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Says, "Strike the blow, ye headsman, boy, And that right speedilie; 150 It's never be said here gaes a knight, Was ance condemn'd to die."

The head was ta'en frae young Waters, And mony tears for him shed; But mair did mourn for fair Margaret, 155 As raving she lyes mad.

LAMMIKIN. See p. 94.

Finlay's _Scottish Ballads_, ii. 47.

Lammikin was as gude a mason As ever hewed a stane; He biggit Lord Weire's castle, But payment gat he nane.

"Sen ye winna gie me my guerdon, lord, 5 Sen ye winna gie me my hire, This gude castle, sae stately built, I sall gar rock wi' fire.

"Sen ye winna gie me my wages, lord, Ye sall hae cause to rue:" 10 And syne he brewed a black revenge, And syne he vowed a vow.

The Lammikin sair wroth, sair wroth, Returned again to Downe; But or he gaed, he vow'd and vow'd, 15 The castle should sweep the ground.

"O byde at hame, my gude Lord Weire, I weird ye byde at hame; Gang na to this day's hunting, To leave me a' alane. 20

"Yae night, yae night, I dreamt this bower O red, red blude was fu'; Gin ye gang to this black hunting, I sall hae cause to rue."

"Wha looks to dreams, my winsome dame? 25 Nae cause hae ye to fear:"

And syne he kindly kissed her cheek, And syne the starting tear.

Now to the gude green-wood he's gane, She to her painted bower; 30 But first she closed the windows and doors Of the castle, ha', and tower.

They steeked doors, they steeked yetts, Close to the cheek and chin; They steeked them a' but a wee wicket, 35 And Lammikin crap in.

"Where are the lads o' this castle?"

Says the Lammikin; "They are a' wi Lord Weire, hunting,"

The false nourice did sing. 40

"Where are the lasses o' this castle?"

Says the Lammikin; "They are a' out at the washing,"

The false nourice did sing.

"But where's the lady o' this castle?" 45 Says the Lammikin; "She is in her bower sewing,"

The false nourice did sing.

"Is this the bairn o' this house?"

Says the Lammikin; 50 "The only bairn Lord Weire aughts,"

The false nourice did sing.

Lammikin nipped the bonnie babe, While loud false nourice sings; Lammikin nipped the bonnie babe, 55 Till high the red blude springs.

"Still my bairn, nourice, O still him if ye can:"

"He will not still, madam, For a' his father's lan'." 60

"O gentle nourice, still my bairn, O still him wi' the keys:"

"He will not still, fair lady, Let me do what I please."

"O still my bairn, kind nourice, 65 O still him wi' the ring:"

"He will not still, my lady, Let me do any thing."

"O still my bairn, gude nourice, O still him wi' the knife:" 70 "He will not still, dear mistress mine, Gin I'd lay down my life."

"Sweet nourice, loud, loud cries my bairn, O still him wi' the bell:"

"He will not still, dear lady, 75 Till ye cum down yoursell."

The first step she stepped, She stepped on a stane, The next step she stepped, She met the Lammikin. 80

And when she saw the red, red blude, A loud skriech skrieched she: "O monster, monster, spare my child, Who never skaithed thee!

"O spare, if in your bluidy breast 85 Abides not heart of stane!

O spare, an' ye sall hae o' gold That ye can carry hame!"

"I carena for your gold," he said, "I carena for your fee: 90 I hae been wranged by your lord, Black vengeance ye sall drie.

"Here are nae serfs to guard your haa's, Nae trusty spearmen here; In yon green wood they sound the horn, 95 And chace the doe and deer.

"Tho merry sounds the gude green wood Wi' huntsmen, hounds, and horn, Your lord sall rue ere sets yon sun He has done me skaith and scorn." 100

"O nourice, wanted ye your meat, Or wanted ye your fee, Or wanted ye for any thing, A fair lady could gie?"

"I wanted for nae meat, ladie, 105 I wanted for nae fee; But I wanted for a hantle A fair lady could gie."

Then Lammikin drew his red, red sword, And sharped it on a stane, 110 And through and through this fair ladie, The cauld, cauld steel is gane.

Nor lang was't after this foul deed, Till Lord Weire cumin' hame, Thocht he saw his sweet bairn's bluid 115 Sprinkled on a stane.

"I wish a' may be weel," he says, "Wi' my ladie at hame; For the rings upon my fingers Are bursting in twain." 120

But mair he look'd, and dule saw he, On the door at the trance, Spots o' his dear ladys bluid Shining like a lance.

"There's bluid in my nursery, 125 There's bluid in my ha', There's bluid in my fair lady's bower, An' that's warst of a'."

O sweet, sweet sang the birdie, Upon the bough sae hie, 130 But little cared false nourice for that, For it was her gallows tree.

Then out he set, and his braw men Rode a' the country roun'; Ere lang they faud the Lammikin 135 Had sheltered near to Downe.

They carried him a' airts o' wind, And mickle pain had he, At last before Lord Weire's gate They hanged him on the tree. 140

LONG LONKIN. See p. 94.

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