Haste haste I say gae to the ha’;
and bid her come here wi speed;
If ye refuse my high command
I’ll gar thy body bleed.
Gae bid her take this gay mantle.
tis a‘ gowd but the hem;
Bid her come to the good green wood,
and bring nane but her lane.
And there it is a silken sark;
her aio hand sew d the sleeve
And bid her come to Gill Morice,
speir nae bauld Baron’s leave.
Yes, I will gae your black errand,
though it be to my cost;
Sin ye by me wid nae be warn d
in it ye shall find frost
The Baron he’s a man of might,
he ne’er could bide a taunt
As ye shall see before its night
how sma’ ye ha’e to vaun,
Now sin I maun your errand rin,
sair sair against my will
Ise make a vow and keep it true,
it shall be done for ill
And when he came to broken brig
he bent his bow and swarm
And when he came to grass growing,
set down his feet and ran
