If it be come from Gill Morice,
’tis dear welcome to me.
Ye lied, ye lied ye filthy nurse
sae loud s I hear you lie;
I brought it to Lord Barnard’s Lady,
I trow ye be not she.
Then up and spake the bauld Baron,
an angry man was he;
He’s ta’en the table wi’ his foot,
in flinders gart a’ flee
Gae bring a robe of yon cleiding,
that hangs upon the pin.
And I’ll gae to the good green wood wood
and speak with your leman.
O bide at hame now Lord Barnard
I warn ye, bide at hame.
ne’er wyte a man for violence,
that ne’er wyte ye wi’ nane.
Gill Morice sits in good green wood.
he whistled and he sang;
O what mean a’ these folk coming?
my mother tarries land.
And when he came to good green wood,
wi’ meikle dull and care,
It’s there he saw brave Gill Morice,
kaming his yellow hair.
Nae wonder, nae wonder Gill Morice,
my lady lo’ed you weel,
