The English and Scottish Popular Ballads Edited by Francis James Child. |
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 | The English and Scottish Popular Ballads |  |
Hynde Etin
HIND ETIN—B
1
May Margret stood in her bouer door,Kaiming doun her yellow hair;
She spied some nuts growin in the wud,
And wishd that she was there.
2
She has plaited her yellow locksA little abune her bree,
And she has kilted her petticoats
A little below her knee,
And she's aff to Mulberry wud,
As fast as she could gae.
3
She had na pu'd a nut, a nut,A nut but barely ane,
Till up started the Hynde Etin,
Says, Lady, let thae alane!
370
4
‘Mulberry wuds are a' my ain;My father gied them me,
To sport and play when I thought lang;
And they sall na be tane by thee.’
5
And ae she pu'd the tither berrie,Na thinking o' the skaith,
And said, To wrang ye, Hynde Etin,
I wad be unco laith.
6
But he has tane her by the yellow locks,And tied her till a tree,
And said, For slichting my commands,
An ill death sall ye dree.
7
He pu'd a tree out o the wud,The biggest that was there,
And he howkit a cave monie fathoms deep,
And put May Margret there.
8
‘Now rest ye there, ye saucie may;My wuds are free for thee;
And gif I tak ye to mysell,
The better ye'll like me.’
9
Na rest, na rest May Margret took,Sleep she got never nane;
Her back lay on the cauld, cauld floor,
Her head upon a stane.
10
‘O tak me out,’ May Margret cried,‘O tak me hame to thee,
And I sall be your bounden page
Until the day I dee.’
11
He took her out o the dungeon deep,And awa wi him she's gane;
But sad was the day an earl's dochter
Gaed hame wi Hynde Etin.
12
It fell out ance upon a dayHynde Etin's to the hunting gane,
And he has tane wi him his eldest son,
For to carry his game.
13
‘O I wad ask ye something, father,An ye wadna angry be;’
‘Ask on, ask on, my eldest son,
Ask onie thing at me.’
14
‘My mother's cheeks are aft times weet,Alas! they are seldom dry;’
‘Na wonder, na wonder, my eldest son,
Tho she should brast and die.
15
‘For your mother was an earl's dochter,Of noble birth and fame,
And now she's wife o Hynde Etin,
Wha neer got christendame.
16
‘But we'll shoot the laverock in the lift,The buntlin on the tree,
And ye'll tak them hame to your mother,
And see if she'll comforted be.’
17
‘I wad ask ye something, mother,An ye wadna angry be;’
‘Ask on, ask on, my eldest son,
Ask onie thing at me.’
18
‘Your cheeks they are aft times weet,Alas! they're seldom dry;’
‘Na wonder, na wonder, my eldest son,
Tho I should brast and die.
19
‘For I was ance an earl's dochter,Of noble birth and fame,
And now I am the wife of Hynde Etin,
Wha neer got christendame.’
| The English and Scottish Popular Ballads | |