It was the hour o' gloamin' gray,

When herds come in frae fauld and pen; A herd he saw a huntsman lie,

Says he, can this be Laird Troughen'?

There's some will ca' me Parcy Reed,
And some will ca' me Laird Troughen';
It's little matter what they ca' me,
My faes hae made me ill to ken.

There's some will ca' me Parcy Reed,
And speak my praise in tower and town;
It's little matter what they do now,

My life-blood rudds the heather brown.

There's some will ca' me Parcy Reed,
And a' my virtues say and sing;
I would much rather have just now
A draught o' water frae the spring!

The herd flang aff his clouted shoon,
And to the nearest fountain ran;

He made his bonnet serve a cup,

And wan the blessing o' the dying man.

Now, honest herd, ye maun do mair—
Ye maun do mair as I ye tell;

Ye maun bear tidings to Troughend,
And bear likewise my last farewell.

A farewell to my wedded wife,
A farewell to my brother John,
Wha sits into the Troughend tower,

Wi' heart as black as any stone.

A farewell to my daughter Jean,
A farewell to my young sons five;
Had they been at their father's hand,
I had this night been man alive.

A farewell to my followers a',

And a' my neighbours gude at need;
Bid them think how the treacherous Ha's
Betrayed the life o' Parcy Reed.

The laird o' Clennel bears my bow,

The laird o' Brandon bears my brand;

Whene'er they ride i' the border side,

They'll mind the fate o' the laird Troughend.

XI.

The Golden Glove; or the 'Squire of Tamworth.

THIS is a very popular ballad, and sung in every part of England. It is traditionally reported to be founded on an incident which occurred in the reign of Elizabeth. It has been published in the broadside form from the commencement of the eighteenth century, but is no doubt much older. It does not appear to have been inserted in any collection.

A WEALTHY young 'squire of Tamworth, we hear,
He courted a nobleman's daughter so fair;
And for to marry her it was his intent,
All friends and relations gave their consent.

The time was appointed for the wedding day,
A young farmer chosen to give her away;
As soon as the farmer the young lady did spy,
He inflamed her heart; O, my heart! she did cry.

She turned from the 'squire, but nothing she said, Instead of being married she took to her bed; The thought of the farmer soon run in her mind, A way for to have him she quickly did find.

Coat, waistcoat, and breeches she then did put on, And a hunting she went with her dog and her gun; She hunted all round where the farmer did dwell, Because in her heart she did love him full well :

She oftentimes fired, but nothing she killed,
At length the young farmer came into the field;
And to discourse with him it was her intent,
With her dog and her gun to meet him she went.

I thought you had been at the wedding, she cried,
To wait on the Squire, and give him his bride.
No, sir, said the farmer, if the truth I may tell,
I'll not give her away, for I love her too well.

Suppose that the lady should grant you her love, rival will prove;

You know that the 'squire your

Why then, says the farmer, I'll take sword in hand, By honour I'll gain her when she shall command.

It pleased the lady to find him so bold;

She gave him a glove that was flowered with gold,
And told him she found it when coming along,
As she was a hunting with her dog and gun.

The lady went home with a heart full of love,
And gave out a notice that she'd lost a glove;
And said, Who has found it, and brings it to me,
Whoever he is, he my husband shall be.

The farmer was pleased when he heard of the news, With heart full of joy to the lady he goes:

Dear, honoured lady, I've picked up your glove, And hope you'll be pleased to grant me your love.

It's already granted, I will be your bride;

I love the sweet breath of a farmer, she cried.
I'll be mistress of my dairy, and milking my cow,
While my jolly brisk farmer is whistling at plough.

And when she was married she told of her fun,
How she went a hunting with her dog and gun;
And [said] now I've got him so fast in my snare,
I'll enjoy him for ever, I vow and declare.

XII.

King James I and the Tinkler.

(TRADITIONAL.)

THE ballad of King James I and the Tinkler was probably written either in, or shortly after the reign of the monarch who is the hero. The incident recorded is said to be a fact, though the locality is doubtful. By some the scene is laid at Norwood, in Surrey; by others in some part of the English border. The ballad is alluded to by Percy, but is not inserted either in the Reliques, or in any other popular collection, being only to be found in a few broadsides and chap-books of modern date. The present version is a traditional one, taken down by the editor from the recital of Francis King. It is much superior to the common broadside edition with which it has been collated, and from which the thirteenth and fifteenth verses were obtained. The ballad is very popular on the border, and in the dales of Cumberland, Westmoreland and Craven.

AND now, to be brief, let's pass over the rest,
Who seldom or never were given to jest,
And come to King Jamie, the first of our throne,
A pleasanter monarch sure never was known.

As he was a hunting the swift fallow-deer,
He dropt all his nobles; and when he got clear,
In hope of some pastime away he did ride,
Till he came to an alehouse, hard by a wood-side.