your ha's are safe, your bowers are safe,
And free frae all alarms,
But, oh! the lady that ye loe best
Lies sound in Musgrave's arms.'

12 'Gae saddle to me the black,' he cried,
'Gae saddle to me the gray;
Gae saddle to me the swiftest steed,
To hie me on my way.'

13 'O lady, I heard a wee horn toot,
And it blew wonder clear;
And ay the turning o the note,
Was, Barnaby will be here!

14 'I thought I heard a wee horn blaw,
And it blew loud and high;
And ay at ilka turn it said,
Away, Musgrave, away!'

15 'Lie still, my dear, lie still, my dear,
Ye keep me frae the cold;
For it is but my father's shepherds,
Driving their flocks to the fold.'

16 Up they lookit, and down they lay,
And they're fa'en sound asleep;
Till up stood good Lord Barnaby,
Just close at their bed-feet.

17 'How do you like my bed, Musgrave?
And how like ye my sheets?
And how like ye my fair lady,
Lies in your arms and sleeps?'

18 'Weel like I your bed, my lord,
And weel like I your sheets,
But ill like I your fair lady,
Lies in my arms and sleeps.

19 'You got your wale o se'en sisters,
And I got mine o five;
Sae tak ye mine, and I's tak thine,
And we nae mair sall strive.'

20 'O my woman's the best woman
That ever brak world's bread,
And your woman's the worst woman
That ever drew coat oer head.

21 'I hae twa swords in ae scabbert,
They are baith sharp and clear;
Tak ye the best, and I the warst,
And we'll end the matter here.

22 'But up, and arm thee, Young Musgrave,
We'll try it han to han;
It's neer be said o Lord Barnaby,
He strack at a naked man.'

23 The first straik that Young Musgrave got,
It was baith deep and sair,
And down he fell at Barnaby's feet,
And word spak never mair.

* * * * *

24 'A grave, a grave,' Lord Barnaby cried,
'A grave to lay them in;
My lady shall lie on the sunny side,
Because of her noble kin.'

25 But oh, how sorry was that good lord,
For a' his angry mood,
Whan he beheld his ain young son
All weltring in his blood!

1 Lord Barnard's awa to the green wood,
To hunt the fallow deer;
His vassals a' are gane wi him,
His companie to bear.

2 His lady wrate a braid letter,
And seald it wi her hand,
And sent it aff to Wee Messgrove,
To come at her command.

3 When Messgrove lookt the letter on,
A waefu man was he;
Sayin, Gin I'm gript wi Lord Barnard's wife,
Sure hanged I will be.

4 When he came to Lord Barnard's castel
He tinklit at the ring,
And nane was so ready as the lady hersell
To let Wee Messgrove in.

5 'Welcome, welcome, Messgrove,' she said,
'You're welcome here to me;
Lang hae I loed your bonnie face,
And lang hae ye loed me.

6 'Lord Barnard is a hunting gane,
I hope he'll neer return,
And ye sall sleep into his bed,
And keep his lady warm.'

7 'It cannot be,' Messgrove he said,
'I ween it cannot be;
Gin Lord Barnard suld come hame this nicht,
What wuld he do to me?'

8 'Ye naething hae to fear, Messgrove,
Ye naething hae to fear;
I'll set my page without the gate,
To watch till morning clear.'

9 But wae be to the wee fut-page,
And an ill death mat he die!
For he's awa to the green wood,
As hard as he can flee.

10 And whan he to the green wood cam,
'Twas dark as dark could bee,
And he fand his maister and his men
Asleep aneth a tree.

11 'Rise up, rise up, maister,' he said,
'Rise up, and speak to me;
Your wife's in bed wi Wee Messgrove,
Rise up richt speedilie.'

12 'Gin that be true ye tell to me,
A lord I will mak thee;
But gin it chance to be a lie,
Sure hanged ye sall be.'

13 'It is as true, my lord,' he said,
'As ever ye were born;
Messgrove's asleep in your lady's bed,
All for to keep her warm.'

14 He mounted on his milk-white steed,
He was ane angry man;
And he reachd his stately castell gate
Just as the day did dawn.

15 He put his horn unto his mouth,
And he blew strong blasts three;
Sayin, He that's in bed with anither man's wife,
He suld be gaun awa.

16 Syne out and spak the Wee Messgrove,
A frichtit man was he;
'I hear Lord Barnard's horn,' he said,
'It blaws baith loud and hie.'

17 'Lye still, lye still, my Wee Messgrove,
And keep me frae the cauld;
'Tis but my father's shepherd's horn,
A sounding in the fauld.'

18 He put his horn unto his mouth,
And he blew loud blasts three;
Saying, He that's in bed wi anither man's wife,
'Tis time he was awa.

19 Syne out and spak the Wee Messgrove,
A frichtit man was he:
'Yon surely is Lord Barnard's horn,
And I maun een gae flee.'

