"I'll none of thy gold," says Robin Hood, "Nor I'll none of it have.

They were chosen out of shires three.

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This began on a Monday at morn,

In Cheviot the hills so hie;3

The child may rue that is unborn,

It was the more pitie.

The drivers through the woodės went,
For to rouse the deer;

Bowmen bickered upon the bent5

With their broad arrows clear.

Then the wild through the woodės went, On every side sheer;7

Greyhoundės through the grovės glent,
For to kill their deer.

This began in Cheviot the hills aboun,
Early on a Monnyn-day;8
By that it drew to the hour of noon,

A hundred fat harts dead there lay.

They blew a mort9 upon the bent,
They assembled on sides sheer;
To the quarry then the Percy went,
To see the brittling 10 of the deer.
30 Remedy.
31 Prepare.

32 Twain.

* High. 6 Wild creatures. 8 Monday.

Blast of the horn indicating the taking of the deer.

27 Time.

* Quickly.

10 Quartering, or cutting up.

Word is comen to lovely London,

To the fourth Harry our King,

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That lord Percy, lieutenant of the Marches, He lay slain Cheviot within.

"God have mercy on his soul," said King Harry, "Good Lord, if thy will it be!

I have a hundred captains in England," he said,

"As good as ever was he:
But, Percy, an I brook47 my life,
Thy death well quit shall be."

As our noble king made his avow,
Like a noble prince of renown,
For the death of the lord Percy

He did 48 the battle of Hombill-down;

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Up and spak an eldern knight,

Sat at the king's right knee: "Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor, That sails upon the sea."

The king has written a braid letter,
And signed it wi his hand,
And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens,
Was walking on the sand.

The first line that Sir Patrick read,
A loud laugh laughed he;

The next line that Sir Patrick read, The tear blinded his ee.

"O wha is this has done this deed,

This ill deed done to me,

To send me out this time o' the year,

To sail upon the sea!

"Mak haste, mak haste, my merry men all,

Our guid ship sails the morn:"

"O say na sae, my master dear,

For I fear a deadlie storm.

"Late late yestreen I saw the new moon, Wi the auld moon in her arm,

And I fear, I fear, my dear master,

That we will come to harm."

O our Scots nobles were right loth,
To wet their cork-heeled shoon;
But lang or a' the play were played,
Their hats they swam aboon.

O lang, lang may the ladies sit,
Wi their fans into their hand,
Or ere they see Sir Patrick Spens
Come sailing to the land.

O lang, lang may the ladies stand,
Wi their gold kems in their hair,
Waiting for their ain dear lords,
For they'll see them na mair.

Half o'er, half o'er to Aberdour,

Its fifty fathom deep,

And there lies guid Sir Patrick Spens,
Wi' the Scots lords at his feet.

THE TWA CORBIES 1

As I was walking all alane,

I heard twa corbies making a mane:2 The tane unto the tither did say, "Whar sall we gang and dine the day?"

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"In behint yon auld fail3 dyke,

I wot there lies a new-slain knight; And naebody kens that he lies there

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But his hawk, his hound, and his lady fair.

45 Borders.

49 Trouble.

50 Street.

47 Keep. 48 Fought. 51 Better our ills.

"His hound is to the hunting gane, His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame, His lady's ta'en anither mate, Sae we may mak' our dinner sweet. 1 Open, patent. 1 Ravens.

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2 Moan.

3 Turf, sod.