A merrie Ballad,
Called, Christs Kirk on the Green.
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WAs never in Scotland heard nor seen,
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Such Dauncing, nor Deray:
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Neyther at Falkland on the Green;
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Nor Peebles at the Play;
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As was (of Wooers, as I ween)
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At Christs Kirk on a day.
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For there came Kittie washen clean,
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In her New Gown of Gray;
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So gay that day.
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To daunce these Damisels them dight;
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These Lasses light of laits.
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Their Gloues were of the raffall right;
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Their Shooes were of the straits.
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Their Kirtles were of Lincoln light,
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Well prest with manie plaits.
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They were so nyce, when men them night,
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They squeald lyke anie Gaits,
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Full lowd that day.
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Of all these Maydens myld as meed,
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Was none so gimp as Gillie:
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As anie Rose, her rude was reed:
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Her lyre was lyke the Lillie,
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But yealow, yealow, was her head,
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And shee of Loue so sillie,
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Though all her kin had sworn her dead,
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Shee would haue none but Willie,
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Alone that day.
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Shee scorned Jock, and Skripped at him,
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And murgeond him with mocks.
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Hee would haue lov'd her, she would not let him,
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For all his yealow locks.
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Hee cherisht her: shee bade goe chat him,
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Shee counted him not two clocks:
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So shamfullie his short Jacke set him,
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His legs were lyke two rocks,
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Or rungs that day.
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Tom Luter was their Minstrell meet,
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Good Lord, how hee could launce:
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Hee playd so shrill, and sang so sweet;
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Whyle Towsie took a Trance.
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Old Light-foot there hee could forleet,
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And counterfayted France.
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Hee held him lyke a man discreet:
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And up the Morries Dance,
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Hee took that day.
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Then Stien came stepping in with stends:
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No rink might him arrest.
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Play-foot did bob with manie bends.
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For Masie hee made request.
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Hee lap, whyle hee lay on his lends:
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And rysing, so was prest,
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Whyle hee did hoast, at both the ends,
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For Honour of the Feast,
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And Daunce that day.
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Then Robin Roy began to revell.
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And Towsie to him drugged.
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Let bee (quod Jock) and call'd him jevell;
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And by the tayll him tugged.
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Then Kensie cleiked him to a kevell.
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God wots, if they two lugged.
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They parted there upon a nevell.
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Men sayd, that hayr was rugged,
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Between them two.
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With that, a Friend of his cryde; Fye!
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And foorth an Arrow drew.
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Hee forged it so forcfullie,
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The Bow in flinders flew.
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Such was the grace of God, trow I:
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For had the Tree been true,
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Men sayd, who knew his Archerie,
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That hee had slayn anew,
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Belyve that day.
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A yape young man that stood him neist,
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Soon bent his Bow in yre:
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And etled the Bairn in at the breist,
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The Bolt flew over the Byre:
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And cryde, Fye! Hee had slayn a Priest,
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A myle beyond the Myre.
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Both Bow and Bag from him hee keist,
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And fled as fast as Fyre,
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From flint that day.
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An Hastie Kinsman, called Harrie,
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That was an Archer keen:
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Tyde up a Taikell, withoutten tarrie;
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I trow the man was tein.
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I wot not whether his hand did varie,
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Or his Fo, was his Friend.
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But hee scaped by the might of Marie,
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As men that nothing meand,
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But good that day.
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Then Lowrie, lyke a Lyon lap:
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And soon a Flayn can fedder;
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Hee heght to pierce him at the pap,
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Thereon to wed a Wedder.
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Hee hit him on the womb a wap:
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It bust lyke anie Bledder.
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Hee scaped so, such was his hap,
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His Doublet was of Ledder,
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Full fyne that day.
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The buff so bousteouslie abaist him,
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That hee to earth dusht down.
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The other man for dead then left him,
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And fled out of the town.
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The wyves came foorth, and up they reft him,
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And found lyf in the Lown.
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Then with three routs there they raysd him,
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And cured him out of sown,
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Fra hand that day.