20 Lye still, lye still, Messgrove,' she said,
'And keep me frae the cauld;
'Tis but my father's shepherd's horn,
A sounding in the fauld.'

21 And ay Lord Barnard blew and blew,
Till he was quite wearie;
Syne he threw down his bugle horn,
And up the stair ran he.

22 'How do you like my blankets, Sir?
How do you like my sheets?
How do ye like my gay ladie,
That lies in your arms asleep?'

23 'Oh weel I like your blankets, Sir,
And weel I like your sheet;
But wae be to your gay ladie,
That lyes in my arms asleep!'

24 'I'll gie you ae sword, Messgrove,
And I will take anither;
What fairer can I do, Messgrove,
Altho ye war my brither?'

25 The firsten wound that Messgrove gat,
It woundit him richt sair;
And the second wound that Messgrove gat,
A word he neer spak mair.

26 'Oh how do ye like his cheeks, ladie?
Or how do ye like his chin?
Or how do ye like his fair bodie,
That there's nae life within?'

27 'Oh weel I like his cheeks,' she said,
'And weel I like his chin;
And weel I like his fair bodie,
That there's nae life within.'

28 'Repeat these words, my fair ladie,
Repeat them ower agane,
And into a basin of pure silver
I'll gar your heart's bluid rin.'

29 'Oh weel I like his cheeks,' she said,
'And weel I like his chin;
And better I like his fair bodie
Than a' your kith and kin.'

30 Syne he took up his gude braid sword,
That was baith sharp and fine,
And into a basin of pure silver
Her heart's bluid he gart rin.

31 'O wae be to my merrie men,
And wae be to my page,
That they didna hald my cursed hands
When I was in a rage!'

32 He leand the halbert on the ground,
The point o 't to his breast,
Saying, Here are three sauls gaun to heaven,
I hope they'll a' get rest.

1 Little Musgrove is to the church gone,
Some ladies for to sply;
Doun came one drest in black,
And one came drest in brown,
And down and came Lord Barlibas' lady,
The fairest in a' the town.

* * * * *

2 'I know by the ring that's on your finger
That you'r my Lord Barlibas' lady:'
'Indeed I am the Lord Barlibas' lady,
And what altho I bee?'

* * * * *

3 'Money shall be your hire, foot-page,
And gold shall be your fee;
You must not tell the secrets
That's between Musgrove and me.'

4 'Money shall not be hire,' he said,
'Nor gold shall be my fee;
But I'll awa to my own liege lord,
With the tidings you've told to me.'

5 When he cam to the broken brig,
He coost aff his clothes and he swimd,
And when he cam to Lord Barlibas' yett,
He tirled at the pin.

6 'What news, what news, my little foot-page?
What news have ye brocht to me?
Is my castle burnt?' he said,
'Or is my tower tane?
Or is my lady lighter yet,
Of a daughter or son?'

7 'Your castle is not burnt,' he says,
'Nor yet is your tower tane,
Nor yet is your lady brocht to bed,
Of a daughter or a son;
But Little Musgrove is lying wi her,
Till he thinks it is time to be gane.'

8 'O if the news be a lie,' he says,
'That you do tell unto me,
I'll ca up a gallows to my yard-yett,
And hangd on it thou shallt be.

9 'But if the news be true,' he says,
'That you do tell unto me,
I have a young fair dochter at hame,
Weel wedded on her you shall be.'

10 He called upon his merry men,
By thirties and by three:
'Put aff the warst, put on the best,
And come along with me.'

11 He put a horn to his mouth,
And this he gard it say:
'The man that's in bed wi Lord Barlibas' lady,
It's time he were up and away.'

12 'What does yon trumpet mean?' he sayd,
'Or what does yon trumpet say?
I think it says, the man that's in bed wi Lord Barlibas' lady,
It's time he were up and away.'

13 'O lie you still, my Little Musgrove,
And cover me from the cold,
For it is but my father's sheepherd,
That's driving his sheep to the fold.'

14 . . . . . . .
In a little while after that,
Up started good Lord Barlibas,
At Little Musgrove his feet.

15 'How do you like my blankets?' he says,
'Or how do you like my sheets?
Or how do you like mine own fair lady,
That lies in your arms and sleeps?'

16 'I like your blankets very well,
And far better your sheets;
But woe be to this wicked woman,
That lies in my arms and sleeps!'

17 'Rise up, rise up, my Little Musgrove,
Rise up, and put your clothes on;
It's neer be said on no other day
That I killed a naked man.

18 'There is two swords in my chamber,
I wot they cost me dear;
Take you the best, give me the warst,
We'll red the question here.'

19 The first stroke that Lord Barlibas struck,
He dang Little Musgrove to the ground;
The second stroke that Lord Barlibas gave
Dang his lady in a deadly swound.

20 'Gar mak, gar mak a coffin,' he says,
'Gar mak it wide and long,
And lay my lady at the right hand,
For she's come of the noblest kin.'