He quhissillit, and he pypit bayth,
To mak hir blyth that meiting:
My hony hart how sayis the sang,
Thair sall be mirth at our meting

Of Peblis to the Play.

'Yit.'

Be that the sone was settand schaftis;
And neir done wes the day:
Thair men micht heir schriken of chaftis;
Quhen that thai went thair way.
Had thair bein mair made of this sang,
Mair suld I to yow say.

At beltane ilka bodie bownd

To Peblis to the Play.

་་

CHRIST'S KIRK ON THE GREEN.

WAS ne'er in Scotland heard or seen
Sik dancing nor deray;
Nowther at Falkland on the green,

Or Peebles at the Play.

As wes of wooers as I ween,

At Christ's Kirk on a day;

There came our Kittys washen clean

In new kyrtils of gray,

At Christ's Kirk on the green.

To danss thir damysells them dight;
Thir lasses light of laits.

Thir gluvis war of the raffal right,
This shoon war o' the straits.

Thir kirtles were of Lincome light,
Weel prest wi' mony plaits:

They were sae skych, whan men them nicht,
They squeild, like ony gaits,

Fu loud that day,

At Christ's Kirk on the green.

Of a' thir maidins myld as meid
Was nane sae jimp as Gillie;
As ony rose her rude was red,
Her lire was like the lillie;
Fou yellow yellow was her heid;
And scho, of luve sae sillie,
Thoch a' her kin had sworn hir deid,
Scho wald hae nane but Willie

Alane that day,

At Christ's Kirk on the green.

Scho skornit Jock, and skrapit at him,
And murgeoned him wi' mokks;
He wald hae luvit, scho wald not lat him
For a' his yellow lokks.

He cherish'd her, scho bid gae chat him;
Scho compt him not twa clokkis.

Sae schamefully his schort goun sat him
His legs war lyke twa rokkis

Or rungs that day

At Christ's Kirk on the green.

Tam Lutar was thair minstrel meet.
Gude Lord how he coud lans!
He playt sae schill and sang sae sweet,
Quhuyle Towsie took a transs,
Auld Lightfute thair he coud foreleet,
And counterfittet Franss:

He held him as a man discreit,

And up the Morreis-danss

He tuke that day

At Christ's Kirk on the green,

Then Steen cam stappin in wi' stends,
Nae rynt micht him arrest,
Splae-fut he bobbit up wi' bends;
For Mause he maid requeist.
He lap quhyle he lay on his lends,
But rysand was sae preist,

Quhyle he did hoast at baith the ends

For honour o' the feist,

And dauns'd that day

At Christ's Kirk on the green.

Then Robene Roy begouth to revell,
And Towsie to him drugged;
Let be, quo' Jock, and cawd him Jevel,
And be the tail him tuggit.
The kenzie clicked to a kevel,
God wots if thir twa luggit!
They parted manly wi' a nevel:
Men say that hair was ruggit

Betwixt them twa

At Christ's Kirk on the green.

Ane bent a bow, sic sturt coud steir him,
Grit skayth wead to haif skard him;
He cheist a flane as did effeir him:

The toder said, Dirdum Dardum.

Throuch baith the cheiks he thocht to chier him, Or throch the erss haif chard him:

Be ane akerbraid it came na neir him;

I canna tell quhat mard him

At Christ's Kirk on the

Sae wide that day

green.

Wi' that a fricn' o' his cried Fy!

And up an arrow drew:

He forgit it sac forcefully

The bow in flinders flew.

Sik was the will of God, trow I;
For, had the tree been trew,
Men said, that kend his archery,
He wald haif slain enow

Belyve that day

At Christ's Kirk on the green.

An hasty hensure, callit Hary,
Quha was an archer heynd,
Tytt up a taikel withoutten tary,
That torment sae him teynd:
I wat nae quhidder his hand coud vary,
Or the man was his friend,

For he escapit, threw the michts of Mary,
As man that nae ill meind

But gude that day

At Christ's Kirk on the green.

Then Lowry lyke a lyon lap,

And sone a flane can fedder:
He hecht to perce him at the pap,
Thereon to wad a wedder:

He hit him on the wame a wap,
It buft like ony bledder,

But sua, his fortune was and hap,
His doublet made o' lether

Saift him that day

At Christ's Kirk on the green.

The buff sae boistrously abaist him
That he to th' erd dusht down;

The ither man for deid there left him,
And fled out o' the toun.

The wives came forth, and up thay reft him,
And fand lyfe in the loun.

Then wi' three routs on's erse they reir'd him,
And cur'd him out o' soone

Frae hand that day

At Christ's Kirk on the green.

A yape young man, that stude him neist,
Lous'd aff a schot wi' yre:

He ettlit the bern in at the briest;
The bolt flew owr the byre.
Ane cry'd Fy! he had slain a priest
A myle beyond a myre.

Then bow and bag frae him he keist;
And fled as ferss as fire

Frae flint that day

At Christ's Kirk on the green.

Wi' forks and flails they lent grit flaps,
And flang togidder like fryggs;
Wi' bougars of barns they beft blew kapps,
Quhyle they of berns maid briggs.
The reird raise rudely wi' the rapps,
Quhen rungs war laid on riggs;

The wyfis came forth wi' crys and clapps,
Lo! where my lyking liggs!

Quoth thay, that day

At Christ's Kirk on the green.

Thay girnit, and lute gird wi' granes;
Ilk gossip oder grieved.

Sum strak wi' stings, sum gaddert stains,
Sum fled and ill mischevet.

The menstral wan within twa wains,
That day fu' weil he prievit;
For he came hame wi' unbirs'd bains,
Quhar fechters war mischieved

For evir that day

At Christ's Kirk on the green.

Heich Hutchean, wi' a hissil ryss,
To redd can throw them rummil.
He muddilt them doun lyk ony myce:
He was nae baity bummyl.