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The Millar was of manlie make,
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To meet with him, it was no mowes.
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There durst no Ransom there him take;
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So nowed hee their nowes.
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The Bushment haill about him brake,
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And bickered him with Bowes.
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Then trayterouslie behind his back,
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They hacked him on the howes,
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behind that day.
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Then Hutchen, with an hazell Ryce:
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To red, gan through them rummill,
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Hee mudled them down, lyke anie myce,
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Hee was no Bettie bummill.
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Though hee was wight, hee was not wyse,
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With such jutours to jummill:
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For from his thumb, there flew a slyce,
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Whyle hee cryde, Barlafummill:
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I'm slayn this day.
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When that hee saw his blood so red,
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To flee might no man let him.
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Hee trowd it had been for old fead;
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Hee thought, and bade; Haue at him.
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Hee made his feet defend his head;
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The far fayrer it set him:
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Whyle hee was past out of their plead,
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They must bee swift that gat him,
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through speed that day.
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Two that were headsmen of the heard,
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They rusht on other lyke Rams.
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The other four which were unfeard,
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Beat on with barrow trams.
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And where their gobs were ungeard,
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They got upon the gams:
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While al the blood-born was their beard,
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As they had wurried Lambs,
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most lyke that day.
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They girnd, and glowred, all at ones:
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Each Gossop other grieved.
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Some streiked stings, some gathred stones:
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Some fled, and some relieved.
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Their Menstrill used quyet means;
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That day hee wyselie prieved.
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For hee came home with unbirsd bones,
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Where Fighters were mischieved,
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full ill that day.
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With forks, and flaylls, then let they flaps,
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And flew together with frigs:
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with bougers of barns they pierst blew caps,
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Whyle of their Beirns they made brigs.
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The Reire rose rudelie with their raps,
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When Rungs were layd on rigs.
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Then Wyves came foorth with cryes and claps,
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See where my Lyking ligs,
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full low this day.
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The black Sowter of Briath was bow-den,
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His Wyf hang by his waist:
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His bodie was in Bleck, all browden:
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Hee girned lyke a gaist.
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Her glittring hayr, that was so gow-den,
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His loue fast for him laist:
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That for her sake hee was unyowden,
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Whyle hee a myle was chaist,
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and more that day.
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When they had beird lyke bayted Bulls:
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The Bone-fyres burnt in baylls:
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They grew as meek as anie Mules,
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That wearied were with Mails.
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For tyrdness these forfoughten foolls,
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Fell down lyke flaughtring flaylls:
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Fresh men came in, and haild their dules,
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And dang them down in daills,
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bedeine that day.
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The Wyves then gaue an hiddeous yell,
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When all these Younkers yocked:
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As fierce as Flags of fyre-flaughts fell:
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Friecks to the field they flocked.
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Then Karls with clubs did other quel,
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On breast, whyle blood out bocked:
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So rudelie rang the Common-bell,
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That all the Steeple rocked,
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for dread that day.
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By this, Tom Taylor was in his geare.
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When hee heard the Common-bell:
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Hee sayd, hee should make them all on steare,
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Hee went to fight with such a feare,
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Whyle to the ground hee fell.
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A Wyf then hit him on the eare,
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With a great knocking Mell,
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feld him that day.
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The Bryde-groom brought a pynt of Aill;
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And bade the Pyper drink it.
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Drink it (quod hee) and it so staill?
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I shrow mee, if I think it.
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The Bryde her Maydens stood near by,
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And sayd, It was not blinked.
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And Bartagasie, the Bryde so gay,
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Upon them fast shee winked,
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full soon that day.
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When all was done, Dick with an Ax,
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Came foorth to fell a Foother.
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Quoth he, where is yon hoorson smakes,
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Right now that hurt my Brother?
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His Wyf bad him, Goe home, Gib glakes,
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And so did Meg his Mother.
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Hee turn'd, and gaue them both their pakes:
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For hee durst ding none other,
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But them that day.
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