6
It’s there he saw brave Gill Morice,
Kaming his yellow hair;
Nae wonder, nae wonder Gill Morice,
My lady lo’ed you weel,
The fairest part of my body
Is blacker than thy heel;
Yet Ne’ertheless, now Gill Morice,
For a’ thy great beauty,
Ye’s rue the day that ye was born,
That head shall gae with me.
Now he has drawn his trusty brand,
And slait it on the straw.
And through Gill Morice’ fair body,
He’s gar’d cauld iron gae;
And he has ta’en Gill Morice’ head,
And set it on a spear,
The meanest man in a’ his train
Has got the head to bear.
And he has ta'cn Gill Morice up,
Laid him across his stee,
And brought him to his painted bower,
And laid him on a bed.
Thc lady sat on castle wa’,
Beheld baith dale and down,
And there she saw Gill Morice’ head
Come trailing to the town.
Far mair I lo’e that bloody hcad,
